Am I Trying to Lose Weight or Just Talk?

This morning I weighed myself. 223.

I'm currently not trying to do anything with myself weight-wise. I'm not exercising, I'm not eating salads, I'm not avoiding junk food. Yesterday's meals were a good indication of where I am at emotionally with my food:

Breakfast: A Milky Way bar (Translation: Fuck You! I'll Eat What I Want!)
Lunch: Avocado and Grapefruit diced together in a salad. (Translation: I am aware of the benefits of a Raw Foods Diet. I LOVE Eating Healthy. I am so Pious and Food Aware. I know what constitutes good nutrition. And look at me! I'm eating it!)
Dinner: Taco Bell Nachos Bell Grande no meat/beans, a cheese quesadilla, and three chocolate drumsticks. (Dont' tell me I can or cant' eat something. I'll eat whatever the fuck I want. Food allergies - I can take you! I can take anything! BRING IT ON BITCHES!)
Water intake: maybe 20 ounces. I'm not paying attention.

Which leads me to the question: what is my goal? Do I really want to lose weight, or just sit here jerking off to you talking about how much I want to lose weight?

I saw this movie last night with Nia Vardalos in it, called "My Life in Ruins." In it, Nia Vardalos' character has one plan in mind for her life, but as the movie progresses, she starts to see that maybe she needs to let go, and allow maybe another plan unfold that she'd never considered.

I liked it a lot; it was cute and well played. What I found interesting was my own reaction to the movie. In it, one of the other characters was clearly in love with her. And she of course didn't know it. I tend to be a movie spoiler, so if you hate that jump to the next paragraph. There's a scene in the movie where she opens herself up to the guy. And I thought, well, of course she can - she's thin and attractive. If the opportunity presented itself to be sexually intimate with a guy, she's got the body to go ahead and do it. But I don't.

Which, right there, is the spinning wheel of my life. I can't be loved because I'm not thin, but I don't want to be loved by somebody just for having a thin body. If they love me fat, there is something wrong with them, and if they love me thin, they're an asshole. No winning - for them, or for me.

So I go to bed, and I'm laying in bed on my side. It's been so long since I've been with anyone, and I blame it on my present weight. I'm feeling my own flesh, rolls of fat I used to not have, and I think - yech. There is no way I would want to put a man through having to be with such a replusive woman. I am turned off by me; how could I ever think a guy could be turned on?

Then I realize how mean these thoughts are. I think, well, that's awfully harsh - I see other women, as big or bigger than me, with men who clearly love them. Why do they deserve it and not me? In fact, if a woman were to say to me, "OH! I'm completely unlovable because I'm so fat!" I would say, "Oh! No you're not!" I would hate that she sees herself that way.

But at the same time, deep down, I think, yes, that's probably why you are not loved. Because you are a fat ugly heffer. I would think, who in the hell would want to love a fat, ugly heffer? And I think, what a terrible thought. Where would I, being as charming and nice as I am, get such a thought?

Enter Mom and Dad. Once upon a time, my mom was very thin; "Eighteen inch waist on our wedding day," she would say proudly. And through each of us kids, she lost all her baby weight. However, with my brother Brian's birth, the youngest, something changed.

Mom tanked during Brian's pregnancy. I remember Dad jokingly calling her dress a tent in front of all of us kids as we were sitting in the kitchen, most likely waiting for dinner to be made. I'm not sure how much she got up to weight wise, but based on the photos, I would say she was easily a size 20.

I remember her doing exercises and such after Brian was born. I remember her joining Weight Watchers. I remember some of her meals, seeing her eat a breakfast of exactly one-half a grapefruit and one piece dry toast. I remember her losing the weight, and all the women at church going, "Oh, Kay! You look great!" It was as if they suddenly liked her, or had renewed like for her, now that she was thin.

Mom gained the weight back after that, and never lost it again. I'm not sure what size she was when she died in 2005 - she snipped the size label out of all of her clothes - but I'd guess she went out the same dress size as her waist once was in inches.

I bring this up because, just like I am doing right now, she was always talking about trying to lose the weight, too. But was she really? Am I really?

Her keeping the weight on was a point of contention between her and my Dad. I remember Dad making comments about wishing she were thinner - and not gentle, loving, I am concerned about your health comments. His comments were about him - him wishing he had an attractive wife, him slapping her ass and thinking he was funny, saying how guys like a woman with an ass and Boy Did Mom Have An Ass! Him sharing a dream he had about mom becoming thin again and it making him so happy he was crying in the dream.

My mom was not a mousy woman. She was strong and smart and I think could have easily walked out on my dad and found someone else without much trouble. So as an adult, I can't figure out why she put up with his shit. My dad's not a complete asshole. But then again, he has his moments. We all do, I suppose.

One day when i was probably 8 or 10, I walked into my parents room, to find my mom crying. I asked her what was wrong, and seeing me, she regained her composure, trying to keep me from seeing her pain. Too late. I pushed her for an answer, the way kids do, with love and fear blended into one question. Mom didn't tell me what happened. Instead, she told me this: "Men say they want a thin wife. But they really don't. Because if you're thin they feel threatened. So they really want you fat, so nobody else wants you; despite all their comments otherwise."

And with that, she walked out of the room.

Well, that's pretty clear then, huh, as to my current weight issues? As well as my conflicting feelings about my Dad.

Dad's currently dating a woman, a neighbor woman who used to play bridge with Mom. At his birthday party we just had in November, he danced a dance with this new lady friend. She's their same age, and keeps herself in relatively good shape. As they danced, I thought, hm. Getting him to dance with Mom was like pulling teeth. She would ask, and he would somehow skirt around it. I thought maybe he didn't really like dancing; but here he is, dancing with his new thinner blonde lady friend.

And I just realized - did Mom and Dad get into a non-confrontational brawl through Mom's weight? Some families get into drag-down, kicking, screaming fights with each other. Ours does not. Our family does not get angry. It's not polite. It's not useful. Only trashy people get angry, and we might be poor, but we are not trashy. We are white trash aristocracy - in their ranks, but above their rancor.

We are simply too smart for anger.

So we laugh it off Ha! Ha! Ha!

And nothing ever gets resolved.

What were my mom and dad mad about that didn't get resolved out right, and maybe got played out via mom's refusal to give dad a thin wife?

A lot of things - far too many to go into today. You've been more than patient with all I've revealed today, but I think that's enough information for one download. Let's just sum it up that I think Mom had some built up resentments, and finally decided she was done giving everything to my dad. She gave him money, she gave him support. I think maybe she decided she wasn't going to give him the status that men seem to get by having a wife that stays slim, too. I have evidence to support this idea. When I was in high school, I forget what Mom and I were talking about, but she was saying something that Dad had done that had made her mad. I said, "And that's why you won't lose the weight, to spite him," and Mom said, "You damn right that's why I won't -" And then she stopped, realizing what she was saying and who she was saying it to. We never talked about it after that. And Mom continued to give proper lip service to wanting to lose the excess weight she carried, but she never did. And maybe Dad retaliated with surface light-hearted teasing and refusing to dance - one of Mom's greatest loves.

This is how the world works when we're not on the up and up with each other.

So, here I am, pondering my own position in all this. Am I fat in defense of Mom? In a sub-conscious attack on Dad - my weight as a scream to the world what went on in their marriage? His failing to be a good husband? A good father? A good provider in the traditional sense? Am I fat so fat people will like me? So skinny women know I am not competition? So men will take me for my brains and not want to take my body?

I've suspected all of these culprits for many years. How do I move past it? How do I give myself the body I want? What is the body I want? I don't care to be a size 02, but I don't like being a size 20 either. Different sizes represent different things to me. I have a lot to work through with this matter. I think just putting out into space what I uncover helps. What's resonating for me today is the thought of Mom giving lip service to letting go of the extra weight she carried, but never doing it. As in, she said she forgave Dad for not delivering on some of his promises, but physically, I think she was showing she didn't. That's striking me right in my heart, and I feel that I might have unearthed something big there. So, what am I refusing to not forgive by continuing to carry my excess weight around? What am I continuing to harbor that remains unspoken? I think I've got it buried so deep, it's going to take a bit to uncover. This blog is amazing. I highly recommend doing it - even if none of you are reading it, it's public, and for some reason, that helps. I hope it helps you open up things you might not known need to be brought light as well. Thanks for listening. Until next time.