Day 1

I am closer to weighing 100 kilograms than I’ve ever been. I have been 58 kgs. I have been 67 kgs. I have been 75 kgs. I have been 89 kgs. I was 94.5 kgs for quite some time. I am 99.2 kgs today. Right now. It doesn’t feel real. It feels, heavy.

I have intracranial hypertension, it should get a lot better if I reduce some weight. There are furiously red stretch marks all over my body that hurt sometimes. If I look at the mirror for too long, I don’t want to ever look at the mirror again. Climbing stairs feels like a very difficult task. Talking while walking gets me out of breath. My head keeps aching constantly. I feel like I have let things go too far but then again, I feel like I’ve left things behind. I’ve come too far down to be able to climb back up. It is the usual, I need to be healthy, I don’t feel as energetic as I should and my mental health also suffers because of coping mechanisms that are unhealthy for my body.

Needless to say, I have tried to get back on track and failed countless times. I have gone back and fallen deeper and harder. Smoked more, even when my chest felt heavy, ate junk even when I knew I’d want to puke it an hour later, pushed my fingers down my throat to finally purge it out and then feel intensely sorry for myself. Self-pity is easy at times like this I think.

It doesn’t feel real. I feel like I failed myself terribly. When I was a child, I never dreamed of things like being a star or a model or an athlete or even anything different from who I was. I failed a twelve-year-old who was confident enough in herself to never want to be anyone other than who she was. These days I close my eyes to wish I was anyone but myself.

It won’t do.

18th February 2022 is day 1. I will come back and write when I can about what I did to redeem myself in front of the twelve-year-old girl I was.

I don’t have as such. I think I just do not plan on being such a disappointment to myself. I was pretty clueless about many things at that time but I was never doubtful of myself. Maybe it’s the worst thing about being an adult. It isn’t the work, the need to earn or the responsibility of being responsible. It’s the massive self-doubt that grows with time.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

It’s okay. 99.3 kgs or more, it doesn’t matter. We try to be better and take better care of our bodies.

I will be fine. We’re alright.