fitfatkat

[fitfatkat]

Day Zero

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with myself. 

Whew, I hate that sentence. It feels cliche and like I’m being over dramatic. But I also hate that sentence because it is very true. I am the stereotype. I am a chubby, depressed, self-hating, 20-something who is writing a blog about how much she dislikes herself.

Cool, gal. Get on with it.

Okay, okay, okay. I genuinely have no expectations for this blog. I don’t think I’ll gain many followers or internet fame. That honestly seems overwhelming and terrible. I’m creating this for myself. I’m going to write blogs like diary entries. Very Judy Blume-esque, if you catch my vibes.

Are you there, Dead Wizard God? It’s me, Kate.

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with.... well everything. It’s how my parents raised me. They told me I was smart, but stupid. Caring, but selfish. Pretty, but fat.

Fat.

I was never the “skinny” girl. At my smallest as a teenager, I was a size 10 or 12 in pants. I was somewhere between 130-140 lbs. I played sports. I was muscular. My thighs and calves were thick. I always had a couple rolls in my stomach when I sat down.

Then, during college, I gained weight. Just like everyone else. 

Then, I dropped out. My self-esteem didn’t take that hit very well. Being smart was the one thing I had always been confident I was. My mother put into words what I was thinking already, “I thought this would be the one thing you wouldn’t screw up.” #thanksmom

The next six years I put on a solid 150lbs. I was constantly depressed. I cycled through some very dangerous behaviors. I slept with stangers. Inviting a couple into my home. I drank too much. Finishing off whole bottles on my own. None of this is particularly special or unheard of. I’ve realized over the years that a good majority of people I know have gone through similar phases of self-hatred and harm. 

My most serious form of self harm has always been with food. When I lived with my parents, I would sneak into the kitchen late at night, stealing pinches of shredded cheese or handfuls of chips. The point was to take as little as possible in the hope that my mother wouldn’t notice or would blame it on my younger brother. Even though I always suspected that she knew what I was doing. Then, in college, I would literally go to Taco Bell every night with the same girl friend and order 3 or 4 items, whether I was hungry or not. When I dropped out, I worked at a fast food place. Again, I was eating even when I wasn’t hungry. My late night fridge raids began again too, except now I was trying to avoid room mates finding me out.

At 24, I finally began to regain control. I had been released, not necessarily willingly, from an emotionally abusive co-dependent relationship. I was working at a job I didn’t hate. And I could apply for federal grant money. So I applied to college. And 3 years later, I’m sitting at that same job with a Bachelor’s degree sitting on my dresser at home. I start my dream first job in about 2 months. I have friends who actually give a shit about me. I’m doing.... okay. 

I still have a very unhealthy relationship with food. I eat junk. I eat when I’m not even hungry. I eat to the point that my stomach hurts.  I still hate myself. I hate the way I look. I hate that I can’t walk at a quick pace without sounding winded or climb a flight of stairs without needing a break at the top. I hate that I feel so goddamn self conscious when I’m getting naked with somebody. I hate that I wake up most days and don’t want to get out of bed.

Depression is a real cunt, folks.

I’ve “tried” too many times to count to whip myself into shape. It never works. Something always comes up as a perfectly good excuse to stop. Which is the point of this blog. What better way to attempt to keep myself accountable than to share everything on the internet? That’s how plenty of people have accomplished this. So sure, let’s give this a go. 

Plus, I always found diary writing very therapeutic. It’s amazing how putting the words/thoughts out into a physical space makes you feel just a little lighter than you did before. Blog writing seems like it will work in much the same way.

This is me currently. I weigh 248lbs. I have consistently worn a size 20 pant and a 3x top for the last 4 years. My goal is pretty simple at face value: I want to be able to shop anywhere for clothes, not just the big girl stores/sections.

But there is also a deeper goal in mind. I would like to like myself most of the time. I would like to wake up most days and not feel like existing is just too hard. I would like to find a non-medicinal method of combating the constant invisible weight pushing down on me from my depression. I want to be an active person, not a sedentary one. 

I’m about to embark on a new chapter in life. My adult life. I’m going to have a big kid job, with big kid responsibilities. And the first one is to start taking care of myself. 

With as much self-love and care that I can muster,

Kate

[fitfatkat]