I am fat. There is no denying it, I knew but didn’t want to face up to it but now I’ve reached an all time low. My engagement ring is too tight. I struggle to take it off, it leaves a dent. I’m fat, see!
I am officially the fattest I’ve ever been and getting bigger. I need to stop. No more shit. I say this every week but my resolve is weak. I’ve spent lots of money on fitness equipment that is just languishing in the corners of my house.
When smallest was born I was back to my pre children size, I’ve eaten myself into my worst nightmare. I’ve eaten myself into my own mother.
Mum is fat, she always has been. She has done every diet ever. Yes she has lost weight, but it’s eaten back on very quickly. I’ve always had a hidden repulsion to her body. The sheer size, the way her stomach falls over her underwear. And now this is me. I’m the product of my own hatred.
My problem? I will tell the truth is embarrassment. I’ve been raised to believe excercise is horrible, that only freaks would actually want to do it. Truth be told, I enjoy it but the years of being told it’s another thing that can be used to call me a freak makes it something to avoid.
I hate the clumsy feeling that comes with this size, the fact I’ve only dresses or leggins that fit, and fuck me I’m fed up of elastic waistbands.
So today my lovely friends is the last day. I cannot be like this anymore, as I creep towards 14 stone on my 5″2 frame I need this horrible reality check. Tomorrow is a new day, not just another okay I’m going to do this. It’s a real I CAN DO THIS!!
So goodbye fatty, hope to never see your ugly arse again.
Oh and if I fail I will just have to have another baby, this is when I am queen of weight loss would you believe!!