Monday, January 26, 2009
I had been fat for as long as I could remember. It was part of my identity, really. Not something I was proud of, but also not something I seriously thought I could do anything about.
I hated the way I looked and the way I felt. I was in a constant battle to find clothes that made me feel anything other than shame. But like many fat people, I was a master of self-delusion. As much shame as I felt about my own physical condition, when you live in North America you can just look around and almost always find someone who is (or whom you believe to be) a lot fatter than you are. Hey, objectively speaking, I thought, I'm not that bad.
But one morning I was standing in front of the mirror and it struck me. I wasn't just fat... I was unhealthy. 25 years old, smoking almost a pack a day, fat and probably still growing. Oy.