Yesterday I spent the afternoon messing around in my bedroom at my parent�s house, attempting to sort out all my crap. They�re hoping to move soon (separate ways...) and with my bedroom in the state it�s in no-one will ever want to buy the house (for fear of parasitic beings living among the filth I should imagine). So, while I was doing this I unearthed lots of stuff from my past, like letters, old books, clothes and stuff, but the main thing was the photos�
THE PHOTOS! THE HORROR!
In my life I�ve been a bit of a yo-yo type person with my weight. When I was young I was very slender and then, at the age of 7, a fatter girl ate me and I had to live inside of her for a while. I can remember being 13 and pulling poses in front of the mirror to make me look thinner, but it was the photos that made me really depressed�this round little chubby face, so so ugly. I think I was actually wearing men�s jeans at that age. I vaguely remember a flat cap too but that was a fashion thing, I don�t like to dwell on it (Rankin�gag�running). At fourteen I was twelve stone, maybe more til I got a virus at Christmas, stopped eating for 3 weeks, and lost almost a stone in weight. I think this was probably both the worst and best thing to happen to me, because I lost more weight, I got a lot of confidence, a new boyfriend, a new set of friends�everything turned around for me and all because I was making myself sick by not eating. Stupid isn�t it? I can even remember (and I did an angry little snort when I remembered this) being head over heels in love with a guy in school�Tim Pickering (Tim Pick Your Nose�the placenta boy�more about him later) and he was evil to me about my weight�he thought I was gross. When I lost weight?... I was the object of HIS affection and guess what? I didn�t want to know! We ended up being very good friends (despite me calling him placenta boy and laughing about him with Eddie Parkes the Badger)�he even ended up apologising to me about it, telling me how bad he felt for doing it and that he�d never really meant it, and that helped a lot.
So�there I was, a skinny 15 year old with an eating disorder�And I got a boyfriend, and I got a bit more contented, he convinced me eating was good and the weight came back. By the time I was 17 I was back up to twelve and a half stone. He dumped me�I went down to eleven; I got a new boyfriend�I went down to about ten and a half; I was happy�I went back up to about fourteen stone at my worst - I have holiday photos of me in Mexico at 21 looking like the Yucatan Peninsula � and then, I started losing weight again. I don�t think I consciously did it but my clothes were getting bigger and baggier. This was pretty slow really because I think over the course of the year I was losing more and more but then when I broke up with Paul and started seeing Adam it fell off and I stayed at about ten and a half, eleven stone.
The past two years with Matt, I�ve not been 100% happy so maybe that�s the reason why I now have trouble eating during the day and my weight is staying pretty low. I�m only about 9 and a half stone now and it�s about as much as I can lose.
BUT�all this has been moot really�the point I wanted to make is that I�ve looked back at these photos, a few of me with my horse at 18, and me at my birthday party at 21, and had some weird realisations. In the photo�s at 18 I�m wearing tight jeans and a Guinness rugby shirt�I look like a bag of the proverbial (shite of course) but I KNOW that I felt good about myself then. I KNOW that I felt sexy! I KNOW that I only wore those jeans because I felt that my arse looked good in them and I was trying to pull!
The same goes with the 21st photo�s�I can�t describe how bad I look�I was wearing a sheer patterned top and a sparkly crown thing (made out of stuff my presents were wrapped in�it was cool�on anyone else but me) and I can remember thinking I was the dogs bollocks. I can remember thinking how good I looked. I can remember wondering what the guys at my party were thinking of me. Now I know they were thinking �Look at the great big fat drunken beetroot� (red faced was I�oh yes).
So�(and here comes the point�hold on!) why is it that now I�m floating between a (UK) size 8-12 (depending on the shop) yet feeling fat, ugly, disgusting, horrible, blotchy, splotchy, like a monged-up loser�when I have been FAT�F.A.T�but feeling happy and sexy? It�s not Matt�he doesn�t know how to do anything BUT make me feel sexy, but I just don�t feel it when I�m not getting it pointed out. Or maybe I do still feel the same�maybe I do still feel sexy until I get a look at myself? Maybe my brain is so fucked that it makes me see ugly, like in the photos, when I�m looking in the mirror now? I don�t know. Sometimes I like what I see�sometimes I want to break the mirror and use it to cut bits of me off. The fat bits namely.
But, is this an eating disorder thing? Is this because I control my food, or do I control my food because of it? Did I feel sexy at those points because I was losing weight? Did feeling in control make me feel empowered? I really don�t know. All I know right now is that I never want to get back to being fat again, and that my weight is staying pretty stable for once. I generally eat quite a lot but only at night�I can forget about food all day unless I have a smoke and then my appetite grabs me and shakes me around.
So�my final point�
I HAVE to smoke the green�otherwise I will stop eating altogether and waste away to nothing. Marc (best friend at uni) always said that he had to drink beer to live�he drank about 15 pints a week but was the shape and weight of a bean pole�he pointed out that if he didn�t drink all that beer there was no way he�d be able to eat that amount of calories so he�d get very ill and die.
I stand with him� ...holding a big fat J.
CRAPPY NEW YEAR!
Commissioned from:
Last Lemon Productions!
