Lately there's all this woke thinking about how fat people are just fine the way they are. They love being their particular size and accept it. They are not unhappy! They do not dream of being thin -- or what they call anyone under about 200 pounds, "skinny." This is total B.S. which I know for a fact since I grew up in the very large shadow of a fat sibling and had front-row seats to the misery it engendered for her, and still does to this day.
I have fought being fat every day since my truly fucked-up childhood experiences left me with a lasting legacy: I am a compulsive eater. This means I eat when I am not hungry. I eat not to fuel my body but fuel my anger. I eat because I am sad, or depressed or lonely or disappointed or worried or grieving or nobody likes my art or my dog died. I eat for no reason until I am so full I feel sick. I eat crap that doesn't taste good. It usually makes me feel worse, after making me feel better, but like a heroin addict I go back for more.
The thing is, I am not fat to the outside world, only to myself. This is because my bouts of compulsive eating are offset by periods of intense exercise and deliberate moderation, or else I'd be the size of a Smart Car like so many of the people you see in public.
I am sick of it. Today I threw a lot of junk, i.e. delicious snacks, down the garbage disposal instead of down my gullet (see photo). God forbid I should ever get fatter! It's bad enough that I can't fit into a lot of my clothes; I'd hate not being able to fit in an airline seat.
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