“Move it fatty”
The call of the driver as he whizzes past me whilst I cross the road. A flippant comment for him that I’m sure he hasn’t thought about since. But it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the rest of my day. Despite knowing he’s an ass and not worth my concern, my anxiety and inner child alas, refuse to take my advice. And so we find ourselves here. Pondering my feelings and sharing them with you.
I have always had a strange relationship with my weight. As a teenager I was slim. Really slim. I know I was slim because my parents told me so many many times. And I wanted to stay slim. A set of scales in my bedroom let me run the check every day. Under 8 stone = good. Over and no food for me for that day. Later on I resorted to amphetamines to keep my figure at that slimmer level.
It took many years before I got free of both the addiction and the dealer. The downside was an ever increasing lillekat.
Diets followed. Weightwatchers - Check. Slimming World - Check. Keto - check. My fitness pal - Check. Some worked for a while. Some not so much. And yet here I am, still curvier than I’d like and obviously not comfortable with it.
So what is the answer? Well, have you thought about eating less and exercising more? Ha ha I never thought of that. A couple of my conditions don’t help. Don’t get me wrong, the biscuits and the chocolate are the biggest culprits but an under active thyroid and a regular lithium intake don’t make it any easier. Maybe I should just come to terms with it. Anyone know how I do that?
And to the aforementioned driver? I hope that when you sleep a spider makes his way into your mouth. And you wake up.
