Suffocating

Covid let me hide away. 

Social distancing = no social life. This means it doesn’t matter how I look in a dress/heels/makeup/shorts/swimsuit/tank tops because no one will fucking see me. 

I’m tired of that. I want to be seen. I want to start doing things again. Right now, I don’t encourage it, because I know my family is terrified of Covid, and I am terrified of how I look in literally all clothing. So I stay home where I’m safe and fat. 

The last 3 days I have barely eaten. Thursday I fasted, and Friday and Saturday comprised of one meal each day and a few bites or sips of whatever. I feel empty. I feel good. 

I weighed myself today, and I weigh one pound less than I did in May after my surgery weight loss. The weight I gained back due to hating my fucking job is almost gone. 3 more pounds and I’ll be at that weight. I need to lose at least 18 more pounds right now. I don’t even want to be thin anymore - I just don’t want to be fucking fat like I am now. 

I told my husband the other day if we ended this relationship,  I would get super skinny. He asked, “why would we have to end this for that to happen?” I didn’t reply. My thought process was intense…

Like: Because I want to do it in a way he wouldn’t like. Because it would involve coke and booze and starving like I have before. Because when it was intense the first time, I didn’t use coke or booze, but now I know how to do that also. So it would be game on. It wouldn’t take me long at all, especially if I was single and my child went back and forth each week and I had days completely alone where I didn’t need to be responsible. If I let that part of me out to the degree I would want to, he would not be able to handle it. I’m fat because this relationship has seemed ok the last 3 years. But now it doesn’t seem ok. 

So now what? I just do what I want for me. Maybe not the methods I would prefer but starving and weed will work. And I don’t even want approval... I want to be thin and seen. I miss being like I was in North Carolina. I had fucking confidence. I didn’t realize it, but I did. I felt good about how I looked. I haven’t felt that in years. Ever since I got pregnant I have hated my fucking body. That’s like 4 fucking years. 

I need to find myself again. I’m suffocating under a massive layer of fat and the weight of the world.