This was an answer to yet another great post at Fierce Fatties.
Food has become for me comfort and solace, or something I have to do to keep from passing out and puking. It isn't always a joyful experience when I eat. There is almost always guilt. I will keep working on it though. I am 46 and given the lifespan of my family I could live another 40-50 years, maybe even 60. In that time I hope to learn to say "who gives a fuck" to those who would judge me, I hope to become acknowledged as a writer, I hope to learn a lot of things, I hope to escape the time clock at work and work for myself. I also hope to learn to have a positive relationship with food again, to enjoy and appreciate it, not to use it as an addiction or to hate it for "making me fat."
If you get this comment twice, it's because Blogger is messed up.
ReplyDeleteI just said that, though big goals give life purpose, it is easy to let one's "failure" to attain big goals distract from smaller successes that deserve to be celebrated.
An Arizona State University survey found that 1 in 6 women would rather be blind than obese. That's how bad things are.
ReplyDeleteCompared to them we're healthy. (I'd much rather be fat than blind.)