Mirror Mirror on the wall…who is the fattest of them all???

I looked in the bathroom mirror this morning at my sleep induced face as Iinspected carefully to see if I had yet another zit. PCOS also gives you hot flashes, sudden weight gain and oh yes, zits. I am 23 and I look like a fat teenager…wonderful. Just when you thought you left the teens…you get PCOS!
As I was inspecting my face, pulling it this way and that, a thought entered my mind.

Will I recognize this face in a month? Six? One year??

It wouldn’t be a bad thing necessarily if I didn’t, but I actually like my face. It’s friendly. Most of my friends and family have said I have “Come talk to me, I will listen to your feelings” on my forehead. I have nice bluish grey eyes, like a wolf. I have my blonde hair(which I like…just wish it was thicker), I have a cute little button nose (one of the only things on my body that is little), I have nice pinkish red lips, it’s just got some fat on it. As long as the things I like about my face don’t change I will be fine. However, giving up some of the things I like about myself seems like a small price to pay for years and years added on to my life expectancy. My body is another issue.
You know that John Mayer song “Your body is a Wonderland?” well mine is more like Mountain land. I have hills, bumps and squishy parts like quick sand. Then you reach these two fat lumps I call thighs. They remind me of the moon. White and crater-like. If you turn me around, I have more rolls than a bakery. Somehow a lot of my fat has ended up on my thighs and my back and ass. Don’t get me started on my ass. If you look at me from the front and sides, I also slightly resemble a road map. With hills. And Valleys. My stretch marks mark the path of my journey of gains, losses and then more gains.  I also have this thing on the back of my neck I love to call my “hump”. It’s this accumulation of fat that disables me from putting my head back all the way. So I can’t quite look all the way at the ceiling. My chiropractor said it right:

Me: I can’t look at the ceiling Doc, my head won’t go.

Chiropractor: Hmm, whats stopping it? Does it hurt?”

Me: Well I believe it’s called fat, and no it’s just there.

Chiropractor: Hmm…

“Hmm”…I have uttered that a few times along this journey.
But I can’t honestly look at my body and go “Hmm”…in fact, it’s hard for me to actually stand there and study my body at all. Actually, most times I avoid mirrors when I am naked or minimally clothed.

I was reflecting back to some of my most embarrassing/funny moments being fat, I say funny because if I didn’t laugh I would cry. I’ll share a few of them with you.

Once I was with some friends at a pool party. I wasn’t even at my heaviest yet. I had my bathing suit and long shorts combination on. Oh yeah, total 1950’s bathing suit style. 100% coverage. Really sexy. I went to sit down on this lawn chair with a beverage and BAM! Down I went through the middle of it. I was too fat for the fabric. I have avoided lawn chairs with fabric at any cost now.

I remember being with my cousin in a Le Chateau change room trying on a sundress. I don’t know why I wanted to wear a sundress at 220lbs, but I did. It was a beautiful hue of blues and it cascaded all the way down to the floor. There was only one problem with it : It had no stretch. So I squeezed and wiggled and held my breath until it went over my head and arms, around my bust and back fat and finally settled digging into my ribcage. I was in the dress. I showed my cousin

Me:  How does it look?

Cousin:  Looks good, how does it feel?

Me: Well other than the band cutting off the circulation to my breasts and brain, I feel quite okay.

Cousin: I’d put it back then.

So then I went back into the change room , sucked it in, held my breath, tugged, pulled and heaved it until the band was now digging into my arm fat, I could not put my arms down or the dress would rip. I was in a pickle now. So there I was, arms in the air, dress still around my head, losing air fast, praying to god I wouldn’t rip the dress. Finally with enough heaving and shimmying, the dress was off and I stood there for a moment trying to catch my breath. Never again would I dare try something on without stretch.

Lesson learned.

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