Damn Panago and their current flier with a meatball pizza oozing in cheezy goodness on the front.
I was reading blogs just now, and came across Fat Daddy's post about compliments. And it made me sad.
You see, there is a cycle, it seems. When you first start losing weight, you wait expectantly with baited breath for every pound to be noticed. The first 25 pounds or so are heartbreaking in their lack of showing. Or, they show, but people don't want to say anything incase they are just "seeing things".
But then you hit a point where people really start seeing it. And HOO-BOY is that fun!! All of a sudden you have wicked motivation! You can't let these people down! They are watching your every move, and complimenting the hell outta ya! It feels good. You feel rewarded. You feel motivated. You feel relieved.
Then you reach goal weight. And the compliments keep coming. But now they are coming in a way that is starting to frustrate you. I would see people that I haven't seen in a year, and ALL they could talk about was my weight loss. It started to define me. And it started exasperating me. I wanted to talk about other things. I wanted to talk about them. Sure, I'll tell you what I did, but then let's move on, shall we? Please? No? Okay, fine, let's keep talking about it... sigh.
My closest started seeing how I was losing who I was, and so they stopped complimenting me. Which was totally cool with me. I was done talking about it. Besides, I was in a different place than most were, and frankly, found myself stepping on people's toes all the freakin time. Best to not discuss my thoughts and feelings around my own fat issues, as people perceived it as talking about them and their issues (whether I was or not.. there was a ton of projecting). Best to keep my trap shut, right?
Only here's the thing. I've put ten pounds back on. And I'm ridiculously insecure. Ridiculously. And so I dress very very carefully. I do my best to look really pretty. Or really sexy. Or really whatever I'm going for that day. I shop very carefully. I work very hard on my appearance.
And noone says a word.
So my insecurities bash around in my head, screaming "FAT BITCH FAT BITCH FAT BITCH WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD GO OUT IN THESE CLOTHES FAT BITCH FAT BITCH FAT BITCH".
Yep, it IS that extreme.
I am struggling with this ten pounds (actually it's like seven pounds, but on my body it looks to me like twenty), and sabotage the shit out of myself. I feel like I have no motivation. Nobody cares. Nobody looks for positive on me. I have been fighting with it for three months now, and it keeps winning.
I have become so incredibly insecure, having zero positive affirmation, that I actually struggle getting out of the house now. If I'm desperate, I'll ask if I look okay, but how desperate does that look? I can tell you how desperate it feels. And if I have to ask, then I know I don't look as spectacular as I thought I did. And if I don't ask, my insecurity rises with every moment I'm out in public. I second guess myself all the time. I watch people's faces, looking with fear for their disgust. Watching their eyeballs go directly to my plumper zones. Watching for judgement. Do I really look good? Does this really go together? Are people just being nice to my face, but laughing behind my back? Will I end up on a site like "People of Walmart"?
And then I don't want to go out.
But here's the thing. I have a friend who has agoraphobia. She didn't leave her house for years. I am deathly afraid of becoming like that. But I can feel how it happens.
So I fight it. Every day I fight it. Every weekend, I burst out of my house, with a FUCK YOU WORLD attitude. I work hard to build my confidence internally. I find something good about myself and give myself affirmations. I avoid the mirror, because I get sucked into it and end up changing my clothing in a frenzy of panic. I do my best to appear confident, sexy, carefree, and happy.
But inside all I'm whispering over and over is, "do I look okay?".
If you have issues, or baggage, you may be offended by what you read here. I work through my self loathing of my own fat, and my own fat issues, and I’m told this comes across as loathing all fat people. That is simply not the case.
Here I talk about my issues and my findings, without political correctness. I am not concerned with your issues, or your baggage, or what you may take from this. The title is "My Journey".
This blog is not meant to inspire anyone. I take no responsibility for what you take away from here. You are here as a guest into my inner thoughts.