Saturday, August 26, 2006

The Vegetables Are the First to Go


Anchoring Myself

In the Hindu religion, Ganesha is the blocker of obstacles. I am using Ganesha as my picture right now on my blog because I am grateful for the obstacles being blocked. It has taken a while to get back to my writing. I appreciate all of your notes to me asking about my whereabouts and if I'm okay. It's helped me stay in touch with myself, if only slightly.

I think the miracle I have experienced mostly is being able to tell myself the truth and believing it and then taking action. They say relapse starts way before the first bite is taken. I haven't relapsed yet, but the warning signs are there for me to see. However, I didn't want to see them until a few days ago when I didn't want to make or eat vegetables. It started with the vegetables...I just couldn't be bothered with the preparation of them and they seemed so boring. It wasn't until last night while I was in my new addiction of internet chatting that I realized what was happening to me. I was surrendering my serenity and peace of mind by not putting my recovery first. It is a double-edged sword, because the friends I've made online have given alot to me through humor and love and most of all, fun! However, when I surrender the order in my life because I'm having fun...and it interferes with my sober life...then we get to call it another addiction. It's all about balance. Balance in all things.

After being abstinent for almost 90 days now, things have become more comfortable for me and I forget that my very life depends on me following a food plan. After all, I am a food addict and the only real hope is that I have one day of reprieve from this vicious addiction. ...And leaving vegetables out might seem like a small incident to most, but to me...I know this is the disease creeping its way back into my life.

I took action today though. I participated with life outside of my house and away from the computer screen and felt the sunshine on my face and saw the sailboats on the bay and was reminded how beautiful life is and how much sweeter it is when I'm free from the grips of the nasty disease.

...And I made some vegetables!

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Body Acceptance - What's That?

I was reading another site and came across a post about how these fat women love their bodies and described them with witty banter and how they looked good, except they could lose a little. I got disturbed with this because the post had 81 comments and they were for the most part light and enthusiastic. I sit here mourning the body God intended for me. God intended for me to have a healthy weight, no loose skin, and a healthy mind... My actions and addiction changed that course.

I have never been at a healthy weight for very long and I've always been doing something to my body to abuse it, i.e massive caffeine intake, massive cigarettte smoking , especially when I'm abstinent from addictive eating.

I'm a true addict from the word "go". I can't eat flour or sugar or wheat and have any semblance of balance or control at all. I smoke and I smoke alot. I drink caffeine and I drink alot. I get into tv and I watch alot. I get into TV show websites and I spend hours chatting with other fans. There are alot of things about me which are addictive and crave to be soothed.

The thing about addicts is: We have low self-esteem and big egos. It's a deadly combo. But by the grace of some power greater than me (and it is a stretch sometimes to believe there is one) I have been restored to sanity --- one day at a time--around food. As far as the side dishes of addiction, they are alive and well and seem to come alive evermore when the food is "down".

I want to get back to body acceptance for a minute. This site I went to (FattyMcBlog) is usally very funny and light. I need that sometimes, but the body acceptance piece really got to me. It stung and it still stings. I get uncomfortable when fat people joke about their bodies in a condescending way because I do that when I'm nervous. I get uncomfortable when women say I love my "twins" when they are fat. I get uncomfortable when women say "I love my junk in the trunk"...because the truth is that junk in the trunk is probably not that great and the "twins" will be reduced to deflated balloons once they lose weight.

I sound so bitter. I guess I am. It is wonderful when a person has body acceptance but my radar goes off that its not true that these women on that site really do love their bodies. It seems to me that it's a front so that they don't have to identify themselves and how they really feel about their bodies. I just wanted to read one comment on there that I could identify with and I didn't. And now I feel lonely.

I better make a gratitude list and fast!

Love you all,

Saturday, August 05, 2006

Tribal Misfit

In order to spiritually progress, we need to be born in a tribe where we don't fit. Of course, what we try to do is to make ourselves fit. But we can't fit, and that's a good thing, because if we could, we'd never "take up our beds and walk." We should be very very grateful to the people around us for loving us inadequately, so that we could grow.

I believe that quote is from Carolyn Myss. I borrowed it from somebody else's comment on Frances Kuffel's Amazon blog. The funny thing is that I was never able to absorb Carolyn Myss' words before this posting. I'm still trying to figure out Eckart Tolle's Power of Now.

I guess it holds true that when the student is ready the teacher will appear. I have been writing alot about my family lately. It has been such a cathartic experience for me and I am so grateful for the loving feedback I have received from all of you. You truly are my loving support system!

I have struggled to "fit" into the tribe in which I was placed. It has always been a daunting task that has led me to dark places -- dark nights of the soul, indeed. I have been to the edge and back with my family of origin and it has come extremely close to destroying me. I am back from the edge now and life has taken on a whole new light.

There is a saying in the rooms created by Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob, that says: "Religion is for people who are afraid of going to Hell. Spirituality is for people who have already been there."

It's amazing to me that I have been restored yet again to a place of light and hope. My life-long struggle with my weight and subsequently all my weight loss over the years has taken its toll on my psyche. I am grateful to be back. There is a state of mind that occurs in suicidality that is unavailable to the sane mind. I am glad to all the resources I scratched and clawed my way to find even though I was preparing my own death cocktail. You see, I am back now and can't even imagine wanting to die. But, over the past three years, my suicidality increased at a yearly rate culminating this year to a plan of action and a most-certain demise. Thank god for Kaiser Permanente's Psychiatry Department and their progressive approach to healing the mind from its dark caverns. It is through cognitive behavioral therapy and Dialectical Behavioral Therapy that I was able to finally see a few key things:
a) I am a worthy person wrapped in a sensitive package and that will never change.
b) I am wrapped in a sensitive package and there are skills I can use to manage this.
c) I am an emotional person in a non-emotional family and this brings me to a crisis stage.
d) When I'm in emotional crisis, I have skills I can use.

I never thought that I would be a person who needed "skills" to live life. However, I'm 40 now and have seen too much sadness and pain and lost too many relationships and jobs to deny that I need some "skills". I have often said that nobody gave me the rule book to the Game of Life. It seems like everybody knows how to play and I don't. So, it is with these skills that I am able to live and thrive.

To soothe has always been the elusive goal of my life. I have sought out the soothing I should have received in a family but was stuck with a pacifier instead. My pacifier has always been food as it relieves me of myself in the quickest and most potent of ways. However, all through my 20s I was quite fond of marijuana which provided a wonderful high and an appetite for more food. Now, the marijuana ceases to be enjoyable as it makes me paranoid and scared. The food has given me a body of over 400 lbs. TWICE!!!! My drive to soothe is so strong that I've been dubbed by one so-called friend as "the worst addict she knows". That felt great to hear! Nothing like sending a little hope my way. :)

So, I perhaps will always be chasing the pacifier in some way. My goal is to learn to manage it. Manage - Manage - Manage! Managing is not my strong suit. I've been really off-kilter lately and while I'm able to abstain I am living a life run on self-will. I spend many hours on the 'net chatting with fans of a tv show I watch. I lie to my sponsor every day by omission by not telling her that I drink Diet Coke and sometimes have latte's as my dairy. Part of me says, jeez louise -who cares? Look at where I'm coming from...give me a break! The other part of me wants a sponsor that says, "Hey, you are coming out of a terrible relapse and hopeless state of mind..let's take it easy..don't get too hard on yourself..gentle steps my friend, gentle steps."

So, back to the quote that began this post. I have been given a gift of being a person who seeks more and climbs back from the brink. I hope it is of value to somebody in the world because I need to help someone just like me someday.

Love to you all,

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Let Me Know Where Ya Land, Kid!

I haven't really talked about my dad too much. He passed on in June of 1993 at 49 years old.

Its been so difficult to disect this man who was my father. He was gregarious and smart and witty and a complete package of the "Disneyland Dad". My memories of my father stretch between gratitude for him because without him I would never have developed the charisma that enables me to walk on this planet -- the very charisma that has enabled me to live even though I weight 400 lbs. I can enterain people with my wit and charm and pretend that they don't notice I'm 400 lbs. and dying inside.

However, my father was selfish. He was addicted to the ponies. His whole adult life was spent chasing the elusive big win. He did this at the expense of his children's well-being and security. I suppose that fits the addiction model. Here's a trip down memory lane -- join me won't you?

My brothers and I are all sick with bronchitis. My dad reluctantly drives my mother and us to the doctor and says, "I'll be back to pick you up." He never shows up and my mother and my brothers and I walk home from the doctors office - sick and coughing and feeling awful - the trip was about 5 miles. Where did Dad go? -- Where do you think he went? (rhetorical question)

My mother sits crying and I ask her what is wrong? I have always had an intuitive sense when things are wrong. She tries not to tell me, but I am so attached to my mother, I simply have to know...begging her to please tell me. She said we couldn't pay the rent because my Dad has gambled it all away.

My mom and dad had gotten divorced when I was seven. My mom and my brothers and I move into the Casa de Single Moms Apartment Complex. I had constant stomach aches during this time and often had to come home from school early due to intense stomach pain...(this gives me some clue about food being a soother). One day, my dad shows up and my brothers and I are beside ourselves with excitement. He doesn't stay but for a minute -- just long enough to take our television and walk out. We all cry the cry of abandonment.

This takes place any given weekend throughout my childhood: Dad makes arrangements to take us somewhere on a Saturday. We get so excited and look forward to the day. All dressed and ready to go we wait for his car to pull up outside (a brand new Cadillac for him -- we had a VW bug with no a/c). Phone rings and my mom says my father wants to talk to me. I say to him, "Daddy what time are you getting here?" He replies, "Sorry kid-- can't make it today, something came up, but we'll do it soon." I tell him oh that's okay daddy-- I love you. The rest of the day is spent with my mother rushing around trying to take our disappointed minds off of what had just happened. We would do art projects or macrame or anything so we didn't feel the emotion of what had taken place.

Daddy calls and says he's taking us to Disneyland. We are beside ourselves with glee and over-excitement. However, when daddy shows up he introduces us to "Sheila" and says how great she is and how nice we should be to her. (This is just a typical time with Dad- never Dad alone-- always a new woman in tow). We got to Disneyland and I have good memories of Disneyland (who wouldn't -- its the Magic frickin Kingdom), but what happened next was disturbing. I was about 10 or 11 at the time and Dad and Sheila were either having sex and having issues or having sex and then having issues, because I heard my father talk in a way I had never heard. He mocked "Sheila" and told her she was a baby and wanted her mommy. I guess Sheila wasn't having a very good time. This memory still leaves a pit in my stomach.

As the years go by, wife number two, three and four are introduced. We are to love these women because they are so great. For the most part, these were women who had fallen under his charismatic spell. They were all quite nice, but would disappear without notice to us. We were just supposed to love them and then they were gone. My dad would never be without a woman and I imagine these women were all bled dry of their financial security and/or self worth after Hurricane Larry blew through.

When I was 16, my dad sent me roses. I felt these were so special. Wife #3 was very kind to me, as it was her idea for the roses. Wife #3 taught me to drive. Wife #3 was an alcoholic with money to spare I suppose. My dad calls me and says he's taking me on a special trip to Washington DC for my birthday. I am so excited to have a trip with him- just him and me. However, wife #3 comes along and they are on the 10th floor of the hotel and I'm on 12th - all by myself. As is regularly the case, Wife #3 is stuck with me the whole time because Dad has business to take care of -- the races were in town. I sucked it up as I always did with my Dad because not doing so made me selfish. I was supposed to be grateful for the trip. My room had a mini bar and I ate every single thing in it.

Enter Wife #4 -- the longest running wife and the last wife before he died. The phone call came in and as is typical of all the wife announcements it was explained that he met Wife #4 and they got married. Isn't that great? He told me I was going to love her. She was also a very nice woman. Rumor has it she went nutto after my dad died and left her penniless. With Wife #4 I saw my dad alot more. They would come to San Francisco and my dad would disappear to the track and wife #4 and I would go shopping. However, I had become quite fat now and shopping was a daunting task. We ended up in the shoe and handbag section alot. She was kind to me, but I remember the shame that lived deep inside of me was beating like a drum. All of dad's wives were thin and blonde. I was red-headed and fat.

A few years later, my father called full of glee. He announced that something great had happened. He announced that he won "big" at the races and was beside himself with joy. I gave him the congratulations that you give an addictive gambler who had won big. I was 22 and living in downtown San Francisco and working and going to school. He said to me, I want to give you my Thunderbird. The Thunderbird was a large vehicle with all the bells and whistles. However, I had no need for a car in San Francisco and more importantly no where to put a car in San Francisco. I told him that I appreciated the offer but I would rather have money for school. He replied, "Listen Kid, I can't help you with that-- you're on your own. But, I will give you this car...if you don't want it you're ungrateful." I took the car and paid $180 to park it in a garage every month. This story gives me a stomach ache.

At age 23, I called my father to ask him if he could help with money to go to Jenny Craig. This began our conversation about my weight and he proudly told me that he was the only one who had never bothered me about my weight. "Chele, I've never bothered you about your weight, and I never will - but remember I have never bothered you about it". Actually I remember him saying that to me quite a bit. As I think back, he said that so much to me that I think it was bothering me about my weight. He gave me the money for Jenny Craig where I proceeded to last for about 2 weeks. This reminds me of a story of a girl who is very similar to me and had a very similar father. She says:
My dad was a radio disc jokey and always got free cars , etc. He would give me the cars and then he started doing sponsorship with Jenny Craig. Thinking it would inspire her to diet, he hooked me up with Jenny. I was was sixteen in a brand new sports car, with a crap load of Jenny Craig, driving through Taco bell.

At 24, I joined Overeaters Anonymous and began learning about my addiction. I lost weight and was thin. My dad still boasting from his winnings wanted to have a Norman Rockwell Christmas. (Places everyone, places -- you could almost hear the director calling out.) He reminded me that I looked great and that he never talked to me about my weight. (Ok Dad, I got it -- you never bugged me about my weight). Dad and Wife #4 had moved into a posh neighborhood in the Los Angeles area and we got to enjoy a huge house with a swimming pool and waterfalls, gardeners, housekeepers, etc. My brothers both got brand new cars and we inherited two step-brothers who were a year or two younger than me. I'm supposed to love them too. Prior to this visit, I had experienced a number of panic attacks for the first time and was given Xanax to help me. I had never thought I was a depressed person but was quite confused as to why I felt so panicked all the time. Xanax only excaserbated my emotionalism. Both my mother and father didn't do "emotions". My dad wants to take me to a party with Wife #4 for Christmas (to show me off I suppose). I was so depressed I just didn't want to go. He was not pleased with this. Later, after they returned from this party, he sat me down and sternly said, "Chele I want you to tell me why you are so angry at me. Just tell me everything." I said that I didn't feel comfortable doing that and perhaps we could talk about it at another time. He insisted I tell him. I reluctantly told him that I had been continually disappointed by him as a child when he would disappear. I told him that it made me sad that he never tried to get to know me. I told him it made me think that he didn't like me because he'd rather marry 3 strange women rather than get to know me. After this explanation, he got very angry and said to me, "You are the most selfish person I have ever known. You're an ungrateful person." Well, let's just say this didn't help the depression.

The next 6 months were strained between me and my father as I really didn't know what to say to him. In May of 1993, he went in for his 4th bypass operation where they take veins from your legs and place them in your heart. He had never followed doctor's recommendations to quit smoking, quit gambling, etc. Hence, the 4th bypass by the age of 49. He had burned through all the money and the honeymoon was over. I had my last conversation with my father on the day he got out of surgery. He was groggy from the morphine and I told him I loved him. He told me that one day he and I would take a trip together - just us. I told him that I would like that very much and that I loved him. A few weeks later he died suddenly while at the doctor for a follow up appointment after his surgery.

I received a phone call at work and was paged to answer the call immediately. It was Wife #4 sobbing and trying to tell me that my dad had died. She asked me if I could call my brothers and tell them. Oh, those were not easy calls to make as my brothers were in love with my father. We were all numb from this experience however, I imagine my brother's numbness was for different reasons than mine.

The money had run out and sadly there was not enough money for a headstone for his grave. That is the way my dad lived. He had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. When life was running high we would meet the next new wife. When life was running low, we wouldn't hear from him.

I have such a hole in my heart where his love and admirationof me wouldhave lived. I weep from a deep place when I think about this and I also weep when someobody comes along and treats me with unconditional love - the love I should have received from him. There haven't been too many men in my life who have been unconditionally loving to me. In fact, I can't really think of one. And it is with that experience that my heart weeps when I think of him.

At least he never bugged me about my weight.

The evolution of human growth is an evolution from an absolute need to be loved towards a full readiness to give love.
--Dr. Karl Stern

As children we looked to our parents for love, for clothes and food, for an indication of who we were. If our needs were met, we felt secure. As developing adults, we still seek love. We continue yearning for security and all too often our self-definition comes through someone else. But a healthy sign of our growth is revealed each time we extend love to another with no thought that love is owed us in return.

We can show our love in myriad ways -- a genuine smile, a note of appreciation, an unexpected favor, perhaps flowers, or a phone call. Warmly giving another attention in any form is an act of love, one that will be repaid in full by someone, at some time.

The ease with which we genuinely love others is directly proportional to our commitment to loving as a priority in our lives. To love is a decision first, an action second, a value next.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Did I mention that I am a scapegoat...

First, let's start out with some definitions:

The scapegoat was a goat that was driven off into the wilderness as part of the ceremonies of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, in Judaism during the times of the Temple in Jerusalem. The rite is described in Leviticus 16. The word also refers, in modern parlance, to one who is blamed for misfortunes, often as a way of distracting attention from the real causes.

Scapegoating in psychoanalytic theory

Psychoanalytic theory holds that unwanted thoughts and feelings can be unconsciously projected onto another who becomes a scapegoat for one's own problems. This concept can be extended to projection by groups. In this case the chosen individual, or group, becomes the scapegoat for the group's problems.

Well the family drama unfolded in Colorado this week. My mom and her husband went to visit my brother and his family in Denver. All went to hell. There was arguing, blaming, and my mother took ill and retreated to the guest room. This is her M.O. and it is the way she deals with having an emotion. Her husband is a hateful man who has never been able to look at himself in any way. He has no friends, no hobbies, complains all the time, and hates me. He's hated me since I was 17. At 17, I was a normal teenager with angst, drama and a bad attitude. This guy still defines me by the 17-year old girl he met. Therefore, he hates me. He likes dogs and toddlers because they are controllable. It would take years for me to talk about this piece of work == but let's move on. The dynamic duo headed to Colorado in hopes of having some illusional family brew haha. This has never happened as "Dick" (the husband) never likes anything or anyone and makes everyone nervous. My mom is a total codependent so she tries to manage him so he doesn't get upset and then acts weird most of the time. My brothers' kids are 3 and 5 and a little bit hyper. This was just too much for them to handle so they wanted to leave. The little 5 year old told his mommy that he felt weird around them and didn't want them looking at him funny. (Hmm, if a 5 year old says something like that, I tend to believe it).

So, they wanted to leave early and my brother's wife made some curt comments to them because she was protecting her baby cubs. Well, she told me about this and then my mom called me and told me her side. I didn't take sides. I just listened and provided an ear. IN the back of my mind I thought, these people have always said that I was the "ruiner" of every event because I was emotional. So, for the past year I haven't gone to any "events". I've seen these people destruct over and over again even thougth the "ruiner" wasn't around. But, they are used to thinking I'm the problem.

With that being probably know where this story is going. Things heated up today as my mom called me and told me that the mamabear left her a message that basically said my mom was a horrible mother and that's why her kids are all fucked up and that she was very hurt by the way they acted around her cubs. Earlier in the day, mamabear had called me and told me she had done that. I understood that she was distraught because her kids had been affected by this visit. The kids were so excited to see Nana and Poppy, but Nana and Poppy were displeased with their kid-like behavior and decided to leave early. Mamabear got real pissed at this. So, the scenario is that I know both sides. I talk to both and don't offer anything about what the other said. But, lo and behold, I am an instigator supposedly and caused this entire catastrophe. Now who's hurt? ME!

However, the important part of the journey for me is that I'm in San Francisco and no where near them. I have always been the Identified Problem and Scapegoat and even though I am miles and miles away, they found some insane way to blame me for the problems they are all having.

It's insane, I tell you ...Insane. What is it about coming out of a suicidal depression and getting abstinent that makes people turn into assholes. I just don't get it. First, I had the idiot friend who dissed me and I let go of, then we had the drama with the family, and now I'm being blamed for something I had no part in. I was so angry when I heard this and really wanted to rage at all of them. I felt myself going toward that same suicidal place that only my family seems to help me get to. I am holding on. ONe thing I liked about James Frey's book, A Million Little Pieces, was the term "hold on, just hold on". I'm holding. I'm still taking care of myself around food and trying to tend to my tasks that keep me on the road to recovery but this dynamic of scapegoating is becoming intolerable.

Am I supposed to just walk away from these people? At a time when my friendships aren't quite a family, and I'm jobless, and very tender due to new abstinent behavior and coming out of a deep clinical depression, am I supposed to walk away from them?

Maybe some of you are wondering; what does this have to do with Fat Girl Camp? It has everything to do with Fat Girl Camp. It is a known fact that eating addictively is merely a symptom of much deeper problems. I am recovering from a hopeless state of MIND and BODY. My reaction to food AFTER I take the first bite of an addictive substance is out of my mental control. I believe this wholeheartedly. However, when emotions come into play it is required to rely on a power greater than myself. I'm having problems in this area.

I've always said that I should have been born into a crazy Jewish family from NYC. I would fit in so well. But alas, I was born into a broken Irish Catholic family who are so disjointed and fragmented it has made me physcially sick and mentally shattered. I wonder how I can use a higher power in this? Will a higher power even help me? Is there even a higher power at all?

These are the things going through my mind right now. I still can't believe they are blaming me for something that happened 1000 miles away....unbelievable but predictable.


Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Did I mention that I was sensitive...

In the words of a broken heart
It's just emotion taking me over
Caught up in sorrow
Lost in the song

My emotions runneth over since last Wednesday. I have been a regular waterfall. It all started last week when we were talking about the meaning of different emotions in my DBT class. The first emotion we discussed was LOVE. Well, it described the different facets of love and I just found this place inside of me well up and the tears began to flow and I couldn't stop crying. I could feel this old wound wake up and demand attention. I haven't processed the "LOVE" thing yet, but it doesn't want to wait for processing, it wants attention and it wants it NOW.

For the days following, I found I was sensitive to everything. I was tearful at tv programs, commercials, seeing homeless people, etc. But mostly I am tearful about my family right now.

I have been the Identified Problem in my family since 1991 when I admitted I was powerless over food and began to abstain. Losing 100's of pounds can unleash emotions that one might not be aware they have...hence, Identified Problem enters the scene. My family is not comfortable with my emotions or their emotions. This has always made me sad deep down in the caverns of my being. My heart cannot be broken open by anybody except my family. I have given them the keys to enter that chamber and mess up the furniture (if you know what I mean).

My emotional self has never been comfortable for them. My mother is a wonderful woman who is completely afraid of feeling vulnerable or sad. If anything occurs that is uncomfortable, she "ices" up. I describe it as a "cold front movin in". I am very attached emotionally to my mother even though she doesn't want me to be. I have been very close to her all my life because we essentially grew up together. She had me when she was 18, and the story goes from there. When she feels discomfort, I sense it, and basically feel the emotion. I cry and feel sorry for her and start to catastrophize the situation and want to rescue her. She doesn't want that. Remember: when emotions rear their head, my mom heads for Antartica!

My brothers are both emtionally crippled as well and only want to be around for the "good times" as my brother Larry stated to me when I went through a suicidal depression earlier this year. My mom told me my brothers felt "dumbfounded" when they would speak to me while I was sad, because they didn't know what to say. But, my brothers are people I worry about too. They don't deserve it and I know that, but I can't help it.

My family says things to me without thinking anything of it. I mentioned to one brother that when I got to a comfortable weight I would like to join them on some of the group "family" vacations they enjoy. He said, "Well, Auntie Chele seems to cause problems when she gets around the family." I haven't been physically around the family for over a year now and have watched them all fight with each other and basically implode without me being anywhere near them. My response to my brother was, "Well, I think you guys are having problems without me being around, so do you really think this family myth is correct?". He said, "You have a good point. Maybe you're right." I left it at that.

Today, my other brother called me. My mother and her husband went to visit them in Colorado. Now, in most families this would be a joyous occasion, but in my family, we do much better on the phone together than in person. I had a feeling it was going to be disastrous when I heard of their plans to go visit my brother and the kids, etc. And lo and behold, Auntie Chele no where in site, they had PROBLEMS. Yep, issues abounded and I was no where near the place. Yay for me!!! So my mom started feeling "ill" and they have cut their trip short. After speaking to my mom today, I found out her sickness was really an emotional sadness that manifested in physical discomfort. She didn't like seeing how my brother lived (i.e., the mass amount of chaos, the spending of money they don't have, the out of control wild sugar high children, etc.) Instead of facing the issues, my Mom has declared that she won't be a part of any of our lives anymore. She will only phone and write letters from now on. This is my mother! She makes declarations of coldness when she feels emotions.

Well, this just made me sad. I know it is not true. She will be a part of my life. The iceberg will melt. But what makes me sad is that she has to go to Antartica at all. I wish she could go into her feelings and feel them and embrace them. She grew up in a rough family and deserves so much love and affection and admiration. But, she won't let people give it to her. I'm powerless over this. makes me cry.

My mother's husband is quite a specimen. He has no friends, he likes small children and dogs. Why, you ask? Because they offer no opinion and mind him. He's very difficult and negative and the exact opposit of my now-deceased father who was a philandering gambling addicted self centered dude. So, my mom married this dude and ever since, he's been a pain in my side as well as hers. ON the phone with my other brother today I mentioned that Mom seemed depressed and that perhaps she needs to move on from this husband. My brother says to me, "I told her not to do that because if she did you'd move in and spend all her retirement money." I was taken aback. What!??? I was so displaced my his comment and offended and angry. I told him that I didn't like that statement and it was far from the truth and the fact that he even thought something like that was disturbing. He said, "Well, you probably would. You'd probably move in with her and take everything she has." I said I needed to stop this conversation because it felt really sick to me and unhelpful.

Now, here comes my dysfunction: I have never thought about living with my mother or her retirement. In fact, I've never thought about retirement (mine or anybody else's). But I start to question myself after my brother made that kind of statement and think to myself: Am I a pathetic loser who is a mooch? Why am I perceived as one? If I'm perceived that way, doesn't that mean I am one?

OH my heart is heavy this early morning (4:44 am). I want to move through this and not fall into the pit of despair. My family is the one group of people who have the express elevator button pushed and ready for my journey to despair, hopelessness, and misery. I don't want to hate myself. Am I this person he assumes I am? Is he just a dysfunctional bastard? How do I have a relationship with these people without destroying myself? Who am I without them?

I can see now why 400 lbs of armor might have been necessary.


Friday, July 14, 2006

Ladies I Love


Here are some diddies that were collected from the Overeaters Anonymous convention held here last week:


Ruth's prayers:
May God hold me in the teacup of his hands.

The love of God enfolds me,
The light of God surrounds me,
The power of God protects me. (like a mosquito netting)
The presence of God watches over me.
Wherever I am, God is.

Send me the sun to warm me,
The moon to charm me,
A heavenly angel to slay all that would harm me,
God, hold me in the teacup of your arms.


Every day is STEP ONE.

We're all here, because we're not all there.

Abstinence is the goal.
The food plan is the tool.

Win with the stickers.
Stick with the winners.


This disease wants to kill us every single day either through negative thinking or with food.

Abstain from certain foods AND behaviors.

I can use my black & white thinking when it comes to abstinence.

My abstinence does not change, but my thinking and feelings do.

Wanting to change is the same thing as not willing to change if not accompanied by taking any new actions.

When I think. "I want to eat what I want, when I want, as much as I want" it is listening to the disease spoken to me in my own voice.

A "nice" meal will not help me.

Success takes the CONTINUAL work of seeing causes and conditions to improve my spiritual condition.

Why am I more scared to be hungry than to be fat?

Being IN MEETINGS does not mean I'm IN RECOVERY.

Compulsive Overeating is a disease like Cancer.
For Cancer, Chemo is the tool of recovery.
For Compulsive Overeating we have our tools, which are way easier to take than Chemo.

I needed stubborn ACTION BEFORE willingness hit me.

"Wisdom to know the difference" means:
Who I go to ask for help, when I need help.

Can you be abstinent if your gaining weight?

Projections: What you plan to eat
Actuals: What you did eat

On Hope:

I couldn't eat what I had planned even for one day.

I heard that they lost 100 lbs and kept it off for many years.
I needed this evidence to have hope and I got it in OA.

I get "experience" from other people. I get hope when I experience it myself.

Proceeding in pain,
Nothing else is left,
Then hope comes in.

It works if you go to the wire for it to work.

Being fat was the biggest thing in my life. I had been in pain for many years, what's a little pain now to get relief, compared to that?

It's not true that I didn't have a higher Power, it was food.
Now I can substitute another, better HP for food.
The God of my MIS-understanding is food.

On Fear:

"It's ironic to have to have an extremely fearful person talk about overcoming fear, but that's what this program has done for me."

Rage means that I am being fearful. I go right past fear and into rage when I am being threatened, or think I am being threatened.

When our basic instincts are not being met, we go right to fear and it is the basis of our defects. Fear then makes more defects come out. "Self centered fear is the chief motivator of our defects." (from the AA 12 x 12)

Fear is the future not going my way. Losing or not getting something I want or need.

The opposite of fear is love and faith.

I need God to overcome fear.

Wrap it up in a package and give it to God. God will take whatever I give him.
God won't give me more than I can handle.

This too shall pass.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

It's time to Rally The Troops Again

Well friends its time to rally the troops again. Our friends over at have been bamboozled by Tucker Max. This guy supposedly bashed them for their site which is quite delightful and really rattled alot of cages. I read alot of the messages on Tuck's ol message board and became inspired to write the following:

Hopefully, you will feel compelled to do the same:

Tucker and Friends,
Are you guys seriously bashing fat people feeling a little positive about themselves. Are you really giving fat people dieting advice? Are you really that mean? You have no idea how damaging your words can be.

Let me pose this to you: If someone were to follow your advice...and they lose over 50 lbs, 100 lbs, etc., would you accept them? Would you stand and cheer for them because they did what you suggested--what you recommended -- what you deem is right and just? Or would you see this person and their imperfect body albeit thin body, but imperfect, with loose skin and possibly a little embarrassment and shame thrown in the mix, and judge them?

Would you date a woman who had lost alot of weight? After all, it is your advice that we're all supposed to follow, right?

The world despises fat people. That's a given fact. The fat person themselves usually isn't a big fan of themselves either. It is healthier to be in a trim body. It is a wish of every fat person to be in a trimmer body so they can participate in life as you all do. You enjoy even the simplest things that fat people cannot.

And I know you say to yourselves in a just and righteous way: Damn right I enjoy my life and you fatties should just get on the treadmill and put down the fork! I don't know if I could ever demand a society of people to do something that with all the reports out there seem impossible to do. The right wing is full of Born Again Christians that are denouncing their homosexuality because the Bible says its wrong. We all know that if someone is homosexual, they really can't change that.

Don't misunderstand me; in a way the obese are lucky. We have a chance to change ourselves physically. We get the opportunity to build an internal life that is rich in texture because our outside life is limited not only by mobility but by society's disdain for us.

I'm not looking for sympathy and I wouldn't venture to change your viewpoints, but I wanted to place a sane and simple post to your forum because it seems your voices speak loudly here and I want to yell too.

I would like to just go off on you and your name "Tucker" and how ridiculous and similar it is to Tucker Carlson and how you must be a right wing homophobic asschunk, but I think I made my point.

Good night, and Good Luck.

By the way, you seem to be very concerned about the well-being of society, and I wanted to let you all know that in Darfur and Sudan people are dying everyday. Maybe you could focus all your forceful energy over there and find a solution for them.

Addiction comes in Many Forms

Hello my sweet friends,
I've been laying back the past few days due to a message I needed to get out to some hooligans that kept visiting my precious blog. But, I am back. I will not be silenced nor afraid of who reads my site any longer. If the racist idiots want to come and visit, well then sit on down for a spell and let me bring some laughter, wisdom and some addiction trudgery to your small idiotic world. Please note: that last line only is applicable to the idiots from that small racist Oregon town.

Now onward and upward:
It's 3:30 and I still can't sleep. I have found a new addiction and it is a doozer. I'm a big TV fan as you might already know and I love Big Brother and Season 7-All Stars has begun. There are a few thousand people that subscribe to the live feeds, which allows us to watch the houseguests all day 24/7. It's absolutely riveting. I watch them, and at the same time the others that are watching chat about it. I found myself to be pretty popular among the BB fans and its feeding my ego and confirming my ability to be witty and entertaining. So, I haven't eaten through this but it has sucked up all my time. I sit here all day -- my ass goes numb, I drink diet coke and smoke a ton of cigs. It's not a healthy combo by any means. So that's where I've been. I know its nothing to be proud of and it certainly doesn't feed me or nourish my soul as much as reading all of your blogs and corresponding with you all.

With that said, I've been thinking alot about my weight lately. I'm starting to get overwhelmed by the fact that I have a very long way to go before I'll be able to ride in an airplane, go to a theatre, move about without strain. I keep thinking about being 4 hunsky and it just overwhelms me. I am taking it one day at a time, but sometimes thinking about the journey and how long it takes becomes a burden.

I have been abstinent now for a month and I haven't been able to weigh myself because I have to go to the hospital to do it. I'm going to be there tomorrow for a few other things, and I want to have the willingness to ask them to let me weigh myself. I'm afraid if I step on that scale and nothing has changed, I will be so disappointed.

I don't want to forget this place though. This place of being 4 hunsky is precious in a way. This body carts me around. This body has been willing to not partake in the addictive substance. This body continues to wake up everyday and house my soul, no matter what condition it is in. I would often look at my fat pictures when I was thin and get teary looking at the girl in the picture. Just imagining how much she went through on a daily basis. I had compassion. Most people look at their fat pictures with disgust. I look at mine with bittersweet tenderness. I learned to do that, but I was in a program then that had fat disdain. People would get up in front of the room and talk about how awful they were when they were fat; even 25 lbs overweight would qualify them as disgusting. I tried to fight that feeling, but nobody was supporting that vision of me. Just lose more weight, be more willing, etc. I'm not blaming that program for its non-supportive view of my larger size, but I see people "chasing the weight loss". If I chase the weight loss it will only run farther away from me. If I hate myself down to a small weight, it will run back and find me.

I tried to love myself down to a normal weight, but inside there was shame and remorse over the life I had led. I never was allowed to work the steps in that program because there were rules to be in the step group: First, it was that you couldn't be on antidepressants, caffeine, nicotine. Then, a certain faction opened their doors to antidepressant people; they called them Med Awols. Many sponsors would not sponsor someone in a Med Awol. I went through many sponsors, but mostly I got kicked out of AWOLS for smoking or drinking caffeine. So, I never got the chance to go through the steps where the healing takes place.

I have a sponsor now that is willing to do the steps with me and I go to meetings etc. I am working it one day at a time. I'm not trying to be perfect. I still am drinking diet coke, smoking, and occasionally letting the digital scale weigh at 5.1 or 4.9 instead of perfectly 6.0. I just don't think little things like that are important in the scheme of things. All perfection did for me was make me more intolerable of myself.

I'm working on myself in a big way. But when I spend alot of time on the internet watching the beautiful people on Big Brother strut around all day, it can be pretty harming. I guess I'm getting the point now, aren't I?

Missed all of you,

By the way, I saw The Devil Wears Prada and I changed my picture to the Meryl Streep character from the movie because I found her deliciously bitchy. I'll have that one up until I find something else...I simply loved that movie.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...

Lake Oswego Racists: I see you looking at my blog. You are not welcome here. Bye bye. I don't want racist hypocrites reading my blog. Shoo Fly Shoo!

I don't want anyone reading my blog who refers to their hometown as Lake NoNegro...that's just sick.

If you're not from Lake Oswego - please ignore this message.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Georgia on my Mind

Well, Georgia is only slightly on my mind. I watched Gone with the Wind for the first time and it took place in Georgia, so there you have it. Geez it was 4 hours long. Anyway, that is not what's really on my mind; here's what's on my mind:
  • Fashion
  • FA
  • Fat (big surprise?)
Let's start with fashion. I received a catalog today from Nordstrom for their Anniversary Sale. This is different than most of the catalogs I get who serve the large lady community. Nordstrom is for the twinkies (thin girls). Anyway, I noticed that the 80s fashions are back with a vengeance. It goes as far as men's style suits for the career twinkie. What I noticed is that these models are of course a size 2. They have them posed like corporate vixens who by day demand power in the boardroom, but turn the page and they are in sexy barely-there lingerie where they can demand pleasure in the bedroom. I know this is nothing new as the fashion mags always seem to have this sort of theme, but for some reason it hit me today. Is this the pinnacle we are supposed to aspire to? Are we only guaranteed respect in the workplace if we are dressed like sexy women-men with a vixen side? I don't know why this really got to me, but it did. The catalog even had a juniors section which wasn't any better. The high school girls were dressed like teen vixens-you get my drift.

Reading things like this immediately makes me feel inadequate on so many levels. Since I am not working right now I don't really have to think about career vixen clothes, but I will soon and believe me I'm far from a vixen in the boardroom or the copyroom. I'm a sarcastic fat girl who seems to piss people off with my gregarious humor and a slight attitude problem...

Even when I was thin, I had problems dressing vixen-like. I always seemed to go for the clothes that looked very middle of the road with a hint of style. I never felt comfortable with trying to look sexy. I somehow feel embarrassed to look sexy or to even feel sexy. It's almost like I don't have a right to have sex, be sexy, want sex, or look sexy. I just get too embarrassed. This feeling is deep in the caverns of my being. It began long ago. I know this because it feels like a cobwebbed dusty feeling that has been lying inside me for many moons. I know this feeling has got to be explored, brought out into the light, and smiled at lovingly. I don't know when I'll be able to do that, and I don't know who the trusted soul will be that will be able to journey with me through this. There is more to this, but I can't handle much more exposure we'll pick it up at a later time.


One of the few friends I have left after doing a clean sweep of the assholes in my life, has decided to go back to FA. This made me so sad and scared. Alot of feelings rushed through me when she told me this. I felt abandoned and judgmental and scared. I am fearful for her because I know how damaging this program can be to our fragile esteem. She is a different psychological make-up than I am, so perhaps it won't destroy her as it did me. Although, it did affect her dismally as well. She stopped opening up to most people due to the betrayal in that program when you "backslide". I think what is most affecting me is my own fear. I am afraid that they will suck her in as they tend to do. Pretty soon, all of your social events center around the program and I feel as if I will lose another friend. I know that if she is a good friend then I won't lose her, but it still makes me afraid. I can't imagine that she and I would ever be estranged, but I just know that as she gets rolling in that program she will acquire the "insta-friends" that program provides. I will still be sitting here a big blob with nothing to do and all day to do it. I am really starting to feel sorry for myself now. Wow, I can feel the emotions bubbling up as I type this. I am just very afraid that I won't have enough, won't be enough, and I'll fail at every attempt to do well.

I guess its time to do an assessment of what is:
  • I am abstinent
  • I am caring for myself well
  • I am actively working on getting along better with others; although, it's not that hard when I don't go to work.

I am quite afraid to start working again. I don't even know what I should apply for now. I feel if I could do something creative, like become an editor, or do something that isn't "clerical" or "sales" then I would feel proud of myself. But, I don't know what or how to do anything else. I did send in my FAFSA for graduate school and I will see how that pans out, but in the near future I need to think about what I can do. I will feel like a total loser if I have to get a low-paying menial job at 40 years old. I feel as if this "dark night of the soul" I've been going through won't look to appealing on a resume. I'm looking for a miracle. Maybe someone will read this blog and say, "Oh my god, we have to have her write for us."

Roger that.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

The Immigration Debate

Take 5 minutes and watch this excellent cartoon on the Immigration Debate. Sorry, sometimes I have to post my political stuff.


Wednesday, July 05, 2006

The Brick

One of our friends sent this to me and I think it is worth posting, Enjoy!


A young and successful executive was traveling down a
neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new
Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from
between parked cars and slowed down
when he thought he saw something. As his car passed,
no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into
the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and
backed the Jag back to the spot where the brick had
been thrown The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid
and pushed him up against the parked car shouting, "What was that all about and
who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That's
a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a
lot of money. Why did you do it?" The young boy was
apologetic. "Please, mister...please, I'm sorry but I
didn't know what else to do," He pleaded. "I threw the
brick because no one else would stop...." With tears
dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth
pointed to a spot just around a parked car. "It's my
brother, "he said "He rolled off the curb and fell out
of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up."

Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive,
"Would you please help me get him back into his
wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."

Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the
rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly
lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair,
then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the
fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him
everything was going to be okay. "Thank you and may
God bless you," the grateful child told the stranger.
Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the
boy! push his wheelchair-bound brother down the
sidewalk toward their home.

It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The
damage was very noticeable, but the driver never
bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the
dent there to remind him of this message: "Don't go
through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick
at you to get your attention!" God whispers in our
souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we
don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at
us. It's our choice to listen or not.

Thought for the Day:
If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on
If He had a wallet, your photo would be in it.
He sends you flowers every spring.
He sends you a sunrise every morning Face it, friend -
He is crazy about you!

God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without
sorrow,sun without rain, but He did promise strength
for the day, comfort for the tears, and light for the

Read this line very slowly and let it sink in....

If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.


"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who matter don't mind
and those who mind don't matter"
-Dr. Seuss


Ahh, my sleep pattern is totally off kilter, hence a late-night/early morning post. All is well is Micheleville. Made it through a long weekend abstinently and relatively unscathed by the process with the Passive Agressive Witch. I feel total relief letting go of that friendship or whatever you want to call it. It is freedom. Freedom to go forth in my life and grow and choose my family of friends from a healthier place.

I forgot to mention due to all the hooplah over the PAB (passive aggressive bitch), that I had dinner on Saturday night with my brother, his wife, my niece and my grandmother. We went to an obnoxious restaurant but it was kind of fun to get out of the regular rigamaroll and get together with them. I have been hiding out from family for some time due to the weight gain and my depression I went through.

My brother has taken up drinking and has found that it takes the edge off his problems. I hope he either takes it down a notch or hopefully he'll be haunting the rooms of AA before long. He's a funny guy and my brothers and I have a sense of humor that is likened to that of Vince Vaughan type humor. I laugh the most with my brothers. Nobody ever knows what we are speaking about, but we're laughing.

My brother tends to get very loud as he drinks and starts to spout off about America being the Blanket of Freedom. They just bought a YUKON which bugs the crap out of me. There is no need for huge vehicles in suburbs. But I'll save that rant for another time. I believe I touched on it in a previous post about Hummers.

My niece is turning four and kids can be so honest. She said to me, "Auntie Chele, your stomach is big." I laughed and really didn't get bugged by it at all. It's true- my stomach is big. And then she touched my Grandma's face and said, "How come your face is like that?" She was referring to the wrinkles since Gram is almost 90. We laughed. We then had a wild ride in a cab with a driver from Nigeria. He blazed through the streets of San Francisco while my loud brother was in the back trying to tell everyone about the Blanket of Freedom. It was quite comical. He calls me a liberal hippy. I wish I knew enough about the issues to earn that title, but I have to admit, I don't really know much, but what I do know is Bush sucks, Republicans are insane, Born Again Christians scare me the most, and people shouldn't drive gas guzzlers.

Ah, does this make any sense to anyone? I'm so deliriously tired but can't sleep. I guess one thing I can write about is how I'm taking what I want and leaving the rest. There are alot of rules on the Kay Sheppard plan. I simply can't get myself wrapped up in rigidity. My experience in FA really screwed with me so I'm really approaching this plan with quiet steps.

I still drink Diet Coke (I LOVE DIET COKE) and Kay says that is a no-no. I still use Splenda simply because I can't find the saccharin crap they are talking about. I seriously am working a food plan right now. The steps are important and I need to do the work so I can seriously recover from the hopeless state of mind and body. But, I'm afraid to give up too much. I guess its because I want to hold on to my own way for a while. I use the argument that it is a miracle that I'm off the junk (sugar flour wheat) and that should be enough miracle for right now.

I know the weight is coming off as I can walk easier, get out of my car easier, stand and cook easier, etc. Things are getting better. But it is necessary to keep growing. I vascillate between being gentle and saying "You are enough and you're doing enough" and the fear based "If you don't do all the things that are asked of you - you will end up eating". I'm afraid of that fear based recovery that I had in all the previous recoveries. Each time I ended up eating myself up to 400 lbs.

OH, and another fear is that I'm tripping off of having to go back to the work world. I am worrying way ahead of time since my disability goes until September and then I will ask for a 2 month extension after that, but still, I need to think about what I can do...what do I want to do? My dream is to get a Masters in Psych and become a therapist and writer, but a friend of mine told me that there are 29,000 therapists in the United States and 24,000 of them are in California. That's all I needed to hear to throw me off the track. My lack of confidence tells me, "Might as well give that dream way you'll succeed in a saturated market."

Ok, kids, well I've laid out alot of my fears now for you to peruse. Do you see what happens when you write at 4:13 am?


Tuesday, July 04, 2006


St. Theresa's Prayer:

May today there be peace with in.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love
that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the
freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.

Monday, July 03, 2006

Passive Aggressive People Cause Pain - Story at 11

What is it about them, our mean friends? They treat us badly, they don't call us back, they cancel plans at the last minute, and yet we come back for more.

I don't even know how to begin this post as what I am about to write about is so painful. To the left you see the picture of a woman. She sits arrogantly on a throne shielding herself from the truth as she casts judgment among others.

I have such a limited amount of true friends that I value and trust beyond measure. I give whole-heartedly to my relationships and always give what I can to maintain them.

However, I have (had) a friend who has continually been abusive to me inthat she is a passive aggressive bitch at times and never sees her part in anything. I have overlooked these things time and time-again because the good times and good conversations and like-mindedness we did share was great. However, she has "thrown me under the bus" several times. I have looked the other way over the past couple of years because it just wasn't worth trying to reason with someone who has no access to their emotions or reasonable mind. She continually would do things like make plans with me and then go and do the same plan with somebody else or talk behind my back to numerous people about me. She would do these things and then not call me for a few weeks and then voila! she would reappear. I guess I knew that I couldn't dialogue with her about what happened because it fell on deaf ears many times before.

Isn't it interesting that this is the same friend that I spoke about in my previous post, who is moving away. She really is either trying to sever ties so it's easier for her to move on or she's just pulling the same crap that she always has.

You see, she is a hoarder. You've seen these people on Oprah. They buy enough toilet paper to supply all of Sudan. They buy 1 bra and an additional 8 of the same kind on the same day. They shop at the warehouse stores for food for 1 person. There is a ton of excess. WEight, food, attitude, deception, arrogance and money. She is a trustafarian and doesn't think twice about taking her other friends on fabulous vacations, buying them fabulous gifts, etc. I've never even received a Christmas card from her. I have never pushed this point because I think that is greedy. I didn't want to appear greedy but it did hurt my feelings when she would tell me about the fabulous vacation or the fabulous gift she bought for so-and-so. These so-and-so's are also the people that she has complained about me to, so any chance of me ever being friends with them is not possible.

Since she is moving at the end of this month, I knew she had a big job ahead of her. I talked with her about how she would tackle the mound of items she had accumulated. Of course, she really didn't know. I came up with a plan, where I would orchestrate her move in a 3 phase plan and lined up some boys from the neighborhood to be able to haul off some of the items and get her receipts for taxes etc. I really thought this plan out. In exchange, she agreed to let me buy a computer on her credit information and I would have the money automatically deducted from my account every month. We agreed to this plan.

Then, (hear the sounding drum) she played a passive aggressive stunt with me where we had made plans to go see a movie and go to dinner. On that same day, she said "Shana" and I are going to a movie (the same movie she was to see with me) and then going to dinner (at the restaurant I wanted to go to). I thought to myself, well same ol'shit - different day. I didn't say anything about it and tried to stay spiritual. That was hard. But not as hard as it is now.

I told her to keep her schedule clear on Sunday so I could come over and assess the damages and make plans to get the ball rolling on her move. I called her this morning and she said that "Shana" had already started on this and would be coming over today to do more. Then she said "I'm sure YOU don't want to come over now." She repeated it twice. And I said well okay, I don't know what all this means, but I did make a plan with you for today." She just kept repeating that "Shana" was coming over. This is a woman I've been friends with for over 15 years and she really treats me like a floormat. I let it go and I figured she'd tire of "Shana" and eventually we would be able to start on the project.


I received an email from her this evening (passive aggressive bitch) that she wanted to stop the delivery of the computer and if she couldn't do that then I should refuse delivery when it arrives. I will gladly oblige with her wishes, however I will never ever forget this. She didn't say anything to me verbally, just an impersonal email, obviously written by one of her minions because she doesn't have an original thought in her dysfunctional brain. This came out of nowhere, but with her this is typical. It's as typical as making plans with me and then trading me out for somebody in her eyes that is better. I tried to say to myself, "It is my spiritual decison to love and accept her as she is" over and over again. I just wanted this in my blog because I am so hurt. I'm not hurt about the computer, I am mostly hurt that she did it to me again! I'm also angry with myself that my esteem is so low that I would tolerate this kind of crap for so long.

My negative thinking leads me to a place that says, "Nobody likes you Michele. You're a horrible person. This only happens to horrible people." I know this mustn't be true but it is a deep thought I have.

Ugh, this woman is such a bitch. GOOD RIDDANCE TO BAD RUBBISH, I SAY.

Still abstinent thank god. I'm just afraid of falling into the deep pit.

Thanks for reading.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

My Family - The Camdens they are Not

I don't know how much I can write about my family because its way too tender and painful to me. I have two younger brothers who are married with children, while I remain single and lonely and fat. I was the "hero" of the family while growing up. I was the second adult in the house even as a child. But the tables have turned and now I'm the identified "patient", ruiner of all family events, because I'm emotional. They label me emotional as if its a crime. A better word for me is sensitive.

My brother who I call Fat Cat is a cigar-smoking, highball drinking monetary success. He has the fancy cars, the fancy house, the perfect child and lives in Sacramento where we grew up.

My other brother lives in Denver and has two great kids, a beautiful wife, and a perfect life from the outside.

One thing I can't deny is that both of my brothers have been able to sustain their relationships for years and I have yet to be able to date someone for more than 3 months. I don't count the time I was married in my young twenties to a Moroccan guy who we assume wanted citizenship, but I was to naive to know that. I should've raked some moulah in from that exchange, but I trust too much and often don't see the truth of a situation.

My point is this: I am so lonely here and I just want somebody to want me around. My brother in Sacramento says that I'd hate it there, which I'm sure I would. My brother in Denver said I wouldn't like it there because its too recreational and I wouldn't fit in.

So, here I sit, full of feelings, abstinent, and trying to cope. Thinking about what I will do next. What kind of job will I go for? Will I get fired again? Will everyone hate me because I'm fat? Why are people all moving away? Why can't somebody take me under their wing? That's all I've ever wanted was to be taken under someone's wing until I can fly. It's sad that at 40, I still haven't found a wing to hide under and feel safe. Granted, this wing operation should've happened when I was a child, but it didn't.

I have to be careful to not dwell to heavily on this because it sends me into a spiral of deep depression and sadness. Oh, how I long to be loved and cared about. I want to be held and safe. I don't think its going to happen anytime soon.

I'm scared.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

My favorite song -WhiteStripes

Fall is here, hear the yell
Back to school, ring the bell
Brand new shoes, walking blues
Climb the fence, book and pens
I can tell that we are gonna be friends
I can tell that we are gonna be friends

Walk with me, Suzy Lee
Through the park, by the tree
We will rest upon the ground
And look at all the bugs we've found
Then safely walk to school
Without a sound
Then safely walk to school
Without a sound

Here we are, no one else
We walked to school all by ourselves
There's dirt on our uniforms
From chasing all the ants and worms
We clean up and now it's time to learn
We clean up and now it's time to learn

Numbers, letters, learn to spell
Nouns, and books, and show and tell
At playtime we will throw the ball
Back to class, through the hall
The teacher marks our height against the wall
The teacher marks our height against the wall

We don't notice any time pass
We don't notice anything
We sit side by side in every class
Teacher thinks that I sound funny
But she likes the way you sing

Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed
When silly thoughts go through my head
About the bugs and alphabet
And when I wake tomorrow I'll bet
That you and I will walk together again
I can tell that we are going to be friends
Yes, I can tell that we are going to be friends

Another Scrubs Moment - enjoy

Feelings, whoa whoa whoa ... Feelings

I had a lot of feelings today. It doesn't surprise me when I look at my posts and see that I haven't really written anything substantial in a few days, but put funny stuff up instead. Laughing and being light is important, but I knew the sad day was right around the corner. Aunt Flow has come for a visit and always makes me sad or feel more intense feelings than usual.

I found out that my friend who lives near me will be moving to Oregon today. I didn't think she was moving so fast. I live in a suburb of San Francisco and she is pretty much the only friend I have down here on the peninsula. When I left the FA program (cult), I had to let go of a lot of friendships that were based in that fellowship.

I felt so alone and sad today and I realized that food thoughts came rambling through my mind. I had been free of them for 3 weeks, but today there they were...plain as day...just a ramblin' through my mind. I didn't have to act on them. If a commercial came on that had food I would say to myself, I've had plenty of that over my lifetime...I've had my share.

I'm grateful that I didn't punish myself today for being sad. It is normal to be sad when a friend is moving away. The thing is this...I want to move too...I'd like to be in NYC or Chicago or anywhere but California. I feel as if I've worn out my welcome in this state. I've lived here all my life and I'm dunzo. The problem is that I'm not working because I had my doctor put me on disability until I can lose some more weight, since I still have problems standing for any length of time, etc. It's getting better but I'm not there yet.

The other thing is my career, or lack of career. I was in sales and account management when I was thin, then when I got fat again and fired I decided to dumb down my resume to get any kind of job. I got an admin job which I got fired from after 6 months...something about an attitude problem.

So, here I am. If I wasn't so debilitated for the past year I would have liked to go to graduate school and start working in the mental health field but the weight prevented me from that. The food and the weight have stolen so much from me. And I opened the door and let the robbers inside. I'm not blaming myself as much as taking responsibility.

So, I was sad today. Feelings are not facts. I heard that many moons ago. My feelings say "I have no friends." "I'm all alone." "Nobody likes me." "I'm a loser." "I'll never be okay." Feelings, not facts.

Bad Day:
Where is the moment when we need it the most
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost
They tell me your blue sky's faded to grey
They tell me your passion's gone away
And I don't need no carrying on

You stand in the line just to hit a new low
You're faking a smile with the coffee to go
You tell me your life's been way off line
You're falling to pieces every time
And I don't need no carrying on

Cause you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Well you need a blue sky holiday
The point is they laugh at what you say
And I don't need no carrying on

You had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Sometimes the system goes on the blink and the whole thing it turns out
You might not make it back and you know that you could be well oh that
Well I'm not wrong

So where is the passion when you need it the most
Oh you and I
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

Cause you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
You see what you like
And how does it feel, one more time
You had a bad day
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Something Light


If you didn't see this episode of Scrubs, you simply must.


Monday, June 26, 2006

Help I need somebody

No, not just anybody...(imagine the tune of the Beatles song..)

I'm looking for a fairy godmother or godfather to help me get a new computer....mine is on the fritz. If anybody happens upon this blog that has lots of dough, click on the Donate button.


Off the subject --Hilarious

Ok this is pretty funny...I laughed my tookus off.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

My Neighbor Bought A Hummer

I can't believe it! I go on and on about Urban Assault Vehicles (earth destroyers) and now I have one on my block. My neighbor, who can be desribed as a "blockhead". I'm sure he's on 'roids as he is a huge muscular beefhead with a small Asian girlfriend that he bosses around. I don't know what goes on behind closed doors, but it ain't pretty I'm sure.

This dumbo just bought a bright yellow HUMMER. It incites me. I can't believe people drive these things and feel okay about it. There is no need for a Hummer unless you're doing work for the UN in an underdeveloped country. We don't need Hummers in San Mateo, CA. I can tell you the only assaults happening in this little town are the ones being perpetrated by this asshole.

I know this isn't in theme with my usual posts, but ugh I'm beside myself with this.

Big Body and Small Life

I borrowed the title from Frances Kuffel's blog on Amazon. I think it sums it up pretty well. I have two weeks of abstinence now and the high has worn off. I keep a log daily about my mood and usage of substances like nicotine and caffeine. I have noticed that as my suicidal depression has improved my level of fear has skyrocketed.

I am so afraid. I've always been afraid. Hidden behind my gregarious personality is a really scared person. I think part of getting thin really activated that intensly. As I got skinny, I felt things so much more than I did when I was in the food. The food masks so much and soothes like none other. I think that is why it is so important to do the work I am doing now. I am vigilantly working on new coping skills. It is really important that I learn to manage my sensitivity and be able to live in this world, fat or thin.

I started getting very fearful that I won't lose enough weight. Please note that I'm coming from 427 lbs. I have lost 200 lbs. at a time - twice already. But I don't think that I will get really skinny this time. The last time I lost weight I really tried to hide the fact that I had ever been fat. I was very embarrassed that I had been fat. People would say, "You look so good". I thought to myself, "Yea, but I should have never been fat in the first place, so it's really not an accomplishment." I think there's a nugget of dysfunction in that thinking. I have to admit that I still think this way.

My world is very small right now. I'm not working because I asked my doctor to put me on disability. I did this because it's hard for me to walk from the parking lot to the office door. It's difficult for me to stand at a copy machine and make copies. It's hard for me to do just about anything.

I do what I can though. I am actively in a class now studying DBT skills which is an excellent therapy that marries the spiritual (Eastern philosphies) and the psychology (cognitive). It's working well for me. After 2 weeks, I wasn't suicidal anymore and I got abstinent. But I still have such negative thoughts.

I've been trying to do a little more each day. I went and got my nails done today. I went to the car wash. Most days I go to Starbucks and sit in the comfy chair and read a book. I try to get out. But I go to safe places for myself.

I think after 2 weeks of abstinence I should've dropped 100 lbs. by now. But the fact is that although I can stand and cook my meals for myself, I still get very worn out by the end of the day.

I want to join a water exercise class, but my willingness is quite low as you can imagine. Going to a new place in a bathing suit scares the crap out of me.

Here's a pic of the way it was....My niece, Brooke, is now turning 3, and I talk to her on the phone and she tells me that she wants to buy me a pink whipstick. (she doesn't pronounce L's very well). It's so adorable. I want to visit her in Colorado, but let's face much fun would Auntie Chele be at this weight? I just need to continue. Simply resume. Evaluate and Correct. It is what it is. Peace!
Well, that's enough of me for right now...


Saturday, June 24, 2006

All about the Boob Tube

I have a new site where I write about all things TV, Movies, Pop Culture. Take a gander:

Old Posts from Yonder Year

These are a compilation of posts I migrated from my other blog. I changed my blog address because I had alot of people who knew me that read that blog. I wanted to be able to express anything I wanted, and with an audience of people who knew me, I felt I couldn't do that. Enjoy if you would like...

Well here I go again on my own...(forgive the Whitesnake reference). I guess its because I’ve been living in CelebReality on Vh1. I have exhausted all my efforts to go about getting clean off of white powdery substances that now I must re-enter the 12 step program that has saved my life twice. Before you go and assume that I’m “riding the
rails” or “taking a ski trip”, etc., let me tell you that my white powdery substances are more cunning and baffling than any illegal substance on the market.

Yes my friends, my substance is one you can get at any corner store, gas station, or major market. I am a food addict addicted to sugars and starches and it has debilitated my life.

At one time a svelte size 8 and 15 months later over 400 lbs. Introduce me
to a gutter drunk that has that kind of track record....

I was trying to find another way to get this weight off. I hate that "getting the weight off" is such a negative connotation for a part of who I am. This extra weight I carry is a part of me and when it does become less, it will still be with me, it doesn't go away. It lives in
my memory and unfortunately the fat cell never forgets. Much like the elephant, the fat cell retains memory of the fat that once graced its membrane long after the fat is gone.

I tried many things since that dreadful Chirstmas day in 2003. I will reveal more about that day as time goes on. I went away to a rehab for eating disordered people. Remind me to tell that story sometime. I went through a 16 month period in outpatient eating disorder recovery. Its not easy being the only fat one in the room, if you know what I mean. I wanted to get the "surgery" but was rejected because I'm too fat! How fucked is that!
Too fat for obesity surgery...C'mon!

So, back to the only thing that ever worked for me and gave me a life that I never thought possible. I was free at one time. Free from the counting calories, the constant nagging of a craving, free from feeling so fucking gross.

Whew! made it threw one day without the white powdery substances! One day makes such a difference. When I'm "in the food" (I know that sounds as if I'm using the hole of the donut as an intertube, but bear with, wouldya?)...going 30 minutes without putting something sweet into my mouth seems impossible and I'm completely unwillinging to go without. But something changes when you have 24 hours of abstinence. It seems possible today to not use.

For today I won't go into the details of where this addiction has broken my life down in ways you can't imagine unless you can visualize the following:

Imagine a rock;
This rock is not round and smooth, but jagged and its the kind that hurts your foot if you step on it,
Imagine this rock is at the bottom of the waste dump in your city
Imagine this waste dump has been there since the city's inception many moons ago
Imagine the rock fell into this waste heep and immediately slid to the bottom
That's where you'll find me!

Quote of the Day "Our real blessings often appear to us in the shape of pains, losses and
disappointments, but let us have patience and we soon shall see them in
their proper figures."
– Joseph Addison

If it is true, as a wise person once said to me, that our happiness is in direct proporation to our pain, or vice versa. I think the point of the comment was to comfort me in all my pain and let me know that the deeper pain I have had, the greatest happiness that is available. But let's disect this: does that mean my happiness will be my measure of happiness? So, if I am the rock in the bottom of the heap (read yesterday's post to find out about the rock), does that mean the rock's happiness would be something like perhaps getting to the top of thetrash heap? Or, would the rock's happiness be flowing in some brook somewhere? I'd like to be flowing in a brook somewhere, but I think I'd be lucky just tomake it out of the bottom of the trash heap.

Four days ago all I could think about was getting the new food item. It became very challenging because nothing was hitting the spot. I couldn't find that food that would "do it for me". In conjunction with finding the perfect food, I had to coordinate with myself as to how to get these foods. When you're 4 franklins, you can't just saunter into anyplace and pick up what you want. There is strategy involved people.

First and foremost, I have to move. That is a challenge in itself. Moving entails getting up and finding a shroud that will cover my body. At the same time, I have to wedge myself into the japanese car (I think the Japanese hate fat people!). Now that we're in the car, where should we go? A drive-thru is always a safe option because most of the time the people that work at the drive-thru don't speak good English, so if they are making fun of me or making a comment, I usually couldn't understand it. It becomes pretty sad when the drive-thru staff gets to know your order so well, I wouldn't even have to tell them what I wanted. They would say, "Drive Forward", and tell me the price and I would give them the money and voila!, the order was ready.

But always going through a drive-thru doesn't provide you with all you need to satisfy the addict beast inside. I had to go "in" somewhere to get those items. Now, this poses more problems than you think. Since I have a small frame with alot of flesh, my bones can't support me very well. So I would have to strategize on how to get around the store in under 5 minutes, and if there is a line in the store, I am likely to be in a lot of pain (face wincing, sweating, etc.). But because I was in the food, I had to get this stuff and wincing aside, the job had to be completed. So after the purchases were made, back to the wedging in the car. I don't think I mentioned the hoisting involved when getting out of the car. I'll talk about that at a later time. So back home we go...hoist out of the car, grab the bags, hurry and get to the door, (please don't let me run into anyone), get in the house, put the bag on the counter, and strip out of the binding shroud and into clothes that
have "give". Bumble over to the bag, grab it and take it to the couch and then the games begin. For a little while, I am in my own world, relief has set in, away from the world, and their judgments, and it's just me and my "stuff". I'm telling you people, food addiction is just like heroin addiction!! Are you seeing the similarities?

Now being full, the high wears off a bit because I have to get up again and go to the bathroom (mainly because my body rejects sugar and flour—so the bathroom becomes a frequent destination for me). I'll save you the details on that, but being this big requires alot of apparatuses to take care of business. Nuff said.

So the anatomy of a binge. I've always hated that binge word as it denotes that there is a "session" of eating, but the truth is there were no sessions for was a way of being.

I finally got the courage to go and have my hair "did". When you're four hunsky, getting your hair "did" is not a priority, not only because caring about my hair was not a priority, but also because it is so humiliating to show up at a hair shop. Here's one reason:

Small chairs and Big Ass. Not a good combo. Fuck the Italians and their screwed haute design chairs. Who would be comfortable in this? Not me.

Fatty Saves Her Pride

Anyway, in typical fat girl fashion, I found myself making the people in the salon laugh the entire time I was there. I have to admit I was pretty damn funny. But the pain of the whole experience was too much to bear so I had to draw attention away from the pain and turn on the humor.

I did about 45 minutes on Jonathan from Blow Out. Jonathan is the most self-focused guy I've ever seen on TV and I've watched alot of TV.

I absolutely loathe him, but of course I still watch. I'm obsessed with my hair and always have been. I've been trying to get "bangin" hair as Jonathan would say since I was 7. So with that said you can imagine the pain I have been in while gaining all this weight to go so long with a hair do!

I think the amazing thing is this: I realized that my humor worked for me in this situation. It actually saved my sanity because I wouldn't have been able to tolerate the pain if I hadn't been cracking everyone up.

My writings have been very cathartic for me. To sit down and post my thoughts for the day is like a new generation journal. In my previous posts I have bashed a certain 12 step program and beat it into a pulp. After re-reading it, I realize just how sad and hurt I was about my experience there. I bet the first and foremost hurt is one that is brought on by me. I think I wanted the weight issue to be gone forever. It's baaaccck. This disappointed me.

Being at this weight, in excess of 4 bills, has taken away the following things in my life:

  • Attaining a Master's Degree in Psychology/Social Work
  • Following my dream of working in the mental health field
  • The ability to go to any show I want
  • The ability to go to any activity
  • The ability to care for myself in a natural way
  • The ability to go for a walk
  • The ability to form a lasting partnership with another human being
  • The ability to have a job
  • The ability to add to society
  • The ability to go on a trip
  • The ability to find clothes that fit
  • The ability to find shoes that fit
  • The desire to dress becomingly
  • Respect for myself

I notice that alot of these missing areas of my life involve "ability". And that is what this disease has taken from me, the ability. After almost 3 weeks of abstinence from flour and sugar, things are getting better. I get bogged down in the details of how long this will take for me to get to a reasonable weight where I can once again participate in life and maybe even attain a dream.

The debilitating nature of morbid obesity is fatal. The thing with this disease is it kills slowly and painfully. After I was fired from yet another job, I wanted to jump in front of a train, literally. I found help and have been going to a group to get that kind of thinking in check, however, with morbid obesity, sometimes suicide sounds like the only option. It's just too hard sometimes.

Today, in my group we talked about "burden". I immediately started getting very emotional. There is something about that word that really resonated. I feel like a real burden to my mother who seems to be the only one in my family that wants anything to do with me. It makes me so sad. I know that I can't depend on her as its too taxing to depend on one person. My mother has always been there for me and has never abandoned me. My father and my brothers on the other hand always do. The men in my family don't like to be present for the bad times. This is a bad time and I feel totally rejected.

The media is really going nuts on this obesity epidemic sound bite. They show the pictures of the headless obese people walking around and discuss the fact that the US is getting fatter and fatter. Gastric Bypass surgery is becoming so common and yet we continue to get fat.

This proves that Gastric Bypass, Optifast, Diet Center, Jenny Craig, 12 step programs, etc, are merely tools to use on the journey, but not the end of the need for tools. It also discredits my belief that "nobody likes a fat woman". I remember while growing up my mom would say to me, "Nobody is going to hire you if you're fat. Nobody will want to date you if you're fat." I was only 160 lbs. then. I think this has always stuck with me. Relationships have been quite difficult for me not only with men but with the workplace as well. I still need to write about how many times I've been fired.

I lost 200 lbs., twice, in 12 step rooms. It didn't cost me a dime and I didn't have to go under general anesthesia to lose weight, yet I found myself after 2 1/2 years of abstinence and a 200 lb weight loss, in the same place as Carnie. The difference between us has been that I don't have my insides rearranged to prevent severe weight gain and I quickly gained 200 lbs in less than a year.

…And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today (AA Big Book, pg. 449) I have always loved that passage and I think it applies to all of life's ills. Today, I have been thinking alot about sensationalists and rumors and real support. I have been young in my decision-making – too trusting, too desperate, too scared. I don't want to support any group that does not honor people of size as acceptable.

In Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (Feebleminded Anonymous), it is required that a person have 90 days of prescribed abstinence before they can speak at a meeting. Please understand that these are 12-step meetings and they are based on the tenets of Alcoholics Anonymous. This requirement of 90 days is a blatant disregard for the steps and traditions that have made AA last since 1935.

The enlightenment I am getting now as I look back upon my experience in Feebleminded Anonymous has woken me up to some truths that are hard to swallow and make me sad. As a Fatty, I entered the program because I was "desperate". Because of the world's views and my own views, I felt I was unacceptable at 240 lbs., 337 lbs., and 400 lbs. I really believed that my problems and low self-worth were based on my size. I found out as I lost 200 lbs. twice in a 10 year period that I was just as self-loathing in a small body as I was in a large one.

It is true that for a while I was elated to be a small size. I was able to do things that I hadn't been able to do in a large body and I celebrated this fact. However, deep inside I was so sad. I cried all the time. People would say to me, "What is wrong with you? You're thin! You should be happy!" These comments I believed to be true and felt even worse for feeling so bad. I really believed something was wrong with me. Something was terribly wrong with me and I couldn't figure it out. I became even more self-loathing and the only soother that has ever made me feel safe was to eat alot of cake! Well, this put me in the doghouse to be sure. The pattern continued as I beat myself over the head trying to convince myself if I just abstained then I would get to the root issue and I would feel whole.

For me, I do believe that abstaining from sugar and flour is important. My body does seem to have a serious reaction to these substances. I truly believe I am addicted to these things. However, it is not a moral issue. I'm not a good person if I don't eat them and a bad fatty if I do. It's a new way of thinking for me. I'm working hard on this. I don't want to hate myself anymore.

I think it is important to tell you why I want to abstain and have the result of losing weight.

  • It is very hard for me to be mobile at this weight.
  • The activities I enjoy require me to have mobility.

That is it! It is simple. I have never shamed another fat person nor do I find fat people wrong or bad or lazy or disgusting. I know the Feebleminded Anonymous program is full of haters. My sadness tonight has surfaced because I realize that my friends in that program and myself included have had to hate fat. It's such a criminal act to be fat or "in the food" or "struggling with the food".

As Fatties, we clamor to these member's every word and follow our sponsor's direction to the very last detail with the belief that if we do not, we will surely suffer. There is such a polarity going on for obese people right now. There are the losers who abstain or get surgery or participate in weight loss schemes. I notice these people are really
afraid to notice or get close to the opposite camp, which is Fat Acceptance. The losers (losers of weight --- not losers in society) are afraid if they embrace Fat Acceptance, they will stay fat. The Fat Acceptance camp is afraid and angry to go back to the losers because of the shame, humiliation, and exasperation they have for their past experiences.

I am in the middle. I want to lose excess weight because I want to be able to work again, walk freely, and be comfortable. I also want to promote fat acceptance. I want to scream from the hilltop to all my friends, please don't hate yourself into weight loss. It won't work, it won't last, and please love yourself into acceptance. Don't be afraid of the Fat Acceptance. Embrace it and don't deny who you are.

I think Feebleminded Anonymous is a very DANGEROUS program for Fatties. There are alot of people in that program that really aren't Food Addicts of the variety I am speaking about. A Food Addict of my variety is seriously ill and will be homebound or dead from the addiction. A "lightweight" as I call them, will never know what it is like to be homebound or have trouble with getting to work because they can't walk very far.

My statistics show me that the people of size in Feebleminded Anonymous don't have long-term weight maintenance. They definitely achieve weight loss, but weight maintenance has alluded us. We are either on our way up and feeling like we don't belong on the planet any longer or on our way down and full of hope that we are doing the right thing...following the righteous path. The people of size in Feebleminded Anonymous continue to try to fit their round bodies into the square hole. Your goal weight in this program is determined by your height so if you are 5' then you are to weight 100 lbs. If you are 5'4, you are to weight 120. A number of studies have shown that formerly obese people should never lose that much weight. My goal weight at 5'5 should be 185 according to these studies. This would be heresy in Feebleminded Anonymous.

It is with a humble heart and a hope for the future of at least those Fatties that read my writings that we can support each other into loving ourselves, and EACH OTHER no matter what weight we are.