Marshmallow1
New member
Hello, internetz. -bows-
This is Marshmallow, and this is my diary. On the internetz. Heehee.
Err... anyway.
So I suppose this is my first entry~! :3
Well, I shouldn't be so happy about this, because I'm jut putting out a warning now- I'm a sixteen year old fat chick, so yes, this WILL get angsty.
Prepare for t3h ANGST!!!!111oneshift!!1
I've been fat my whole life. Well, for a time my young metabolism worked in my favor, but when I hit seven or eight and my boobs began to blossom in their womanly glory, my metabolism wasn't enough. My habit of eating when I was upset or bored caught up to me. I was, and still can be, a fat emo kid. Oh, the joy of it all... -_-
I was always, always chubby. Always a good thirty pounds overweight, but that didn't bug me.
Until I hit sixth grade, and I began to notice things. I was the biggest girl in class. I hated clothes shopping, because I always had to reach for the back of the rack. I always ate more than my thin, pretty friends. Subtle jabs from my classmates. 'Cause Catholic schools churn out the best, huh? -rolls eyes-
I weight 160 pounds in the sixth grade. Then I got the first inklings of a depression that still effects me now, and I jumped thirty. pounds. I weighed 193 pounds in the eighth grade. I remember when the nurse gave us our physicals, she made the other kids leave the room. Y'know, 'cause it wasn't obvious enough I was fatter than everyone else in my class.
Ninth grade, I went up to 208. That was my highest weight.
I hovered around that weight until the beginning of tenth grade, and I slowly worked on my weight.
From September to December, I lost twenty pounds.
But then I got lost again, as my every Friday or Saturday "Screwit" days became weekly, then for two months now. And I gave in to every craving and urge I had, because I had lost the will and self-respect to care, even though every night I'd want to die because I knew I had failed. I've gained back fifteen pounds of what I had worked so hard to achieve.
I'm tired of being the fat girl. I'm tired of not loving myself enough to be in a romantic relationship- I've never even held hands with a guy before. I'm sick of looking in the mirror and seeing what COULD be there. I'm tired of reaching to the back of the clothing racks. I'm sick of muffin tops. I'm tired of the clothes getting tighter, of my UGG boots being too tight around my shins, of being humiliated in the gym class populated by jocks and cheerleaders. I'm tired of feeling like my outside doesn't reflect who I am. I'm tired of the body-hate. I'm tired of being another teenage obesity statistic. I'm tired of almost not fitting into amusement park rides. I'm tired to not wanting to talk about food with people, because of what they might think.
God dammit, I'm sick of being just another fat chick!
I'm so weary of failing. I want to change. I hate the way food has power over me. It's not a facking dictator, it's a mass of sugars, lipids, proteins, and nutrients.
I don't want to fail again.
I just want to feel like a pretty girl, not a plain-Jane geek.
This is Marshmallow, and this is my diary. On the internetz. Heehee.
Err... anyway.
So I suppose this is my first entry~! :3
Well, I shouldn't be so happy about this, because I'm jut putting out a warning now- I'm a sixteen year old fat chick, so yes, this WILL get angsty.
Prepare for t3h ANGST!!!!111oneshift!!1
I've been fat my whole life. Well, for a time my young metabolism worked in my favor, but when I hit seven or eight and my boobs began to blossom in their womanly glory, my metabolism wasn't enough. My habit of eating when I was upset or bored caught up to me. I was, and still can be, a fat emo kid. Oh, the joy of it all... -_-
I was always, always chubby. Always a good thirty pounds overweight, but that didn't bug me.
Until I hit sixth grade, and I began to notice things. I was the biggest girl in class. I hated clothes shopping, because I always had to reach for the back of the rack. I always ate more than my thin, pretty friends. Subtle jabs from my classmates. 'Cause Catholic schools churn out the best, huh? -rolls eyes-
I weight 160 pounds in the sixth grade. Then I got the first inklings of a depression that still effects me now, and I jumped thirty. pounds. I weighed 193 pounds in the eighth grade. I remember when the nurse gave us our physicals, she made the other kids leave the room. Y'know, 'cause it wasn't obvious enough I was fatter than everyone else in my class.
Ninth grade, I went up to 208. That was my highest weight.
I hovered around that weight until the beginning of tenth grade, and I slowly worked on my weight.
From September to December, I lost twenty pounds.
But then I got lost again, as my every Friday or Saturday "Screwit" days became weekly, then for two months now. And I gave in to every craving and urge I had, because I had lost the will and self-respect to care, even though every night I'd want to die because I knew I had failed. I've gained back fifteen pounds of what I had worked so hard to achieve.
I'm tired of being the fat girl. I'm tired of not loving myself enough to be in a romantic relationship- I've never even held hands with a guy before. I'm sick of looking in the mirror and seeing what COULD be there. I'm tired of reaching to the back of the clothing racks. I'm sick of muffin tops. I'm tired of the clothes getting tighter, of my UGG boots being too tight around my shins, of being humiliated in the gym class populated by jocks and cheerleaders. I'm tired of feeling like my outside doesn't reflect who I am. I'm tired of the body-hate. I'm tired of being another teenage obesity statistic. I'm tired of almost not fitting into amusement park rides. I'm tired to not wanting to talk about food with people, because of what they might think.
God dammit, I'm sick of being just another fat chick!
I'm so weary of failing. I want to change. I hate the way food has power over me. It's not a facking dictator, it's a mass of sugars, lipids, proteins, and nutrients.
I don't want to fail again.
I just want to feel like a pretty girl, not a plain-Jane geek.




I also had a little bit of a calzone, but not a lot.