Sunday, January 24, 2010

Day 2

IF you are reading this blog I assume one of three things to be true; that you are a fellow fat chick, a man trying to score a fat chick by getting familiar with the mind workings of a fat chick, OR one of THOSE just looking how the other half lives. Whatever the reason, I thank you for your interest.

Last night my mother asked me, "Who has been telling your son that he's fat?" Mind reeling, worry building, I racked my brain trying to figure out when he would have ever heard the word "fat". We don't watch television, I never call myself fat out loud, and to make it all more confusing, my 2 1/2 year old isn't fat. I make sure on a daily basis that he doesn't indulge in sweets, too many carbs, or junk food. I DON'T want my son living the hell I did as a child. You see, I was always a big girl. From the time my father died when I was four years old I stuffed my face. I mostly recall overeating at my grandmother's house on Sundays. When she couldn't give us back what we really wanted, being our father, she gave us love with sweets and treats and chips and dips. I ate chips with sour cream dip, cookies, cakes, ice pops, kool-aid, cheese and crackers, salami and sausages, THEN had a dinner of meat and potatoes. This was a once a week affair. I ate more crap in one day than I should have eaten in one week alone. My mother, having drunk her shared sorrow with a shared bottle of scotch would stop during our night drive home at the bagel store to sober up I assume, and my dessert would be a salted bagel with extra butter. It was our ritual. In my grief, there was nothing more satisfying.

Last nightI stayed away from the bread warmer, although it wasn't easy. The whipped butter with added sea salt and roasted garlic was calling my name. I served a family who had just lost their father/husband/son; a 50 year old man who died of cancer. They too, overindulged in alcohol and food. The sorrow-food connection is definitely one I need to examine closely in my future weight loss adventure. The bread remained untouched, but the white chocolate macadamia cookies were PERFECT!

Til manana,
The Fat Chick

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