I hate being fat. I know that, minus a few exceptions, all fat people hate being fat. And there are different levels of hatred for it, but where I fall on the scale (and not the physical one) depends on a lot of other factors.
I have had weight issues since I went thru puberty in my early teens. The teasing started immediately, and I endured it until I graduated. In high school it got physical, and I was so busy worrying about what shit I was going to have to deal with the next day that I couldn't concentrate on things like homework. Consequently, my grades sucked, which then brought the wrath of mom down on me as well. I never really told her what was going on... I think I was afraid she would blame me, and I couldn't handle anything else. And of course, the more I was picked on, the worse I felt, and the heavier I got.
I thought I was so fat and unattractive that I lost my virginity to the first person who said they would sleep with me. It was not a pleasant experience... My first bf came during my senior year of HS in the form of an older man who liked his women with a little meat on their bones. My second bf said I was one of the thinnest girls he'd ever dated, which gave me some confidence in the relationship... up until he almost hit me. I'm not sure what my third bf saw in me, but he led me on over the summer about being together at college, and then broke things off our first day there. I decided to concentrate on my friends and my schooling for the next two years.
I met my first real love in a tattoo parlor shortly before my 21st birthday. I had lost a little weight over the intervening years (tho' still by no means thin) and he was the man that fixed my second tattoo. It was love at first sight for me with his beautiful blue eyes, black hair, and hulking frame, and something about me caught his attention as well. We got off to a jackrabbit start and had a wonderful 7 months together, and then he told me that he didn't love me and never would and he couldn't keep dragging me on when I was so in love with him. As I'd seen pictures of his ex and she was much prettier and thinner than me (albeit treated him like absolute shit), I figured that was the problem. Looking back now, I realize we were just completely different people and it would never have lasted. Incidentally, he is a world famous tattoo artist now.
With every guy I met after that, all I could think about was what THEY were thinking as they looked at chubby little me. I was so thankful to finally be able to drink at the bar when my friends dragged me out, because I could get drunk fast and try to forget about all the people around me looking at me like "Why the hell is this fat, ugly bitch here?" Ok, maybe they weren't all saying that, but that's how I felt. And with my self-esteem shot to hell, I was easy prey for the assholes, like my daughter's father... but that's a story for another time.
I was already overweight when I got pregnant, and of course I could never get rid of the baby weight either. Between the stresses of life and single motherhood, and some that were self-imposed by my issues, I have watched the scale steadily increase over the years, and I am now at my highest weight and lowest point of my life. And I'm in so much pain and I'm so friggin' tired all the time, I just don't have the energy to do anything about it unless pushed... and there is no one to push me. So here I sit at a size 20, watching the world go by, and wondering how much longer I have to go thru this shit. Yes, there are A LOT of people that have things worse than I do, but I never learned how to cope with my fat self, and unfortunately now it's not just me who is dealing with the consequences...
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