Hell freezes over!
Thursday morning. Yes, it's true...the usually balmy Hell has, indeed, experienced a cold snap. How else to explain the fact that my skirt yesterday - my stylish, sexy black pleated skirt - was so loose at the waistband that I couldn't keep my crisp, white shirt tucked in properly and kept having to straighten the seams back to where they belonged? HA. Double HA, as a matter of fact! Take that, fickle fat powers that be! I bought that skirt back in June, while I was at the Mall of America, and it was too tight to wear. I know that it fit perfectly no more than six weeks ago because I wore it just before I left for Portland on August 7th and it's at least an inch too big now - tee hee hee. On the other hand, the new skirt I bought a couple of weeks ago which cut my circulation off at the time, is looking absolutely smashing today and not endangering my life at all. At this point, I'm just beaming and thinking "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS".
On my walk last night, I reflected a lot on where I am, where I'm going, and where I've been. I really (all evidence to the contrary aside) don't want to be like I was last time I lost weight and start not just obsessing on the weight/aesthetic part of this odyssey but actively hating my fat alter ego. My God, do you know (I know many of you do!) how hard, how impossibly, cruelly hard it is to be fat in America? It is not for the faint of heart, let me tell you. The number of people who feel perfectly justified in staring, pointing, laughing, making cruel, cutting comments, and - perhaps worst of all - cracking "fat jokes" is just staggering. What is it about us, the Fat, that makes it not only OK but almost expected behavior to belittle and criticize us? If you stab me, do I not bleed? Heck yeah I bleed! I bleed a lot, as a matter of fact, although I always try to do it behind the safety of my solid front door so that no one has the satisfaction of watching it. With all of that, I cannot allow myself to join in the chorus of fat haters, even as it pertains to myself. To do so would not only allow the powers of evil and hatred to win, it would diminish, at least in my eyes, what I'm accomplishing.
On my walk last night, I reflected a lot on where I am, where I'm going, and where I've been. I really (all evidence to the contrary aside) don't want to be like I was last time I lost weight and start not just obsessing on the weight/aesthetic part of this odyssey but actively hating my fat alter ego. My God, do you know (I know many of you do!) how hard, how impossibly, cruelly hard it is to be fat in America? It is not for the faint of heart, let me tell you. The number of people who feel perfectly justified in staring, pointing, laughing, making cruel, cutting comments, and - perhaps worst of all - cracking "fat jokes" is just staggering. What is it about us, the Fat, that makes it not only OK but almost expected behavior to belittle and criticize us? If you stab me, do I not bleed? Heck yeah I bleed! I bleed a lot, as a matter of fact, although I always try to do it behind the safety of my solid front door so that no one has the satisfaction of watching it. With all of that, I cannot allow myself to join in the chorus of fat haters, even as it pertains to myself. To do so would not only allow the powers of evil and hatred to win, it would diminish, at least in my eyes, what I'm accomplishing.
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