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Getting Fat

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It’s ironic that on our televisions and in magazines we are bombarded with beautiful people with perfect bodies, but not many people walking down the street look like them. I never did master perfection, but there was a time when I was thin.  


In those days, I did wear cropped tops and tight pants. Now I glare at how inappropriate the girls today look in those same outfits. Eventually, I grew out of the lifestyle that kept me dancing all night almost as quickly as I grew out of those tight jeans.  


Getting fat is a gradual process. Sometimes it is so gradual, you don’t notice it is happening to you. I remember the first time I had a fat moment. I was sitting on my bed with my back against the headboard in a slouched position. Since I was only wearing my bra and underwear, my stomach was slightly pouched. I caught a glimpse of my reflection and thought to myself, “Oh, isn’t that cute? If I were three months pregnant, that’s what I’d look like!” I even had the audacity to stand up, turn to the side, and push air into my stomach to see what I’d look like a few months later. But then it was only cute because I wasn’t really fat … yet.  


That was fifty pounds ago. I have put on five pounds every year and not taken them back off. In those days, fitting into a size 10 would have horrified me. Today, a size 10 would be cause for a celebration that surely would include a slice of cake.  


As the years roll by, I create a new goal size—but it’s usually the size I wore the year before. When I think about the fact that I need to lose weight, it stresses me out. I’m a stress eater. I don’t worry about it anymore when I’m stuffing an oatmeal cookie in my mouth.  


Yesterday, I faced fat girl reality. I didn’t have much trouble getting into the tow truck my boyfriend was driving, but when I got out, it wasn’t gracefully. You don’t land lightly on your feet when you aren’t light. The weight gives you extra momentum that propels you forward. I had to half jog after I landed to keep from falling to the ground. That’s when it occurred to me that maybe he was driving the tow truck in case I fell down. 


This was on my mind all day today so I only ate half of my order of pancakes, and only one row of cookies, but now I’m going to spend the next hour looking for my Dr. Phil weight loss book. I don’t want to one day fondly remember the days when I could still get into the truck without trouble. The reality is, I’m not getting fat anymore … I am fat.
 

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