My name is not Lily Fluffbottom. Its a moniker, one my cousin came up with. You see, I have a very popular name that I don’t particularly like very well. My cousin said, “You might run into a couple of Lily’s during your life, but you’ll never find a Fluffbottom.”

Fluffbottom does not refer to the size of my ass.

I have been over weight my entire life. The last time I was anything remotely viewed as skinny, I was 6 years old. I’m 25 now, and after traveling across the country, I’ve settled in Anchorage, Alaska while I work on my degree in Sociology, and help at risk youth not screw up their lives so early.

I have a lot of fat. It is everywhere. I am bloated with fat. I am not fat. I have never been fat. I have a lot of fat.

When I moved to Alaska the first time, I started smoking cigarettes. When I moved to Alaska the second time, I quit smoking cigarettes cold turkey.

One day I realized that I had to eat over 3200 calories to maintain my weight. I had gained 5 pounds in one week. That meant I was eating well over a pound of fat’s worth of calories for serveral days, and hell, probably years. People do not get skinny eating that way. The problem was, I could never tell you I had eaten. I just ate. I didn’t care what it was, I hardly tasted it anyway. And when it was gone, I was always a little sad, and went to get something to replace it. Food is always replaceable.

“That’s no way to live, Lily!” I told myself. I asked myself what I wanted, what I truly wanted. (I’m a very internally selfish person. I talk about myself a lot because I tend to not involve myself in other peoples lives.)  “You know whats going to happen if you keep it up this way? Your feet are going to lose sensation one day, and they’re going to have to cut them off. Is that what you want? Is that conducive to your plans of traveling the world over? Of joining the Peace Corps? Of doing something other than what you’re already doing? You are punishing yourself and You never did anything wrong. The punishment for eating this way is staying fat and getting fatter. Stop punishing yourself.

My weight that day was 323.3 pounds. It had fluctuated a little to close to 325 which was always the number in the back of my head that if I hit or went over, then I might not recover from that new high low.

I needed a plan of attack. I didn’t know what I was eating so how did I know what to cut out? Was I getting enough exercise? Do I have to do this alone, again?  So I started this blog.

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