There is something truly disconcerting about waking up and my first impulse being to have a bowel movement and brush my teeth at the same time. Why do I do this to myself? I roll over and look at the woman next to me. Yep, that’s my wife. She’s gorgeous. Cuddled up against my ripples of flesh…How can she stand me? Okay, self pity time is over…I have to accept what I did, again. I fell off the wagon, the trough. I can’t brush the taste out of my mouth and I can’t crap out the guilt. I have a food hangover.
I am obese. I thought I was morbidly obese but I just looked up the dictionary definition which is:
“The term morbid obesity refers to patients who are 50 - 100% -- or 100 pounds above -- their ideal body weight. Alternatively, a BMI (body mass index) value greater than 39 may be used to diagnose morbid obesity.”
Damn I don’t even qualify for the majors! I am only 25% over my ‘ideal’ weight. FUCK ME! Maybe I can have those pancakes this morning after all.
I used to envy people with eating disorders. When I say eating disorders, I mean young thin girls who can puke at will. Oh, Marvin, dare to dream. Years ago when I WAS morbidly obese, coming in at over 400lbs, I used to try and ‘purge’ but all I did was bust a blood vessel in my eye. I tried to tickle my uvula into a vomitous bout of hilarity but instead I almost swallowed my toothbrush. Alas, my stomach has an iron clad hold of whatever enters. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I am the fort knox of consumption, the Guantanamo of digestion…if it goes in, it ain’t coming out until it’s bent, twisted and tortured through the entire intestine.
Okay, so I am not as bad as I used to be. In my early 20’s I weighed in at over 400lbs. I am not sure what the actual weight was because most scales don’t go past 400 but I was over, WAY over. Now, I am a feathery 265. I did make it down to 230 at one time but that was during a relationship break-up, where I couldn’t afford food and had to bike everywhere to get around. Oh, sweet depression! Why have you forsaken me?
The 230 mark was 4 years ago and since then 30lbs of flab have managed to move back home. I now know what parents must feel like when their children move back into the basement. It’s a lot of extra weight that really doesn’t fit well with a new life style. Get out! Get a job! Leave me be…but I miss you…come and visit, bring pizza…it’s a seriously damaged relationship I have with myself.
So, why write a blog about my battle with food and weight? Why keep a journal of my war against the bulge? …. I’m procrastinating going to the gym.
