It’s been a while. A really long while. Essentially I stopped feeling like I had anything to say or anything to contribute. After all, the people who do read this (and I doubt there’s anyone left now) read it because they’re involved in dieting. Who wants to read about someone who abjectly and totally fails? It’s depressing, it’s demotivating and it ‘s frustrating.
Because I am a big fat failure. My only saving grace is that I keep trying. And, dear Reader, that is Not Enough. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope and even a little slip could cause me to fall into an abyss of despair that I could never claw my way out of.
I deal with this in the time honoured fashion: yes, that’s right, by ignoring it, trying not to think about it and hoping it will go away. I don’t meet my own eye in a mirror, I accept that I feel appalling about myself and that I have a constant refrain of “ugly, ugly, ugly” constantly going on a loop through my mind at varying volumes. None of this feels terribly sustainable over the long term.
And the other night I could not sleep for feeling sick about a family wedding coming up next month, what I could wear and how awful I’d look and consequently feel. It’s made worse by my brother and chav-in-law being there – I’ve not seen them for about 7 or 8 years and she WILL be looking to be bitchy.
It seems to be a recurrent theme for me – trying to engage with the outside world as little as possible. From a distance, a party, a wedding , a holiday all sound exciting but the closer they get, the worse I feel about them and the more I panic. I have two out of three – and possibly a full set – all next month. I know that if I looked more normal – if I WERE more normal these should be things to look forward to. Not to lie awake fretting over and getting myself more and more wound up over.
And what AM I going to wear? I’ve pretty much only worn jeans and long jumpers for ever. Not for work of course – that’s skirts and slightly shorter jumpers - although I strongly suspect I look like a bag lady. A fat bag lady. Whilst I would prefer not to look like this for the wedding and retirement party, I’m not sure I have much choice. I wish there were a sort of personal stylist that specialised in fat people. I have to stop even typing this now as I can feel the waves of panic beginning to engulf me.