The · Chubby · Files

So it's 1 a.m. and I am sitting in front of computer, (duh) glancing awkwardly at the weight watchers website...wondering how many times it is exactly that I have done this to myself. Signing up for weight watchers...telling everyone this time is THE time..I'm going to do it, I am not going to be fat anymore. And yet...here I am, all 264 lbs of me. I wonder why it is that I can't seem to get motivated.
Sometimes I wonder what it must be like to me a non-fatty looking at someone like me. I can almost hear what they must think as their eyes wonder down and across my chubby body. They must just think I am lazy and disgusting and should just put the fork down. I say this cleverly as though I thought of it myself when in all fairness, some guy at college actually did say that to me once. "Just put down the fork."
Let's examine that statement for but a moment if you will. The word just implies that the action following it should be simple and easy to achieve. The 'put down' portion follows along the same lines of simplicity, don't you think? And the obvious object of the sentence 'the fork'. It all makes such clear sense really, I mean what is difficult about putting down a fork? I have asked myself this questions many times and come up with nothing each time. I couldn't tell you why it is that I can't just put down the fork. The only answer I can offer right at this junction in my life is that I enjoy hurting myself. I enjoy knowing that every big mac I eat puts me one step closer to a heart attack. When I was younger I used to cut myself when I was depressed, I guess as a way of taking my mind of the emotional pain. Partly because I am extremely dramatic and seeing the red of my blood just seemed fitting to how I felt most of my teen years. The scars that I have left still remind me of my dramatic flare. So moving into my twenties I have taken food on in place of the razor or knife. I eat until I feel sick...trying to fill the void with cheesecake, french fries, big macs and ice cream. When I binge eat I can sit down and eat a medium pizza and then fill the empty box with my tears of regret and self hatred.
I take comfort in curling up on the couch with a cheesecake and a fork. Sure my body thoroughly disgusts me but it obviously isn't motivation enough to make me stop. Sure I get winded climbing one set of stairs...sure I break a sweat walking to the bus stop...sure the opposite sex must find me revolting...sure I am not doing any of the things I thought I would be doing my time I finished college. None of this stops me or motivates me in the slightest to get off my fat ass and do something about it.
I can't just put down the fork.