*Update – After two people read this and told me that this came across as sad, I just wanted to state that sadness is not my intention here. It’s just coming to grips with the fact that I’m fat and I need to do something about it. It’s supposed to be funny. Well, in a pathetic, my life was hell, kind of way. Anyway, I’m not looking for pity. I’m not looking for someone to say “You’re not fat, Dana, you’re just (insert politically correct word).” This is just what I need to do to actually do something about my weight, again. Maybe this time I can stick to something. I’m looking for support from my friends. I think we can do anything with a little help from our friends. Thanks.

Okay, obviously, from the title, this is something that I don’t talk about. I don’t address this and it’s eating me up inside. I am overweight. And those of you who know me or have seen my picture are probably thinking “Well, yeah, we knew that. So?”

I started gaining weight in 3rd or 4th grade. I trace this back to when I first got glasses and I, the least trendiest person in the world, chose a pair of glasses that were shaped like octagons (the first in many, many stops aboard the “What Were You Thinking” Train) which both my mother and the eye doctor tried to convince me to not choose. I, however, was secure in my belief that I looked cool. Alas, I did not.

Now, I was somewhat popular in 3rd grade. I had friends amongst the cool kids and went to sleepover parties at the home of some of the rich and popular girls. So I was secure in my reflected coolness when I went to school, wearing my octagon glasses. I was about to learn my first lesson about how cruel kids can be. Suddenly people who I thought were my friends were denying that they had ever spent any time with me outside of school. Do you have any idea how disconcerting that is for someone? To say “Hey, do you remember that movie we watched when I spent the night at your house?” And have them reply “What are you talking about? You never stayed over.” I sat there, staring at her, thinking “Am I insane? Did I make this all up? I swear, it happened. We watched ‘What’s Up, Doc.’ I remember this.”

For whatever reason, I couldn’t handle the rejection. And I started to eat. I’m not condoning it, I’m not saying “Oh, look at poor Dana, she’s a victim. It wasn’t her, it was all those bad kids that forced her to gain weight” because that’s not what happened. I could give you all of the factors of what contributed to my weight gain, I could line them up for you. Oh, let’s do it for fun. Okay? Shall we list the reasons of misery? Yes! Let’s do it!

  1. I was rejected by my classmates and made a figure of fun every frickin’ day of my life in school (I think they made a movie about it, called “Carrie” (okay, it wasn’t that bad and, luckily for the friendly and wondrous rich bitches of my childhood, I do not have the psychic powers I joke about)
  2. I may or may not have been molested by a teacher (I have a tendency to block out a lot from my past, there are certain memories, however, that validate this theory) in 3rd grade
  3. My father was an alcoholic so addiction runs in the family (hey, why do you think I don’t drink anymore?)
  4. My father may or may not have molested me (actually, I’m leaning towards probably not. A former friend, may he rot in a fiery, fiery burning hell of hellfire, said he hypnotized me one night and I had memories of this happening that, conveniently, I don’t really remember. But he was my friend and friends sometimes have to tell you bad things, right? (And sometimes your friends will turn to a waitress and say “We’re moving. We have to get a new apartment because Dana’s ass is too big for the one we’re in.” And sometimes friends will use you as a free nanny service and take everything you make from your crummy job and allow you to dig through the ashtray for cigarette butts because you don’t make enough money for you to actually buy your own cigarettes because you’re giving all your money to him. Okay, I seem to have been sidetracked. Sorry) Anyway, I think he lied to me about my Dad because it was just one more thing he could do to alienate me from my family and fall more under his spell. Dad was a lush, yes, probably not a child molester)
  5. I seem to encourage people to, hmm, I was going to say mock but I think the word I really want is “Crush my spirit under their heel until I can do nothing more than sob myself to sleep and eat, eat, eat to fill the empty hole in my empty soul.”
  6. I fell for the oldest line in the book when I was 15. The “I love you” line. 17 year old who broke my heart (okay, bent it. A lot) and then, of course, I felt guilty. So I slept with every guy who ever showed interest in me because I was a slut and deserved to be treated like dirt and then I ate more because I was depressed and then I slept with different guys because the other ones, of course, took what they want and left and now, I am very fat and very much alone and I kind of like it because I don’t have to worry about guys coming on to me because, let’s face it, I am so very fat and I don’t have to worry about whether or not I should sleep with them because they are paying attention to me but, on the other hand, I am still waiting for the big kiss and seven years of non-kissing really kind of sucks. Which, according to a recurring dream I have had for many years, the big kiss will not be happening until I am 900 years old and in a nursing home (seriously. I’ll tell you about the dream someday).
  7. My God, isn’t this enough?

Anyway, it’s no longer 3rd/4th grade, I walked up the stairs carrying a fairly light box and almost died from the asthma attack last night, I haven’t seen my feet since I don’t know when, I am so very sick and tired of breaking into a sweat by walking to the phone, I have had a very persistent visitor for the last year (that’s all the detail you get. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about) and, well, you know, I’d like to wear a size 18 again. Please God, once before I die, okay?

And, since I don’t have the psychic powers or a magic wand or a fairy godmother, ain’t nobody going to lose this weight for me. I have to do it myself. So, I’m going to give it another shot. But this time, I’m going to go public with it. Starting Tuesday, I’m going to see if there is life without Mountain Dew.

I’m really thinking there isn’t. I know it’s good for me, but water, not so tasty, you know? Anyway, join me on my fun filled trip. God knows, I can use the support because I am so very, very weak.

Previous comments

At 6:56 PM, angelia said…

You can do it Dana! I believe in you, and your strength, and your will, and your incredible determination. I am rooting for you!

At 6:02 PM, DeAnn said…

I’m with you in many ways. I can’t bring myself to discuss my weight on my blog because, well, you’re braver than I am. But I’m in need of the weight loss, too. And I am trying.

At 2:38 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said…

Good for you! I know how hard it will be, but I know it can be done. I’m rooting for you! More than that, I’ll help any way I can from here.

At 11:56 PM, Matt said…

Father,

This is coming from someone that has been there and done it, and is still fighting it, but you can do it. You took the first step and admitting it, and being braver than I could be when I was there by sharing it with so many people. I know you can do it Dana, because I believe in you. I always have. You do know that I have two shoulders you can always lean on if you need them, so don’t be afraid to do that. As for the people that have not approached you because of what they see, they are missing out on one of the most wonderful, loving, fun people I have ever known. You have always been, and will always be one of the most beautiful people I know, screw them if they can’t see that. I believe in you, I really do. I love you Dana, and that will never change.

Love,

Your (No Matter How Hard You Try To Deny It) Son-Matt

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