Being obese in a skinny world.

So here’s a post I feel compelled to write. It’s about food but you won’t see one drool-worthy photo of cheese or ranch and here’s why: I have a food addiction and I want to talk about living with it. 

I was never skinny - but not really chubby either. I was never a size 2. I went from girls sizes to a 6 and was fine with it. I graduated high school at 135 pounds. (I’m 5’ 5”.) 

But I grew up thinking I was fat. My dad always told me I needed to lose ten pounds. He called me “thunder thighs”. I also LIVED  through years of abuse. I say LIVED  because I made it through all that shit and got it to stop. 


What I didn’t realize was that even though the abuse stopped I had an unbelievable road ahead. A doctor told me once that people in similar situations often turn to drugs and alcohol or stay with their abuser. He was so impressed that I “had” no vices. 

But I did have a vice. 

I ate. I ate to comfort myself. And I needed a lot of comfort. I didn’t know what a healthy relationship was so I was in lots of unhealthy relationships. And I needed more comforting. More often than not, comfort came in a certain blue box filled with noodles and "cheese powder". 


And here I am (with my friend Vince). Nearly 300 pounds and a food blogger to boot. There’s no “success story” at the end of this. Yet anyway. 

But being fat sucks. 

Today I got on airplane. Airplanes really suck for fat people. And today it sucked a little more. 

You see I’m too fat to fit in the seat belt so I always had to ask for an extender. It’s embarrassing - every flight - trying to be quiet while asking. The sad pity face from the flight attendant as they try and pass it to you like it’s a tampon to your bestie in 8th grade math class. 
Well a year ago - I swiped an extender after a flight. VICTORY! Humiliation gone! I brought my own - bitch! 

Then today happened. I sat in an exit row. Hell - I paid $19 extra for that exit row seat. 

First - I couldn’t fit in the seat. The sides are rigid and were cutting into my now ACTUAL thunder thighs and it hurt. But I wedged in, wincing in pain, and got my extender in place. Then the flight attendant calls me out to the other exit row participants, “Are you using an extender? You can’t sit in the exit row. We'll have to move you.” 

There are rules, blah blah blah. She was nice enough and after walking up and down a full flight on a tiny plane - eyes rolling - she asked someone to switch with me and - thankfully - they obliged. 

I went to my new seat and got settled. Then I cried. 

The flight attendant was just doing her job, she tried to not embarrass me but I was still humiliated. Nobody else on this flight will remember this but me. I’ll remember it forever. 


Society is not made for fat people. I experience it every day. A seat too tight. A chair that I’m sure is going to Shallow Hal on me. A bathroom where I have to nearly stand on the shitter to get the door shut. 

I know I’m the only one that can change my body. But that doesn’t happen overnight just like I didn’t get fat overnight. I need therapy. I need support. Hell, I probably need meds. 

I guess I just want you to be a little extra kind to the next obese person you see. They might have just had to contort themselves into a pretzel just for the sake of peeing and that sucks.

Post-Live Note: 

I do have hopes that someday I can use this blog to be a tool of how you can cook and eat out but make healthy choices. It takes a lot of will power and I'm not very good with that right now - but I do have hope that I'll get there. 
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