My tummy hurts.

Sadly, my tummy hurts frequently.  I'm sure if you've read the brief description of what this writing will be about, you realize my tummy hurts a lot because I'm always stuffed to the gills with food.  Bad food.  Good food.  Any food.

During my discovery of self, I am going to start right at the beginning of my life with food.  Of course, it begins with home life.

My Mom is a wonderful woman, but she self-loathes and consequently self-medicates with food.  She's sneaky with it and will actually hide it from my Dad so that he doesn't know she's bought it.  I've seen this behaviour since I was a little girl.  Now if it was booze she was hiding, people would be all over her, trying to save her from herself and her addiction.  Hiding food on the other hand seems okay somehow.  A little weird maybe, but still okay.  In reality, it's not okay at all.  

I remember snippets of being a toddler and watching my Mom standing in front of the kitchen sink, staring out the window, eating something.  It didn't even look like she was enjoying it, or even noticing the fact that she was eating.  The other day, I was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window, eating a cookie and not even really thinking about anything.  I was a total zombie about the whole thing.  Good god.  What has happened to me?

Pretty much the whole time I was growing up, my Mom wore a size 16.  I swore up and down I would never be as big as my Mom.  I now wear a size 16, but sometimes an 18!  I don't think most people would guess that I wear a size 16 because apparently my weight is spread out all over, thus making me look a bit smaller.  Frig, who cares.

Does size matter?  Yep.  It's sad, but it's true.  You know it is.  As a woman, my lowest weight was 126 lbs. and my highest was 224 lbs.  Granted the 224 lbs. was at just over 8 months pregnant, but still, after the baby came out most of the weight was still there.  

People treat you differently depending on how fat or skinny you are.  When I weighed 126 lbs. I could do no wrong.  Now I've really thought about this.  Could it be that I had a better attitude when I weighed 126 lbs?  Maybe.  I know for a fact though, people turn their snouts up at me (especially in Oakville) now that I rest at 198.4 lbs.  I feel like shit.  I look like shit.  I get treated like shit.  If I have to hear, "You're so pretty, if you could just lose a few pounds...", I will go ape shit!

I will measure myself tonight and post my grim stats here for all the public to read.  Also, a goal is going to be set for myself.  What do I want to achieve is the pertinent question.  I can't just write about being fat and a food addict, I have to want to go somewhere with all of this.

This blog is going to be awfully self-indulgent - readers beware.  My soul will be bared for all to see and I hope to hear comments and your own stories.

Until next time, I need to go hide the empty box of deluxe President's Choice cookies that I polished off since yesterday.  Grim.

Cupcake

xo