About three years ago I embarked on an eating regiment and exercise routine and lost just on 30kg at one stage. We had booked this huge hike and being the only fat person I knew I had allot of work to be done. Wow imagine that.

I did pick up a kg or two after the hike but I looked and felt dramatically different.

Then the sickness came. I l♡ve that line. Is kinda like a nice way to refer to the plague.

I regained everything I had lost, and more, via inactivity, medication side effects and if you are in serious pain, you honestly don’t give a fuck what you eat, or if you eat. It bypasses every emotion and you are surrendered generally useless an entrapped to medication to please take the sore away.

18 months later I have lost a small bit, enough to be the weight I was when I met Noid. I know he can’t see it and although the scale says so, I can’t see it either.

I hate it, I hate a fatter me. I had worked so hard! Yes blah blah, blah on the fantastic personality and crap, but you know what, personality doesn’t come in dress sizes.

Being fat, truly, no outfit looks good on you. Pay what you like. Yes, this or that may be more complimentary (for instance a tracksuits vs a pair of jeans as Noid pointed out) but in the end you actually just look shit. Regardless. You can’t hide a light in darkness and you can’t hide fat in fabric.

I was thinking today about anorexia and how people starve themselves to skeleton versions. Why did I not get that instead? I can rock self loathing dammit.

Why didn’t I rather continue losing weight instead of getting sick and the crazy rollercoaster that followed? (…..before the big gain came? Again much like the plague.)

The correct response at this point is to eat better and less, exercise more and drink water. That is what I use to tell myself when I was loosing weight. I was so proud.

At the moment I honestly do not eat unending food with a binge session. Actually my dr says I don’t eat enough. I do drink water, and right now is the most I have moved my body in months.

Psychologically being out and about has made my life better cause no Wenchy♥ is an island and all that.

I have gone off pain meds as much as I can handle – every single tablet has a side effect you get to deal with, none of it pretty. I wait till I am down with pain before I take meds.

I am going for a session of massage once a week to help mobility and this has been a most awesome experience (…and nothing like a spa experience, sorry.)

I have been a big, fat, large (whatever your word is) person for most of my adult life. I have been okay with that at times, hated it other times, accepted it at times, felt sexy at other times – but right now, I feel a new sense of self loathing.

So what you gonna do about it? Be positive and lose weight!? Yay!! …if only it happened like magic.

It is a bit like finding out the Father Christmas ate the Tooth Fairy after a threesome with the Easter Bunny. It just isn’t real.

Your can’t pretend you don’t know it isn’t real. You know, but you wish there was really a little magic in you somewhere that made you okay – just as you are. If you don’t think you are okay, how can others?

A magical place where how you look is enough. Let me be the one to burst your bubble – you are not enough unless you are at least TRYING to change your reality if you are in struggle in yourself. Then people will acknowledge you are making an effort, you are perceived more positively… and when result comes is the only time self loathing lifts and you look at others and you think…. I made an effort, I produced results – what are YOU doing?

I am still at the self loathing stage. It is almost Christmas…, I have no tooth to offer the fairy and the Easter bunny didn’t leave me a piece of chocolate. I guess the threesome is out of the question?

Posted by Wenchy♥ from the second cloud, holding a scale on your left with WordPress for BlackBerry.