I have an awful relationship with food. I am overweight and have been since my last year of university. I love all the bad foods. I secretly eat bread based snacks when no one is looking. I buy scotch eggs and snaffle them on the way home from the supermarket.
Every few years I have a mad diet, lose a shit ton of weight in a very short period and then spend a year piling it all back on again
It sometimes feels as though I would do anything to be thin… except eat healthily, in a sustained way and exercise sensibly.
I hate myself for it. On my death bed, I will look back on my life and just lament that I spend most of it looking fat, feeling ugly, being unhealthy and not doing enough about it.
At my fattest, I almost couldn’t get a belt around myself on an airplane. After take off, I refused to move at all to avoid doing the seatbelt dance again as I felt so embarrassed. I spent 4 hours, bolt upright, waiting to be able to breathe normally again.
Sometimes I joke about my weight. Oftentimes I ignore it and pretend I’m just like everyone else, even though I feel like a monster on the hill.
People that do not struggle with their weight have no idea what it is like to be fat, miserable, ashamed and STILL HUNGRY.
My children are all normal weights, thank heavens. I do not want to pass this shit show onto them.
I have never said a single word of this out loud to anyone ever. I just pretend I’m fine.