Everybody struggles.
Everybody looks in the mirror at some point in his life and hates what he sees.
And, well, screw you for saying that I have less right to struggle with my image or size or weight or diet than you do.
Screw you.
My perfectly normal, perfectly non-traumatizing childhood left me fully traumatized. I have clear memories of being a fat child, a shape-less and mousy teen, even though photos are those years deny those things outright.
Yet here I am staring in the mirror every day, angry that I gained those last five pounds; angry that I skipped the gym last week; angry that I let my diet shift one more time to included more junk that I am even interested in having.
Screw you for declaring with impunity how little right I have to be down about my body, or how little justification I have to speak on weight loss/control/gain.
Screw you.
And one more time, I excuse myself from a larger conversation promoting being large. Have at it. I am staying home. I am still wounded that so many large men started ignoring me when I lost forty pounds…
There we go. Yay!
gryphon's hole 