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You Don’t Know a Damn Thing About a Book by its Cover

After I finally decided to leave the pointless fight about feminism on youtube, I get another freaking notification from someone else on the same video on the same comment. In the comment, I told the youtuber that I, as a fat woman, appreciated the video. This new person goes “you choose to be unhealthy, hahaha.”

Like, seriously?

Seriously.

I think the youtuber in the video even MENTIONS how you can’t tell a person’s health by looking at them.

Not that this person really gave a fuck about my health.

Just because someone is fat, doesn’t mean they’re unhealthy. Just because someone’s thin, doesn’t mean they’re healthy. You don’t know shit about a person by just looking at them.

Let’s say the fat person does happen to be unhealthy. Do you know why? You don’t know shit that’s going on in a person’s life. Personally, I have PCOS, which makes it 10x harder to lose weight right at the start. Then, I’m kinda really struggling with my mental health right now. I’d rather be certain I won’t kill or hurt myself before I even try to bother with my weight. Trust me, my mental unhealth will kill me sooner than my body’s will.

I hate exercise with a seething passion. Y’know that whole endorphin bullshit they talk about when you exercise? Idk about you, but for me, it’s bullshit. I don’t get happy when I exercise. I get exhausted, out of breath, sweaty and gross, and miserable. Even if I just walk the dog around the block. It’s still exercise, it’s still work, and I still come back exhausted, out of breath, sweaty and gross, and miserable.

Food is wonderful. I think my tastebuds are a little extra sensitive, which is possible because I may have Asperger’s. So when I love a food, I LOOOOOOOOOVE it. When I hate a food, I hate that shit and can’t eat it at all. Food is a comfort and a pastime. It’s for celebrations, comforting, anything. And I’m always hungry. I HATE being hungry. Hate, hate, hate. Can’t stand it. Used to be able to ignore it, but that was when I had stronger reasons not to eat. Now, I have food right in the kitchen. Or right down the street that I can bring home for now and later.

Why the Hell should I bother to try and lose weight when my body’s working against me from the beginning (PCOS), I hate exercising, and food brings me so much joy? Because my body will kill me if I keep going this way? What’s the point of living longer if the quality of my life is brought down like that?

I absolutely hate, hate, HATE trying to regulate myself. I don’t want to have to bother or worry. Nor do I want to be different from everyone else. Everyone else can do whatever the fuck they want. They don’t have to regulate themselves like I would have to.

Happiness is so hard for me to grasp these days. I hold on tight to the happiness I can get. And a lot of the time, that’s food.

I can’t make myself do things I don’t want to. I have no motivation. What’s the point? It’s not going to make me feel better. I’ve tried. So what’s the point?

Anyway, why the Hell did the fat-mocker think it was OK to laugh at me? Why is it EVER OK to laugh at someone who’s different from you? Who makes different choices from you? It’s NEVER OK.

Then the original asshole, the anti-feminism one, told the fat-mocker that I’m a stereotypical feminist that deletes things I don’t like. Listen here, fucker. I reported those comments because they were HARASSMENT. Why are you sticking around talking shit about me? Are you really in so much need of self-verification and ego-boosting? Pathetic.

Fuck Youtube. This is why I never leave comments on there.

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Posted by on September 29, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Let’s Talk About My Weight

I’ve struggled with my weight ever since I was, like, ten. So pretty much forever. OK, fourteen years. Same diff. Either way, it’s pretty much been all my life. Even when I wasn’t really overweight at all, I thought I was fat. And it wasn’t just because of media. Other girls around me were a lot skinnier than me, too. Still are. Always have been. I’ve always seen myself as overweight. Overweight in the least bit = fat.

Now that I’ve established that, I think I have a serious problem. I should bring this up with my counselor . . .

Anyway.

No, I don’t eat right. But I’m going to tell you right now, if I ate right, there’s a good chance I would still be overweight. I have this condition called Poly-Cystic Ovary Syndrome. Among other issues, it makes it 10x easier for me to gain weight, and 10x harder for me to lose. So I’ve kinda given up before I’ve begun. Why bother? It’s gonna be a shitton harder for me than for everyone else. And then it’ll pile back on.

And I know this is true. For two summers, I would bike five+ miles every single day and didn’t lose a single pound. People told me it was because I ate too much. But I didn’t eat anything more than I did during the rest of the year.

I don’t eat right. A big part of that is my Asperger’s making me a very picky eater. I don’t like a lot of healthy foods. They taste awful or have a nasty texture that I simply can’t stand. And when I do like something, I -really- like it. Like a lot. And I can’t stop liking it. I need more and more and more of it. Even when my stomach tells me to stop, I can’t. Because, as my counselor has explained, I don’t get enough sensational satisfaction outside of eating.

I hate exercise. Absolutely loathe it with a passion. That endorphine crap that’s supposed to happen? That’s bullshit. I never feel good exercising. I never feel better during or after. I feel hot, sweaty, exhausted, dirty, and otherwise like complete and utter shit. So, no, I don’t exercise despite the stupid gym membership I was talked into.

Society doesn’t help. They show skinny-ass bitches holding trays with giant-ass portions. Like, wtf? Our fat-filled food are giant-sized and our healthy foods are expensive. And we don’t have time, energy, money, or knowledge to make healthy meals. Yes, I read about how we simply don’t have the knowledge or time, these days, to make healthy meals. And I’d like to add in time and energy. Because I do have the time to make a healthy dinner and leftover lunch for myself, and even breakfast, after work. But, dear God, do you think I have the energy? Not after eight+ hours of retail. Especially now, around holiday time. Even if I could afford the healthy foods with my minimum wage I’m trying to pay my student loans off with.

But they want us girls to be skinny as shit. They want us to starve ourselves if we have to. Whatever we have to to make and/or keep ourselves size 0. Oh, you have hips? You’re fat, fuck you.

Now, pop out babies!

It just doesn’t work.

Do you struggle with your weight?

 
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Posted by on November 16, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Shakes, Exercise, and PMD

I’ve mentioned before about how much work exhausts me. How I get home, eat dinner, and go to bed by seven. (Though that doesn’t make sense because I literally stand around all day)Well, guess what? (Gonna sound like an infomercial, now) Not anymore! I get home, now, and I have energy to actually do things like read, write, or play games! Ya wanna know the secret? Protein shakes! I had one, and omg did it do wonders. So I guess my 12 hours of sleep every night really was more physical than psychological. I’m so happy!

There is one downside, though. Now, I have just a little too much energy, and I can’t get to sleep. My mom thinks it’s the time change. I’m not sure about that, so I’m gonna try walking the dog when I get home, even though my legs are exhausted and aching :/.

My friend, the one that told me about and sold me the protein shakes, said that short bursts of extreme activity is best for the body. But then he mentioned running for like two minutes and I was like “Ha! Yeah, right!” I can’t run for two minutes. I can’t run for one minute. I can only do, like, fifteen seconds, tops. Besides, I hate it. Exercise in general has never left me anything but miserable, exhausted, and out of breath. I don’t know what these people keep saying about endorphins. Mine don’t seem to work right.

There’s more good news, too. Today was the day that I was supposed to go batshit because of my PMD. And guess what? Perfectly sane, here! And with nine credits (meaning 18 bucks) to spare! Even when the stupid kid came in late, making me late to meet my friend, I didn’t go nutso. The meds are working! I don’t care what you have to say about “meds are bad for you” and “there are better, natural ways;” meds work and I swear by them. I will recommend them to anyone.

Well, I’m tired, now. It’s bedtime! Good night, internet!

 
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Posted by on March 13, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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