So, I eat my feelings. I feel like by admitting that I’m one step away from the biggest loser or a 1800 Get Thin Commercial, but I’m not. But I will tell you want I am. I am technically obese. It’s a dirty word, but going by scales and charts, that’s what I am. I’m what I like to call a Functioning Fatty, which I think a lot of people are. My weight has only made me more social, but my social skills don’t stop me from breathing heavy as I walk up stairs or sweating whenever I hear the word hot.
It’s Tuesday, which is the perfect day to write this. Sunday I go to weight watchers. Monday I work out and eat healthy. Tuesday I fall off the wagon. I blame this on my short term memory loss, but the truth is, I eat my feelings. All the emotions you have to dig up to create a story worth telling make me impossible to live with. I have no idea how most writers don’t suffer from severe depression. I do and that’s coupled with the ADHD I think I’ve mentioned a few times here and there. And with that comes the need to eat my way through ups and downs. Again I share this because my life affects my writing life. I’ll tell you how.
While waiting to hear back on the submission of Better Off Red, I gained 30 lbs. It was a relatively short period of time. I have been a varying weight on the curvy to heavy meter since I was 6, but this was first time in my life I noticed the weight gain. My dude noticed too. Don’t worry he was nice about it, but when I screamed “30 fucking pounds” he didn’t do that annoying “What are you talking about?” thing which I appreciated. This big girl hates sugar coating (get it). I have been this heavy before. When I first moved to LA and discovered the magic that is Craft Service, I climbed to my all time max weight. I am 2 pounds away from that now.
I see a lot of girls and women my size, every day and many of them are very beautiful. I do not see this when I see myself at a distance. Up close in that avatar sized box that is my face, I know I’m not unfortunate. I’m not Paula Patton (Paula Patton is fine), but I know I’m not a troll. I hate my body. My dude loves it, but knowing that I hate it he does almost as well as my father does at never mentioning my weight ever. I see bulges and rolls and I hate them.
The vanity is one issue, but here’s the other. I have gained 5 pounds since I started writing The Fling, which is HILARIOUS because the love interest is a trainer. I have to write more books and I have to spend MANY more hours sitting on my ass. If I gain 30lbs per book which is very very possible, I will be in big trouble in short order. For in the first time in my life I have to lose weight so I don’t eat myself into a heart attack. This is sobering, but then there’s that short term memory loss and that hilarious depression…
So it’s Tuesday. I read a book that ripped my heart out last night and had me up to 3 this morning. I have to write today and of course I don’t want to work out. Plus Dude is working from home and Chinese food is like a chaser to burgers for him. Luckily I’m meeting with my bestie’s trainer today ask her some questions for The Fling. Hopefully that will keep me on the wagon for a few more hours. We’ll see.