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September 19, 2005 / allyo

Body. Image.

I know that I am an emotional eater. I eat to maintain some control over my life, my emotions. I eat sugar because I’m hypoglycemic, and eating sugar means first a reward (yummy!), then a punishment as the adverse effects take hold. I eat carbs and fat when volume matters. The fats fill me up, the carbs put me into a bit of a stupor. I have a million different things to eat, depending on why I’m eating and how I want to fill. Food is my drug. Unlike alcohol or cigarettes, I’ll never be pulled over for driving while stuffed, and it doesn’t aggravate my asthma. Now that Jamie’s outgrown some intolerance issues, I can eat whatever I want without worrying about impacting my baby. The only person who suffers is me.

But, aside from the blood sugar issues, how much do I suffer? Sure, I need to address my emotions head-on instead of escaping into the fridge. But how heavy am I? I wouldn’t really stand out in a crowd. I feel heavy, and when compared to the female images we’re bombarded with every day, I certainly look heavy. Most of my friends are thinner than me, albeit by one size in many cases. Some are heavier. Most of my family members, women at least, are heavier, so by 100 lbs or so. Really, I represent the median.

So, on the days when I feel huge, I wonder. How would I feel if it were easy for me to find clothes that fit? Affordable, cute, clothes? If I saw pictures of women that looked more like me now, as a woman, and less like me as a skinny teenager? I wonder.

There isn’t a single original thought in this post, but this topic has been on my mind lately. I’m more comfortable with my body now than I was when I wore a size 4 in high school, ironic as that is. I need to excercise for my physical and mental health, not neccessarily to loose weight, although it would be a nice bonus. I really think I hang onto my extra weight in part because I’m lazy, and also in part because it’s a quiet act of defiance and self-isolation.

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