Fat-Logic #2: I eat salads, I’m eating healthy!

Diary of an Ex-Fattie

Welcome back to Fat-Logic Busters. On the previous episode we tackled “I don’t have time to excercise!” This episode will focus on “healthy” foods. For those of you who are just joining us, Urban Dictionary defines Fat Logic as:

Rationalization or justification of behaviors that reinforce or keep a person fat.

Justifying eating patterns (I can only ever eat fast food, I don’t have time to go home to eat or the money to buy my own groceries and make my own food).

Rationalizing fatty behaviors (I went on the elliptical for fifteen minutes, therefore I deserve a grand feast at the Golden Corral).

I’m going to list out a bunch of different foods that have a reputation for being healthy. I want you to pay close attention to the items on this list. Some of them may surprised you while others may seem like common sense. Every…

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This is a nightmare (Silver Linings)

I never would have thought from the start of all this moving business that it would become this hard. I mean for fucks sake if its not one thing, its another, right? Nothing, and I do mean nothing has gone smoothly since we signed for this trailer. We still aren’t moved in and have been having to stay with my dad the past two nights… And its getting old already, and has me feeling anxious.

Anyways turns out our trailer sits on a “flood line” and we had to get a flood permit, or something.. And they just told us we had to get a permit to turn on the electricity IN the trailer? It’s just one thing after another. Thankfully, a nice woman working at the city permit place I went to is trying to help me not have to wait to get this flood permit, because she’s sure we sit high enough anyways. It’s just been rough. I thought this would be relatively easy, for the most part. Wronggg.

Oh well, I think I have gotten past the point of being mad, because I know I can’t literally force them to do anything. I’m pretty sure because of our age, they don’t take us seriously anyways. We’ve been bugging them though. So maybe they will just at least detail the stuff that was in there and fix the walls like they said they would… We moved all our stuff in already (mostly, the only things left is a fan and my ferret and fish). I’m just ready to start new.

I’m glad I feel better about the whole situation though. I know my mood had a lot to do with being in that messy clutter all the time. Being around my dad so much will eventually start to lead to a bit of stress too, but it is nice to spend some time with him. I do love him.

Tomorrow, I’m supposed to hear from the permit woman. I hope she has good news. I plan to wake up and go run, and then do some last minute errands. I’m mostly excited about running, though. I haven’t been taking care of myself since all this was set in motion. Feeling pretty cruddy, physically. Been eating crappy, since we have no way to cook. I’m not using that as an excuse anymore though.


I’m just glad to be turning my mood around. It’s getting easier.

I’ve noticed “silver linings” has become a bit of a catch phrase of mine. I’m proud of that.


Slash the great feeling I had going on.

Turns out because of the money it takes to turn on fucking lights (?!?!) which is $370, we probably won’t be moving for another fucking two weeks.


God we’ll be lucky if we are out of this apartment when we’re supposed to be. Like fucking seriously why do you need to charge me a $300 DEPOSIT?

I”m just so tired of even thinking about it, and getting excited about it. Because as far as I’m concerned I’m living in a shit hole thanks to these people that decide to take their sweet fucking time with everything, and now look where we are. I can’t take living like this anymore.

Fuck it.

I just don’t even care. I’ll be happy when we get there but as far as I’m concerned that just ain’t gonna fucking happen is it.

I’ll be a stressed out pissed off bitch until then. I’m over looking on the bright side of this stupid bull shit, I’ve been doing that for over a month now. My joy-well has run dry.

I’m not even going to think about it anymore. I’m here, in my little shit-hole, with loud annoying racists neighbors, bitchy little kids that like to block your entire front door and stairs, and retarded neighbors, and that is my life currently.

It’s not too late

Probably why I’m still up. Well, I guess it is all this stress and what not because I am NOT pregnant. (Thank god.)

Now, that’s off of my chest, on to more pressing things that seem to be illuminating my mind as I try to sleep (Besides this storm outside. It is nice to have a good storm though, finally.) I have been so wrapped up in my head that I just noticed tomorrow (or today, rather) is Thursday! Alreadyyy. This week has flown by for me. Probably because I have literally slept half of it away, and depression tends to make my days sort of fade together. You see, though, that means that this trailer we are moving into should be ready to actually get all of our stuff in tomorrow or the next day and I just cannot wait.

You know the first thing I’m going to do when we get all our crap in there? Clean. When we get it all in it’s place? Clean, again. And then go grocery shopping for real food. I have just been going crazy in this tiny apartment with every thing scattered around, dirty, no food, and what little food we do have.. no way to cook it. Sigh.

I know you’re probably thinking, “Why did she pack so early?” WELL GOOD FRIENDS I WILL ENLIGHTEN YOU.

Back in mid-June the people we bought the tralier from said it would be ready in two weeks (from then). Which would have been July 1st. We have to be out of this apartment by August 1st. So I’m pretty ready to just move, plus we are moving to another city about 30 minutes away so I wanted everything neatly in boxes and didn’t want to have to rush. Well it’s crunch time, couple days before July 1st and these mother fuckers say it’s not ready yet. BUT IT WILL BE… the weekend of July 4th. Okay, so I won’t unpack anything. (I have had everything packed since the last week of June.) So I pack more stuff, like our towels, everything in our pantry and I leave some cans of green beans, corn, and things in our fridge to eat. We didn’t buy any groceries because we didn’t want to risk them going bad or getting beaten up on the drive.

Well here it is July mother-fucking 11th and we have been living in a cramped, box-filled, becoming more dirty by the day tiny apartment for almost a month.

I am an extremely clean and tidy person. I hate having things out of place for more than a day or two and can’t stand it when things are dirty. And I just quite literally haven’t been able to clean because there is no point. I can’t put up anything. It’s just been awful.

Drinking 4 days last weekend hasn’t helped my mental game either. Plus the dirtiness, the stress of the move, our money troubles, me with no job, the pregnancy scare, the fact I feel like a total fat ass for eating this bullshit that’s been left here, or fast food….


Things are finally coming to a close, here in this city. I’m excited to be moving, and meeting new people and being in a new place and finding new places and new things. This is a nice fresh start in a place we can actually say is ours and I’m just so ready to start. Start getting this debt taken care of, and planning for things we want to do. To get my life back on track and start working out and taking better care of myself, and eating better, and ahhh I just have such high hopes for this year to come. I want to change a lot. Myself, really.

I’m tired of hating myself, and thinking I’m some shit person, when I’m really not. I just need to get that through my thick skull. I will. For me the mental comes a lot from the physical. I’m in no way obese, or even that overweight, but I know if I don’t start treating myself better I’ll never actually feel better.

Ya dig?

I feel so awful

I had a nightmare last night that I found out I was pregnant again, and in my dream my aunt told me I should just get another abortion, because I don’t need a kid.

I don’t need one, and don’t want one. I don’t know if it’s that dream and the stress from the move and the depression or what but I just feel physically ill, my stomach hurts, and all I’ve been doing the past 2-3 days is wanting to sleep all day. I’m starting to freak out and get scared and I really don’t know what to do with myself, I just want to feel better.

I’m starting to feel that uneasyness that comes along before panic attacks and that’s not good. I don’t know what to do about it. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a full blown anxiety or panic attack and I don’t know what to do. I just don’t want to be pregnant, I know that much.

I had missed the last 3 pills of my birth control, and of course, I have sex.. We use the “pull-out” method along with the pill, but I’m still scared. If I still feel shitty tomorrow I’ll just go ahead and get a test. I just.. I want this feeling to go away. God, I just woke up at 11 A.M., it’s only 1:37 P.M. and I bet I could go to sleep right now.

I have been staying at home a lot and not really doing much so that could also make me just wanna sleep…. right?

God, I thought writing would make me feel better but I’m just making myself feel worse. I suppose the last thing I need to do right now is think.

I cut myself last night.

It’s been years since I last hurt myself like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just lately things are getting stressful and I just cracked. I feel awful about myself right now. I thought that part of my life was a phase, ya know? Something brought on by teenage hormones and all that bullshit.

I guess not.

I mean… I know I won’t do it again now. I feel really bad about doing it, and I think being drunk was the last little push I needed to just not care and do it. So I’ll probably stop drinking so much now, too. I told my fiance about it earlier this morning.

See, I could have woken him up last night, talked to him and it wouldn’t have happened. But he told me that he would hurt me if I hurt myself. Slap the shit out of me, or something along those lines. So I didn’t tell him. And I told him that’s why I didn’t tell him. He realizes now that that was not the best thing to say or the best way to handle that certain situation. I don’t hate him for it, and I understand why he would think to say that to me. 

It hurt his feelings that I did it. I do know that I won’t do it again. For him, and me.

I just have this feeling of dread today, and I’ve pretty much slept all day. I feel gross, and just not right because of what I did.

It’ll go away though, this feeling. I’m going to start actively trying to change my life and the way I live it. Eating better, working out more, maybe even some meditation.

I need to do something. I need to just learn to love myself.

I believe that this is the first step.

Sleep, or lack thereof.

I’m one of the seemingly many people nowadays that just can’t seem to get to sleep. I know, its only 1AM here, but when I put my phone down and lay here, I tend to think too much. I think about things that worry me, or make me sad or just plain scare me. When my mind does decide to be quiet I can hear my heartbeat so loud, like a drum in my ears and I wonder when it will stop.

Then comes the anxiety. Always after I start listening to my heartbeat I get that anxious “I’m not okay” feeling. Then I get up. I can’t sleep.

When I was little I lived with my grandma off and on a lot, and night time with her was the worst. It was always when it got past a certain time at night.. probably around 8 or 9.. I started having trouble breathing. Getting scared for no reason. Knowing I had to get to sleep was just the worse, and I dreaded it every single night.

Only now do I realize I was having anxiety attacks. Some things start young I guess.

Now here I go again.

Sleep, can you find me?