“Go Visit Jenny Craig, you fat bitch!”
It always suprises me how mean people can be sometimes. I was minding my own business, sitting on the bench, waiting for the bus and looking at my ipod, trying to figure out what to listen to. Suddenly, I hear a shout, and as I look up, a car drives by with some kid hanging out. I realized he yelled, “Fat fuck!” at me.
“Me?” I asked myself. In an instant I thought, “But I’m not fat! Oh wait… yes. On the outside, I am.”
I don’t feel fat unless I’m entirely aware of it. I wasn’t aware of it in that moment. At that moment, I was planning out how long it would take to charge my headphones that had just died so I could go on Week 2 Day 2 of Couch to 5K. I was feeling proud of myself and this dumb kid has to smash my allusions about myself and remind me that society has an issue with the way I currently look. Remind me that I am fat. Its not often I feel fat, but i did just as soon has he drove off. That feeling lasted for the rest of the day. Looking back on it today, I allowed what happened to control my emotions, and stuffed my face. I ate until I was full, and then I ate again. I couldn’t even tell you what went into my mouth this weekend. There was no mindfulness. There was no self efficacy. There was me feeling fat, confused and alone. So I ate.
What I don’t understand is why people would do something like that in the first place. Why is it okay to make fun of fat people? Or people who are different to begin with? Is it funny to call a fat person names? How could a fat person possibly make someone feel so inferior about themselves that they would have to shoot the fat person down first, in order to what? Feel stronger? Bigger? Better? I don’t get it. I don’t.
I remember deciding when I was a very young child that I didn’t want anyone making fun of me, so I wouldn’t do it to them. And yet, it still happens. I go out of my way to avoid situations where I could risk exposure to humiliation, or laughter at my expense, and still it happens. They pick that one thing I can’t seem to control. The weight, my shield.
I mean, dammit. I was just waiting for the bus. Why did he have to be so mean?
The next day, I went on Week 2 Day 1 of C25K. I got shin splints from not striking with my heel, so it was pretty impossible to pull my toes/foot back up. I walked home, in tears feeling defeated. That was the first time I had been unable to complete a day. I realized I only have 5 weeks to get myself up to running 3.1 miles.
So i continued to eat some more.
Finally, The 4th arrived, and while it took me some time to get out the front door, once I did, I completed Week 2 Day 1. But there was no joy. Just pain. I limped home, and my roommate and I played Scrabble until our party started at 4pm. And then I ate some more. Bean dip, tortilla chips, hamburgers, hot dogs, two kinds of cookies, beer, and baked macaroni and cheese. Ate until stuffed, then passed out upstairs in my room for a good two hours.
Today, I did Week 2 Day 2 of C25k, which is the same as Week 2 Day 1. Day 3 will be the same as well. And I worry that I’ll need to keep doing this week, but more importantly, if I want this thing to go right, then I’m going to need to be very focused on my success. Its been very easy for me this far to allow myself to be mindless, or be mindful of taste, but not hunger. I’m not being very accountable.
Clearly, I still need help with the emotional outbursts, and a better way to recognise and handle them. I really like when I first started this journey when I got made at my roommate, and put myself in timeout because I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to eat because I was mad, or hungry. Thats what I should have done this weekend, but I didn’t.
Its okay. I know my punishment for this kind of behavior. The punishment is, staying fat and getting fatter.