Sick of myself

Here's the part where I mention that I have been seeing a therapist. And today, we talked about weight, and my approach to staying accountable, to gaining and losing. And I made the (apparently very intriguing) statement, "Sometimes, being fat is just easier."

She wanted to know what I meant. So I tried to explain it to her. Sort of.

I felt like a kid writing a school report: "What I like about being fat."

1. Fat makes it a lot easier to disappear.

It's like a big, puffy invisibility cloak. The bigger you get, the more easily people's eyes look through you. Which occasionally comes in handy if, say, you just want to pump your gas and not be hassled by a bunch of wankers.

2. Fat is a fantastic filter.

You're pretty sure that whoever likes you- they like you because of you. Not because, "God, you could totally pose for Playboy." Which is actually something some moron said to me, about 12 years and 60 lbs. ago, right before he tried to put the moves on me in his parents hot tub. (They were out of town.)

3. Fat is cozy.

Totally true. Fat people give the best hugs around. And they're generally much warmer to snuggle with than the average population.

4. Fat makes you look younger.

Think I'm lying? Go look at all those skinny little old ladies who have turned thmselves into beef jerky, and then get back to me.

5. Creme brulee. Shut up. there's no way you can argue with that. And if you try, I'll see you and raise you a tiramisu and a champagne dream cake.

My therapist was entertained by my reasoning. She seems to think that another major reason for The Fat Issue with me is that my weight is sort of my passive aggressive way of feeling in control- when I am in fact, miserable, and in the grip of other trauma that I can't control. Which, now that she put two and two together for me, is.....!

Scary. Messed Up. Infuriating. Mind Boggling. Because, whenever I have felt trapped? When I felt like my parents would never be happy with me, when I was stuck in a bad relationship, when Alan went overseas, when I was stuck in the job from hell? I gained weight. Eating was he only thing that made me feel like life wasn't meaningless, and the more I ate, the worse I felt.

And when I moved out, ditched the control-freak boyfriend, Alan came home, and I quit that job? I felt motivated to lose weight. Or sometimes, just magically lost because I wasn't depressed and hungry constantly.

In other news, I went to the gym today. And I worked out harder than I ever have before- I set a new personal record on the elliptical, and also did some back extensions and weight-assisted tricep dips, pull-ups, and chin-ups.

And? I can cross my legs at the knee, which was hard for me before. That's definitely worth celebrating.