Dearest Dust Bunnies,
I know it’s been a while since I blogged about ME – and this has been purposeful. I have been trying to stay away from the bitching and moaning in an effort to give you a more enjoyable DavidDust experience. No one needs to hear about the Big Ball of Crazy I carry around while living my life.
But a few of you have emailed me to check in – wanting to know how I was doing. One of you even wrote that you liked the “Chubby Talk” (weigh-ins, etc) I used to do. So, for those of you who come to DavidDust strictly for entertainment purposes, you may want to go ahead and skip this post. Warning: SELF-INDULGENT WHINING AHEAD – and plenty of Chubby Talk.
So here it is - my Big Ball of Crazy…
As far as diet and exercise go, I’ve been doing HORRIBLY. I know many of you will say “OK, hit the reset button and get back on track!” – and I know that’s what I should do. But I don't do it – and I'm not sure why.
I actually have no motivation any more to lose weight – I’ve almost given up. So I eat. A lot. Sometimes abusively. And I’ve never been fatter. Motivations like “you’ll be healthier and feel better!” just don’t work for me - especially when stacked up against – “yeah, but a Big Mac would taste SO good and I’m really hungry!”.
I guess what it all boils down to is self-esteem – I have none. When I look in the mirror, I don’t like what I see. Worse, I’m disgusted and ashamed by what I see – no exaggeration. And this influences everything I do and every thought in my head – ALL THE TIME. Furthermore – I am not one of those “I’m Big And Beautiful” people. That would require a level of self-esteem which I do not posses. And these negative feelings I have toward myself only make me want to eat more in an effort to “feel better”. Hello, Vicious Circle? My name is David - pleased to meet you.
My low self-esteem also affects the way I live my life. When I’m not at work I pretty much spend all of my time in my apartment – even on the weekends. And even though I live in Manhattan, I very rarely do anything other than go to work or run errands. I have no social or dating life whatsoever. And honestly, I don’t think at this point I want one – I just don’t feel up to it. When I get invited someplace, I usually don’t go – for fear of being the fattest Ho there. I know this is wrong (and ridiculous), but it is my truth.
You might not understand how I could be this way – but the (good) habits many of you display are equally foreign to ME. I don’t understand how people go to the gym regularly. I just don’t get it. There is absolutely nothing enjoyable about a trip to the gym for me. It’s like torture, and I try to avoid torture at all costs. So when I read about how many of you go to the gym regularly, my reaction is “WTF?”, the same way many of you are reacting right now while reading this. My brain knows that in the long term going to the gym is beneficial. But RIGHT NOW going to the gym will be horrible, and I like to avoid horrible when possible.
Furthermore, I have absolutely no self-control. None. One little slip on my diet, and it’s an excuse to stuff my face all day. Seriously, ONE onion ring on a Friday afternoon can start a weekend-long eating frenzy. And that’s not hypothetical – this has actually happened more than once. And after a binge, I literally have to throw the remaining “bad” food away if I want to get back on track. Because if it’s in my apartment, I will eat it.
I know I should talk to a professional about my Big Ball of Crazy. But I don’t think my insurance covers “insanity”, and I am too chickenshit to enter a doctor’s office anyway. I hate going to the doctor even more than going to the gym – especially when he’s going to bitch and moan about how fat I am. And Overeater’s Anonymous? Out of the question. It’s one thing to blog about my Big Ball of Crazy – but to actually discuss it in front of strangers? I don't think so...
Nothing has motivated me recently to change. Nothing. And I know some of you will leave encouraging and supportive comments, because you care about me. And you know what I’ll think to myself? … I’ll get a little bit angry. Not angry at you, but angry at myself for not sharing your positive feelings toward myself. I know – WTF?!? – bitch is KRAY-ZIE!!!
So, there it is ... my GIGANTIC Ball of Crazy. Aren't you glad you asked?!? :)
UPDATE: A few days after I posted this, I visited my doctor who prescribed me an antidepressant. After just a few days I am feeling SO much better, and my big ball of crazy seems to be getting smaller and smaller...
I know it’s been a while since I blogged about ME – and this has been purposeful. I have been trying to stay away from the bitching and moaning in an effort to give you a more enjoyable DavidDust experience. No one needs to hear about the Big Ball of Crazy I carry around while living my life.
But a few of you have emailed me to check in – wanting to know how I was doing. One of you even wrote that you liked the “Chubby Talk” (weigh-ins, etc) I used to do. So, for those of you who come to DavidDust strictly for entertainment purposes, you may want to go ahead and skip this post. Warning: SELF-INDULGENT WHINING AHEAD – and plenty of Chubby Talk.
So here it is - my Big Ball of Crazy…
As far as diet and exercise go, I’ve been doing HORRIBLY. I know many of you will say “OK, hit the reset button and get back on track!” – and I know that’s what I should do. But I don't do it – and I'm not sure why.
I actually have no motivation any more to lose weight – I’ve almost given up. So I eat. A lot. Sometimes abusively. And I’ve never been fatter. Motivations like “you’ll be healthier and feel better!” just don’t work for me - especially when stacked up against – “yeah, but a Big Mac would taste SO good and I’m really hungry!”.
I guess what it all boils down to is self-esteem – I have none. When I look in the mirror, I don’t like what I see. Worse, I’m disgusted and ashamed by what I see – no exaggeration. And this influences everything I do and every thought in my head – ALL THE TIME. Furthermore – I am not one of those “I’m Big And Beautiful” people. That would require a level of self-esteem which I do not posses. And these negative feelings I have toward myself only make me want to eat more in an effort to “feel better”. Hello, Vicious Circle? My name is David - pleased to meet you.
My low self-esteem also affects the way I live my life. When I’m not at work I pretty much spend all of my time in my apartment – even on the weekends. And even though I live in Manhattan, I very rarely do anything other than go to work or run errands. I have no social or dating life whatsoever. And honestly, I don’t think at this point I want one – I just don’t feel up to it. When I get invited someplace, I usually don’t go – for fear of being the fattest Ho there. I know this is wrong (and ridiculous), but it is my truth.
You might not understand how I could be this way – but the (good) habits many of you display are equally foreign to ME. I don’t understand how people go to the gym regularly. I just don’t get it. There is absolutely nothing enjoyable about a trip to the gym for me. It’s like torture, and I try to avoid torture at all costs. So when I read about how many of you go to the gym regularly, my reaction is “WTF?”, the same way many of you are reacting right now while reading this. My brain knows that in the long term going to the gym is beneficial. But RIGHT NOW going to the gym will be horrible, and I like to avoid horrible when possible.
Furthermore, I have absolutely no self-control. None. One little slip on my diet, and it’s an excuse to stuff my face all day. Seriously, ONE onion ring on a Friday afternoon can start a weekend-long eating frenzy. And that’s not hypothetical – this has actually happened more than once. And after a binge, I literally have to throw the remaining “bad” food away if I want to get back on track. Because if it’s in my apartment, I will eat it.
I know I should talk to a professional about my Big Ball of Crazy. But I don’t think my insurance covers “insanity”, and I am too chickenshit to enter a doctor’s office anyway. I hate going to the doctor even more than going to the gym – especially when he’s going to bitch and moan about how fat I am. And Overeater’s Anonymous? Out of the question. It’s one thing to blog about my Big Ball of Crazy – but to actually discuss it in front of strangers? I don't think so...
Nothing has motivated me recently to change. Nothing. And I know some of you will leave encouraging and supportive comments, because you care about me. And you know what I’ll think to myself? … I’ll get a little bit angry. Not angry at you, but angry at myself for not sharing your positive feelings toward myself. I know – WTF?!? – bitch is KRAY-ZIE!!!
So, there it is ... my GIGANTIC Ball of Crazy. Aren't you glad you asked?!? :)
UPDATE: A few days after I posted this, I visited my doctor who prescribed me an antidepressant. After just a few days I am feeling SO much better, and my big ball of crazy seems to be getting smaller and smaller...
