If you read my blog, you probably know that I have wild episodes of depression and self hatred. I’ve worked hard at building my self esteem and fighting negative thoughts, so these episodes have barely happened at all in the past 6 or 7 months.
But yesterday, everything crumbled. Suddenly my new, shaky confidence was out the window. I was back to being morbidly obese. I had a face no one will ever love. I didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone, because I was way too overweight and ugly to be socially acceptable.
What brought on this attack? A blog.
A site where you pick your city, then you creep around looking at submitted pictures of the “trashiest, fattest hoes in the peg”.
While I was creeping around looking for people I know, I started reading the little blurbs about the latest victim. “Fat” was one of the most used adjectives to describe perfectly average or slim girls.
I can understand why someone who hates that girl would call her fat, but the blog-writer was the one calling these girls fat. Someone who doesn’t know her, who is totally neutral to her, is classifying a normal looking girl as fat and ugly.
If he’s calling normal-to-slim girls FATTTTT, then what would I be?
I would be called a whale.
I would be a “fat sloot”.
I’d be told I need to hit the treadmill/stairmaster/whatever, even though I am a runner, dancer, yogi and recreational gymnast.
Everything about this blog told me “It’s not okay to look like you. Lose some weight, look like these girls who I think are hot. Then maybe your life will matter.”
And for whatever reason, I couldn’t fight back. I believed what this ass-hat was telling me. Someone at my size is unattractive and unacceptable, and I have no place in this world unless I’m aesthetically pleasing and have a set of smoking +2s (implants, which I definitely don’t need). No one cares if I’m smart, nice, funny, an awesome baker or a great dancer, I’m not pretty.
My feelings haven’t changed overnight.
I laughed then cried when I looked in the mirror and told myself “I’m beautiful”.
I’m considering blowing my money on Weight Watchers.
I nearly threw 30 oatmeal-chocolate-covered-raisin cookies and a brand new tub of peach rings off the balcony, because I hate myself for enjoying them.
I packed a 250 calorie taco salad for a 9 hour workday, and that’s all. I’ll probably drink a lot of coffee to quiet the hunger pangs, and I’ll be fighting cigarette cravings even though I haven’t smoked in almost 2 years.
I can’t say anything positive about my body.
I have no idea how to pick myself up from this.
It feels like I have no right to believe I’m not fat or ugly, and if I do start treating myself right, someone will be more than happy to knock me down a few pegs.
I’ll blog if and when I feel better. Or I’ll be blogging about my Weight Watchers experience really soon.
See you around.