I am fat. I know it. You know it. The whole world knows it… now. I am not okay with it. At first, I was surprised by the fact that I was all of the sudden fat. I had always been skinny. It wasn’t until sophomore year of college when I had no money for food and thought I couldn’t ask my mother for help that I got this way. I ate whenever there was free food offered, which was always happening on college campus and youth groups. I would even leave work to find some food! But that was not enough. Then my body turned against me and started storing fat. Junior and Senior year of college I shot back and forth between 160 pounds at the beginning of the Fall semester to being 180 pounds by the end of Spring semester.
August 2005, I was 180 pounds, then I moved with my boyfriend to San Diego where I got a job and made enough money to stuff myself silly. Having never lost the 20 pounds I put on during Senior year, I ballooned further. I starred in a couple of plays while I was there. A set of twins watched two plays I had been in and asked me at the end of the second show if I had been thinner in the first show they saw. I, in fact, had been thinner, but I gained two pants sizes in a week or two.
I didn’t lose the extra extra weight until I moved back to Tucson, AZ in 2008, broke and destitute, living with family, a failure to all who knew me. I did not have money for food, so I pared down. But that did not last long. As soon as I got a job, which wasn’t until May of 2009. I wasn’t happy, but I was working on it. The weight remained steady, I didn’t gain, but I didn’t lose either.
I have been wanting to lose weight for forever. I went back to L.A. see my, then, ex-boyfriend, and saw that he had lost a considerable amount of weight. He looked great! I could only hope to look as good as he did, and he was heavier than me when we were together. I was inspired to work out and get in shape! I always wondered how other people did it and why I couldn’t get the same results. Willpower.
I came back from L.A. and started walking the track at one of the parks nearby work. I walked religiously! It felt good. I think I managed to lose about 15 pounds. I was nowhere near Brad Pitt physique, but I did it. I kept this up until summer came and it became too hot. Then I quit my job that was close to the park I walked at. I couldn’t afford the gas to drive there when my new job was halfway across town. And I never went back.
I gained the weight back and then just kept going. I weight about 250 pounds now. My gut is perpetually pregnant looking. My breasts, yes, breasts are bigger. I am bigger than my less endowed girl friends. I mean, I have under boob where sweat collects! They are starting to droop.
I bought a tummy tuck system belt from the TV (which also qualified me for a free cruise I have to pay for, but that is another story.) and wore it religiously for a few weeks, but I stopped because I gave up on the idea of it working. It did not look like it was doing anything for me.
I joined this group called the Bears of the Old Pueblo. For those not in the know, a bear is a gay man who is quite heavy set and very heavy. Bigger guys are called chubs. I thought I would accept the fact that I will never again be a skinny bitch and just hang out with a bunch of fat guys who don’t mind being fat. If they can gain acceptance with their bodies, then so can I. And I love hanging out with them. They are a great group of guys. At first, I thought I could cope with this, I can be a bear and be happy! I could go to Gay Pride in Phoenix, bare my chest and be fine with who I am. I had my outfit picked out. Pants, leather vest and some socks and shoes, that’s it. I was going to look hot. I had brought an undershirt just in case I felt self conscious. The Gods saw it fit for my car to break down minutes before I planned to hit the freeway. I never got to be fabulous in Phoenix. Maybe it was for the best.
I thought I was good with how I look, but as I sit here now, shirtless with my living room window open, I feel gross. I look at my shape in the mirror and I cry. This is not how I am supposed to be. I am disgusted with myself. I know what I need to do. I just need to make my health a priority. I need to get back on the track. Eat less crap. Drink more water. And keep at this and hope that maybe a year from now if the world hasn’t ended and God hasn’t smote us all, I will be in a better shape. Then I can finally have skinny bitch problems again.
Well, I have cried enough. Time to get those Hot Pockets out of the microwave.