And I Would Walk 500 Miles…

I just signed up to weight watchers again. I did once, well, the last time was 2005 and look, four years + later I’m well and above what I was then. I don’t even know what good it will do. Defeatist? yes, but then after practically 34 years of thinking about weight and not feeling ‘normal’ I guess some how you get to that place. The shrink last week had said to me that she feels I always have some excuse that something isn’t working. Yes, that’s possibly true, but then again it doesn’t say that much for her either really. Seeing as I am coming to her because of an eating disorder and that I believe *generalisation coming up close your eyes* fat people some fat people are pretty damn devious.  Or should I say, those which have eating disorders of any kind can be fucking devious.  So much so, I felt her snippy comment was out of place.  She is there to give me tools, I can’t be the first difficult bird she’s dealt with and since when did anything happen to go her way, straight from the get go?

Any way it has made me quite peeved and normally I would go in and share it with her, or at least be open and honest and after her comment, it left me thinking why the fuck was I honest in the first place?  It makes me quite pissed off.  She asked whether I was angry at her last week and that I could be if I wanted to be.  Anyone who knows me will tell you, if I want to be angry I don’t frigging well need permission.  I don’t know who she deals with under this CBT thing, but I may well be a fat fuck with no real control over my eating, but I’m not a shy retiring type of fat fuck.

So she told me to follow a ‘plan’ before eating I MUST write it all down.  Now in my head that turns into some huge big complex thing which prevents me from moving.  I try to work it all out in my head and yet, it gets to be such a huge issue, I don’t bother t even think about it.  So I began to attempt to plan, whatever that means..I felt like someone had just pulled me back into school revision years and having just screamed ‘revise’ at me, without telling me just how one is supposed to do that. 

So when the call came from V. eating disorder clinic, the people who assessed me and who supposedly have an understanding of my disorder, I was a little happier.  Then I listened to the bloke on the phone and he sounded just like a male version of my shrink at the other place.  I think, somewhere, someone must be breeding these very sensitive people who speak with their heads cocked to one side and speak in nice people tongue.  They don’t know how to be firm, and as Cameron my nephew says,

    ‘Get a spine man, get a spine…’

So, I shall see who gets over the wining line first, Denise, the mac daddy at V clinic. Or Weight Watcher core plan.  Meanwhile I have to stop the growth of my gut.  I am American massive, that fatness which everyone knows is creeping into the UK more and more and we are becoming the super obese, the people whjo you only ever saw on documentaries from the states.  I am now pretty much on the outter circle of becoming one of those people.  I am a slip away.  It needs to stop now. Just how far will I walk to be who  am inside?