Jaded

If everyone in the world were fat, glutinous, and bulging. Just like me. I’d still wish to be thin. Even if it would make me the minority instead of the majority. Thin, skinny, confident, toned, sexy, gorgeous, curvy, beautiful; i want to be each and every one of those. I made a blog, at first for me, to teach myself that I can be thin. To track my weight loss, my changes as well, and to release my secrets. But after a week of actively using this blog. I have seen the change already in myself. I did not binge in this week, and I’ve found that inpsiration makes me jealous. Extremely jealous, at first I noted this to be an unfortunate thing. Currently I’m finding that thinpiration is supposed to make you jealous, It’s the one thing that can make you push harder and harder. Eat less, control your will power, excercise more, binge less, and be skinny. Having a support system has helped me tremendously this week. Now unfortunately I did not lose anything but a small peckish .5 of a pound. However, next week I will only keep getting smaller and smaller, and the week after that and the week after that as well… From experience I’ve learned that it’s hard to keep in tact with studies in school as well as with your eating lifestyle. I’m that type of person who is crazy for success, but very easily discouraged. So I’m sure you can see how an eating disorder may affect me. I’m glad to say I’m better now, at least I believe so. Everything in weight loss is so deceiving even sometimes I cannot tell. But I consider myself losing weight, living a healthy lifestyle. Right now I am struggling with calorie intake and wanting to fast and everything like that. But when i reach my goal weight, I will not consider myself on a diet. I will be living a healthy lifestyle, a lifestlyle I will live for the rest of my life. Happily in my thin body. Thin Forever Young Forever.
When I was little I was strung in such obesity I’m suprised my doctors didn’t put me in intensive care. In third grade I was 130 pounds. Can you believe that? ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY POUNDS. That’s insane I was a child. Throughout my entire life I was fat, I’ve never felt how it feels to be thin. For any of you who are thin but may not think so, if your jeans fit without having to jump up and down to pull them over a huge bulge of fat and i mean huge stomach. Then girl you are skinny. When I was little I used to be the sweetest girl, my mother always told me. Then I started school, of course there was no denying the fact that I’d be made fun of. I didn’t understand it though. From the time I was in kindergarden I learned that I was “FAT” as the children would call me. They were obviously refering to my body, laughing, snickering, making undesirable yet witty jokes. Hurtful words that traveled with me throughout grammar school, each year. I gues I can say I got used to it. I KNEW I WAS FAT. What I didn’t know is there was something I could do about it. In third grade I even switched schools because it got so bad, and really it was that bad. Older kids were hitting me, punching me, I was physically abused by children because I was fat. It’s hard not to cry just writing that, oh wait, I’m crying. When I was in second grade an eighth grade girl punched me in the face and knocked me to the floor because I was sitting in her seat on the bus. Everyone hated me, and I was only seven years old. The next year my mom had it with the ridicule and we moved, she sent me to a differnt school. A school she thought would be better. It was, at first. Then once I wasn’t the new fat girl. Everyone started making fun of me. Why am I the target I asked myself. And quickly I learned the answer was because I’m so easy to hit. I used to be the sweetest girl that darling little child, with eyes that could just melt your heart. WHat happened to you my mother would say. Sometimes I wonder If she knew. Did she realize that the reason I became so I guess bad, not sweet, and mean as a child was because I thought everyone was against me. I became more and more defensive each time I was made fun of or called fat, or yelled at by a teacher. Oh and by the way, I was yelled at because I’d tell the teachers what these kids were doing to me, and the kid would lie and of course say I did something much worse. I thought everyone was agianst me, and no one liked me because that’s all I’d ever learned. I was so emotionally attached to my family, my mother, sister, and grandmother to be exact. Because I knew they were the only one’s who loved me, they didn’t think I was fat. They loved me.

As I grew up I learned this acceptance of a state of mind. I knew I was fat, I knew people would make fun of me. So therefore, I tried my best to be friendly to everyone or not speak at all. Because of course my only instinct was to defend myself. I wish I stopped eating when I was little, I wish I knew that was an option. My father, well least I can say he never really acted as a father to me and still he doesn’t but even so he’s played a major role in my life. My mother has been a single mom since before I was born. My father left her for his now ex-wife. But when they were married, that evil fat witch of a woman, would make fun of my fatness. Every time I would visit my father’s house they would force me onto the scale and record my weight. Then yell at me. They’d do it to my sister too. I know it was my fault that I was fat, and still am. I know it’s my fault. I teke full blame for all my chewing. Still I wish things were different, this is why I want to be skinny. To prove to myself that I am not everything they said I was. To prove to me , not anyone else, that I am loved, and to love myself. I can’t wait to rub it in their faces when I’m skinny, oh what an angst I hold to wear a bikini. F*** all those people who made me cry. F*** all the commets who made me self-concious. F*** all the insecurities i’ve collected. Because this summer, I’m getting skinny. And I will be skinny forever. They wil never call me fat again, and I will never call myself fat either. I do it all for me, I do it to satisfy myself. I do it to be happy.

In middle school boys were terrible, they’s do everything to attract my attention. Not because they thought I was beautiful but because they knew I was fat and they wanted to mock me for it.

My obsesity effected my relationship with my father, he and his wife would harass me about my weight. I never really had a great relationship with my father, we never argued but I just feel like his impressions of me where surmised from what he saw on the outside. Almost as if there was a layer of his eyes that couldn’t knock down the border in between my soul and skin. When I was little I always felt that way around him and his horrendous, ghastly, terrible wife. I feel that many of the foul judgements my father and I have shared toward eachother are from her negative place in our lives. I feel like inevitably she was the wall, that border in between us, that kept my father from seeing who his daughter was and kept me from seeing who my father was. I was like that as a child, defensive. In all honesty it wasn’t my fault though, I was tortured in grammar school by kids, they can be so mean, as my mother says. That’s why my sister and I left the school. Then i moved on to a different school and the children there were still mean to me, there is no escape to cruelty. I never understood that as a child. At that point I knew i couldn’t run from my fears. It wasn’t as bad in my new school as it was in my old one. However, I will admit that the way I was treated by people when I was younger, has caused me to hold a grudge deep inside against those people. To this day I don’t talk to them, I just have nothing to say. I still go to school with most of the people who basicaly tortured me as a child, and on the surface I’ve forgiven them, but deep down my soul may have forgotten the words, the actions, or comments. But the stain is deeper than the contents spilled upon the cloth. I guess that’s a good metaphor for it, I never liked my childhood very much. I only remember feeling loved by my family, with the exclusion of my dad. Which i don’t wish to make him sound horrible, because i don’t feel that he is, I love him. He’s just always been a heartache in the lives of my sister and I. But regardless, I would trade almost anything to get that lovey feeling back I used to share with my mother, and my grandmother (god i miss her). The last time i fellt that wholesome, irreplaceable loving feeling with my family was when I was younger, the times when they were my only role models. The only lights in my fogged vision. Now I’ve grown up a little, and everything has changed so much that I could cry just to reverse it. Sometimes I feel that I wish I could go back to those days, reunite with my deceased grandmother, hug the mother I was so strongly attached to. But then I remember the bad parts of my childhood, the one’s I’d love to forget, and they scare me away from that wish to go back in time. Even though I never could, no matter how much I wanted. Now my mother and I fight, and at times I feel as if she doesn’t know me anymore. I long for that feeling of love and appreciation I felt as a child, and I keep trying to get it back. But I’m growing up, and sadly I don’t think it’s on the market.