why fat girls are funny

Well, we went to the gym last night for our evaluation. At the risk of later regretting it, I may as well go ahead and tell you all…

I weigh 264 pounds right now. What the hell??? How did I even get here??

In addition to the aforementioned way-too-high number, I have about 49% body fat, and according to our trainer guy, that’s about 120 pounds.

What? I’m carrying around 120 pounds of fat? What am I, an Eskimo? It’s TEXAS, it doesn’t get 80 below zero here… there is no way I need to be that insulated. If I were carrying around, say, 120 pounds of books or 120 pounds of cereal or 120 pounds of baloney, I would think, good grief, this is ridiculous.

Well, this is ridiculous.

I know that it’s impossible for women to lose all of their body fat, and that in order to be healthy we HAVE to have body fat, and if I ever want to have a child, you guessed it, body fat.

But 120 pounds?

My reaction so far has been unpredictable. When the LA Weight Loss people told me how much I weighed, I literally started to cry. But I was so pissed that there was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to be paying them to make me drink their weird little bio-engineered juice products.

The difference last night? We’d already paid for the gym membership, there was already a committment. And my reaction has not been fear, or sadness, or to cry. It’s been kind of funny to me, actually. Not funny, as in “ha ha, Sarah’s fat,” but to kill it with good humor, to laugh all the way down in pant sizes.

My goal, and I don’t think this is unrealistic… to be under 200 by the time I get married. And yes, I know that muscle weighs more than fat, but I don’t care. I want to get past that psychological victory of “less than 200 pounds.” I don’t think I’ve been less than 200 pounds since high school.

So tonight – even though my original plan was MWF workouts – we’re going back to the gym. Even though my 120 pounds of fat would rather stay home for The Apprentice and the hockey game.

You know, I may be onto something, thinking about my 120 pounds of fat as an extra entity… like a monkey on my back. Maybe future entries will go like this:

“So, today the fat and I went to the zoo, where the fat asked me to buy it an ice cream cone, and I told it no. So we walked all around and then some of the fat got mad and left. Oh well, only 110 pounds of fat now.”

Heehee… I think I’d like writing entries about my evil fat buddy. Maybe some of that fat has made its way between my ears… I’m starting to get silly.

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3 responses to “why fat girls are funny

  1. I know you can do it! We can share recipes and workout routines! I guess my goal is to get my stomach looking decent enough to pierce my belly button. That’s been my goal for almost 10 years. You can do it though!

  2. Sarah, you and I sound like we were separated at birth! 😉 I’m loving your blog, and btw, welcome to SMAO! I’ll look for you here and there, and if you ever have time, feel free to peruse my own blog: http://incredibleshrinkingviolet.blogspot.com/
    I’ll be away all next week (on my honeymoon!) but back to the ol’ grind after that!

  3. What’s weird is that there’s this George R. R. Martin short story about just that–a fat monkey on one’s back. It’s called “The Monkey Treatment.”

    I always thought you were beautiful just as you are, but I can’t argue with being healthier. Exercise does wonders for one’s state of mind. My life has changed since I discovered yoga.

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