It’s been a rough week at work, but yesterday gave me the misfortune of having enough time to myself to think. I started thinking about my weight, about my lack of motivation for exercise or fencing or, well, anything. I have to force myself to do the things I used to like to do.
Last night, between acid reflux and Rory, I got very little sleep. When you have insomnia, as many of you may know, you tend to think. A lot. And what came to my mind last night/early this morning? I’m fat.
Yeah, yeah, try to make me feel better. “You’re not fat.” “It’s okay, you’re tall.” “Oh, stop being hard on yourself.” I am fat. Morbidly obese, from a clinical standpoint. I am 5’10” tall, yes, but I carry nearly 300 lbs on that 5’10”, and it’s not getting any better. My psychiatrist says I need to not worry as much about exercise and focus more on going on a diet (which always makes me more depressed). My primary care provider says that with the meds my psychiatrist has me on there’s pretty much zero chance of losing any weight. My brain? My brain says mean, terrible things.
I’ve mentioned before that I should be going to exercise with my friends, but they work out at a gym now–a large, popular gym. There will be people there. People I don’t know. Strangers. Watching the fat woman work out. I have trouble breathing just thinking about it. My anxiety just skyrockets, and last night made it even worse.
You see, today’s an SCA event for a local college branch. There’s going to be a rapier tournament, and my friend and fencing teacher wants me to participate. But I can’t stop thinking that I’m too fat to fence. I’m fucking huge–how am I supposed to be graceful and quick on my feet? I can barely get in and out of a car. Hell, my husband and I went to a restaurant last night, and the booth seats were so close to the table that there was no point in putting the napkin on my considerable lap; my belly butted right up against the table. Nothing was going to land in that lap of mine.
Too fat to fence. Too fat to fence. Too fat to fence. That’s been my uncontrollable mantra all night. I don’t think my chain shirt will fit at the moment. Gained too much weight since I got it. Besides, I’m out of practice. Why? Because I don’t feel like going to practice because I’m so damn fat and clunky.
Whoa. Dozed off mid-thought, had a weird dream. Still feel fat and gross, but I’ve taken my pills now. Hopefully I won’t fall asleep again before we leave, and hopefully I’ll feel better mentally once the pills kick in.
It’s cold in the house. And quiet. Too quiet. I’m still thinking about how fat I am, how I’m not good enough, how I’m out of practice and out of shape.
Thinking–it’ll be the end of me one of these days.