I already knew to eat clean and listen to my body, to only eat when I was in a calm mental state. Everyone knew. But when you’re fat in the head, it’s never about knowing the answers. It’s about living them.
Tell the truth, or someone will tell it for you.
What we wait around a lifetime for with one person, we can find in a moment with someone else.
Don’t be so damn hard on yourself. Yeah, you screwed up. You’re not perfect, fine. Learn from it. But don’t punish yourself. Be kind to you, even when you screw up. You’ll bounce back eventually. You’ll make up for it.
Oh good, everything was back to normal – I was talking to myself again.
I hated that I let him touch my sweat, that he knew how I kissed. I wanted to collect my things from him, but the things were only moments.
Women in our generation, we were taught we can be and do anything as long as we work hard. But you can’t work hard enough for two people.
When we die, no one remembers us for what we weighed. Our weight isn’t etched into our headstones.
There’s something almost perfect in the ugly duckling syndrome. Because a sensitivity is tattooed on a part of you no one else can see but can somehow guess is there.
It’s about not rewarding your children with food, not always celebrating with food. I do think it’s important to find other ways to comfort our children and ourselves, to work other ways of celebrating and rewarding.
I’m human. But overall, whenever I see anyone being made fun of or given a hard time, I rush to their defense. I want to help them because I know how it feels.
I can trace every romance of my life back to a meal. My memories are enhanced by the tender morsels had at tables across from lovers, on blankets with friends who’d eventually become more, in banquets, barbecues, and breakfasts.
The way I see it, love is an amusement park, and food its souvenir.
I spent my whole single life trying to be thin just to find someone who’d love me once I got fat.
I could stand to lose 10 or 15 pounds, but honestly, I’m happy the way I am. I feel comfortable with it. I’d rather have that extra 10, 15 pounds on me than live a lifestyle of trying to sustain this unattainable weight.
I’d heard it all the time, ‘Live in the moment.’ But if I did that, I’d weigh more than a dump truck. Losing weight wasn’t about the moment at all; it was about having faith in the future. It was about knowing there would be another meal in a few hours.
That’s the thing about being a former fat camp champ: when asked if I’d change my past if I could, I always answer no. The pain of being an overweight kid, the humiliation, make you think twice before ever cutting anyone else down.
The times in my life when I’ve been my thinnest, I’ve been a walking psycho wreck. Forget the fact that I was basically starving myself; skinny was usually due to some kind of loss. Death. Rejection. Divorce.