Discoveries
I found a real good way to motivate yourself to diet. Buy a bathroom with mirrors on every wall. That way, you can see yourself from every single angle. I promise, if you’re fat, then doing that will inspire you to stop eating forever. Or, at least, you’ll come home after a night of frolicking, see yourself in all the mirrors, then ask your boyfriend one of the questions that boyfriends around the world love most. “Why didn’t you tell me I looked this fat?” (The answer? “Because then you would have broken up with me.” No, here’s the real answer. “Because, to me, you looked beautiful.” No – the real, real answer is “Jesus Christ, quit hating on yourself.” Right?)
I also discovered a good way to make your morning commute stress-free. It’s called: Allergy medicine! Take 24-hour, non-drowsy allergy medicine, turn on a good CD, and you won’t give a damn how long it takes you to get to work, how much gasoline you’re using, or how badly your new, newly installed speakers are buzzing in the rear dash of your car. Hooray for allergy medicine – the guilt-free mind-altering substance!
Back to the Weight Thing
My gynecologist made me mad the other day when I went to visit her and she said, paraphrased, in summary:
“I don’t know why you’re having two periods a month or why your birth control pills are no longer fixing that, but have you tried losing weight? I know you’re busy, but I’m busy, too, and I manage never to eat out. I eat grilled chicken breast with parmesan every day. You could also try skipping lunch. Have you tried skipping lunch yet?”
All fat people in America with any kind of health insurance already know everything I’m going to say, but I’ll say it anyway.
1. Yes, I know I’m overweight. Hello – I live in America. I shop at the mall. I have a bathroom with mirrors all over the walls. You think I need you to tell me I’m overweight?
2. I’ll try to lose weight if you try to find out why the hell I’m having two periods a month, okay? I’m pretty sure the solution to that isn’t “eat grilled chicken breast with parmesan every night of your life.”
3. If you’re naturally skinny, please don’t give me your diet advice. I mean, yes, I’m a realist and I know that if I ate a single chicken breast for dinner, a cup of plain yogurt with walnuts for breakfast, and nothing for lunch, every single day – then, yes, sure, I would lose weight. I know that. I mean, I’d probably also have a low-blood-sugar-induced panic attack by 11 AM, and end up either jumping out the window or slipping into a diabetic coma, but that would be okay, I guess, as long as I lost weight. But, my point is that, in general, I don’t want to hear what naturally skinny people suggest. Because they’re usually telling me stuff like, “Be like me – I only put a little butter on my toast instead of gobs and gobs of it. And I only eat one donut instead of a whole dozen. And I only eat cake twice a week.” And I’m like, “Bitch, I wish I could eat a piece of toast without gaining weight, much less toast with butter, and I haven’t eaten a donut or a piece of cake in two years. Shut the fuck up.” Because it’s the assumption that gets me, you know. Like, if a naturally skinny person can eat cake twice a week, it naturally follows that fat people must be eating cake 24/7, right? No. Not right. That’s not the case. I fucking wish it was. You know why I’ve gained twenty pounds net over the past year? Because I was tired of not eating bread.
In all candor, I know that I wouldn’t have this problem if I hadn’t eaten so much cake and donuts years ago. Back when I was 19 or 20, and first gained 150 pounds over my high-school weight. Then, six years ago, I lost 95 of that. Ever since then, I’ve been struggling like a bastard to keep that down. Right at this moment, I’m losing the struggle. Time for the yoyo to go back the other way. But my point is, naturally skinny people are in a whole other world from people like me. I’m at the point where I have to diet in order to maintain my weight. There’s no mountain of cake here. Just a mountain of fat that doesn’t want to go away.
And, anyway, I already know what’s going to happen, because it happened six months ago. I’m going to diet because being this fat makes me sad. I’m going to lose twenty pounds. I’m going to wear nice clothes. I’m going to go to work, where creepy men will tell me I look nice. I’ll go to clubs and strangers will accidentally-on-purpose touch my breasts and ass. I’ll be creeped out. I’ll wonder why I’m starving myself in order for creepy men to find me attractive. I’ll say “Fuck this” and eat a piece of bread. I’ll gain twenty pounds. Repeat until dead.
Not that I’m saying that creepy perverted men are a good excuse not to starve oneself. I’m just saying.
Whenever we watch Project Runway, I see previews for that show about the personal trainer. The main chick, Jackie (?) interests me because she seems very ambitious and committed to what she does. And I admire that. Sometimes I wish I had a day job that involved copious exercise, so that it would be my job to stay thin. But then again, thank God I don’t. Sometimes I just want to be happy, instead.
The starvation diet commenced three days ago. I will starve until I can look at all the bathroom mirrors without feeling sad. In the meantime, if any pervert says, “Hi, Gwen. You look nice today,” I’m just going to tell him, “Fuck you.”
