Diary of a Fat Girl

Dear Diary,

I got on the scale this morning for the first time since before surgery.  My heart must be in excellent health, for it didn’t suffer an attack when I saw that I’ve gained 6 pounds(!).  I’m not going to kid myself and say that the scale doesn’t matter, that my body is healing, and or any of those other cozy excuses.  The fact is that my banishment from exercise is not a license to eat whatever rubbish my taste buds happen to desire.  And yet, that’s just what’s happened.  Frosting a birthday cake?  Eat a few spoonfuls!  Cookie-like granola bars?  Eat ‘em and blame the kids!  Want some salt?  Don’t bat an eye while consuming a single serve bag of Doritos!

What is wrong with me?  Why can’t I beat this salt-sugar-fat kick?

I love exercise and I want to be an athlete again.  Sure I broke my jaw playing softball, flew over the handlebars of my bike, get cramps in my side when I run, and was made fun of whenever I tried activities at school.  That hasn't stopped the athletic desire within.

When exercise is in my life, at least I can prevent this food addiction from adding pounds to my body.  But as this year of minimal weight loss proves, food addiction is preventing me from achieving a healthy body.  My mind isn’t healthy, therefore neither is my body.  My fat thighs are not a symbol of my weakness or stupidity, but of something broken deep within.

The herd mentality of Weight Watchers wasn’t the answer.  Solitary prayer and willpower haven’t been the answer.  I am thinking of finding a counselor to work one-on-one with me, exploring my addiction and helping me to overcome it.  While I watched The Biggest Loser last night, I felt myself responding to conversations relating to healing.  Those scenes struck me so deeply that I dreamed about the trainers cum counselors, and even dreamed about borrowing a friend’s camcorder to make an audition tape so that I could work with them.

But awake, I know that I can’t be away from my family for that length of time.  Once again, I acknowledge the need to find a way to get healthy in, not away from, my life.

I don’t want to be like those contestants who think they’re healthy and are surprised with the news that they’re diabetic.  I don’t want to think I’m healthy and be shocked with heart disease.  I don’t want to contribute to my early death.

I forgive myself for my mistakes; I accept my imperfections; I pray for help; and I will take action.