I used to be a bit chunky. Not quite super fat but a lot less healthy than I am now. I would mix chips. My favourite mix was ketchup, sour cream and onion and party mix. I would always take the prezels out of the party mix. What a waste of space. I would sit downstairs and eat 3 bags of chips a night.
That’s probably how I got chunky.
I was trying to fill up really, trying to get comfort, trying to feel some love inside.
I did not want to have sex with my boyfriend. That would definitely not fill me up. In fact his dick repulsed me to the point of binge eating.
I found out I was a bit fat when I asked my friend if she thought I was a bit fat and she said “yah, you are a bit fat.”
I lost my fucking mind. I fell over over the edge. And I want to be clear here, I am not harshing on women who are big and feel good about it. I did not feel- curvy, womanly, vivacious. I felt encumbered, I felt thick.
I went to the gym daily and the weight kept piling on. I limited the chips to 2 bags a night. I went to psychotherapy. I dumped my boyfriend. I started smoking, I counted calories. I went to the gym 2 times a day!
I tried so hard but the fat would not stop growing.
You know those times in your life when you have to stop. You have to re-evaluate, turn your life upside down, quit all you know, dive off the cliff and hope that the self help books are right.
This was that time.
I took a plane to Hawaii and I camped on the beach by myself for a month. I lay in the sun for 8 hours a day.
I got 2nd degree burns from the rays. The only movement I did was to roll from one side to the other. It was so healing.
The 2nd degree burns disallowed clothing as they had turned into pussing sores weeping down my belly so I started wearing a string bikini I picked up at Walmart.
I wore it everywhere. I bought fish at the grocery store in my bikini, I hitchhiked in my bikini, I pumped gas in my bikini, I slept in my bikini and my body got browner and browner and happier and happier. I realized something was working when one day as I was driving in my bikini with the windows rolled down and Hawaiian top 40 on the radio I looked between my thighs and my first thought wasn’t “fat fucking obese whale blubber sick fucking pig,” it was “pretty.” Nothing had changed mind you, except for my mind.
A month went by and I came home and I had lost 25 pounds. From lying down ¾ of the day, eating, suntanning and smoking dope.
I had a lot of heaviness on me.
And now I am carrying a lot less around.
All it took was finally doing nothing at all.