Eff The Scale


I’ve come to the conclusion that the scale is a big fat bully. This stupid, glass, square shaped ass looks at me every time I pee and just wants me to stand on it and upset me.  Donald bought this super fancy one that tells you you’re fat, tells you how much oxygen you have, and then sends a notification to your phone reminding you how fat you are. First of all, once I get on the scale, that’s enough, I don’t need to get a little reminder with that number on my phone! How rude… Oxygen? Really?…I’m fine! 

 

So, I started this new thing and I’ve been doing it for about a week and it’s magical! I’ve started to measure my weight loss in the form of compliments rather than in the form of a stupid number. This past week, I have had one person say “I can’t believe what you look like today compared to what you used to look like“, ( I mean, I know I look a lot better, but I was never so hideous you couldn’t look at me!) for that compliment, I will take off 2.1 pounds. Then two days later, someone else said how thin my face got- another pound there! Measurements in compliments is way more effective than getting on some stupid box. By the way scale making people, perhaps you should make a scale that gives you compliments like; ” Good Morning Beautiful” or “You Look Nice Today”, what’s the point of these mean numbers anyway?

So from now on, I will keep eating my vegetables, and all you nice friendly people around me can keep the nice comments coming… I’m listening!!

Get Me To ONEDERLAND!


It’s been one year since I walked into my doctors office and picked up my nasty two week liquid diet. I was the unhappiest, grouchiest fat girl, and all I wanted was a double bacon cheeseburger. Those were possibly the worst two weeks of my life, because I have never depended on food. Fat Girl Problems, I guess?  I’ve been a little absent this 2014. Truthfully it’s because I’m in a deep deep state of depression. I get that I am pretty, and god only made me fat so that I wouldn’t have it all and make the skinnies jealous. No one can have it all… I’ve been the same weight for the last 5 months and can’t seem to move the scale into onederland. (Onederland is when an overweight person gets out of the ungodly 200 pounds and into the 100’s).

I have never felt more pretty, or better about myself. I fit into a size 31 jeans, I like to look in the mirror and I am comfortable in tight shirts. I’ve given up on leggings and I actually wear things that have zippers and are form fitting. But the scale is my enemy, and I say it everyday. It’s like the number 2 wants to marry me and won’t go away. Doesn’t it understand that nobody likes that number? If I just saw that 1, I know that it would be totally different and I would be motivated to loose the rest of it. I look at old pictures, and I think to myself how did I let myself get that big, I was so unhappy. When I look at the scale, and nothing happens, I get depressed and just feel like I’m going back to that bad bad place- I don’t know what’s going on!

If anyone wants to say nice things to me now to motivate me, now would be the time.

Xo,

200 pounds.

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My One Year Blogaverssary


 

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Today marks one year of my first blog post. One year ago, I was in a completely different place. I was just starting out by making people laugh about how fat I was and pretty much poking fun at myself. It’s been such an amazing year, and so many changes have happened. I’ve lost one of my triple chins, lost 6 pant sizes, and have smiled more this year than I have in the last ten.

I distinctively remember this day in 2012. November 26, 2012, I entered the hospital for my first ever INFO SESSION. Now, this info session, is a room full of plump people such as myself, with the nurses and doctors coming in to scare you with what to expect with your upcoming surgery. So what, they were going to cut my stomach open, big deal, I wasn’t scared. Then everything else started to sink in- the pills, my life after surgery, my clothes, my life in general.. everything. In the middle of the info session, I look up at the doctor, and he’s talking about all these complications, and I begin wondering if this surgery really is for me, or if I can actually do it on my own. I look around the room- a room full of overweight, discouraged people just like me, then back down at my stomach, while my triple chin hits my chest, and immediately I know that this is the last option for me.

I look down at my stomach now and still see the fat girl. I still am the fat girl. What people don’t realize is that it happens slowly. I don’t even realize it, and I’m trying to calm myself down everyday when I wake up every morning and realize that I’m still a fatass. Truthfully, I didn’t do all the research I should have done leading up to the surgery. I thought it would be a breeze, that I would lose all my weight by the summer, that I’d be able to wear a bikini. Truth is, I’m ten months out and I still am fat. I will be fat forever- maybe not physically, but mentally.

I’m so happy with what I’ve done, and I have learned to not let anyone judge me or make fun of me. I’ve learned that I am a special person, and I should be lucky for what I have. So what if I’m ten months out and haven’t lost all the weight, that doesn’t matter to me. I have come so far, and this has been the most magical year of my life.

During this whole blog life of mine, I’ve realized that people are asses. People are rude, and will really do anything to bring you down. In elementary and high school, I would hate writing, but look at me now- writing is my jam (I hate jam). I’ve learned that even if I’m losing weight, and even if I become 150 pounds, people will always have something to say or something to criticize about me. I’ve learned that no amount of weight loss will suffice to people who love me most. I have also learned that the young bullies from my childhood have and will always remain to be bullies forever. I have learned to love life, and to be happy. I have learned to love myself and learned to be happy with what I have. I have learned to realize who is really there for me, and to appreciate the love and attention I receive from my family and especially my boyfriend, and best friend, Donald. I have learned to taste food and not to devour it. I have learned to appreciate food and not devour it. I liked to devour food, what can I say.

Most of all, I have learned who I am, and I am proud of who I am. I can happily say that I am one hundred bajillion times happier today, than where I was on November 26 2012.

Thanks to everyone for their support and encouragement.

It’s 10:00 AM And I Finished All My Snacks


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Anyone who knows me, knows that I like snacks. I am a snack queen, and I can snack all day. Some may diagnose me with grazing disorder, but I just think of myself as a hungry horse. Kidding, now is not the time to make fun of me, but I do like snacks.

Snacks come in all shapes, forms, tastes, colors and sizes. Due to the fact that my stomach is the size of a banana, large snacks don’t quite do it for me anymore. I have found that apples are not my friend, because they burn going down, and then just sit in my stomach like an unborn apple baby. Carrots aren’t good with me either. I’m mostly good with almonds and cheeses. I love cheese, don’t get me started on cheese. I like all cheese except for the stinky ones. Once it gets too smelly or mushy, it makes me really uncomfortable and I’m just off wanting cheese.

Enough about cheese, and more about me. I don’t know what’s happened, or why it’s happened. If I am bored at work, or if I am just bored in my brain, but when it comes to the morning, I need a snack every 30 minutes. I am always hungry. Of course, once I eat, the feeling goes away… I know all the doctors and nutitionists say that drinking water will make you feel less hungry. Can someone make water taste less boring? For all you nature people who are about to tell me how great water is for you, and all the nutirents blah blah, I already know these things. I’ve been home sick many times this year, and Dr. OZ has told me all about it. Water bores me. It tastes like wet air. When someone forces me to do something, I’ll do the exact opposite. I still haven’t gone back to Diet Pepsi which is my ex bff, but whatever.

Anyway, it’s early, I’m out of snacks, and now I have to deal with it. The vending machine man won’t be back today to feed me treats. I definitely don’t need any more of those.

 

A Note To Loud Chewers


Dear Loud Chewers of the world,

It’s time I come clean, and stop sitting here in silence and taking this abuse…I’m still not over the whole chewing with your mouth open thing. It’s really bothering me, and has been for the last 25 years of my life. Why is it necessary to chew like a horse, breathe like a behemoth and lick your fingers like curly sue? Actually, you don’t sound or look like curly sue, just a buffalo who’s hungry and has resorted to eating fingers. It’s so ugly! Was I the only one that was brought up to chew quietly and normally. I am not interested in hearing what your loud mouth has to offer. I also, don’t like when you spit your food on me. It’s rude, and impolite, and you should not be marching over to me with a buffet of food in your mouth. I like Niagra Falls, not Foodagra Falls, thank you very much.

If my mom taught me how to chew properly, then you can do it too. I will be giving tutorials, at a low rate of $5 an hour. It’s called Hillarys-School-Of-Learning-To-Chew-With-Your-Gross-Mouth-Closed-School-Of-Etiquette.

Thanks so much, and have a lovely day.

Goodbye.

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).

 

A Note To Skinny Parents With Overweight Children


Dear parents of overweight children,

While you may think that telling your plump child not to take a bite of that delicious ice cream cone, I urge you to think about the words that are coming out of your mouth, and the consequences they may hold. I myself came from a place where I was always told no (Mom, I’m not mad at you, don’t take it personally- this is strictly for entertainment purposes, and I love you)

I will do my best to prepare a list of things us plump kids hate the most:

1) Do not, I repeat do not, lift our pants up to our chins, and stretch our shirts down to our knees. While you may think we look absolutely marvelous, and slim, we actually look like moronic buffoons. Pants are supposed to be worn at waist level, not boob level, and unless I’m buying a dress, a shirt should be worn just above my pants, and not down to my knees. If you want us to dress like we belong in the circus for overweight children, please dress us in moomoos and tie dye tights.

2) If I want that cheeseburger, I will eat it. Little Henrietta over there may want to devour a delicious yummy double bacon cheeseburger with extra sauce and more meat- and you should let her. If not, she will go and have ten more when you’re not looking. How would you feel about that one, Mama Josephine?

3) Sprinkles and chocolate chips. You know those build your own sundae places? The ones with chocolate chips and sprinkles and whatever else, oh ya, chocolate sauce, and butterscotch sauce, and sauce in general and more chocolate and stuff.  How come the skinny sibling gets to have as much sprinkles and chocolate chips, and the overweight one gets twelve lousy sprinkles! Share the sprinkles, you sprinkle demon! Sprinkles are just sugar, it’s in your benefit to give your overweight child an abundance of sprinkles. They’ll get really crazy, then really tired, and sleep really well, and like magic– you will have a quiet night. So don’t be so mean, and share the sprinkles.

4) Bathing suit shopping. As much as it hurts to tell your child how bad they look in a bathing suit, let them wear whatever they want. One day they will look back at pictures and say to themselves “what was I thinking”, and then they’ll blame themselves and not you. Also, maybe the kids at the pool will make fun of them, and then they’ll ask you for help in the swimsuit department…better that way actually. Now, today I look back at pictures from when I was twelve and ask myself what I was wearing because I looked like a pregnant child in an eighty year old’s bathing suit.

Let kids be kids, fat or skinny, tall or short. I complain a lot about everything, but that’s because I didn’t get a lot of sprinkles, and never got to wear a bikini.

I’ve done all my complaining for the day