Motivate Me

The last time I managed to go on a diet and lose substantial weight (60ish pounds in six months) was 2013.

I was motivated by not wanting to be the fat sister in my brother’s wedding pictures.

That didn’t actually motivate me back in 2003 before my own wedding, though. So yeah. Huh.

I don’t know what will motivate me this time. Obviously being fat-shamed by my doctors doesn’t do it.

My jeans being tight and making me uncomfortable doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Hating my body with the passion of a thousand suns isn’t motivating me.

Knowing that being overweight is bad for my health doesn’t seem to matter either.

I mean, come on, self! I don’t smoke because it’s bad for me. I don’t drink alcohol because it’s bad for me. I don’t do heroin because, yeah, SO BAD for me. I don’t vape, I don’t snort cocaine, I don’t go out in the sun without sunscreen because that’s all bad for me.

Yet, I’ll make frosting so that I can eat it from the spoon.

I’ll buy Most Stuf Oreos and eat the stuf.

I’ll eat a bag of mini York peppermint patties, the FAMILY size, for God’s sake, in two days.

What the hell is wrong with me? None of the above things are good for me. I can restrain myself from having wildly unsafe sex with strangers but I can’t stop cramming high calorie, nutrition deficient food into my fat face.

Why? What is going on in my brain that I can’t be satisfied with the salad I have for lunch each day? Why don’t cucumber slices fill the void in my stomach (brain!) the way a bag of Funyons does?

Obviously, I’m a mess. My relationship with food is so very messed up.

So what next? That’s what I need to figure out.

For what it’s worth, I can’t and don’t blame the cancer completely. I know I was a fatty before I got cancer. That’s part of why I can’t figure out what’s wrong with me. I mean, what if my fatness contributed to my cancer? One would think that would be motivation, right? Since my stupid cancer wasn’t fed by hormones, hello, something had to trigger it.

So if it was fatness, wouldn’t you think I’d be out there jogging every single freaking day and watching every morsel I put into my mouth, making sure it’s the highest of nutrition and lowest of calorie?

Yes, I’d think that too and look at us, we’re ALL WRONG.

Hello, self, get your shit together!

And this ends my little tantrum.