I hate you, you miserable fat bitch.
I hate you for your broken promises and constant disappointments. Every night before bed you tell me how we’re going to start over tomorrow. You tell me it’s ok that we screwed up today. You tell me that we will wake up early, work out, and make healthy food choices.
But you can’t keep promises. When my alarm goes off at 6am you tell me you’re too tired and that we both deserve to sleep in. You manipulate my emotions and convince me to just exercise after work. I’m your bitch so I listen to anything you tell me to do and start my day already hating everything about you. While I get dressed, feed Chuy, and get my office ready I’m playing our conversation over and over in my head. Wondering why I always listen to you (I don’t listen to anyone else when they tell me to do something!) and how I’m going to get out from under your control. I plot my escape. I make a plan.
I make my healthy breakfast, much to your dismay. Ha! I win!
You distract me all throughout my work day. Constantly telling me how fat we both are. Constantly telling me how I’m going to be fat like you the rest of my life. You tell me not to even bother trying to go to the other side because I always end up coming back to you.
I usually make it through the day without your control until my weakness sets in during the late afternoon crash. I’m tired, I’ve been working all day and I feel hungry. You love me the most when I’m like this. You start negotiating with me that we don’t have to cook a healthy dinner because we’re tired and who wants to spend all that time cooking?! You tell me to order out instead. You tell me we don’t even need to work out because we should watch TV with our delicious takeout!
I’m tired. I’m hungry and I’m weak. I listen to you. We decide together that we’ll start over in the morning just like we promised each other yesterday. You make sure to tell me, “but this time it’s for real!. This time, I’m going to change. I promise you.”
Fat Bitch, you’re like an abusive boyfriend. You beat me up about my weight and then tell me to go eat to make it all better. Once I feel like complete shit for binging on who knows what, you console me. You tell me we’re going to lose the weight. We are going to get healthy ONCE and for all. This is the LAST time. You make me feel better by helping me set up another rigid plan of attack. You are the one who made me this way and have told me this line more times than I could ever count. Yet, I still listen to you. I still look to you for advice. I still run into your arms, sobbing, waiting for you to tell me it’s going to be ok. Waiting for you to tell me we can do this together.
You stick with me for a few days. Sometimes a few weeks. Hell, even a few months once or twice.
But just like the miserable, abusive bitch you are, you let me down. You convince me that I don’t need to measure my portions. You tell me it’s ok to order take-out. You tell me that I don’t really need to work out every day. You even tell me not to bother with weight loss because we are meant to be fat and miserable together. Inside you’re actually just terrified that I’ll get the strength to finally see you for what you are and you’ll be alone.
I‘m controlled by you and only you. Nobody else in my life has ever had this type of power over me. I’ve always had to be strong, in control, the best, and fiercely independent. Maybe I’ve allowed you to control me all these years because I needed someone stronger than me to lean on. I’ve needed someone else to take control when I have to be in control all day long. You are my rock.
Fat bitch, when I’m around you I don’t have to be in control. I don’t have to make choices. I let you take the lead. You make all the choices for us. I can relax, sit back on the couch and let you bring me all the food I want! I don’t stand up to you. I don’t question you. I don’t even tell you what to do. That’s your job! It feels so good to have you in control when I’m putting myself out there all day long at work. Delegating tasks, asking for sales, finding new leads, leading projects. I’m exhausted. I’m tired of people looking to me for answers and help.
Fat bitch, you’ve been “the one.” Even though I despise you and wish you would die, I keep coming back. I obviously get some kind of sick and twisted comfort from you. That makes me hate you even more. I’ve never needed anyone and I don’t know why I need you.
Fat bitch, I hate you for showing up every time I feel happy and fulfilled in my life. Every time I feel good about my body, you peak around the corner and flick me off. Every time something stressful happens in my life you are there to console me. Sometimes you’re the only one. I hate you for that. I don’t want to be fat and miserable like you but I let you take me down. I let you strip away my happiness. I let you put the fat back on my body. I LET YOU. NOBODY ELSE.
Fat bitch, I hate you for stripping away my fabulousness and self esteem. I’m not a negative person at heart. I believe in the good of people and that everyone deserves a chance. I believe that everything bad leads to something amazing. I believe in myself and that I can live my dream life. You tell me otherwise. You tell me as long as I’m fat like you, I’ll never win. I’ll never live the life I was intended to live. You make it clear that I’ll never achieve my full potential.
Fat bitch, I hate you for wasting so many years of my life. You are miserable so you want company. So many things I didn’t do because I was afraid. I was afraid to be hated and judged by others the same way I hate you.
Fat bitch, I hate you for destroying my body. I hate the scars you left behind from your violence. You know you have that power over me and it makes you happy. Nobody else has ever left scars on my body except you. You know that you own me. I’m your bitch. Every time I look in the mirror, you remind me.
Fat bitch, I hate you. I just fucking hate you. I don’t want a relationship with you anymore. At the same time I’m terrified of breaking up with you. I’m terrified that you will come back in a moment of weakness and abuse me again. I’m terrified that you’ll always stalk me. You’ll always be somewhere watching what I’m doing, looking for ways to wreck my life again. I’m terrified that I’ll never really get rid of you.
I’m so sick and tired of your lies, your disappointments, and most of all your abuse. Stop abusing me. Get the fuck out of my life.