So last week I joined the folks over on Monica’s board on a fourteen day no carb/no booze challenge. Quite reasonable considering that I’m insulin resistant and am not supposed to be eating carbs or drinking booze anyway. I knew going into it that I was highly unlikely to lose weight. That’s the bitch of being insulin resistant, losing weight almost always reverses it, but it’s damned hard to lose weight. I’ve been trying to lose the same 20-30 pounds for almost five years now. Even when you take the drug of death, also known as Metformin the weight simply won’t come off.
For me anyway, the worst part about diet failure, besides the obvious, is other people’s responses. They absolutely cannot comprehend that you can adhere to a diet diligently yet not lose weight. They always analyze what you did wrong that caused the failure. So this time I made sure I didn’t violate in any way. I haven’t had so much as a taste of booze or sugar. Not so much as a crumb of corn bread, potatoes or pasta have crossed my lips. And guess what? Haven’t lost so much as an ounce.
I hate being fat. Even worse, I hate the fact that I hate being fat. I mean, in the scheme of things there are much worse catastrophes. And worst of all, I hate the fact that even though being insulin resistant will eventually lead to diabetes and possibly death, I’m far more concerned about my physical appearance than I am my health. That level of shallowness is appalling and disgusts me.
So, I go into another holiday season avoiding the camera as though it is the kiss of death. More than anything, being fat aggravates the introvert in me. From the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, I don’t want to leave this house. And certainly I don’t want to go to yet another holiday gathering being the biggest woman in the room.
I cannot accept being fat. I’m not comfortable in this skin, probably because for most of my life my weight was never an issue. Now, it’s THE ISSUE. Shopping is a nightmare. Plus size clothes look like absolute crap, and the upshot is they actually expect you to pay MORE for shitty clothes that make you look like you’re hiding bin Laden on your ass.
Bottom line is, I’m done.