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Pisoo Mojadoo
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I'm not really living right now. In hibernation. what's stopping me? I say my fat body, fat cheeks- I don't want to put myself out there because this stocky girl isn't me. Interesting how I don't feel like a real woman with this extra weight- that these extra pounds have stripped me of my femininity- my courage to face the world and to do so as a woman.
My heart has holes. I try to fill it up by filling up my stomach- I guess.
If I start thinking about what a beautiful goddess I am- will I start to believe I look like one? Will weight not matter? Am I way too self centered and focusing too much energy on my looks? What would happen if I stopped looking in the mirror? Or focused on something else every time I starting thinking about my weight or the food I will or will not consume.
Am I living? Am I in control? Am I out of control? Am I doing my best? Is there an I?
Where has my appetite gone? Am I compensating for it by eating all the time? Sacred to let myself fall, slip between the cracks- have days lightheaded and hazy blending into weeks gone by. And now I have 7 months gone by- events stand out but overall this life, my memories are muted. Stuffled. Drowned out by pounds and tights jeans. The soft squish of my fat, my outer layer, provide a bumped- a filted for the outside world. For the people I have met- the friendships I form and loose. No spark of fire or bitting chill of ice can survive in this funhouse of fat- everything is snuffed out.
This is not living. This is hiding in the comfort zone which does not really exist or work. I am afraid.
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050515
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