Accepting oneself
Jul. 24th, 2002 03:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katsterPersonal info follows. Don't read if you don't care about my attempts to accept myself.
So, I just got out of the shower, right? I just got out of the shower and was staring at myself in the mirror, seeing how I look without my clothes on. Yeah, smartass, I was nekkid, one usually takes their showers that way...and I started thinking about being fat.
Yes. I'm fat. It's not my fault. I have a condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, but it's been really heavily tied to Insulin Resistance. Which means women with PCOS tend to be heavier than average. And when you combine that with Depakote (a medicine used to stabilize bipolars...), you get very rapid weight gain. And I got hit with it hard.
Last time I weighed myself, I was at SFO trying to find ways to amuse myself at 3 AM, and hopped up on the baggage scale. the digital numbers read 395. And I've lost about two pants sizes since they put me on glucophage to counter the insulin resistance. So that means at some point very recently, I was above 400 pounds.
And this is hard. Everywhere I turn, I get reminded that I'm fat. Airline seats aren't big enough (and now I'm going to get charged the extra seat. Great. So much about being able to afford an airline ticket to visit my sweetie.) My pants are hard to find and cost about $50 each. Every time I go to the doctor, I'm too big for their scale, which maxes out at 350. And everywhere I go, I can see the looks of people. ("She's lazy. She eats way too much. She's huge. God, she'd be so pretty if she'd just lose the weight..") 3X teeshirts are the only ones that fit with any reasonable luck, and good luck in finding those.
And hell, I even get it from my relatives. the weight is a fucking big deal around them. My friends have been a bit better about talking to me and being accepting of me, extra baggage and all. And my beloved ibblzi is fine with me. In fact, he's the first person to tell me that I was beautiful, with no caveats.
And now I'm crying. Why does this bother me so badly?
Why can't I accept who I am?
To bed. I have to be up in three hours.
So, I just got out of the shower, right? I just got out of the shower and was staring at myself in the mirror, seeing how I look without my clothes on. Yeah, smartass, I was nekkid, one usually takes their showers that way...and I started thinking about being fat.
Yes. I'm fat. It's not my fault. I have a condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, but it's been really heavily tied to Insulin Resistance. Which means women with PCOS tend to be heavier than average. And when you combine that with Depakote (a medicine used to stabilize bipolars...), you get very rapid weight gain. And I got hit with it hard.
Last time I weighed myself, I was at SFO trying to find ways to amuse myself at 3 AM, and hopped up on the baggage scale. the digital numbers read 395. And I've lost about two pants sizes since they put me on glucophage to counter the insulin resistance. So that means at some point very recently, I was above 400 pounds.
And this is hard. Everywhere I turn, I get reminded that I'm fat. Airline seats aren't big enough (and now I'm going to get charged the extra seat. Great. So much about being able to afford an airline ticket to visit my sweetie.) My pants are hard to find and cost about $50 each. Every time I go to the doctor, I'm too big for their scale, which maxes out at 350. And everywhere I go, I can see the looks of people. ("She's lazy. She eats way too much. She's huge. God, she'd be so pretty if she'd just lose the weight..") 3X teeshirts are the only ones that fit with any reasonable luck, and good luck in finding those.
And hell, I even get it from my relatives. the weight is a fucking big deal around them. My friends have been a bit better about talking to me and being accepting of me, extra baggage and all. And my beloved ibblzi is fine with me. In fact, he's the first person to tell me that I was beautiful, with no caveats.
And now I'm crying. Why does this bother me so badly?
Why can't I accept who I am?
To bed. I have to be up in three hours.
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