madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 9/20/01 I am forgetting who I was. As each day passes, time becomes the whitewash that conceals the old memories and blanks them out. I let it slip my mind, as I skip easily down the stairs, what a struggle stairs used to be. I slide into a restaurant booth without a hitch, my mind already contemplating what is healthiest on the menu for me to order. I forget how it was, to walk into any restaurant and immediately scan the room, holding my breath, hoping to find a booth where the table was askew, where I knew I could fit without my stomach hanging over. Sometimes I�d have to walk out of the restaurant when I couldn�t find ample space for my girth. My husband would trail behind, dutifully asking no questions as to �why�. The answers were already written on my anguished face. Now I scoot the seat up to reach the pedals in the car, instead of keeping it as far back as it will go to allow more space between tummy and steering wheel. I make quick turns without hesitation, without the friction of my fat to resist it. I walked into The Avenue, my fat lady store, last weekend. I realized that some of the clothes there are actually too big for me. I turn my attention to styles, and cuts and fabrics instead of just the size tag....and I think nothing of it. In all these things, there is a celebration. I have honored my body as a temple for the first time in my life and I am reaping the benefits. This is good. But as I�ve grown accustomed to the �new� me, I become petulant. I always want more. I want it faster. I want to see the changes again, to feel fresh and new and alive. I want to shift again - to catch myself in a store window and be happily surprised. I�ve gotten very used to the woman that peers back at me from the mirror. She has lots of extra skin, lots of stretch marks, lots of imperfections. She is thinner but still very very fat. She is a woman who still breathes harder after a few flights of stairs, who still can�t keep up with her friends on a walk. She looks back at me with contempt, because I haven�t let her out of her shell yet. I insist to her, that I�m really trying, I AM! But the glare I get back from the mirror is cold, dissatisfied, resentful. She doesn�t believe that I will ever truly set her free. I want to run, to jump, to rough house in the grass with my hubby, ride a bike, go to an amusement park! I want to walk into any store and shop for hours, trying on everything, being unable to decide because so many clothes look good on me! I want to travel, ride on the back of an elephant, take a tiny plane to a remote island to sunbathe on the beach for a day, hike to ancient ruins, or snorkel in a coral reef. I want to fly with my dad in the two-seater plane he built with his bare hands. I want to be able to run away from a mugger, to jog in the park on an easy Sunday morning, to squeeze into the back seat of my good friend�s VW bug if I need to and ride to the beach. I want to party all night long and be able to crash anywhere - on a couch with one single pillow - and be comfortable. I want to pack some gear and head for the forest, and sleep on the ground underneath stars and feel small in a sleeping bag and build a campfire and make love in the moonlight. To know that I have graduated from super-sized, to morbidly obese is definitely an improvement. But I still want for so much, and I�m so ready to have all these things in my life. Each day I wake up knowing that I am so close to those things, yet so far. I�m a baby-brat. I don�t WANT to be patient. I don�t WANT to wait any longer! I WANT to be that person right fucking NOW!!! And so it goes... I have to live every moment of this journey. I cannot fast-forward through the boring parts, like a blockbuster movie on tape. So I try to remember the old me. I try not to forget the powerful struggles at the beginning, the difficult and humiliating moments that kept me from restaurants, from parties. I must recall the anguish, the grief, the depression, so I can honor it and hold it in its proper place. I have to never allow myself to completely forget who Heather used to be. For if I do this, I will cease to cherish and appreciate the person I�ve become. I will downplay the changes, the hard work, the energy that I�ve put forth already. I must look that woman in the mirror and let her know that I am proud of who I�ve become, and I will never stop until I get the things that I want in life. Never. 12:55 p.m. - 9/20/01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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