I'm a little bit fat

Warning: triggers around weight issues


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No-one has ever called me svelte. Or skinny. Or willowy. I've never been characterised as elegant or graceful. 

Someone did  once say to me that I was 'built for comfort, not for speed.' That was when I was 19. When I was 12 my little cousin said, "I like cuddling you Cecily. You're squashy."

I've always been one of those 'comfortable', 'motherly' women. There's just slightly more of me in every area than is necessary. 

The only problem is: I'm not comfortable with being 'comfortable'. I don't want to be squashy. I don't want to be constantly rearranging my rolls and wedges whenever I sit down. I don't want bits that aren't loose to jiggle when I run. And yes, I do want to run.

And I'm all sorts of awkward in expressing my thoughts about this situation. Because, you see, there's a lot you're not supposed to say  or probably even think about being fattish. On the one hand, we're supposed to be pleased and proud with who we are. We're supposed to be telling our children that it's health that's the thing, see?   You should never worry, never diet, never think another thing about it. And people who once had ironing-board abdomens post pictures of their ever-so-slightly round tummies on their blogs and say, "Hey, you know, it's all good because I'm a woman and this teeny tiny little bulge symbolises my children who I love beyond life and if I even suggested that it was a problem, it would mean that I wanted to send little Jack and Jill off to state care, and I'm proud of my spare tire, and you shouldn't complain about yours."

On the other hand we constantly say to our friends who've gone and lost 10kg, "Wow! You look amazing! Fantastic! Superlative! Incredible!" And they nod and look slightly sheepishly proud and say, "Well, you know, thanks. I've had to work pretty hard."

When it comes down to it, and I really examine my thoughts about myself   being fattish  I come out with these ideas:

  • If I am fat, I am not good enough
  • I don't like the feeling of my jeans squashing in around my waist
  • When I look at my reflection I feel disappointed and (yes,) disgusted
  • I think I must be a failure because I will not stop putting chocolate brownies in my mouth
  • If anyone is thinner than me it means they are more righteous/self-controlled/interesting/better or less lazy than me.  If I am thinner than you, I have my life together much more.
  • I don't like the way I look at this size.  
  • I judge myself.
  • Probably everyone is looking at my waist and judging me. too.
  • I want to be a size 10. I wish I was a size 10. I will be happy when I'm a size 10.
  • It's not fair that I can't eat everything I want to eat, and I hate those people who can and who stay thin.
  • Don't tell me just to accept myself. I WANT to look different. 
  • I hold my tummy in all day, hoping... 
  • I want to eat what I want to eat. 
  • I SO hate exercise. I SO love sugar. Waaaah. 

I think all of these thoughts *every day*. And more than several times a day. They constantly swirl in the background of my psyche. I spend the day thinking I'm no good, sighing in ecstasy at the chocolate brownies I eat that have been brought by someone else to playgroup and then telling myself I'm naughty for eating them and feeling guilty. And fatter. 

When I was 20 and just going out with my now husband, I whined to him that "I felt fat." (See? This has been going on for 20 years now...) He looked puzzled at me. "So, if you think you're fat, why don't you DO something about it?"

I think at this stage of my life I need to look a little beyond that. The fact is, I know  what to do. These days you'd have to have your head under a rock to not  know how to lose weight. It comes down to basic things: if you eat more than you use, you gain. So eat less than you use, and include protein and whole foods. And do some exercise.

I have lost weight before. I got rid of 12kg when I was 33. And I ditched 8 in 2011. The first time I did it I followed the CSIRO eating plan. The second time, I just cut out sugar. Both times I succeeded in reaching my goals. But both times I've put the weight back on. 

Clearly I've got to do something about the situation. But it's got to be something that's actually life-changing and mind-healing. I don't enjoy these thoughts. They're cluttering up my brain and contaminating my emotions.  

Short of 'trying harder' and 'being good' and 'doing better' which is all I know how to do around my weight, what's the answer? Help me! 


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