I feel sorry for all the people who know me, who have to look at me day in and day out. I especially feel sorry for my husband, who's actually married to me. I can't imagine looking at someone as freakishly ugly as me all the time.
I'm actually feeling sorry for myself at this moment. A friend posted photos of me on Facebook and, like all photos I see of my true physical self (as opposed to the one I hand-select for the world to see - photos without triple chins and freakishly ballooned arms and legs, bloated with blue veins, pulsed hanging handfuls of lard barely contained by overstretched and shiny skin), I feel sick when I see them. Utterly sick and utterly depressed.
I am what I am. I made myself this way. I'm not blaming anyone and I'm certainly not looking for either sympathy or inspiration to change myself. I'm merely using this blog the way I intended and that's as a journal of what's going on in my head. Back when nobody knew my blog existed I wrote from the heart. It was rather cathartic. Now it's always in the back of my head that maybe somebody might read it and thus I don't want to offend anyone or make them think ill of me.
Anyway, back to the self-flagellation for a moment. I'm the fat ugly friend. Everyone has one. They're great morale boosters, these ugly people. You look like movie star when you're next to a ginormous freak like myself.
I'm the Melissa McCarthy of Bridesmaids. The chubby one. That's OK for you, you fit person, you of the attractive face and slender body. You don't mind hanging around the chubby one. But having come to the realization (a long time ago) that I'm the chub in the crowd, well, that's just not cool.
People are nice to me. I have friends. They don't seem to mind that I'm the freak of the crowd. At least they never say that. But they must be thinking it. I'm part of their view, after all. Or I'm blocking their view.
Anyway, my apologies to everyone, especially my handsome husband. Poor guy. He could have any woman, and he's stuck with me.