You know I don’t give advice, but there’s this one area of life I have so mastered so fully (SARCASM MOTHERFUCKERS) I feel it would be a disservice to humanity to not share.
And that area is: LOSING WEIGHT.
Look, I don’t want to discuss feminism or women’s bodies or getting comfortable with my fatness or whatever the fuck else we all sit around discussing. I KNOW there are fat yogis balancing on their heads, powerful as hell. I KNOW there are women super okay with the rolls of their belly but I also know that those women are not me.
I am neither a fat yogi nor a woman comfortable with her belly.
I feel like shit. My back hurts. I look at myself naked and sorta want to puke. I KNOW I HAVE INTERNALIZED BODY SHAMING NARRATIVES OF SELF HATRED.
I’m not proud. I’m merely stating the facts: I am overfuckingweight and I don’t like it. I’m overweight because I eat too much and believe in the futility of eating one’s feelings yet do it anyway because THAT’S FUN.
Also, I don’t exercise enough.
I wasn’t always overweight. While they were trying to find what was wrong with me (during my active alcoholism), they gave me a bunch of psychiatric diagnoses and put me on 7 to 11 different psychotropic drugs at the same time. I gained 70 pounds in 3 months.
Um…..
And I’ve never quite been able to regain control. But I can’t blame that completely. Sure, that’s how it started, but once it happened I began the spiral into Fuck It All I’m Already Fat and started eating with wild abandon.
I’m not particularly unhealthy. My blood pressure is low. My blood sugar normal.
But I feel like shit.
This is just me. This is not a statement on all fat women in the world, or America. Or even my town. Or even one single other person.
I’m sure if I were a better, more enlightened human, I would
A. get okay with my body as it is; or,
B. do something about it.
I’m working on B.
But I kinda suck at it.
Once, a few years ago, when I was about this weight, I got super pissed off and done with not changing and I lost 40 pounds over a year or so and felt amazing.
Then I got pregnant again and gained it all back that was nearly 2 years ago the end.
Nice story, right?
I hate that story. That story can lick donkey balls.
Sorry. I should be more feminine.
I should stop apologizing.
I AM A FAT APOLOGIZING WOMAN FULL OF ANTI-FEMINIST GUILT AND BAD LANGUAGE.
Okay here’s the deal: I’m trying to lose weight to feel stronger and more able-bodied and in less pain AND to feel more comfortable in my body and clothes.
Here’s how it’s going:
4am: Wake up but against my will. Nurse tiny creature next to me and beg him (in silence of course) to go back to fucking sleep
5am: Breathe a sigh of relief that tiny human fell back asleep, roll over to do the same
5:15am: Wonder why I’m not asleep yet
5:30am: Wonder why I’m not asleep yet
5:45am: Meditate with the vigor of a thousand warriors because JESUS FUCK I NEED SLEEP
6am: Fall asleep
6:30am: Hear alarm go off, want to die
6:36: Get out of bed after looking at phone for 6 minutes even though I know that’s a super bad way to start the day
6:40: Do 7-minute workout thing (dude it’s an app and it rocks and I’ve actually been doing it!)
7am: Eat a healthy breakfast because today is going to be a good clean eating day!
7-10am: Drink 47,000 gallons of coffee but without sugar
10:30am: Healthy snack
1pm: healthy lunch
3pm: Drive around 12 small nations to pick up kids
3:15pm: Realize I’m fucking starving
4pm: Realize I’m dizzy from healthy snack deficiency
4:30pm: Get home. Open fridge. Eat something healthy but wish there was something more filling and also healthy
5pm: Start making dinner
6:30pm: GIVE UP BECAUSE IF FOOD DOESN’T GET IN MY MOTHERFUCKING BELLY RIGHT NOW I MAY DIE OR KILL YOU AND I’M SO TIRED AND I CAN’T EAT A DAMN GRILLED CHICKEN BREAST AND SALAD AGAIN BECAUSE BORING AND FOOD IS COMFORT (NO IT ISN’T) BUT IT KIND OF SEEMS LIKE IT IS SO…
6:45pm: EAT IT ALL,REGRET IT
7pm: Realize I basically negated all my day’s efforts because it’s the night calories that REALLY matter and ohmygodJanelle you suck and you’ll always be fat and nobody likes you.
8pm: Get upset with myself for fat shaming body shaming self bashing and blatant lack of self love.
10pm: Resolve to do better tomorrow.
11pm: Go the fuck to sleep
Then, DUDE CHECK THIS SHIT OUT: I do slightly better tomorrow.
That is actually happening and it’s real. I’ve been making tiny changes and little nudges here and there and I’ve lost 10 pounds over the past 6 weeks. What?
Every day, I’m trying to be a little healthier than the last, and if I eat everything in a 5 mile radius during one meal, I try to get back on track for the next without mentally assaulting myself until I’m lying lifeless on a cold stone floor.
And I see now that a big part of this is realizing that I deserve health and attention and wellness and compassion (lord I sound like a fucking life coach), and tiny changes ultimately result in a new place entirely.
And that feels damn good.
So yeah, success. Or something. Fucking rock it.
Slightly more than yesterday.

Do you ever wish you could see yourself the way your kids do?