GRAPPLING WITH FEELING LIKE A FAT PIECE OF TRASH WHILE REALISING LIFE IS SHORT AF
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I've been having a downright rotten time with my self-image lately. Like, I am so over constantly hating myself. Every day, a chunk of my precious brain power gets spent on this endless loop of thinking about how ugly, fat, and revolting I feel. Groundbreaking stuff, I know.
For those who have been following, my very first blog post was about quitting smoking, and here I am, 55 days cigarette-free. Applause breaks out, the crowd goes wild. Iām genuinely proud of it, I just wish the accomplishment didnāt come with the appetite of a starving fat kid at Dirty Bird. Since the day I put down that last, sweet, beautiful cig, I've been eating like a child at a birthday party. I know I was probably under-eating when I smoked, but now that Iām eating normally, my brain is convinced Iām relapsing into my old binge-eating habits from pre-surgery days. Rational? No. Relatable? Unfortunately.
I even tossed my scales because I got sucked into weighing myself twice a day, sometimes even between meals. Yes, between meals. Toxic vibes all around. The thing is, my clothes still fit fine, so itās not dire, but I still wake up every day with a sense of loathing that deserves its own prime-time drama.
Itās even gotten to the point where I actively avoid any man who shows interest in me because the mere thought of anyone seeing my naked body makes me want to dive headfirst into traffic. Honestly, the last guy I dated, and most of the ones before him, all had me feeling like thereās always someone younger, hotter, and more emotionally unavailable waiting in the wings. So yeah, screw those guys and the red flags broomsticks they rode in on.
This all came to a head recently when I ran into an ex at a festival. Instead of basking in the relief that I'm no longer dating someone so inconceivably emotionally inept, all I could think was, āPlease, for the love of all thatās holy, let him not notice how fat Iāve gotten.ā Why do I care? Why does my brain betray me like this? And, on that note, I recently had some mood lit one on one time with younger guy (born after 9/11, mind you, I know a WILD concept) and felt like I had āhagā tattooed on my forehead. Even when I was in the presence of a nice young lad who literally INVITED me to his house, every time he looked my way, I was convinced he was judging me like I was an expired coupon. Why am I like this, dude?!
I truly would love to be one of those carefree people who embrace life and flaunt their self-love, but no, I have this looming cloud listing every single thing I hate about myself: loose skin, chunky legs, flabby belly, the whole works. But hey, at least Iām funny, and funnier than any man Iāve ever met, which we all know is a certified fact. Honestly, I owe this sense of humour to my old, overweight self, back when my personality was literally all I had going for me.
Today, though, my whole āpity partyā mindset got shaken up. I found out a client passed away, and it sent me spiralling. I saw this person just two weeks ago, and now theyāre gone. It threw me straight into an existential funk. Why am I so damn obsessed with whether some random guy notices my muffin top when I could literally be gone tomorrow? I should be thinking, āMore to love, right?ā And yes, Iām working on it, but that mental shift is like pulling teeth. But I am so sick of hiding my body just because a few (dozen) guys ditched me for someone more "slender."
Sorry, massive pivot because my brain is, as per usual, a complete hot mess today: Iāve discovered Stardew Valley, and this game has changed me. What started as a mobile distraction to calm my pre-flight anxiety quickly escalated to dropping serious cash on a Nintendo Switch so I could play it full screen. My farm is thriving, Iāve got two chickens named Georgina and Humphries in honour of my chicken obsessed roommate, and Iām a proud gamer girl. Yes, I think thatās hot.
Pivot two: Who thought electing that guy as our new premier was a good idea? I genuinely fear for Queenslandās future if we're led by this muppet.
Pivot three: Season 8, episode 6 of The Simpsons is the greatest episode ever made, full stop. Try convincing me otherwise. Shoutout to Ellen for this revelation, because honestly, itās comfort TV at its finest. If youāre having a crap day, go watch it and thank me later.
Pivot four: Iām fresh out of pivots. Honestly, this blog post has the consistency of a lactose-intolerant personās digestive system post-cheese festival.
Wishing you all an exceptional week, or perhaps just an average one. Average is perfectly fine.
Song recommendation of the week: āClub Classicsā - by Charli xcx
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