Weight for it…

Obviously I’d be a couple weeks late on a New Year’s resolution, but…*sigh* I’m a little tired of being fat. 
So I joined a 60-day challenge group thing at my gym, and they weighed me, and…*sigh* Yeah.
So…*sigh* Fine. FINE!
I’m eating fruit, and you know what? Fuck fruit.
Honestly, I don’t mind fruit, but my brain is being a COMPLETE asshole about everything I’m doing. So fuck fruit. And fuck exercise, which I did last night, and it was a bunch of goddamn horseshit — all red-faced and sweaty, no orgasm to show for it. Just…WHY.
Also, fuck my Fitbit for being a judgy asshole. I’ll walk when I WANT to, you dick!
(I also have PMS, in case that wasn’t clear…)

Letting my fat flag fly

Perhaps I’m a little too irritable to start an audiobook about the connection between obesity and clutter…

Also, I swear it’s a joke — I know we already have QUITE enough bloated, size-queeny, too-fat-to-function patriotism.

Oh. Well, fuck you, too, Victoria’s Secret.

Oh, OK, cool, ‘cause my fat ass needed to save some money not shopping your bullshit, anyway, you word-misusing jagoff fuckface. (Even putting aside this topic, dude sounds like a complete tool.)

Via Jezebel: Victoria’s Secret Doesn’t Want Plus Size or Trans Women Walking the Runway

Let’s do this, Gilbert Grape’s mom.

Finally remembered to weigh myself “first thing in the morning after I pee but before I drink anything, because that’s my TRUE weight,” and…FUCK, now I gotta jump out the window.

It’s fine. Now I have my baseline to try to LOSE some weight. My fat, fat baseline… 🙄

“Girl, look at that body…”

Yesterday I wore skinny pants, except I’m NOT skinny, and then I had Chinese food, and then I got puffy, aaand now I have this…fat-rash above my belly button where my tummy was trying to escape my belt.

Honestly, I don’t even know how y’all deal with how sexy I am.

Scorn at Every Size

Me: “I need to lose some weight.”
 
Therapist: “But you get regular checkups and your health is fine? Heart, cholesterol, blood pressure?”
 
Me: “Yes, but I’m MUCH heavier than the recommended highest weight for my height. And I’m not looking at, like, Jamie Lee Jo Bob’s Anorexia Enthusiast Forum — these are weight charts from real medical organizations.”
 
Therapist: “Those charts are based on the same BMI criteria you just told me was ‘horseshit.’ Have you heard of the Health at Every Size movement? That you can weigh more than you ‘should’ but still be perfectly healthy?”
 
Me: “Of course. And I totally believe that.”
 
Therapist: “OK, so…you JUST said your health is fine.”
 
Me: “But it’s NOT. I have a gut like a 55-year-old man with a lifelong Budweiser habit.”
 
Therapist: “I agree you should exercise more often, but if you do, and you eat a balanced diet, what if this is genetically just the way your body is supposed to be?”
 
Me: “It’s not.”
 
Therapist: “So you’re saying you support the idea of ‘health at every size’ for everyone except yourself?”
 
Me: “…Yes, that’s correct.”
 
She doesn’t want me to do Whole30, because apparently you, like, need carbs to live or something? But I’m doing it, so… we’ve reached an impasse. And by “impasse,” I mean, “thing I’m not telling my therapist.”