I Feel Fat

And weight is the least of it.

There are two kinds of feeling fat.

Physical, which though undoubtedly a big drag, is infinitely easier than the more ambiguous, ubiquitous, unmanageable burden of emotional weight.

Often they seem inextricably tied together. BUT, having climbed several emotional mountains this week, I’d like to argue they remain knotted together only when we are unwilling to spend the time untangling one from another.

I am no thinner today than I was Wednesday but I am considerably lighter.

I woke up several mornings this week in a state of despair and dread.

Despair for my indulgences the day before and dread at the idea of having to try and do it all over, again– the boot camp workout, eating restrictions and general, uncompassionate snap too and pull it together mentality.

I reminded myself of my slightly jigglier mid-section, snausagy thighs and wiggly arms as an incentive to buck up and get with the program. After all, these things don’t just take care of themselves.

I felt exhausted and hopeless before the day had even begun.

I felt poorly about myself. But beneath that, I just felt poorly.

The underlying sadness and malaise inside was too weighty and not supportable by any logical evidence.

There was no-thing wrong.

This lack of a clearly pinpointable and thus resolvable problem is corrosive because it erodes self-awareness and forces a search for some concrete issue over which to exert control. Like weight. Or career. Or the town you live in.

Weight wins out on least amount of unintended collateral damage.

BUT, you will never be thin enough.

Because, it has nothing to do with an abundance of pounds. It has everything to do with a lack of compassion for self and the overall complexity of the human condition

It is hard to navigate out of an oppressive, heavy space when you don’t know exactly where you are. And yet, that’s exactly where you have to start.

Feel the feeling instead of feeding the distraction.

Even when the feeling is impossibly obtuse.

That’s what I kept telling myself this week. And eventually, after several failed attempts, the tears came and the mishmash of losses, insecurities and fears that who I am is not enough and what I do holds no meaning, it passed.

The barometric pressure of self-judgment lifted.

And the warmth of compassion won.

However, since I am extremely susceptible to these inner storms and seem to continually forget that FAT is really a stand-in for something else, I thought why not create a few reminder acronyms.

Remember the one for I’m FINE. Fucked-up– Insecure–Neurotic–Emotional.

I find there are usually hugely conflicting Here are my top three:

Frantic Apologetic Terrorist

Fidgety Aggressive Train-wreck

Freaked-out Apathetic Tyrant