Weight and shame

I was talking to a counselor yesterday, discussing my weight and the fact that I can’t seem to talk about it lately without getting all teary-eyed and stuff. I told him that I wasn’t really sure why I got that way, and he asked me one seemingly simple question: could it be shame? It took a while for that question to sink in. But once it did, it just about floored me. Because I am ashamed of what I have done to myself. I am embarrassed about the way that I look, how much weight I’ve gained, my lack of self control…

I mentioned a few entries back that I had used all my previous journal entries to make a cool bit of infoporn about my weight. With 10 years worth of data, I found some very interesting trends. But what has me so torn apart – almost devastated – is the fact that I am currently 30 pounds heavier than I was when I decided I absolutely had to lose weight. Back in 1997. That’s bad, very bad.

The more I look at the chart, the more depressed I get. I see so much hard work eaten away. I see concretely what has happened, how I got to be this obese. And it just tears me apart.

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