I wait until the last minute to do anything and everything. I wrote a piece for a website that I greatly admire and it was actually accepted. I was so happy when it was published, but I still haven’t sent them an invoice for the piece. Maybe I think that I don’t deserve the money for it. I so rarely write for money.
I’ve changed a lot since college. Weight gain factors into my depression. I look back at pictures of myself in college and wonder why I didn’t like myself at the time. I’m smiling and skinny. What more could I ask for?
I hate talking about weight. I keep telling myself that I wouldn’t mind weight gain so much if it weren’t for society’s perception of fat people. I am completely content with my body, for the most part. I just get the feeling that other people are unsatisfied.
In the last few years, my anxiety and depression have worsened. In that time, I’ve gained weight. I no longer look like the person I was in college. I still feel like myself, but I also feel like other people view me differently.
That’s where we arrive at the topic of procrastination. Every year, hell every week, I think that on this day, I’ll start working out and eating healthy. I’ll work hard and revert back to my former skinny self.
Once I’m skinny again, I’ll be able to date. I’ll be happy. I’ll have my shit together.
This is bullshit, of course. My happiness isn’t dependent on my weight. If I lose weight, I’ll still be anxious and depressed.
I know that working out regularly will positively impact my mental health. It’s not about losing weight; it’s about being mentally healthy.
I had the whole day off today and I felt anxious. Instead of going for a walk, I read a book, Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher. She wrote about having bipolar disorder and being an addict. I felt reassured reading her words, like everything would be ok. If Carrie Fisher could survive a celebrity upbringing, her best friend dying in her bed, and her husband leaving her for a man, then I can make it through this weight gain.
I didn’t go for a walk today. I’m not sure if I’ll go for a walk tomorrow. I’ll put off working out for a variety of reasons. There’s always an excuse. I haven’t gone to the gym lately because I’m afraid of the looks that I’ll receive from other people. Everyone at the gym must be serious gym goers, right?
If it weren’t for other people, I truly wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t care about not going to the gym. I wouldn’t care that I chose to read instead of go for a walk. I wouldn’t care about procrastinating. I would just think of it as another day of doing what I wanted to do.
Society has such a hatred of fat people. No matter what I do, I know that it won’t be good enough. Even if I’m feeling mentally stable, it won’t matter if I’m still overweight.
I put off working out, so that I can do things that I enjoy. I hope that one day, society will be more accepting of people of all sizes.