Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Projections from the Elephant in the Room

I can't help but project on what my life is going to be like after this is done.  I mean, after the loss begins to take effect.  I want to write this stuff down now so that when I'm writhing in pain, clutching my nauseous stomach and forcing myself to eat yet another spoonful of jello every third hour, I can look back and say, "oh yeah - that's why I did this."

People ask me if I think I'm going to miss "real" food.  Well, the thing is I will be able to eat "real" food eventually - just not gobs and gobs of it like I can now.  I'm going to miss my beloved Pepsi, I know that.  I'll miss my slices of pizza from Zip's.  I'll miss ice cream.  I'll miss Paula's donuts.  But really?  I shouldn't be eating that shit in the first place.  This is why I'm fat, for Christ's sake.  Even when I eat it in moderate amounts, it's nothing I need to be putting in my body in any amount.

You know what I won't miss, though?  I won't miss the asthma, the wheezing, the joint pain, the edema, the headaches, the fatigue, the insomnia, the depression.  I won't miss having to compromise and improvise my style because I can't find what I want to wear in my size.  I won't miss the frustration of getting dressed every morning, of not being able to find anything that fits or looks decent.  I won't miss having to put my pants on from the side (if you can even picture such a thing) because I can't bend over far enough to put them on the proper way.   I won't miss getting out of breath just putting a fucking pair of socks on, and I won't miss the world war I launch every time I try to wear a goddamn pair of tights.  

Most of all, I won't miss being the elephant in the room.  I'm not going to miss the shame of being the largest person just about everywhere I go, and especially the self-consciousness of being the largest person in my family.  It's not like I'm one fat member of a family.  I am THE ONLY fat person in a family of otherwise normal-weight people.  And every family dinner, every holiday, every party, every funeral breakfast...every time I ask someone to pass the butter, the bread, the potatoes, help myself to a second helping of one thing or another, I'm casting myself into a self-illuminated spotlight - and whether or not my family is thinking what I'm thinking, I still feel self-conscious.  My first instinct is to say something self-deprecating along the lines of, "Big Fatty love her some buttah," or something equally awkward, because in my mind I feel like drawing attention to it somehow masks my self-consciousness and embarrassment.  No one ever says anything about it to my face (except my mother and my sister, who have on occasion expressed concern for my health in the past, and my 5-year-old niece who was only being an observant child), but it's hard not to believe I'm not regarded as the "fat" relative before all else.  

I'm not going to miss any of that.  


  1. oh yeah! best part? shopping where you want. fuck Lane Bryant!!!

  2. Not that I could ever afford to shop at Lane Bryant before, LOL. I'll still be shopping at Marshall's and the clearance racks at Target - except I won't have to dig and dig and dig for hours to find the size 3X!!