"Tired of being the Fat Funny Friend"; A brief summary of 2006 - 2009
My 2nd year of college, at 290 lbs, I reached out to my parents telling them how miserable I was. I couldn’t almost be 300 lbs. I was unhappy. I needed help; I was desperate. My mom already knew my pain after spending years crying with me in dressing rooms and being a female herself, had her own body issues. My father was heavier in his youth and also, saw how society has been functioning; so, he, too, understood where I was coming from. With their support, I shipped myself off to the mountains in upstate New York for "fat camp". (Although, the camp frowned upon calling it "fat camp". And I did too, at first. How embarrassing! I had always hated that word, the word "fat". The real "f" word. When I heard it, I immediately started judging myself, even if it wasn't directed at me. It's like, if they said it they must be aware of my size, too. Anyway, it was considered a "healthy living academy" and they encouraged that we called it such.)
Rigorous & almost surreal; hundreds of “overweight” girls varying in age, shape, & weight from all over the world and walks of life, all so desperate to lose weight that they’d give away their summer (&, parents' money - sorry!) to sweat in hopes of returning with the perfect body. They preached 6 small meals and made sure we were kept active from dawn to dusk; 20k steps a day, starting with a bright and early 3 mile morning walk with line up at 6:45 am. No cake on your birthday for the rest of your life? Okay, no room for budging. Some of the methods & messages seemed a little harsh, but whatever works, right? We were also required to participate in therapy; group & solo. My therapist expressed concern that I'd made myself a "jester", masking all real emotions, just trying to please others.... whatever works, ...right?? I shed 45 pounds in 8 weeks; down to 245 lbs. (*this experience could be several blog entries of it's own)
Compliments showered down upon me after my return to the Midwest and it felt good; not just good – f*cking great, almost a high. It's the first time I'd ever been successful in a diet! I managed to keep around the same weight over the next year. Gaining 10 pounds here and losing 15 there. I returned to New York the following summer; this time, as an employee, a motivational counselor. Even though, I celebrated my 21st birthday while there (legal drinking?!) and indulged in some extracurriculars (having a good time with great people), somehow managed to get down to 225 lbs. (*could also be several entries)
After returning to reality yet again, I felt almost invincible, but nowhere close to being as "thin" as I wanted to be. I still felt overweight when I looked in the mirror, but had begun to live life a little more vivaciously since I was now receiving attention & praise on my accomplishments of losing weight. Many telling me how pretty I was and wanting to know my secret to losing weight and tips on how they could lose weight too! My whole life I had been told I had "such a pretty face"... finally, I wasn't just a "pretty face", just "pretty". I felt like I was fucking floating... I indulged. I socialized. I landed a skinny boyfriend and boy, I felt like it was L-O-V-E! We had fun; enjoying each other, going out to bars, or binging movies with equally binged snacks. We indulged; I got comfortable. It wasn’t until after the break up when I stepped back on the scale and saw the number 305 staring back at me. What had I done? How had I let this happen? Again. Coincidentally, he immediately started dating a size 0/2. I had to be "thin", again...