* Tiramisumo *

Despite the title, I’m not going to BS. I messed up.

I gained about 3 lbs, and overall that means I haven’t really made any progress in a month. The last couple weeks have been completely undisciplined. Haven’t counted calories, planned meals, weighed myself, or even logged on to 3FC or blogged. It just all went out the window, and for no apparent reason.

I could say it’s the stress of beginning the college semester and a new job, but really, what are things like that except excuses? I know why I did it. It wasn’t stress, it wasn’t “loss of motivation”, whatever that means, I was just lazy and careless.  I wanted instant gratification and because I wanted it, I purposely blocked out any thoughts about the consequences. I’m not stupid. My desire part of my brain knows what it’s doing. It knows how to control the rest of me to fall in line. Like telling myself I’m not blogging because it’s a waste of time and I need to study (or play games is more like it), when really, the real reason I didn’t want to blog is because I knew that if I did, it would mean doing exactly what I’m doing right now… admitting that my eating is out of control and I’ve gained weight.

But I’m not giving up. It’s only 3 lbs. Thank goodness it wasn’t 30 and I have enough resilience to get back up after one or two punches to my progress instead of deciding to do it after a dozen.

This is really hard for me, as I imagine it is for every fat person who’s trying to do something about it, because it’s almost like having to find yourself all over again. The quote about sabotaging a self that is not really you is true. I don’t eat salads and tofu and turkey wraps and yogurt every single day, and I never will. I can’t keep living like that. It’s not me.  I’ve been going about this all wrong.

Habits don’t go away just by trying to force a new and totally foreign one on yourself. It doesn’t work that way. Maybe habits go away by changing them little by little until you don’t even realize that they’re gone and totally replaced.

So what am I gonna do?

Like my mom always says: “Just take one day at a time.”

Today, I cried in my room like a hormonal teenager.

I made plans to take my son to the babysitter and go see a movie with my brother and to see his new house, but Bodhi didn’t want to go.

And being a normal 3-year old who wants his way, despite my attempts at reasoning, and then bribery, he cried and cried and cried. So instead of taking charge, I called the babysitter and my brother to call it off and just cried and cried and cried too.

His tantrum isn’t my problem. I am my problem. I’ve been feeling so emotionally beaten down lately. I have been under a lot of stress, money-related, but it’s a little bit more complex than that.

About a year ago, after a severe incident of domestic violence, (and subsequent job loss and failure in college, since my abuser was also my babysitter for those things at the time), my mom invited me to come live with her so I could get my shit back together. And I pretty much did. I worked a lot and had a lot of money saved. Enough that I could keep going to school with my own cash and work on repairing my GPA. Which I did. But in order to do so, I had to work less so I could balance school more, which led to conflicts with my boss and I left my job. So my savings dwindled to nothing by this summer.

I have another part-time job now, but I cannot afford to pay for the fall semester, and am stressfully waiting for the school’s decision about whether to grant my appeal for financial aid. It all comes down to a technicality and the whim of some white-collar financial aid officer. My GPA is more than high enough now, but my “completion rate” is not, something I could not have fixed in one year no matter what I did.

So my future is hanging on a delicate thread. And each day I check the status of my appeal and it still says “Appeal received-not yet reviewed“, I am that much more stressed and on the brink of breaking down and/or binging. The outcome of the next year or more of my life is teetering on that one appeal decision.

Either it gets approved, and I can continue going to college and move on with my life, or it doesn’t and I can’t. If it doesn’t get approved, then I have no choice but to search for another (full-time) job, working overtime, living with my mom, and saving, saving, saving before I can even go back again. Meanwhile, tuition is going up, and up, and up. At this rate, I’ll probably graduate when I’m 30.

I don’t want to live with either of my parents. My mom has never made me feel bad about it, but nevertheless, it’s demoralizing. I feel like a failure. I’m also upset because I’m alone, and just like everyone else in the world, I want to love someone and be loved, but I’m entirely untrustworthy in that area of life, because my track record with picking good people to love (or even be friends with) has been horrendous, so I just avoid people altogether.

All of this has been effecting me. And not just my emotions, but my desire to binge, as well as my body too. I haven’t had my period in over 3 months. The only things I knew that could stop a period is pregnancy (not a possibility, since I haven’t had sex in over a year), menopause (not a possibility, since I’m 25 years old), or anorexia (haha! not likely, is it?). So I looked it up on webmd’s Womens Health, and it says:

Causes for not ovulating are multifold: thyroid problems, pituitary problems, ovarian cysts, physical stressors (eg sudden increases in exercise, crash dieting), emotional stressors (problems with parents or boyfriends/girlfriends, exams), increased body weight, anorexia, rotating shifts at work, etc.

I was quite surprised that stress, dieting, and increased weight can cause it also, but I’m HOPING it’s one or all of those, because I certainly don’t want it to be a thyroid problem or ovarian cyst.

That being said, my present is looking gray and bleak right now, and chocolate cake seems mighty comforting right now. In fact, my mom made one, it is sitting in the kitchen right now, and I just ate a slice, but seeing as how it didn’t, in fact, make me feel much better, luckily I stopped right there, and am still within my acceptable calorie range.

Counting calories seems to be my only source of control right now. I can’t seem to control my son, or my living situation, or my imminent future, but goddamn it, I and I alone control my calories!

I don’t know whether to be happy or sad right now. Hopefully tomorrow will be less ambivalent.

Theories on Lack of Energy

Well, as promised, I’m reporting some of my findings on this subject. I’m going to skip some of the obvious ones, like getting more sleep, eating breakfast, avoiding sugar crashes, exercising, and some other obvious ones we always hear.

Some interesting theories and/or tips I found while scourging the internet:

*  Cut back on TV and computer time after 8 p.m. “If you’re already a night owl (you go to bed late and sleep in on weekends), the bright light emitted from television and computer screens can make falling asleep at a decent hour even harder.

The reason: Light suppresses the production of melatonin, a hormone secreted at sunset that tells the brain that it’s nighttime, explains John Herman, Ph.D., director of the training program in sleep medicine at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical School at Dallas. And when melatonin levels are low, your brain is fooled into thinking that it’s still daytime — and remains raring to go. Whenever possible, wait until the next morning to tune in and/or log on. If you must use light-emitting technology at night, try to turn it off an hour or two before hitting the sack.”

-(from
http://www.webmd.com)

*   Eat every three to four hours. Having three smallish meals and two snacks throughout the day can keep your blood sugar and energy levels stable all day long. Note the word “smallish.” Supersized meals demand more of your energy to digest, which can leave you feeling lethargic. At each mini-meal, get a mix of carbohydrates (which the body uses for energy), protein (which helps sustain energy if needed), and healthy fats like those found in fish, nuts, and olives.

The reason: These fats and protein contribute to meal satisfaction, so you don’t go hunting for sweets an hour later and wind up with a short-lived sugar high and subsequent crash.

A few meal ideas: a low-fat yogurt parfait with berries and a couple of tablespoons of whole-grain granola; salmon over mixed greens with whole-grain crackers; and beef tenderloin with a baked sweet potato and asparagus.

-(from
http://www.webmd.com)

* Declutter - Clean and organize, especially things that haven’t been bothered with for weeks or months.

The Reason: Having cluttered space can overwhelm you and sap your energy. Plus, any accomplishment, no matter how small, can give you a dose of pep.

Some other quick ideas:

Dress up & wear shoes even when you’re at home.

Volunteer

Take a B-complex vitamin supplement

Open up the shades. Get more light.

Don’t walk too slow.

Put on an uplifting song.

Just act energetic. Even if you don’t feel energetic, acting like you are eventually will make you feel energetic. (Wouldn’t that be great if that worked for everything? Like feeling rich, thin, and smart? LOL)

I have NOOOO energy. Ever.

I know ‘they’ say exercising is supposed to give you more energy, but maybe I was built wrong. I’m not quite ready (financially) to hit the gym just yet, but my car wouldn’t start today, and I took that as a sign that I need to use my feet now and go for a walk. Which I did. To the gas station. To buy cigarettes. (I know. Don’t even say it. But I refuse to lie, even though it’s just a dumb blog.) Maybe I wasn’t really trying, but it didn’t seem to give me even a smidgen more energy than I previously had with my ass planted in a chair.

Later I decided to do something productive and shoveled up the jungle of weeds that is my mom’s small backyard. Shovel. Shovel. Rake. Rake. Bend. Bend. Throw away. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. For, oh, an hour. Still not feeling it.

You know how you feel lethargic when you’re drugged up on some kind of medication, or you just gave birth yesterday? Yeah, that’s how I feel evvveryday. I could drink a Red Bull (which are gross, btw) and the only thing I feel is like my insides are jittery. Is that what energy IS, because I gotta tell ya, I don’t feel like that’s it.

To me, energy is what makes my cat run in and out of rooms like a madman. Or makes my son jump up and down for no apparent reason whatsoever. I want some of that and I can’t find any.

And it’s not even just because of the sheer volume of my weight. I get around without pain or cramps or heavy breathing. I just, I dunno. I’m lazy. I’m sloth-ish. I don’t want to be this way, but I am, and I’m not sure how to change it. If I exercise, that’s fine. But I still feel like sloth.  When do I start to reap this elusive thing called “ENERGY”? Wake up, body. Wake up!

Well, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to do some research. And then report my findings here. Maybe I’m doing something (or multiple things) that I just don’t realize is sapping my energy like sucker fish.

Blah.

Caption: “As happy as a hit with a rollicking beat, or a serenade in  a dreamy mood . . . as happy as one whose extra young pounds have been delightfully transformed by the designing magic of Chubbettes - fashions to make girls 6 to 16 look slimmer.

shown above: Sub-Teen Glen plaid sheath, $7.98 — Girls woven gingham plaid, $5.98

FREE! “Pounds and Personality” . . . booklet for parents who want to assure the happiness of their overweight girls. Dr. Gladys Andrews of New York University tells what to do about nicknames, shyness, tactless remarks, diet, etc.

You know, sometimes I look at our modern advertisements on tv and magazines and think girls now have it pretty bad. Everywhere you look is something telling you you’re not–whatever– enough. Not enough. Some people say it’s getting worse, and the targets are getting younger.

However, this is nothing new, as this 1958 ad in Life magazine should tell you. (Fat chicks think walking through the mall with a Lane Bryant bag is bad… how would you like to purchase some “Chubbettes”? Nice.)

I know not all of us are losing weight because of vanity. Some want better health, some want more energy, or to do more physical activities. But some, if not most, are doing it for vanity.

Is there anything wrong with that?

To be honest, I really don’t know anymore. Sometimes, and I speak mainly for myself, I think people just jump into weightloss with a vision without a particular “why” behind it other than “I’m tired of this! I’m sick of this!” What is this, exactly? Well, there’s a lot of this-es. Ask any fat girl and they shouldn’t be that hard to name. But if you sit down and write a list of all the this-es (and do it freely without thinking about the why behind it, or the feminist/character/moralistically-appropriate response), I’m willing to bet a lot of the reasons have  a great deal to do with vanity and/or what other people think of us. I do, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

If a substantial-enough number of us wanted to lose weight for health reasons, for example, why are weight loss ads of girls in bikinis, rather than, say, a sweaty runner or a patient being fitted with a blood-pressure cuff? Marketing doesn’t just throw things out there by accident.

Yes, I want to lose weight to be beautiful too. I want to wear a skirt with black, mid-calf boots. Or high heels. And wear spaghetti strap tanks. I want to know what it’s like to be a girl, instead of some androgenous tent with arms, feet, and a head.

The strange thing is I don’t even know why. I’m shy, don’t and probably never will know how to take compliments, and hate being the center of attention. And I know I might get some flak for this one, but I don’t even really like men. I’m suspicious of them. I’m afraid of them. And I hate people driven to other people through shallow characteristics, regardless of gender. Does that make me a hypocrite? Probably.

But I’m not asking a lot. I don’t think fat chicks, in general, are asking a whole lot. We don’t want (or expect) our life to suddenly blossom into orgasmic happiness. We don’t need (or expect) all of our problems to just disappear. We don’t want to be the life of the party, or the popular one, or have a million guys (or girls) beating down our door.

All I’m asking is to get through life just a little bit easier. To not break out into sweaty palms when we board an airplane. To not be in utter discomfort trying to fold ourselves inward in too-small theatre seats, subways, and concerts, so as not to impede on other people’s space. To walk by a group of adolescent boys without bracing ourselves for the worst. To not drive ourselves crazy wondering what the grocery cashier or other people in line are thinking as our food goes rolling along on the conveyer belt–”Cookies? No wonder she’s so fat!” or “Health food? She must be trying to lose weight, poor dear.” To not feel left out and awkward when a friend wants to go shopping in a normal-sized clothing store.

I’m not asking or hoping for a lot. I just want to be normal to some comfortable degree. Isn’t that what we all want? To be comfortable in our own skin?

The question should NOT be “How happy can a chubby girl be?”. Yes, there is a difference. Losing weight will not make me happy. It is not an end-all-be-all. But it would make me a helluvalot more comfortable, whoever and whatever I choose to be.

Happy 25th Birthday (to me!)

Today was the big day. I didn’t go totally crazy, but I did go over my calorie goal by approx. 500. I say approx. because my day included my mom’s homemade lazy chicken enchilladas, which is difficult to calculate the serving size or calories, especially when she never measures anything, she cooks by sight & feel. So as long as my next 3 days is about 200 lower than normally, I’ll be in good shape. And yes, I did have tiramisu as my “cake”. It was divine.

But instead of making a pointless post about my birthday, I wanted to ask my readers, what’s the deal with the semi-recent cornucopia of 100 calorie “snack packs”? Everything from 100-calorie cakes to almonds to cookies to popcorn to chips. You know what I’m talking about… THESE:

I’ll admit, when I first started out a few weeks ago, I bought a TON of these kind of 100-calorie snacks. But then I sort of quit, for a few reasons:

1. One cake is about the size of a large coat button. Which is appropriate. IF YOU’RE THE SIZE OF A CAT.
2. With that kind of size, I sometimes found myself unable to stop at just one pack.
3. 100 Calories! gives you a false sense of safe-ness, as if things like fat, sugar, and complete lack of nutritional content don’t matter. And maybe I’m just being sucked into a rumor that carbs/fats/sweets beget cravings for more carbs/fats/sweets, but that seems to be the case.
4. They’re too convenient. Yes, I say TOO CONVENIENT. Because as a cooking-challenged person forcing myself to learn to cook, I’ve learned that effort is almost proportional to the amount of satisfaction and savoring I get out of what I eat. So if it’s quick and cheap, my taste buds treat it like it’s quick and cheap.

On the other hand, I appreciate that they exist for the purpose of taste-indulgence without volume. Because even though I have the urge to eat more, I have more guilt in opening a SECOND PACKAGE,  no matter how small, than I do with eating a greater volume of sweets that happen to be in a single BIGGER package. Don’t ask me why. Freakonomics I guess.

*Dust yourself off and get back on, woman!*

Well, I’m happy to say I sat down around 5 o’clock this morning and had a heart-to-heart attitude adjustment with myself, and I am back on the wagon! Been faithfully tracking my calories and for the first time, I actually PLANNED my whole day out. And have been… following through! Wow! LOL!

It’s really not all that difficult. I just found it so daunting to plan out a whole week in advance, maybe just a day or two in advance is what I need right now.

I also realized it’s also good to plan out not just what you eat, but other things in your life as well. After all, it’s not all about the weight. It’s about improving my life as a whole.

Some other things I have on my “to-do” list are:

[X] Make copies of all documentation for my college Financial Aid appeal and mail. Also mail Last Grade Stands form (which will improve my GPA).

[] Get Bodhi into a bedtime routine.

[X] Finish up the summer semester assignments on time. This means last two PowerPoints & study for CIS exam.

[] Submit 5 part-time job apps today.

[X] Finish planning my day tomorrow [MY 25th BIRTHDAY!], including my meals.

[X] Leave comments on 2 blogs each day

Because we’re in this together and we all need support. That means giving back.

[X] Track calories every day

Because it leads to success and it only takes 10 minutes out of my day, tops.

[--] Get some sleep!

Lights out at 11pm. If I sleep well, I’ll have more energy. If I have more energy, I’ll be more likely to set myself up for success and get moving throughout the day instead of feeling lethargic.

[X] Drink 1 bottle of water a day.

Start small. There’s no reason I can’t manage that.

[--] Walk around the lake.

Stop being lazy and embarrassed and making excuses. Take pictures for blogging-proof accountability.

I am really losing the fire I had in me a couple weeks ago. There are multiple signs of this.

• On my Daily Plate page, only 3 out of the last 7 days have been logged. That’s not to say the blank days were “binge” days, because they were not, but were more than likely consistently cutting it really close to my goal, or slightly over.
• The first half of my July calender has little flower stickers on each day I “stuck to my plan” of logging calories under 2000 calories. After July 13th, there are no flowers.
• My measuring cups, spoons, and scale are slowing being neglected more and more.
• I have not made or felt any effort for my weight loss scrapbook.
• Making effort to be adventurous in the kitchen and actually COOK something healthy feels more like a chore. I’m back to the microwave for most meals.
• Some days I don’t weigh myself at all. A 1-2 lb. shift either way doesn’t interest me as much.
• I haven’t been blogging as often as I’d like.

Now for things I’ve done right.

• I haven’t given up.
• I haven’t binged.
• I haven’t gone back to fast-food take out habits.
• I went to the Hill (which is local slang for the casinos we have nestled in the mountains) as an early birthday present with my mom and did not give in to to stupid food choices.

One thing I’ve been doing consistently is reading some of my weight-loss related books that I trade for on PaperBackSwap.com, even if they are all just fat-chick memoirs.

I don’t read technical weight loss books, because I don’t feel they’re needed. There are about twenty technical books for every personal/emotional book, and they all say more or less the same thing, and that thing is something I’d wager to say most if not all fat people already know.

I don’t need a book that tells me fat, sugar, or carbs are bad. I don’t need a book to tell me power foods include avocado, oatmeal, eggs, and tuna. I don’t need to know the science of livers and digestive systems and insulin. I don’t need to know about portion size. I don’t need to know about the same old “diet tips” like chewing gum or not eating late at night. I don’t even need to know to eat my meals at a table so I can pay attention to what’s going down rather than eating in front of the computer or tv.

If simple lack of knowledge was what got fat people fat, then we’d all be thin by now. But we’re not, because it’s more complicated than that. Let’s face it, most of us don’t need the “right” diet, or tips and tools, or eating plans (PLAN being the operative word), we need a shrink. Don’t tell me chewing gum will help, because it doesn’t, unless compulsive-emotional eating was never really a problem to begin with.

That’s mainly the reason why I’m semi-infatuated with fat-chick memoirs. It didn’t occur to me at the beginning, but I’ve had a suspicion that I’m looking for something. I’m looking for insight. I’m looking for that aha moment when some emotional barrier was finally broken through, and how. I’m looking for REAL people and the times they fucked up but still kept going because of something… what is that something? What are the magical words? I haven’t found it yet, but I keep looking.

I see a pattern in the memoir/success stories. They are painfully personal and humble and self-critical and blunt and, well, real in the beginning. It seems like not a detail is too mundane in their suffering of growing up as a fat kid, or their embarrassments as an adult. But then, for some reason, the detail goes away when it comes to the part of their life where they actually LOSE the weight. Fifty pounds. One hundred pounds. Finally gone. Once they “found” their miracle working diet or plan or group, it just magically came off and fell into place just like that. It’s not much more detail than something along the lines of “it was hard work, but I did it”. Really? That’s it? Only two sentences about how hard it was? No emotion, no real, honest thoughts to share?

I want to ask the author, “Tell me about the thoughts in your head during that time… how did you stay motivated when the diet honeymoon was over and it came down to every day, repetitive life and slooooow progress? Did you ever cheat? Did you ever break down and cry because you were so tired of it? Or were you really an unstoppable soldier that whole year after that “tipping point” like you make yourself out to be?”

There’s always a beginning and an end in great detail, but the middle is usually glossed over at best. “Sure, there were a couple times when…“, as if the details of those couple of times aren’t important, I’ll just sweep them under the rug, what matters is the day I fit into a size 8 at X store on X day with X weather while accompanied by X person who had always previously known me as fat, and it was made of X fabric with X thread count.. and so on and so forth.

I dunno, it’s kind of disappointing. The author relates every pain, every compulsion, every embarrassment, relating to you on every kind of level as a fat girl. And then they leave you in the dust. Like,

“Figure it out for yourself, fatty. I’m not a part of that club anymore, I only know what it’s like to be a thin, healthy, active person now in my daily life. I just decided to do it one day and I did it, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

For all I know, maybe that’s the truth. Maybe they really did just decide to do it and did it and that’s all there is to it. So instead of looking for some mysterious secret, maybe I just need to pretend like I got whatever it is they got inside them. Act as if. Act as if you are strong, and you will be. And never forget it.

This is the hard part. I always forget. I forget what I’m measuring for. I forget what I’m counting for. I see so many numbers in so many places, I begin to forget what it all means. I forget I’m supposed to be on a mission. Some days, I even forget, god forbid, that I’m fat.

I was going to write this in my real life diary, but it went *poof*. I searched high and low, and I can’t find it anywhere, so for now this will have to do.

I’ve been out of work. I don’t particularly want to work, after all, who does? But I believe it’s been about a month and I haven’t done anything, except update my resume. And doing so does not take a month. More than anything else, I’m afraid of my weight. There are few places I feel comfortable enough to attempt, places I perceive won’t care what I look like as long as I get my duties done. I’m scared of places where positions have the secondary duty of being a “face” for the company, a professional image (ie. THIN, because we all know fatness=lazy slob, right?). Such places would simply choose another readily available applicant over me. My last job was a tech support rep, on the phone, and I abhor the thought of doing that again. I don’t think I could take much more. Even being a fat chick in person seems to put up more boundaries for people than being a faceless nobody over the phone. People are much more brave, rude, and downright abusive.

It’s only a part-time, since I’m a college student and summer semester will end soon and make way for fall. But even the thought of going back to school makes me nervous these days. I run out of breath half way across campus, particularly if I’m carrying anything remotely heavy with me. And those desks. Those horrible, taunting, L-shaped desks that are so small for me, my fat belly has no choice but to sit on top of it, so I try to hide it with a long sweater or a book constantly open and upright to hide it, but who am I kidding? Honestly, who reads like that?

But I have lost 15 lbs and about 3% body fat in just a few weeks, and I’m determined to keep going.

I just have to remember, this is a dull, daily struggle. No “today is the first day of the rest of my life!” kick-off celebration. Just living the same old life, with the added chore of counting calories and cooking. Yet despite how monotonous that seems, determination–not “motivation” is what’s going to get me to my goal.

Determination isn’t glamorous and it’s not pretty. It’s difficult and annoying actually. There is no “Rocky” soundtrack music, no Eye of the Tiger, no swarm of kids running behind me, cheering me on as I blast my way over park bench hurdles and up the Philadelphia museum steps. Though I wish there was. I wish I wasn’t so real. So dull. So lethargic, like a sloth, eating its cute little apple in a tree high above the ground where all the skinny gazelles and cheetahs run free. I have to be slow, careful, deliberate.

I really wanted a Whopper today. I was SO close. Dangerously close. But I had a baked potato instead. And I still want that damn Whopper. I want the soft sesame seed bun, followed by layers of creamy mayo and ketchup, slightly sweet tomato, crisp lettuce, beef and heavenly cheese. I want it. I want it so much it seems like it’s only a matter of time

The Fat Girl inside me, whom I lovingly call “Tiramisumo”, is slowly trying to talk me into it. She says:

“You can have it. Just eat rabbit food the rest of the day, and you’ll be good!”

“You could cut it into 1/4ths and just eat 1/4 every two hours. After two hours, it’ll probably be too old and gross by then anyway, and you’ll just throw the rest away!”

See how nice and sane and logical that sounds at first? Pretty soon, I’m slowly nodding inside, albeit cautiously, thinking “Yeah, it could work.”

But I know she’s waiting. She’s setting up a trap.

I’ll give in to these Whopper pep-talks, then drive up to the drive-thru, hand the nice young lady or man my cash and receive my hyped-up Whopper, gift-wrapped in a lovely brown paper bag. Unwrapping the Whopper is like unwrapping a present. My taste buds dance and sing. And even though I chew slowly to savor it, a quarter of it is gone too quickly. As I breathe, it’s as if my stomach is doing the breathing, and it’s short of breath. It slightly aches. Expands. Contracts. Expands. Contracts. Expands. Contracts. It “glows” with hunger. Sort of.

It’s not hunger in the common sense of the word. I don’t think. It’s a hunger to feel “full”. More than full. Satiated. Saturated. Warm. Heavy. The heaviness envelopes the world in peace. Peace from the nagging voice. The emptiness. Peace from all thoughts and feelings for a moment. Like a soft heavy blanket for your insides. It’s like “Restless Legs Syndrome” except for your tongue, and food is the cure, because when you eat so much, your tastebuds become immune, the way your nose becomes immune to smells it’s used to. And the aching and the salivating and the itch and the restlessness stops. For a while.

So NO. Nice try, “Tira”. But no Whopper. You think you’re smart. Fat Girls usually are. But my determination is smarter. I may not have my own soundtrack, but I kicked your ass today all the same. That word ties my stomach in knots of mixed feelings… “Today”. What about tomorrow? Or the next day. Or the next day. Maybe Tira doesn’t care. She’ll be waiting when I run myself into the ground. Please don’t. Please.