Other than my parents and brother, I haven't had any one come right out and insult me with fat jokes or insults. Or just plain call me fat. That is until now.
This morning, I went to the methadone program as I do every Wednesday when most of North America is still sleeping, or at least home. Everything is business as usual until I get in my car. It takes me a minute to fall into such a low car with an even lower driver's seat. So my door was open for a minute. Not open all the way, as the car next to me was able to back out without a problem as I was climbing in. Next thing I know I am being screamed at. Yes, I should have closed my door faster knowing that my fellow junkies can be a tad "rush-y" this early in their day.
"Close your door you fat bitch"
I was in such shock at the comment, and am already an extremely sensitive (cries at the drop of a hat) person.
The tears welled up before I could even think to reach for the door.
"Ya stupid fuckin' cow! Close your door"
As he shouted this comment I was closing my door. I yelled back to him that I was sorry. If he had just honked or yelled close the door, it would have been closed faster. Again, saying I was sorry.
He just went on and on and on, wasting the time he claimed I was taking from him. "You are just trying to make me late." Yea, my whole goal in life is to make everyone else as miserable as I am most days. Really, my life revolves around people I happen to walk by once a week.
This whole incident lasted 2-3 minutes TOPS. Yet, it really got to me. As I drove off all I could think to myself was, "I am fat..."
My mother used to tell me all the time how I looked like a whale. My dad would ask me why my sister looks like this, and I look like that. Why my thighs were so large, why I have a muffin top... My brother always knew how to get to me: call me a slut or something along those lines or call me fat.
So this morning, him dropping this F-bomb, really stung. I have always had low self-esteem. I have always thought of myself as the ugly sibling. Our family has a joke that the only reason I had kids is for the attention.
I absolutely hate my body.
I haven't felt comfortable in shorts since elementary school.
I hadn't worn a bathing suit for years until last year when I actually felt good about my(pregnant)self.
It took me becoming a heroin addict to finally feel comfortable in my skin. And then the few months of new sobriety before pregnancy, I felt amazing.
It was short lived.
I weigh now at least 15 lbs more than I did on the day I delivered Bailey.
I know some of my weight is my problem. I eat reese's daily, I get iced lattes or frappes daily. I don't get to the gym as often as I should.
I am the person who needs results. I will spend a week or two really eating right and hitting the gym, and see NO results whatsoever, or even gain a lb or two.
Why stick with it?
As always with my blogging this is leading to a rambling mess. I am just so sick of being labeled as fat.
No wonder I have really taken to the new ABC Family drama, Huge....