This Fat Must Go

It’s funny.  I really don’t envision myself as fat.  Yes, I am a 5’6 female who currently weighs in at 216 lbs which according to all those charts, classifies me as obese.  Yes, I weighed 60 pounds less 15 years ago when I stepped into my size 8 wedding dress.  Okay, I get muffin top when I wear anything that isn’t stretchy and terrible rashes if my thighs rub together.  My chin hits my clavical. My upper  arms flap in the wind.   I could go on and on.  The signs are there but I refuse to acknowledge them.  If I avoid mirrors or looking at current pictures of myself, I simply envision myself as the cute size 8 bride I was so many years ago.

Since I am great at denying I am fat, you would  think I wouldn’t care.  But you know what, I do.  I hate that all the stylish clothes make me look like I’m trying to stuff myself into a  sausage casing.  I cringe at the thought that I may embarrass my children, The Calves, when I show up at any of their events.  The idea that my husband, The Bull, is still happy to see me naked shocks me.  (The poor guy gets to so infrequently these days, I guess he figures something is better than nothing.)   My back has been killing me possibly due to the 20 extra inches I carry around my waist.  I have had terrible knee trouble over the past year.  My thyroid has stopped working and I am just waiting to hear that I have Type 2 diabetes.   If another doctor tells me all my problems would resolve themselves if I dropped a few pounds I may have to demonstrate just how painful it is to be wall checked by a porker.  Seriously, when you weigh almost as much as a linebacker and are lucky to squeeze into a size 16, carrying a little extra weight has crossed your mind once or twice.

I am always on a diet and yet I am still fat as can be.  It’s like I have an Inner Bovine that I have to feed but that somehow I am not accountable for.  Me, I will only eat lean proteins and vegetables.  Inner Bovine is forcing me to eat that box of oreos.  A huge bowl of mac-n-cheese, not me, but that damn Inner Bovine.  Somehow I need to get Inner Bovine on the same page as me.  Because in the immortal words of Dr. Katz, I need to lose weight.

I forced a neighbor to start coming with me to Weight Watcher meetings.   So we are in this together.  However, to keep me accountable, I am tweeting my progress at @MyInnerBovine if you’re interested.  This blog will be my space to complain.  I am sure The Bull and all my friends are sick to death of me starting and failing on yet another diet, so I am not even going to tell my friends I’m doing it.  I guess I have to tell The Bull, since I have dusted off all my old Weight Watchers cook books and put them back on the cook book shelf but otherwise this is just between you and My Inner Bovine.  SHHHHHHHHHHH!

M O O,

My Inner Bovine


One Comment on “This Fat Must Go”

  1. teresa says:

    I understand not wanting to tell anyone.. they’ll see for themselves soon enough and you don’t need any extra pressure or prying eyes.
    Weight Watchers is great, I’m sure you’ll get it going.
    You’re so close to really hitting a more comfortable place. We’re almost the same now (I’m 5’5.5″ and 217) and I know it get’s exponentially better from here.
    Starting at 250, I will appreciate 217 this time!
    I love your little inner bovine cow graphic!

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