i was 120 pounds when i was eight years old. i was ridiculed and tortured my entire life for being fat. eventually i chose to be ridiculed by the way i dressed... always an outcast. always a loner. i spent classtime drawing and writing poetry, not learning much of anything.
i can barely make change. i have a major math learning disability.
i always thought my life would begin when i lost weight............... i had all these plans ... all these ideas of who i would become when i lost weight... the man i would marry.. some sort of image..
i'd flip through tattoo mags and look at pinup girls and want to be one of those. i soon realized that the majority of rockabilly guys were deadbeats and i wasnt committing myself to that lifestyle so i might as well branch out...........at the same time feeling in my heart of hearts none of this would ever come into fruition anyway. no marriage, no covergirl.
at the age of 25 i had bariatric surgery. in six months i lost 100 lbs. i started at 255.. five years later i am at 145 lbs. which sounds like a number i should be happy with. but i'm no cover girl, and there's no marriage and i cant tell ya i've accomplished any major life goals. from fat to disfigured. i feel like a shell of a woman. i look at how women are supposed to be and i'm in awe of them. it cuts me to the core. as if fat was easier than being this mishapen thing i have become. i feel like i'm stuck in it. lost cause.
i've grown a lot emotionally. i cant say i'm still the same person. i hardly recognize myself. but i'm still not happy with myself. but such is the curse of the perfectionist. i suppose we have to hit rock bottom before we can really see the light.