This hits me out of the blue every now and again. It's been circling in my head, so I am doing what I do. Writing about it to help it get out. To process. To realise how ridiculous I am, yet at the same time, not completely able to let go. You would think that after 10 years (bar a blip of around 18 months) of being a size 8 to 10 I would think differently....
Feeling fat at the moment. Yes. I know I'm fucked in the head. Not being able to excise for three weeks because fucking exhausted all the time has had a large impact on my mental health about my weight...and today my shorts feel tight and I fucking hate this. And yes. It probably is because they are fresh out of the wash today. And yes, maybe I have put on a little bit of weight because it's winter and it's cold and that's completely natural and not bad thing. And yes. I beat myself up for it and berate myself and wish I had a huge thigh gap and my hip bones stuck out and I had concave stomach. Because of tv and film stars and fashion magazines and thinking that being like that is attractive. That's what you are 'meant' to look like. That's how you are when you are attractive. And oh look, they are also all in relationships as well. And....
The problem of being fat when little, being weighed by my grandmother and my step-grandfather saying 'oh, so you are still fat then' when I went to stay. Always being a bit bigger as a teen and up until my diagnosis is that I constantly worry about being fat again. And I chase that 'perfect' weight that I was for so long. 9 stone or even just a smidge under. The magic 8 STONE (and 13 pounds). When I was so stressed and miserable in my last year at uni. But I wasn't exercising and could eat what I wanted including a 'share' bag of chocolate A DAY and I didn't gain an ounce.
I know being in that stage is bad. I know the damage of those stress levels and that amount of sugar is bad. I know I'm not really fat. Deep down. It's ok. I think. Is it? My thighs aren't really that massive. Are they? My stomach is quite flat. Isn't it? At least whilst I'm standing. Just don't sit or lie on your side. Do anything to avoid a fat roll.
I know I'm mental about this. I have worked hard on this. On being better. And not being so judgemental about how I look.
It's funny. I don't hate cancer. I don't hate what it's don't to my life. I don't hate all sorts of things associated with it.
Maybe because it made me thin without having to do anything at all.
And so my lovely bloglets, the battle against my brain continues. On being happy with my weight. On being ok that my build and bone structure is what it is, and unless I am anorexic, or spend hours exercising or in the gym I won't have a body like that. On being ok that looking after me and my health is more important than the image that 'health' accounts on social media, in adverts and in magazines ram down our throats every single day. That is doesn't matter that I don't have a solid stomach of muscle. That my thighs might brush against each other as I walk. That looking how I look is ok.
And that. That's my challenge.
With love and hope,
XXX
