Blame


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What I have learned these last few months, is that nothing comes easy. That, and if I lie to myself, things will only backfire and turn out worse for me than they were at the beginning. It’s very easy to blame others for your wrongdoings. It’s easy for me to wake up and say I’m fat, I hate myself, so and so did this to me. Nothing will ever change until I actually, really admit that I am my own problem. My entire life, I’ve been blaming others for my faults. I blamed my mom for not giving me enough attention, I blamed my “father” for not being around, which caused me great psychological pain, I blamed teachers for making fun of me and calling me stupid, and blamed kids for everything else that was wrong with me.

My mom, the one who I always fought with, the one who I told ruined my life, the one that I said I hated time and time again, now turns out to be my best friend. She may still give me those motherly looks sometimes, but I know, deep down, aside from all those stupid faces and comments she may give, she appreciates me for me, and sees me for what I really am; for that child model I should have been years ago. All jokes aside, she’s one of few who have pushed me to keep going, and who truly believes I can do this. What can I blame her for? Being honest? Telling me I was fat? She was just pointing out the truth. It’s not like I didn’t see it. Maybe she wasn’t saying it in the nicest way, but she did not cause me to be fat. Her words did not put the food in my mouth. My own greasy McDonalds fingers did.

“Father”, left when I was two. No idea who he is. He calls me to tell me he loves me and misses me regularly, but to be honest, I don’t really know him. While some people may be quick to diagnose me with “Daddy Issues”, I think I’m stronger than that. I had a mom who was a father to me as well. I didn’t have a dad to buy me a car, or to run to when my mom was mean to me. Doesn’t mean the lack of his presence is the reason I’m fat.  I think being the child of a single mother makes me stronger, and makes me learn from my strong mother. That man who calls himself my father, in the end- really did absolutely nothing for me. Didn’t teach me anything, didn’t teach me values in life. I guess if he didn’t have the power to do anything for me, how could he have had the power to make me fat? In my eyes, he was powerless- therefore, can’t blame him either.

Teachers and peers were not nice in school. While I was always tall for my age, I knew I stood out. I started to get bigger when I was younger, and while stealing lunch from little kids, I guess that’s when I start to balloon. I did it to myself. I asked to be called Hillary Germs, and I asked the teachers not to like me. Teachers really didn’t like me because I was awkwardly tall, and had to stand next to them in school pictures. I was a really cute kid, and probably took the attention off them which made them really upset and not want to like me. Just a thought. I stole snacks from kids lunches, I didn’t participate in activities because I was lazy.

It’s time I stop blaming others, and just beat this disease once and for all. Feeling sorry for myself won’t make me lose weight. Looking in the mirror, and telling myself that I am fat won’t make the weight fall off. I could have turned this all around and said my mom, absent father, teachers and bullies were the reason why I am fat. No one sat me down and forced cheeseburgers down my throat, no one told me I had to take snacks from kids. No one told me I had to closet eat. No one told me I had to sneak to a fast food chain at 2:00 am.

I did it to me. I have no one to blame but me. Now that I have accepted this, I know that I can do this weight loss journey. While I have stalled, a stall is not my reason for failure, a stall should be a reminder for me to wake the f!@ up and get back on track.

Shopping With Ronnie


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This weekend, I did what every girl hates doing. Bathing suit shopping. However, to make it worse, I went bathing suit shopping with none other than my very opinionated, very honest, very Jewish Mother; Ronnie Ginger. Shopping is never fun, especially when the scale has been stalled for three weeks, and I’m feeling especially fatter and unmotivated than ever. My wise mom says that “no one likes to go bathing suit shopping”. In fact, she tried to prove this point! When she noticed a skinny slimmer girl looking through the section, she goes up to this innocent young lady and says “Hey, you’re skinny, you must hate shopping for bathing suits, don’t you? See Hilly, even skinny girls hate shopping for this stuff“. Seriously, what the eff did I get myself into, she talks to strangers, and embarrasses me, and why am I going shopping with her? I turned bright red, and made my oh-so-honest mother walk away from this poor girl.

While we were rummaging the aisles this time, we didn’t pick up any fantaSIZER or moomoo swimwear, and I also didn’t head to the plus size section. Go me! Before I go any further, please keep in mind, that just the sound of Ronnie breathing, makes me want to go on a wild rampage and rip things and smash holes into walls (I have anger problems, shut up). So, while I’m in the dressing room, huffing and puffing, breaking a sweat, Ronnie comes in all giddy and happy and asks me to come out so I can show her how it looks. Is she serious? Like I’m going to come out looking like an overstuffed walrus? Anyway, I get the nerve to come out and strut my stuff, Ronnie is standing there with this look on her face, and I’m expecting something like “NO, change now” to come out of her mouth,  but, I was surprised when she just started smiling and tells me how great I look- seriously Ronnie, what pills did you take before we went shopping?

My non scale victory of the week was that all the bathing suits fit me. I even had to take one in a size smaller because one we picked out was too big. Old me would have NEVER had to change something for the smaller size. Having this type of great feeling, makes me want to get back on track and start to get past this plateau that I am at. The fact that Ronnie and I went shopping and it didn’t result in even ONE fight, was nothing short of a miracle. Seriously, years ago, one of us would have ended up with a black eye and it wouldn’t have been me, just saying.

Closet Eater


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It’s time to get serious. I don’t care if I embarrass myself or my family, but being a fat kid is never easy, and I truly believe that discussing the issues I faced as a child and young adult will be freeing as I wash this negative fat girl out of my system.

Growing up, our parents will sometimes say, “don’t eat this” , “this is bad for your skin” or something along the lines of “if you eat this you’re going to get fat and get pimples”. I loved all food. I loved to eat sweet things, and anything covered in chocolate. I liked pizza, even chocolate covered pizza – I would eat it all. By the time I had hit my heaviest, I was spending all my hard earned video store money on pharmacy bought junk food and hiding McDonalds bags under my bed. I would go to some corner store, and buy whatever had the least amount of wrapper, and which ever was the biggest bang for my buck. I’d buy those $8 chocolate bars, that would last a normal person at least three days, and hide the wrappers in a purse; which my mother would find less than 72 hours later and yell at me for it. I was never allowed to eat cheese, so I would buy a pack of  10 cheese string, and eat them all before my mom could notice that I would have them. I was ballooning, and played stupid and told myself that I didn’t know why this was happening. Dr. Mommy Ronnie Ginger diagnosed me with a rare disorder and told me that I was a closet eater. She did have a point: in front of people, I would never eat, but behind closed doors, everyday was a free for all with anything I could find.

When sneaking out of the house to buy food wasn’t an option, I would make what ever gross concoction I was able to come up with. I think once I microwaved a potato, put some processed cheese on it and crumbled a fish stick on it. I was only eating because someone told me not to. My mom also asked me to brush my hair everyday when I was a kid, I never did that. No one listens to their parents when they’re that age.

I felt deprived because my entire life the good food would be hidden from me. I always had to order a salad instead of a cheeseburger. I had to get the fat free Italian dressing on the side when everyone else had a ceasar salad with extra dressing. I wasn’t allowed bread.

I always felt bad that I never listened to my mom. I just felt like she was singling me out and wanted me to be the different one from the other kids. I always assumed I was being picked on when really she was just looking out for me. I guess I learned my lesson!

Ronnie Ginger


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Me and my mom never really got along when I was a child, or when I was a teenager. Actually, we only started getting along recently. It could have to do with the fact that I was a very needy child and she was left alone raising a one week old and a beautiful crazy two year old (me) when she was just 25. I mean, I’m stressed out at 25 just thinking about what kind of shoes to wear, who knew what she was going through.

I remember when I was eight, I weighed eighty pounds. My mom fought so hard not to get me to hit that 100 pounds mark, right now I would KILL to weigh 100 pounds. She took me to nutritionists, and Weight Watchers, and took me to see psycho brain therapists, once I hit that 100 pounds, it all went downhill. I think she thought that she was failing as a parent when she saw me gaining so much weight so quickly, but she shouldn’t have blamed herself, I just liked food. It wasn’t her fault, and she did the best she could.

I know that no matter how many times my mom told me to stop eating that cookie, or no matter how fat she said I was getting, she only said it because she loved me. No matter how many times we fought, or whatever mean things we said to each other, she was always there for me, and still is always there for me. I guess why she called me fat my whole life was because she didn’t know what to say to a fat kid, and didn’t know how to face reality that one of her children was becoming morbidly obese before her very eyes. If you tell a fat kid to stop eating, they’re going to eat- so I ate…a lot.

Mom, I love you. You are the best mother AND father anyone could ever ask for. You sacrificed everything for me and Duffy. Even though there are times we all fight, and we say mean things, you are my best friend and my inspiration.

FYI: For all you haters, my mom and I became best friends in 2010 when I moved out, not when I got skinny (er).

Happy Valentines Day To Me


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Valentines Day is a day for single people to be upset they’re alone, fat girls to eat chocolate and watch The Notebook with their friends Ben and Jerry, and girls in relationships not being happy that their boyfriends didn’t send them the right flowers or the right kind of expensive chocolates.

Well, every fat girl loves to get chocolate on Valentines Day. I didn’t get that, not even a chocolate pudding. I got a Vanilla Yogurt though. I couldn’t finish the yogurt, because I was so full from just one bite; well really, it tasted terrible, like rotten cheese. Donald Chow tried his hardest though. We had a great Valentines Day, even though he doesn’t believe in it. We went to the hair salon and I got some crazy blonde highlights. I figured, new me, new hair, why not. The do-master had crazy eyes once I told him he could go crazy and cut off as much as he wanted, and color it whatever color he wanted. They surprised me, and now I feel like a heavier, prettier version of Jennifer Aniston. I’m kind of looking more like my mom. I can’t wait to see the face she gives me when I have to pick her up from the airport tomorrow; it’s either going to be the “what the hell did you do to your hair” face or the “omg, I love it, you look just like your mother” face.

Anyway, this Valentines Day turned out to be amazing for me, because while all you skinny girls were gaining weight with your chocolate covered strawberries, and fancy meals, I got a new hairstyle and I look hotter as each day goes by.

Are All Mothers This Critical?


Today was my “before” picture day. While I once believed I had a skinny back, and skinny legs, my loving, in her own special way, mother, Ronnie Ginger, who possesses absolutely no filter, found it necessary to point out to me that my backside was not as small as I actually believed it to be. Bravo for you, Ronnie, Bravo! In her words: “She does not have a skinny back, or skinny legs, or a skinny butt, everything looks small in comparison to her midsection”…. she didn’t say midsection, she said “belleh”… you know like that Destinys Child Bootylicious song? 

This weekend, she got mad at me for being hungry. She doesn’t understand. I asked her if she would like it if her cigarettes were blended into a shake she had to drink four times a day and had to stop her addiction. Apparently she found this funny, so funny in fact, she made a little wee wee. 

G-d bless her soul. No matter what comes out of her mouth, I know she truly loves me.