Thursday, September 16, 2010

I like to think of myself as "previously thin" ...


There's nothing worse than being fat and loving fashion.

Really nothing worse. Also there's nothing worse than being fat, loving fashion and looking in the mirror and realising that your legs are really that short. Because I believe style requires long, slim legs. Which mine are neither.

Since I got fat I have missed out on many things and wearing many things but most of all I miss wearing short dresses and shorts.

When I was thin I would wear short dresses all the time. Now I am forced to wear kaftan like dresses and that upsets me a great deal.

Everyone has a different concept of fat. Thin people for instance, and I mean naturally thin people, consider fat to be the miniscule inch of fat that has accumulated on their skinny thighs over thousands of years.

I knew I was fat when I was forced to buy stretchy waist band skinny jeans.

It was a day of epiphanies. For I was totally stoked to be able to wear jeans again however at the back of my mind the stretchy waist band ruined this discovery.

Also you know you're fat when you start making jokes about yourself to other people.
You begin to make excuses to yourself, to your friends, to your boyfriend and then you become bitter.

When I buy Heat magazine I instantly flip to the pages where the analyze celebrities bodies or what they're wearing. When I find a fault I shout "Look here everyone! Megan Fox gets botox , Blake Lively had a nose job, Lindsay Lohan has coke bloat, Katy Perry has cellulite!" And for five seconds I feel a little better.

Until you realise they're all still thin. Fuck.

I started saying to people, "Ah those skinny people, they must hate not being able to eat pizza's and chocolates and burgers, I'm so glad I'm not them" And while I laughed the tyre around my waist wobbled.

It didnt even take too long for me to turn into a porker, infact it happened so fast I didnt even notice it till all my pants mysteriously didnt go over my thighs ...not my bum, my thighs. So much worse.

And unbeknown to myself, I started buying loose fitting tops, none of them vaguely fashionable.

So I became fat AND frumpy where I remain today.

Being fat holds you back from living. You constantly worried that someone is going to see a fat roll or your cellulite. So actually you just begin to avoid broad daylight and bad lighting and shops for thin people and clubs with thin people in them and thin people in general.

When you eat in the company of people thinner than you, you eat smaller portions or at least try to and by the end of the night you're still bloody starving.

I have gotten to the point now where I have experienced all these moments and hated them.

You see in order to lose weight I must exercise, in order to exercise I must have motivation. I have none. Nothing, nope, no inkling whatsoever. I did make one major attempt at exercise a while ago and I lost quite a bit of weight. And then one evening I said to Ian, "I'm bloody knackered, there is no way I'm getting on that treadmill without a peice of chocolate on string bobbing front of me" and so I let that evening of exercise pass by me. And then it just got too easy not too.

I used to be a really fit person. I had abs of steal I tell you and thighs that would put any athlete to shame, I could lift a small child with my calf muscles. Those days are long gone with school uniforms and throwing up water after a waterpolo match.

I am a team sport person, I get hell bored running by myself. So I need a partner. I once asked Ian to join me and he did, afterwards he almost died of anorexia, the man is ridiculously thin. He does not need to exercise.

The whole reason I am fat in the first place is thanks to him. He eats like a horse.
I am generally a healthy eater but Ian introduced me to things that were ultimately my downfall, I let go a little bit and before I knew it, I couldnt get through a weekend without a crunchie .... or two.


This year is pretty much a write off in the exercise department. I promise myself that in 2011 you will see me sprinting (read; coughing my lungs out) down Empire road attempting to fit into 'real' jeans.

But for now, thank god the fashionistas felt bad for me and invented jeggings. Otherwise I wouldn't be wearing any pants.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for your comment doll!