129kg of pure loathing is where I started a month ago, I hate myself I said, I hate you and what you look like, I hate you, you FAT slob, I hate you – you BIG boned, no good girl.

I always thought others had it so easy, I mean I just look at a damn wimpy double cheese burger and I gain 5 kilograms already. Why can my friends and family eat what they want and never gain weight? But me – the ugly duckling, the fat slob – who by the way doesn’t even eat that much just gains and gains weight – no matter what.

 
I’ve lost weight in the past – not from good diets or exercise, from starving myself, from eating the bare minimum to look a certain way or to feel a certain way.
Society doesn’t look at the FAT girl, you are basically invisible to everyone, and if you are seen – its because of your mere size (LARGE) as you take up a lot of space. No one sees the real you, the raw you – the one who stays in the shadows too scared to shine, to scared to be noticed.

 
You aren’t good enough to shop in normal shops either, you cannot go shopping with your ‘’GIRLS”… you can’t borrow your sisters or moms clothes, you can’t force yourself to actually go to a fitting room dreading that nothing actually fits or the sight of yourself in the mirror as you force those leggings or jeans over your fat thighs, breathing in not only air, but the lump of hate in your throat – the hate you have not only for yourself but also for the clothes you are trying to fit into.

 

No one has your size anywhere, you have to either go to Donna Claire or a specialised PLUS-SIZE Boutique where no piece of clothing costs less than R800 an item. BASICALLY its expensive to be FAT -Fat means you pay more than double the thinner ladies pay for their clothes. So not only do you have to fork out a fortune for clothes, you are also forking out your FUCKING self-worth. You fat – you pay!

Never mind the underwear and bra’s – I myself can only shop at one store for underwear and that is Storm in a G cup – R1000+ for a decent bra because apparently you are “BLESSED” with big boobs! I’d rather cut them off myself, but hey I can’t – don’t think I haven’t thought about it. And medical aids won’t pay for BREAST reduction unless you are about to fucking bite the bullet and DIE a slow death – DEATH by BOOBS!

Here lies Nicole – cause of DEATH – her Boobs?

Yeah its funny, yeah I’m blessed and I HATE IT more than anything in the world.
Ridiculed since they started developing – hated by woman because of their size – don’t be quick to think that – this is in no way a blessing in my life. They have ruined my life – but they’ve nourished my babies – that love / hate relationship is always there!
Back to the dressing room – I don’t do them anymore – the 3 way mirror terrifies the living shit out of me. Who wants to display themselves under bright lights – 3 ways, while tears gather in the corners of your eyes – because you hate the way you look? NO ONE. So I changed my strategy – just take whatever you want and if it doesn’t fit return it. Life is too short for CHANGING-ROOM drama!
LOVE yourself, FAT, ROLLS and ALL. Life is too short for you not to!
P.S THIS Post is also FAR from over!

Yours in Fat,

Mama N