Nothing to See Here…

I was reading a few other blogs that are discussing this weight-gain-after-marriage issue.  I’ve read the original post and all the comments there, then I followed some of the trackbacks and read other posts and other sets of comments.

I find myself somewhat holding back the tears.  God, I hate this fucking issue about WEIGHT.  I hate it.

The theory is this:  if you gain weight after marriage and are complacent about it, then you’re guilty of false advertising.  Well, lock me in a cell and give me bread and water then, ’cause I suppose I’m as guilty as they come.  And, of course, with only bread and water in my diet, perhaps I’d drop the weight too, right?

But I get extra points for HATING the weight!  Yes, yes - if you HATE yourself for being fat, the others, the skinny people, they will forgive you just a little bit.  Now, if you defend and justify, you don’t get those extra points!  So don’t try that!

Honestly?  I don’t believe any of the posts or comments were meant to be harmful.  People were sharing their views and feelings.  They were being honest, and for the most part respectful and caring.

So why am I feeling so anxious and upset over it?  They’re JUST blogs.  I don’t even know these people.

I hate this whole weight thing.  I hate it.  I was fucking FIVE years old the first time I was teased for my weight.  In 4th grade, Michael Peterschmidt said “Fatty fatty two by four can’t get through the kitchen door.” to me at school.  That scene is indelibly recorded in my brain. I have felt overweight ALL my fucking life, even when I wasn’t.  I was a size 9 early in my first marriage and that asshole made fat comments all the time.  When we divorced, he was nearly 30 and hooked up with a skinny 17 year old high school girl.  He even had the balls to toss it in my face about how skinny she was.  I was so glad to see her body mature and take on weight after having children.  She’s now an easy size 14/16.  I like her even more now, and take great satisfaction in knowing his superficial expectations were shattered.

I know I need to lose weight.  My life is an endless stream of trials, some successes, always regressions.  Tonight I will go to my Weight Watchers meeting to probably learn I gained a pound or two and despite the 26 I’ve already lost I will still be upset over the gain.  So do I sometimes give up and let go?  You bet I do.  Because it’s fucking HARD to carry this burden 24/7/365.  Sometimes I just say SCREW IT!  I want to tell the whole fucking world LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME.  It’s like that Camryn Manheim book where she tells people, basically, So what? I’m fat - get over it!

Some of the comments on the original post got mean and hateful, which is sad.  But I know the emotions that inspired those comments.  I know the futility that those of us who have fought this battle for decades feel.  I know how misunderstood those people feel because I do, too.

False advertising.  As if I wouldn’t WIN this battle if I knew how.  The inherent allegation there is about willfulness.  You let yourself go.  You had the means and the tools and the knowledge to prevent or reverse it and you just chose not to.  I suppose many see it that way.  It seems so simple to some.  It’s never been simple to me.  This weight business - it’s all tied up with my emotions and self-image and genetics and who knows what else is in there, maybe a goddamn tapeworm making me so hungry all the time.

All I know is this:  the man I fell in love with loves ME, the me inside.  He loved me at 180 pounds  and he loved me at 270 pounds and he loves me where I am right now in between those two numbers.  I’m damn lucky.  It was never about false advertising and I’m hurt and insulted to think people diminish it so.  I’m sad to think about some woman or some man who is not only struggling with this stupid weight management thing but also struggling to deal with a spouse who is repulsed by the weight.

We’re human.  We grow and change.  We lapse and rise.  We struggle and glide.  But doesn’t real love — SHOULDN’T real love — rise above all that?  I’m tired of feeling like less of a person, less worthy, because of my weight.  Oh, sure, it’s mostly ME who makes me feel unworthy, but then it’s stuff like these blog posts, too.  Feeling like less of a person for not rising up to maintain the same level of attractiveness you had on the day of your wedding or something.

Blah.  I’m now officially a BITCH today.  Let’s see if I can shake it before I go home in a few hours. 

This has got to be one of the most incoherent posts I’ve ever made.  Double-blah.