I’ve been gone and the blog went empty. Where did The Starving Fat Lady go? I have so much to tell you. I want to begin by first saying – I’m back. I’m back to face my demons and to expose my soul. I need to start facing the facts. I was successful in losing 140 pounds and successful in gaining nearly all of it back. We will get to that in later. There are reasons for that. I just know it!
I think there are reasons for why we over eat. There are reasons we are in so much pain that we would rather hide behind layers upon layers of skin rather than be exposed to the world. I’d rather be looked at twice for being overweight and NOT complimented than to be looked at twice and told I’m pretty. I cringe at compliments but no one would know it. I’m a professional faker. I can put on any smile and grit through a “thank you” and make it convincing. Very convincing.
If you are a new reader, welcome. If you are a loyal reader, welcome back. Time to get this party started.
The morning sun kisses the back of my neck, wrapping itself around me from behind. Its warmth makes me feel secure and safe. I sip on hot coffee and let the steam blanket my face as I throw one leg up on the bench next to me. The large oak tree stands hundreds of feet tall; its over-worked branches hang low. A yellow leaf glides, rocking back and forth as it floats peacefully to the ground. The green fields are peppered with black cows grazing and every once in a while you can see a small farmer among them. In the distance, a man-made lake sits quietly and still. When a breeze blows you can see ripples of diamonds dance across the top.
I close my eyes and listen to the cars on the highway grow louder as they get closer. One by one, “Whoosh. Whoosh.” Chirpy birds sing and flutter around the yard. They make small conversation with each other for long periods of time. They fly in and out of a small bird box on the power pole in front of me. One is angry that another bird is there. Such is life. Yaks wearing fur coats line the fence. Babies jump and play. They aren’t the cutest things I’ve ever seen. In fact, they are downright ugly with their funny horns and long fur that seems choppy, bulky, and heavy. The taste of warm, sweet coffee hits my lips and warms my insides. My cold nose warms in the sun. Jagged mountain tops, now cleared of snow, stand at attention. A frigid breeze pushes lightly off the lake sending a shiver thru me.
The sun starts to descend, the air is cooling and there are noises that can’t be seen. The ringing in my ears becomes louder as I strain to listen. Coyotes howl in the distance calling out to each other across the darkened field. The once clear, blue sky is now a dark dome pebbled with bright stars. If you look close enough and watch long enough, you will see stars fall right out of their place and disappear like magic. The moon is large enough to touch if I stand on my tippy toes. It whispers goodnight and as I close my eyes for the night, I dream of sweet sunsets and tangy views.
He was an amazing father, lousy husband. I wanted him to know how it felt to work and be a full-time parent. I wanted him to sit and wonder when I was going to walk through the door. I wanted tears to roll down his face when he was sitting at home alone painting pictures in his mind of what I could be doing and with whom. Mostly, I wanted him to hurt the way he hurt me.
I had my first child at 20, my second child at 21 then married 3 days later. Soon after, I became pregnant with my third child. I had no idea the amount of work that had to go into a marriage and now three small children under 3 years old was taking its toll. I couldn’t handle the feeling of being trapped. The angel in me said, “You need to settle in and be a mother to these innocent children. You made a promise to God to love your family.” While the devil lustfully whispered, “You deserve this. Run. Be free. For the first time in your life… feel good.” Yes! This is the final time I allow myself to play victim to my husband’s affairs and broken promises! So I ran. I became selfish, greedy, and reckless. Atlanta became stomping ground to foggy nights and late mornings. I left my past and reality in rum and coke and kissed responsibility goodbye.
The daily and nightly games may have been fun in the moment, but I missed my kids. I wanted to see them but thought that it’d be best I stay away. I wasn’t healthy. I didn’t want them having a part-time mom bouncing in and out of their lives. I never said I made good decisions. When I saw my kids again, they didn’t know who I was. It was a sad sight. To them, I might as well have been gone 20 years. That killed me but I knew I deserved it so I sucked that pain in and felt every inch of it cut through me. I abandoned them. I left them for my own selfishness. Their mother was a stranger and it was my own damn fault. It took time to heal but we learned how to be a family and how to handle the speed bumps along the way. We learned to move forward and love each other unconditionally. It was nice to have my babies back. I could hold them whenever I wanted. Kiss their chubby cheeks and laugh at their innocent jokes. I felt needed. I felt loved. All this time I was looking for myself and it was right here with them. There was a piece of me in each one and it made me laugh to see how they brought that out in themselves. As for my ex-husband, we eventually became friends. It was exhausting hating him so I had to do it differently. I prayed that he would find someone who would never put him through what I did. Me? This time, I promised. I promised my children that I was going to do whatever it took to be there for them, to love them unconditionally and to never leave them again. That promise is one that will never be broken.
He promised he would try harder. He promised that things would be better. So when that phone call from a friend came in, I was devastated. “Tonia, I saw him today with that girl. I saw him kiss her in YOUR car!” My heart dropped.
This is the last time he will cheat on me. I gather clothes, pictures, and personal hygiene products. I stuff them in the bag and wait for him to come home. My stomach is turning, I’m shaking with anticipation. My hands are sweaty. I know this is the final time I will be with this man. I will no longer take second place to his whore. He walks through the door. His kids yell his name; running to him with their arms out. He uses his affair-tainted lips to kiss our children. I want to rip his face off.
The bag I packed earlier sits by the front door. Of course, he doesn’t notice. He hasn’t noticed anything in years. He no longer notices the clean house and the hot meals. The happy kids. The sad wife. Maybe I play a part in this disaster too. I mean, I’ve gained weight. I no longer do my hair or makeup. I get a shower in every two days. Maybe I can’t blame him. I’ve let myself go so that I could grow, bear, nourish, raise, and love his children. I shake the guilt off. Flashes of white rage go through me. Oh God. Did he touch her and then touch me? My mind flickers with snapshots of them together and all the moments we shared afterwards. Them kissing, touching…fucking! Then he came home to me! All the nights we made love. Was it after her?!? Was he thinking of her? I can’t take this.
I walk over to each of my kids and kiss them and whisper, “I love you.” I look up to see my husband. MY. HUSBAND. The look on his face is one of anticipation. Is he waiting for me to kiss him and tell him that I love him, too? He’s sadly mistaken if he expects anything more from me. This. Is. Over. I slowly pushed my way past him, grabbed the bag next to the door and left. It would be 1 year, 5 months and 9 days until I would see my children again.
I want to jump into where I’ve been and what I have been doing and the reason for my absence quickly. So let’s begin.
Depression is nasty. It debilitates you and leaves you numb, causing you to separate yourself from life, family, and friends. The devil entered my life at a point where I felt weak and vulnerable and he used that to scratch his own itch. It can last days or months; in my case, months. You are able to function at some small level but anything after that takes energy you don’t have. Reaching out for help is out of the question but I’ve been blessed to have friends and family who give me my space and time to heal. For that, thank you.
Time for the big news! Thanks to all of your comments, feedback and positive prayers, I have decided that I want to share my story with the world. I am writing a book! My own little autobiography. When you read my blogs (and book) I want you to be able to say, “Me too!” You are not alone in the struggle and the struggle IS real! The book is titled, “The Starving Fat Lady – Binge eating, abuse, and mental illness.” I’ve been working on the first chapter these last few months and am hoping to have it proofread and finished in another few weeks. I have years of work to do but it will be worth it to have my readers know they are not alone. When I think about being isolated, I sometimes think about grade school. It seemed I always befriended the outcasts, the rejects, the mess. Or maybe it was the other way around. They accepted me. I, too, was the outcast, the reject, the mess. Either way I met and know some extraordinary people! Those that knew I was worthy and believed in what I did, even if I failed, thank you!!
I leave you today, with this: You will get better. With time and support, life does open up and bring you sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes it seems the darkness will never go away but trust me when I say, it goes away. Thank you to those hanging in there with me and putting up with my bouts of depression. I can’t express to you just how much it means to me.
You’d think a wake up call would magically appear and scream, “Get your ass in gear!” Why can’t I just eat what I want? What I’m used to? When I was younger I remember binge eating and then telling myself, “OK, that was a lot so for the next few days you can’t eat nearly as much and you won’t gain weight.” I really had myself convinced it worked like that. Now….forget about it. I can’t shed an ounce no matter if I starve myself or not. My old body has slowed to a halt. I swear I heard the brakes screech at thirty.
I can’t count how many times I’ve laid in bed at night thinking of all the spectacular things I planned to start in the morning. Clean out a cupboard, eat healthy, help an old lady cross the road, conquer the world, you know. I wake up with the best of intention. Then….noon hits. I’m tired and over it. Mission aborted. Like I said, my intentions were good. So good in fact, that I’ve successfully started and stopped several “diets.” HCG, grapefruit, Weight Watchers, juicing, nutritionists, smoothies..the list goes on. My failing success.
I think it’s a common misconception, by some, that obese people sit, do nothing, and eat all day. Reality is, that’s not true for everyone. There are days I do nothing else but run, (figuratively speaking of course). Of course, I still find time to take in a ho-ho or four. Take, for example, my youngest daughter. Skinny as skinny can be and that 16 year old does……….nothing. She eats, sleeps, checks her iPhone, eats, and sleeps again. I see her two times a day. She emerges from her room, uses the restroom and checks to see if I’ve cooked anything. How she manages to stay so thin is beyond me. My point is, finding something that will aid in my weight loss may be different from anyone else. An overweight person can eat and starve and still be obese or exercise and be active but make the wrong food choices, thus, stay overweight. What worked for Joan may not work for Jane. I hope to one day find that miracle “cure.” For now, hand me that plate of food and back away!
I find solace in the city after midnight. The hustle and bustle of passerby’s and tight traffic. The smells of late night taco trucks and stale beer. I inhale deeply and exhale with a smile. Encircling me are skyscrapers that seem to go up into space, their lights shining, showing life. The moon has been replaced with neon signs and the sound of traffic fades into the background as bar chatter erupts. Couples walk by arm in arm talking and laughing without a care. The city is a fast-paced world that I envy. The energy, romance, and wonder bring out an electric feel and I feel at home.
After-parties at high-rise apartments go on into the morning. Glow sticks and bright drinks brighten unfamiliar faces. Plush couches and chairs surround natural gas fire pits. Music fills the air and tickles my ears as I rise to dance. The surrounding glass patio gives way to life below, forgetting that there is another world on the top floor. As my chardonnay kicks in, my head starts to spin and I know my night is coming to an end. I smile at the twinkling lights and give thanks to city love.
Just as the sun begins to rise, business suits and taxis fill the streets. The night has been tucked away like a hidden gem but I know the city’s secret opens after midnight.
*Hi everyone! I just wanted to let my readers know that I will be now posting blogs every 2 days. Keep an eye out for the newest blog at 10 am this Saturday! Thank you my supportive readers!*
It starts in the dressing room and two pieces of clothing…
I slide my shirt over my head and pull it down over my curves. Wait. This is a T-SHIRT, right? I take it off and look at the size. XXL. How the hell is it so short? They are charging $2 extra for plus size yet they forgot to somehow sew the bottom half of the shirt on! The pants are next. I slip those over my thighs and pull up over my stomach. High-waters. How is this possible? I haven’t grown. Well. Maybe I have. Around but not up! This is impossible. I leave the dressing room and angrily hand my clothes to the attendant. I’m angry at myself for not being able to fit into simple clothes. I’m angry because they want to charge me more for plus-size clothing but not give me enough clothing to wear! And I’m angry that I’ve done nothing to fix it.
I admit that I’m the most contradictive person alive. I complain that I want to fix it, yet do nothing about it. I give advice to others, but don’t practice it myself. I’m safe here. You will hear me refer to my obesity and addiction to food as the devil. It’s a mental fight I have daily and that fight is visualized as cruel, dark, lonely, hurtful, sad… the dark list goes on. The push-pull of the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. I share this with you not to make you sad or feel empathy for me. I share it because sometimes I struggle with the darkness and I want others, perhaps you dear reader, to know……you are NOT alone.
As I’ve become older, I’m at a point in my life, that I’m learning to come to terms with obesity. Accepting it. Feeling safe with it. It is what it is, so to speak. Obesity gives me security. Losing weight would only put myself out there to predators so I’m safe being fat. No one wants a starving fat lady.
Totally fell for this boy. I mean hard. I know I’m only 13 but he’s super cute and super nice. He smokes but I’m okay with it because I smoke too! Hopefully mom and dad don’t find out. Keep it under lock and key, diary, okay?
March 1990 Dear Diary,
I can’t believe it!! We kissed for the first time! My stomach was in knots and I was afraid he was going to want more but he didn’t! Hate how he always talks about other girls though. He’s talks to one girl and I can’t stand her. Her blush is as thick as molasses! Gag!
July 1990 Dear Diary,
I was so stupid. Why did I tell him how I feel? My heart is broken! He told my best friend, Allie that I wouldn’t “put out” so he was going to go out with red molasses face! Oooo I’m so mad!
July 1990 Dear Diary,
Just got back from school. HE CALLED ME FAT!!! He told his friend and he told Allie who also told Stephanie, which by the way I am so ticked off at, that I was fat. Yeah? Well let me know what molasses face really looks like when she scraps off her makeup!
September 1990 Dear Diary,
Totally fell for this boy. I mean hard. I know I’m only 13 but he’s super cute and super nice……..
This blog was created by the 13 year old in me. This is a true story with as much detail as I can remember. I think sometimes we just need a reminder that as children, we so easily move on from some of the disappointments and heartbreak we experience in life. But in adulthood we seem to grasp onto the negative and forget the positive. When did we let that go and why? So remember this: Why worry about what you can’t fix in this very moment? Try not to lose focus on something that’s out of your control. Your bills, your kid smoking pot, your car breaking down, getting to an appointment late. whatever it may be…..embrace that moment, breathe, gather yourself, and hit that sucker tomorrow. You got this.
The blood from my nose runs into my mouth as I stand talking to the police officer while in handcuffs. I spit blood as I yell, “I didn’t do anything!!!” It’s no use. I’m headed back to jail. I turn and look back at my mom and yell, “Fuck you, you controlling bitch!” I’m the one standing with a bloody nose and injuries and I’m the one going to jail. The intake officer said her hello’s and leads me back to my cell. Her conversation with me outside the door was meant to be an eye opener. “I’ve seen you too often. Ya know, you only get one mom. If something happens to her, you’re going to have a handful of regret.” I roll my eyes and walk into my cell. I lie down and begin to think about the night. Perhaps I was in the wrong. I shouldn’t have called her names. But wait a minute! She punched me! She pushed me after I told her she gave me permission to go out the night before. I threw my fit, as all teens do. But to be punched? Who the hell does that? I knew from that point forward, I was going to make her life hell.
Upon release, I’m sent to a group home. I hadn’t talked to my mom in months and my emotions for her were still running high. One day, I was told I had a phone call. “Hello?” The familiar voice replies, “Hey. It’s mom.” My blood starts to rise to my face. I feel my body start to shake. I reply, “Why are you calling?!” Her reply, “I just wanted to see how you were doing. I haven’t talked to you in months.” Her tone is accusatory. Like it’s my fault we haven’t spoken. The anger starts to rise to my mouth and out spews, “I don’t want you calling me! You have done nothing but control and ruin my life! You have done NOTHING to help me achieve in my life! By the way, MOM, what are my goals? Do you even know or care? Don’t call me again.” Telling her off gave me the satisfaction I needed.
Back in jail. This place is my second home. I guess stealing a car and going on a beer run is not legal. *insert sarcasm* I’m just so tired of being caged. I’m so tired of being told what to do. I’m so…….tired. I think the judge is sick of seeing me too. My mom is in the court room. As I leave, she tries to hug me and I turn my back to her. I am so angry! In public she tries to reach out but behind closed doors she’s an angry, controlling, lying human being. Later in life I learned from her friends that she would come to work and tell everyone how bad I abused her and how out of control I was. Let me make it clear, now, I’ve never physically abused my mom. Even while she was punching me, I never threw a hit. Ever. I will admit, I was verbally abusive to her during fights and arguments. I guess I learned well.
Life has moved on. We’ve somehow managed to sweep our issues under the rug and today….she is my best friend. Hard to believe, right? It’s as if silently we’ve told one another we’re sorry. There are still moments I see her dark side slip out and I’m able to confront her about it without a fight. Her face changes and I almost see her snap out of it. I will never forget the things we went through together. Years later I’m still working through our issues, trying to heal from my past. One day, I hope to come to a satisfied ending. For now, I’ll let go.