Yes, folks, it finally happened, at a Starbucks. I know he didn’t mean it in a hurtful way, but it kinda hurt.
I don’t even look like Farley other than being a fat white guy with light brown hair.
Prior to this year, I had weighed, at most, 260 lbs. I always figured that no matter how bad things were, at least I seemed to have an upper limit, and 260 lbs was it.
This morning, the scale read 297 lbs. What happened? I started eating more, that’s what. Why? I don’t know. I guess I got hungrier. The Paxil I had been put on is also part of it, but now that I’m off the stuff, the weight isn’t exactly melting off. So maybe the Paxil had nothing to do with it.
I always said I’d never let myself be 300 lbs, and that I could never understand how someone could get that big. I bet 300 lbs people say the same thing when they look at someone who weighs 450 lbs. I’m no longer surprised about anyone being any weight.
I’ve been on MyFitnessPal for years now. I have a record of my weight stretching back to the beginning of this decade. The trend scares me, because it makes me feel like every little bit of weight loss is just pulling back the spring that will ultimately catapult me to a greater weight.
But I’m here, and I’m going to do everything I can to turn this around. It’s good to have goals. It’s good to be part of a community of others for support.
I’m here, and I’m feeling kind of bummed out. I do have a plan—probably my best plan yet—and I’ve been adhering to it. But I am so scared of failing, which is really just another way of saying I’m scared of dying. And of course it brings up all sorts of emotions, questions like, “If you were so scared of dying, why did you let this happen in the first place.”
Probably not a bad question.
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