Bread….Warm Buttery Bread


bread

Growing up, I was never allowed to touch the bread at restaurants. You know the delicious hot bread that comes with butter at the beginning of most meals? It’s the bread that comes to the table, when you’re at your hungriest. As a child…well from eight years old, until today, I was always taught that bread was the enemy, and even looking at it would make me gain weight. I would watch with envy, and with drool coming out of my mouth , while my petite brother (sorry D) would chomp away at the tasty bread…with butter. Even before it hit the table, Ronnie Ginger would give me the eyes, making me aware that she was watching me, and that bread was MY enemy. When I became older and started going to restaurants with friends, I began to eat the free bread because no one was watching or judging. Little did I know that with each bite, I’d be blowing up a little more each time. On Donald’s first encounter with Ronnie Ginger, when he was just an innocent little boyfriend, taking his new girlfriend on dates, she nicely warned him that when he takes me out to restaurants, that I was not permitted, under any circumstances to eat the bread. She said this because I loved it so much…so she thought! Just to be clear, I don’t even like bread, I find bread to be dry, and boring and really just a waste of space. If I’m going to eat bread, I’m going to make it worth it- like a grilled cheese or French toast, but just plain bread doesn’t do it for me. The reason I became so aggressive as a child when I was refused the free bread at the table, was only because I was never allowed to have it. People always want what they can’t have, right? (I wasn’t allowed a lot of things apparently).

The thing with me and bread though, is that, bread is free, and it comes with most meals in America, and some parts of Canada. If it’s free, I like it, because I like good value. On the other hand, the whole reason why we’re going to a restaurant is because we’re hungry. If the polite waiter asks if I would like some free hot bread, and I’m hungry, and he places it right in front of me-then I’ll have a bite. I’m not going to eat an entire freaking basket of bread… this is because

1) I’m not an animal

and

2) I physically can’t keep in an entire load of bread

The moral of the story is, don’t deprive yourself. If you deprive yourself for your entire life, then one day you’ll eat an entire basket of bread, and wake up 50 pounds heavier.

Go ahead, have a bite, just a little bite.

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Fat People Don’t Love All Food


Most ordinary people who don’t know much about anything would think that all fat people like all foods, and that when it comes to overweight people and dietary restrictions, there are none. Well I’m here to tell you, that as an average overweight person, I do not like all foods. My list of foods that I like is long, but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.

Cheese:

Cheese is probably the most amazing gift from the cow gods. I’m pretty sure from what I’ve been told, that cheese is just rotten milk, but it tastes delicious. Now, while cheese may be yummy, I’m very particular about them. I know, how weird!… A fat person is particular about a type of food they like? I like all hard cheeses, as long as they’re not stinky. Really old cheddar and smoked gouda are my favorite. My mom used to buy smoked gouda when we were kids. It was a reward to get it, and I’d really have to work hard to get a piece; just one. That was until, I learned where the cheese drawer was and started eating an entire pack of cheese like a bag of chips. After Ronnie Ginger, my loving mother found out that I knew where the cheese stash was, it was over. The good expensive cheese stopped entering the house from that day. I was stuck with that “light” Kraft “cheese”… or should I say, Kraft plastic? Also, melted cheeses are so good. Like in a lasagna, when the mozzarella becomes ooey gooey… that’s pretty good. On to what I don’t like in the cheese category- I’m not one for stinky soft cheeses, or soft cheese in general. If I ever smelled a donkeys butt hole, I’d assume it smells like Blue Cheese, that stuff smells gross and why anybody would want to eat food the color of the rainbow really boggles my mind. I know it’s really in right now to like Brie and that Camembert stuff, but I just can’t. The smell reminds me of my locker in high school and it just brings back terrible memories for me.

Meat:

I love meat. Red meat. I like my meat rare. Obviously I’m not into eating my meatballs rare, but I totally adore some nice fancy meat once in a while. (When I say I like it, I like it, but I can only have about four bites until my stomach can’t take it anymore) Anyway, being Jewish, at most of our family holiday events, there’s always CHOPPED LIVER. I hate it! I can’t stand the sight of it, the smell of it, anything about it. To me it just looks like a bowl of mushed up poop and smells like it too. Sometimes Donald thinks it’s funny to breathe on me after he eats it. It’s an instant appetite decreaser for me! Also, ham and I don’t get along that great. I’m not sure if this fits in to the meat category, but whatever. I always loved Charlottes Web, and the thought of eating a sweet little pig really haunts my dreams… I do like bacon though. I swear I’m not a hypocrite.

Breads & Carbs:

Ever since I had my gallbladder surgery, for some reason, I can’t eat certain bread anymore. It’s like the surgeon gave me the gift of not being able to tolerate the things that are bad for me! Baguette is buttery goodness, but I have since had to say goodbye to it, along with the healthy flax seed bread, and any type of sandwich bread. For some reason though, croissants go down just fine; which for me I find unfortunate. Buuuut fortunately for me, I can only have 1/4 of it until I’m full. Those buttery delights are also murderous tasty treats. I’m not really one for chips. I find that they’re messy, and since I stain a lot of my clothes, I don’t find it worth it to eat chips unless I have a Tide-To-Go handy! Pasta and me no longer get along. Which, to be honest, doesn’t really bother me all that much, because it’s just a space waster in my stomach and I only made pasta when I was lazy.

Candies:

I LOVE CANDIES! I LOVE HALLOWEEN. I LOVE THE DAY AFTER HALLOWEEN WHEN EVERYTHING IS HALF PRICE. Candy doesn’t like me though. The second I eat a piece of candy, it goes straight to my triple chin and I’m just a sweaty hot mess. I made a promise to myself that I would not have a single candy before my birthday. So far, I’ve broken that promise twice. However, on a more positive note, I’m starting again tonight. I usually only like orange flavored candy, and mostly anything citrusy, or chocolatey. I hate black licorice, and cherry flavored snacks. But that’s about it!

Until then, I’ll keep working on the list of foods I don’t like!

The Scale: My Hate Relationship


 

 

I’ve stopped my affair with the scale. I don’t understand how one plastic box which displays numbers, can do so much harm! I love that little plastic box, but at the same time I hate it. When my little unpolished toes step on that box of fun, I can’t wait to see the number! Once my eyes set eyes on the scale, and I see that I’ve lost two pounds, my body goes into fat girl mode and decides that it’s time to binge. I know, “two pounds are wonderful, why would you want to sabotage that?”, first of all,  whoever is actually thinking that, you need to seriously shut up- because it’s not like I got on the scale and was all giddy and excited to eat like a fat horse. My plan isn’t to regain everything that I had just lost. I can’t control it. Most of the time when I eat, I’m not hungry. It’s an addiction. Yes, call me crazy, and fat, or just crazy fat but people can be addicted to food! Food is there, so I eat it. You can’t tell an alcohol addicted meth head that they have to stop all their bad habits in an instant. It takes time, and learning. While I know it’s already been seven months since surgery, I still struggle with my addiction, daily. It’s too bad they don’t make rehab for fat people who struggle from food addictions. I strongly believe that people on the outside truly believe that we fat people choose to eat ourselves sick, and to binge eat. It’s not like that, I can promise you that. While I know Hefty Helga has died, part of her still lives on in my mind, and will forever.

It’s so hard to be addicted to something that we are subjected to everyday. We need food to survive, and it’s everywhere I go! No matter how much I try to walk away from food, it surrounds me; whether it comes from passing the vending machine,  or hearing the disgustingly loud people around me chewing like horses etc. I’m supposed to train myself, and to learn that food is for eating, and not an activity to take up when I am bored. Do I really want to be that girl one day who introduces herself and says “Oh Hello, I’m Hillary. Nice to meet you. I’m a professional eater. What do you do?” Like seriously.  As sick as it sounds, sometimes I wish I had another addiction. Maybe being addicted to some of those Breaking Bad drugs wouldn’t be the greatest thing for me, or my teeth, but maybe it would make me forget about food. Food really doesn’t make me feel anything. I used to feel satisfied during and after binge eating, but now I find myself feeling sad, and depressed after I’ve eaten something I know I shouldn’t.

One thing I’ve started doing, is making new friends. I’ve made new friends with my stomach. After I eat something I shouldn’t, I lift up my shirt, and stare at the scars. I look at the scars, which help me in reminding myself how I got here, and what I plan to accomplish. Eating a bag of chips won’t help in shrinking those scars, eating because I’m bored in general won’t help shrink the scars. The only thing that will help shrink the surgery scars, is me. Chips, chocolate, cookies, ice cream etc, are all parts of my life that really have no place there. They are not wanted, and there is no need for it. I’ve told myself so many times; “Eat to live, don’t live to eat”, it’s so easy to say it, but so hard to do.

And for the five hundredth, and hopefully last time, I say this: No More Excuses. I get on the scale, and I be proud that I’ve accomplished a two pound weight loss. I get on that scale, and instead of marching my fat bottom to the fridge, I walk it out the door, and for a walk (not to the ice cream store).

 

Obession: Food


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Hello,

My name is Hillary, and I am addicted to food. I like all sorts of food. Preferably food that is greasy, food that is meaty and food that is yummy. I like to eat at all hours of the night. I like to eat all hours of the day. This is starting to sound like one of those Dr. Seuss books, so I’m just going to shut my mouth up now.

Even after having my stomach surgically removed, I can still think like a fat girl. I can still want to eat the food that all normal greasy people eat, and just because my stomach isn’t a part of me anymore, doesn’t mean I won’t stop thinking as if I still had it. I can literally go to my fridge, and start cooking like I completely forgot I had surgery. Five minutes into my eating session, which I like to call “pre-dinner”, I find myself stuffed, and wanting to projectile vomit all over my wall. (TMI, SORRY, GET OVER IT!). When all people cook, they like to taste here and there, and see what’s going on to make it better. However, when it comes to my cooking, I like to make myself a pre-meal. This could be anything from microwaved leftovers, to low fat anything else. Mind you, when I make these pre-dinner snacks, while cooking dinner, they’re not fattening. The doctor would be proud. However, the doctor would not be proud that sometimes I forget that I had the surgery.

Sometimes it’s hard to remember, especially when there’s a sweet table staring you in the face, or a table full of delicious greasy cheese filled pizza. Sometimes it’s hard to remember when everyone around you is eating all the foods you haven’t eaten in four months. Sometimes it’s hard to remember when you’re busy snacking. It’s easy to remember though, when I look back at that picture of myself from 4 months ago. Then it’s really easy.

As crazy as it sounds, I guess I just need that constant reminder that I am not like everyone else. I can’t eat the same way as everyone else or in that case, the way I used to. When I see someone pouring themselves 2L of Diet Pepsi at one sitting, I shouldn’t be upset, or jealous that I can’t have any, because I don’t want to be that person anymore.

I wish I could say that I know someday I will get over the obsession of food. But who am I kidding? Food will always be a part of my life; I just need to be the bigger person, and not let food win.

I’m Hillary-ous!


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I like to think of myself as quite a funny person. I’m not sure if I’m so funny because I’m making up for the fact that I’m so much fat(ter) than everyone else, but I have such a great sense of humor that it’s actually sick (not like vomit comet sick, but like fun amazing sick). I’m so funny in fact that Katelynn Fondly named me Hillary-ous. It stuck for a while, until it started to sound like a disease. I’ve made it a personal life goal to make everyone around me laugh. Lately, it’s been quite easy, but before I was just a clown. My mom always hated when I would laugh like a hyena. She told me that because my presence was so large that everyone around would notice me first and I would always make strange noises and a spectacle of myself. My mom would never let me laugh, it was so mean. I snorted, so that made me look like a pig, my whole body would jiggle when I found something really funny, and then when I laughed it sounded like a dying horse was have a seizure in my mouth. Actually now that I remember all of that, no wonder she didn’t want any attention on my hideous laughing fits.

My biological father says that I got his sense of humor. However, he doesn’t know me at all, and I haven’t learned a thing from him, so I think I just got it on my own, or learned it on YouTube. Maybe that’s why I’ve never really liked alcohol. People drink to have a good time and to act like baboons, but I have a great time on my own just sipping on good ol’ diet Pepsi. Not liking alcohol has given me a lot more money to spend on food in the past.

Maybe drinking would have been a good hobby for me instead of all you can eat Chinese?

 

Stop Saying Nice Things


People keep telling me how good I look, and how much has face has swelled down. STOP! The more you tell me I look good, the more I think I can eat more and think I look fine as it is. I want to have one of those crazy dramatic weight losses where no one can recognize me. I want my reveal to be something like on The Biggest Loser.

It’s crazy to think that a fat girl wouldn’t want someone complimenting them telling them how great they looked. I must have some sort of chemical imbalance in my head, but maybe I’m also just being realistic.

I checked the scale today, news flash– I’m still fat. What’s craziest is that I don’t even see any change in me, aside from my awesome collar bones. I don’t see myself shrinking, I don’t see my face de-plumping- nothing.

No more compliments until you can’t recognize me. Capeche?