I Am a Fat Pig

You probably have seen them too.  Comments on Facebook posts or Instagram or Twttter admonishing overweight people  to stop loving their size and step away from the fork. Seeing how I thought about calling myself “Chunky Diva” as my Twitter handle, I have not been on the side of the fat shaming twits but have jumped right into the fray with comments intended to “comment shame the fat shaming p****” and get him (or her) to back away from the keyboard.

I’m been small but mostly NOT ever since ninth grade when I got fed up with ugly comments about being “too skinny” as in “No one but a dog loves a bone.” Where I came from and the time I grew up in, even young dudes desired “Baby Got Back.”

I was 5″10″ and under 115 pounds in sixth grade.

A stick.

So I started eating to put on weight. Even when my ma’s best friend–a good looking women of ample size–finger wagged that “You better stop eating or you’ll regret it.”

Cuz all I wanted to do was make it stop.

The hateful comments and public shunning by boys I had major crushed on.

And it worked.

Of course the girls still hated me (because I was smart). And the boys I loved still didn’t ask me out (though they did ask me to tutor them in math).

But I was “filling out.” Getting some decent-sized boobs no longer pancakes…if not “Back”…because in that department all I got was some fat- flat-a**  genes from someone in my lineage.

By senior year, I was on a DIET.

Drinking Fresca and something I forget for lunch, no breakfast and making dinner of  a plain hamburger with a fried egg  on top (an idea I got from a precursor diet to Atkins, South Beach etc).

I even ate these amphetamine-laced candies to stop my appetite. Which didn’t do that as much as give me a racing heart and hypochondriac fueled visions of a heart attack before age 25.

Like many people, women especially, spending much of my adult life in the state of yo-yo…as in yo yo dieting. I could always take it off, but sooner or later, the weight like the Cat, Came Back.

In recent years, I’ve made half-a** attempts to lose weight and get healthy and fit…to look and feel great like my best of times (which lasted about 10 years).

But mostly I stopped working my “healthy eating” like a job or obsession. And I pretty much gave up beating myself up for my lack of stick-to-it-ness.

But today I ran across a book titled “Never Binge Again: Reprogram Yourself to Think Like a Permanently Thin Person.”

The author, a formerly obese, (former?) psychologist, who went on to apparently form a multi-million bucks food consulting company says the secret is to acknowledge that I have a PIG living inside me.

And until I shun the PIG who is trying to keep me fat and miserable because she lives for those moments of pleasure overeating gives HER, I’ll never get thin. And keep it off.

Since I am a junkie for reframing and “reprogramming my brain” which is essentially building new neural networks that are stronger than the old ones doing me little good, I downloaded the Kindle version. Oh and because it is FREE.

[Yeah as in costs $0. Not because dude is altruistic but because he sells a coaching program that’s $400 a year (or $1000 for the platinum version). Which I think is a pretty good business model.]

So I am a PIG.

Which I have to believe (even though it is really a mental construct) if I want this to work. Which means I gotta fat-shame myself. Which is really shaming the PIG inside of me that cares far more about those white chocolate pistachio cookies in the kitchen than she cares about me and my health.

Reminding myself of such truths as “THE PIG” doesn’t care about my total well-being because those cookies suck! And if she was to check in with rational brain and my stomach, both would tell her that I’m not even hungry. In fact, I’m still full from dinner (and all those other unnecessary calories she had me eat earlier).

So I’m going to at least read the book. And shut THE PIG down!






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