February 9th, 2017

"Do I think you're fat? Yea... but that never mattered to me. I still love you"
Huh... if that wasn't the sweetest, most back-handed thing you've ever said to me.

I know I'm fat. I've been fat since 2011. My weight has only gone up and up. The last time he said that to me in 2015, I took matters into my own heartbroken chubby hands and went from 275lbs. to 206lbs in only mere months. I was on the right track and everything was falling into place. I was going to be that girl that weighed next to nothing with an hourglass figure- 36/20/34. 128lbs. That's what I looked like when we started dating in 2006. Then high school ended. Then I took birth control because we started having sex. Then I was put on medication (with fatttt side effects on at least 4 of them). Then I hit college. I don't want to make excuses for myself, but I can't really pinpoint where I was doomed. I never had a bad relationship with food or found comfort in it when I was a wee thing. No one else but my mother in my family is really truly "fat". I don't know where to put the blame other than unfortunate circumstances and a weak will.

When I lost 70lbs in 2015-2016, I was on a high-protein/low-carb diet. I was talking with my therapist about how to deal with my food addiction. I didn't really exercise, but I almost didn't really need to. The food change alone was enough to magically shrink! What a concept!! That's all I had to do... that's all I needed to do! Eat to live- not live to eat.
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Richard is not a fat man. He has a beer belly, but that's about it. His diet never changed, and he was okay with the healthy dinners I cooked after work. My "job" is to make sure he is fed and he comes home to a clean house with folded laundry and fresh sheets. One day, I was too sick to cook dinner. He brings home a big, greasy, oily bag of McDonalds because he wasn't in the mood to cook. "I brought burgers for you, too" he said. Hey, I just weighed myself today! The scale said 206! I was doing really well! I was cocky! So... why not?

That Big Mac hit my lips and my head started swirling. The salty sting of the fries on my lips, the melted cheese and soggy buns, the taste of repressed urges for carbs... the comfort. Suddenly I was in a glossy craze and nothing could pull me out of that trance.

I'm always told "moderation is key" so what was the problem? Sitting there with crumbs all over my chest, crinkled paper in my lap, and a mouth stuffed faster than a thunder bolt I was in ecstasy. But I was 206. A proud 70lbs down. I'll start again tomorrow.
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I can't tell you how many "final meal because I'm starting over" moments that I've had. So many, in fact, that I stand here at 266lbs. And no restart. "What will my last meal be?" I'd say to myself. And of COURSE my last meal had to go with my last pint of vodka, tacking on another 1200 calories. Do that "last meal/drink" about 3-4 times a week, and here we are.

I never started over.

It's been almost exactly one year since I was close to going under 200. Last night I had mac & cheese, got drunk, had ramen for my drunk munchies, and I went to bed. There was no celebration that I was going to get better. There was no wishful thinking. Only tears on my pillow as I closed my eyes to sleep.

"Do I think you're fat? Yes..."

I think I needed to hear it out loud to realize this cycle will never end.

I'm not going to say I'm starting over. But I am saying today, as of 3:39pm, I've had a high-protein/low-carb diet. So far, so good.
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Breakfast - (skipped//slept too late)
Lunch - Salad (kale, lettuce, onion, carrot, cabbage) w/ Italian dressing
3p Snack - Protein Shake
Dinner - Homemade Tomato Sauce, Homemade Meatballs, Zucchini Spaghetti
9p snack - Protein Shake

~~~~Exercise - none :<