Disclaimer: The following is a rough (very) draft of the first chapter of a book I wrote when I was 21. It is about how I lost 265lbs. Be as openly critical as you’d like, as it is still a WIP.
So Good in Blue
Humans have this silly inclination to remember the things that hurt and embarrass us with stunning clarity. The small pieces of everyday happiness getting us from the “mom I wet the beds” to the “Sorry I’m busy Fridays” that market our adolescent existence grow dim until they’re ill-remembered or simply forgotten. We dwell on the negative. Unhappiness begets pain. Pain begets clarity. Here’s something I remember from my senior year of high school that no matter how much more weight I lose, or how accepting of myself I become, I’ll take with me to the stones.
Her name raged through my brain like wildfire. I liked her, and for some strange reason—through the tattered teen grapevine—I learned she might, perhaps, possibly like me back. High school, being the place of constant speech and little action, is less about Continue reading “Eating and Dreaming Chapter 1”
So the first summer of my weight loss ended. I was secure in my hold on both not eating after 6 o’clock and anything carbonated had now become the liquid equivalent of my mother’s “no-no” room. I basically had anxiety attacks anytime I got within a few feet of it. Then the school year started. I was worried about how I would handle living with constant food access and no helpful family members to give me the stink eye. I was terrified that the work I had started would be entirely erased in a month’s time.
Luckily, my will held out. The first few weeks I had to really watch myself. I had moved to the bigger house, the one that has the kitchen in it. That meant access to food was that much closer, that much easier to sneak. As I said previously, I was becoming two different people: the one who wanted to lose weight, and the one who wanted things to stay the same. Continue reading “Dark Meat”
The Lightning Feast
So I was fat. I had always been fat. I could safely be called “quarter-ton” if you put the weight of a wet cat on my shoulder. Now I decided to do something about it. Hopefully before I didn’t need to cat.
I didn’t feel any different, I still felt like the same me, but nonetheless something changed. While I used to always feel uncomfortable with who I was, I never thought I could do anything about it. Now I just sort of realized that I could, and was going to. It was a simple difference, but one that is a phenomenal one. It didn’t change the fact that I was still just as lost pre-scale shock as I was post. Continue reading “The Lightning Feast”