This is going to be my 500th post. Such a pity that such a momentous occasion is going to be marked by something so…un-monumentous.
I cannot write.
I used to think myself something great, and now I find myself to be something so much less than nothing. Not even nothing – because nothing is still something. I feel like something you were about to say – something that was on the tip of your tongue but due to life’s curve balls never actually developed into anything that could be forgotten. I am that which never comes to fruition.
I awoke this morning at 5:30am, tired from the night before but committed to the day’s prescheduled obligations. I donned my smile and tried to silence the sound of my own heart breaking by surrounding myself with a huge crowd.
In the past year, I have gained upwards of twenty pounds. I know why this is…and yet, at the same time, I have no idea how this happened.
One who knows me would never have described me as a skinny girl…one also would not describe me as a heavy girl. But now…today…I am a girl who has “let herself go”.
I don’t like this term.
I am what people would call an “emotional eater” – whatever the fuck that means. I guess it means that when I am sad or stressed out, eating a seven layer cake makes me feel better. The thing is, seven layer cake tastes like shit. The best cakes are two layers – they are the ones my mother makes for my family’s birthdays.
She uses Presto cake flour. Does anyone know why cake batter tastes better than actual cake?
I don’t know what it means to let yourself go. The phrase strikes me as something positive – as though you’ve been holding yourself back and have finally released who you really are. But when we talk about weight, letting yourself go is never a good thing.
So, I am overweight. I definitely feel it – I don’t move around as well as I used to and cheese makes me more excited than it should. This past week I drove a half hour out of my way to eat two servings of fried macaroni and cheese at a diner that I would never normally go to since the service is so terrible.
My waitress was less than satisfactory.
I do not deny my “emotional eater” status. I think I am just now beginning to understand what that means. You see, the emotions that I have trouble with are sadness, stress, and disappointment. However, while all are different, they are the same.
These emotions stem from the fear that I am losing myself – losing my future, losing my voice as a writer, losing all I hold dear. Without these things, I am nothing. As more and more of my life suddenly falls to pieces, I begin to disappear off the tip of someone’s tongue.
And so I eat to replace what is lost…I eat so I can remain. I eat not only because Chinese food is so god damn delicious but also because nothing compliments watching 30 Rock better than a bucket of KFC’s new boneless chicken.
This past week I was judged. I was judged for who I was and not who I am. I was sneered at for indiscretions I made as a young woman trying to find her way. I was not given a chance. I was lied to about why I was left behind.
And while I am trying…really hard…not to be angry, I can’t help it.
I cannot recall the last time I felt such outrage – such betrayal. Yet I know this is not the last of it.
I’ve decided to keep living. I’ve decided to keep writing. I’ve decided to keep fighting.
Here’s to 500 more…even if they come later than sooner, they will come.