My big fat rant

Today was a big fat slap in the face. A disgusting, wibbly wobbly wallop. If I wasn't feeling shitty enough already about myself, this monstrosity pushed me over the edge - 

OH MY GOD I AM A HIDEOUS BEAST OF A THING! 

It definitely doesn't help that I'm sat next to my beautiful slim friend Kaidee. Or that I'm squatting on a bale of hay. Or that a young male volunteer, who will probably have no idea of the importance to a girl of a flattering angle, hurridly took this photo.

But bloody hell. I look photo-shopped. The wrong way. My face is just eyebrows, a nose and some teeth stuck on a chubby round moon face. I'm like a real life Mr Potato Head.

I've never been skinny. I've always been chubby, even when I was at my slimmest during college. But last year I really piled on the weight following my surgeries. 

My recovery last year was slow. As a manager, I felt the pressure to go back to work quickly and I definitely learnt my lesson after my first surgery. Being on my feet all day put massive strain on my battered pelvis and it took a long time to stand or walk without an aching pain. After my second surgery, I took an extra 2 weeks off and asked for a staged return to work. This didn't happen, because 1) I'm a soft touch and didn't push hard enough, but also 2) giant companies (from my experience) aren't actually particularly bothered about your well being. They seem to give you all the "we're here to support you, whatever you need" nonsense on paper to show due diligence, without following through. But I'm obviously not bitter about it. Thankfully I have the loveliest boss now and appreciate her kindness and understanding even more following my past experience. But I digress....

Cancer is a funny thing when it comes to image. On the outside I look exactly the same as before (apart from 10 small scars all over my stomach). No hair loss, no weight loss, no impared movement or frailty. For me it has been an invisible illness. No one would know I had it unless I told them. The only obvious change has been a large amount of weight gain, which although has been mostly down to not being physically fit/well enough to exercise, could just look like any normal weight gain.

But to me, my fat is what shows my cancer. What is left behind. My cancer has not only made me get fat, but has left me unable to do anything physical about it. Don't get me wrong, I know full well that my eating habits have played their part too (see above comment about always being chubby). But this time around particularly, I'm so angry at my body for failing me. 

2017 was meant to be my year. Well really, 2016 was meant to be the one, but we quickly scrapped that idea. So now this year was going to be the one where I got back on track. At the start of the year I was eating well, working out and seeing results (thanks Joe Wicks!). I'd joined a tap class to try and make exercise fun again. 2017 was going to be my year to look and feel fabulous.

Then Bob reappears. Bastard. 

Now not only do I have to deal with impending infertility and the issues that brings to my self esteem, but 2 surgeries in and already my clothes are getting tighter. I hate it and I hate myself but all I can do is cry and eat and smack on a chubby smile.

I don't know what the answer is. I'm so tired that I can't find the motivation to get up and move. Not moving along with eating badly means the weight piles on. And the more weight I pile on, the worse I feel about myself and the motivation issue rears it's head, so I comfort eat. It's a vicious cycle. 

I'm completely embarrassed by how I look. I don't want to be the fat friend of the group. I don't want to have the 'bubbly' girfriend. I want to be thin and attractive. Because there isn't much left of me that's an attractive prospect. 

I know looks are shallow and meaningless really, and it's what's inside that counts, blah blah blah. I do know that's true. But it's hard to focus on that when your thighs rub together and clothes shopping is more humiliating than being pooped on by a duck at the farm (sorry Kaidee, but you weren't getting out of this post unscathed!).

And looking like that, sat on some straw, was the last straw.