Have you ever seen the movie Groundhog Day? I feel like that is the best way to encapsolate my life. Work is the same every day, life at home is lately the same, and my issues are certainly the same. On a regular basis I find myself hating things, wishing and wanting to change them, but then doing nothing about it.
I hate what I look like. The numbers on the scale. The sizes on the tags. The way my body feels. The way I feel in my body. How I act (well let’s be honest, how I usually DON’T act because I am just too f*cking lazy to put forth the effort to actually act).
You get the point.
What’s the difference? What’s the difference. Lately it is more of a statement than a question. I do nothing about anything. I leave things alone. Sure I SAY I am not going along with status quo, but liar, liar, pants on fire. I just do.
Could I do something about the numbers on the scale? Well, yeah, I can. I can stop shoving all that food into my f*cking fat, disgusting body. No one makes me gorge on…every single edible item that I can my hands on. No one makes me plant my fat *ss on the sofa and remain there, consciously ignoring everything that I could/should do.
Could I do something about the sizes on the tags? Of course. De-plant said fat *ss of the couch and get some exercise. (Hey, did I mention that I have been seriously, really, honestly, considering joining the gym I thought I was already a member of? Um, yeah, I thought I was a member of a gym and still paying for monthly memberships but since I hadn’t set foot in there for so long I didn’t even realize I couldn’t use the facilities if I wanted to, which obviously never presented a problem!) I could join a gym, especially since these days with all the competition out there, isn’t an expensive investment. And since I haven’t been at the gym, there is always the opportunity to keep myself busy and not bingeing by cleaning. Hasn’t been done lately (but rest assured, my friends, that it hasn’t quite been as long as my unintentional gym boycott).
I could stop buying all the junk food that serves as my gateway drug. You don’t have to remind me, dear readers, that for me the launch for all binges is any type of food that gets eaten! Some things at some times in some places are worse than others.
And how to I respond to all these actions I could take to make myself believe I could once again look human and not be such a fat f*ck?
What’s the Difference?
Go back to the movie I mentioned at the beginning of this entry…I’ll wait while you scroll up. Remember? Oh, and if you haven’t seen this movie, you must. And considering I don’t do movies for a myriad of reasons, if I am telling you to see it, it is worth seeing. Anyway…
I am NOT going to spoil the movie, but the premise is this: Bill Murray’s character is stuck in one particular day, Groundhog’s Day. Every day he wakes up to the same exact day as the one before. Morning, noon, night, repeat.
I am Bill Murray (well without his comedy, acting career, money). No matter how much I restrict, lax, purge, fast I am never going to get skinny. I will never look good. The bingeing happens. Some days I fight it unsuccessfully. Some days I fight, but with such a half-*ss effort that I might as well save myself some time. Most days I don’t even bother; I give in without much of a struggle. Without much of a struggle? Ha! There is no struggle. I am still obese and grotesque and disgusting and pathetic and worthless and weak.
Why can’t I kick my *ss in gear? It’s not like it’s a small target that frequently escapes me; it is the size of a gargantuan woolly mammoth. I don’t bother because I have proven to myself that nothing will change.
No, that’s a lie.
What changes are my numbers. They climb and climb and climb higher and higher. They spiral out-of-control.
Whose fault is this? It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out the fault lies at my door.
Do I do anything different? Obviously that is a rhetorical question.
What’s the difference?