Two years since I last did a post on here, and I thought I should make apologies and excuses but then I thought nah fuck it, I’ll just tell you all what’s happened. Not gonna proof read this either, so forgive the odd spelling mistakt.
I didn’t want to write on here for loads of reasons and I even went to delete it a couple of times and decided against it. I have had really tough couple of years and I’m a total mess.
I’m going to be 30 this year and I have literally spend what should be the best decade of my life sat on my fat ass killing myself with food. So yeah I’m a bit of a misery guts, no fucking apologies, and I haven’t wanted to be here. A few months after I last posted I was still being a useless pig and carrying on without a single fuck left to give when I woke up one morning with the worst migraine of my life, I was puking and crying and dizzy, I couldn’t see out of my right eye and my whole body was uncoordinated. I was like that for a week, barely able to keep any food or even drink down, before my doctor came over and sent me to hospital. I’d had a mini stroke only this one had actually caused some brain damage. I got better in the hospital, had a new prescription and came home. I still have trouble seeing from my right eye compared to my left and I still get dizzy spells but I’m otherwise ok.
When I say I came home though, I didn’t come back to my flat. Dad was there when I was taken out, he had to remove the front door so I could be safely moved out, and I remember the look in his eyes as I was wheeled out with an oxygen mask on, he’d completely lost his patience with me. He cleared out my stuff and brought it home, had the place professionally cleaned and rented out my room. He let Vicky stay though which is something. I came back to live with my mum and dad and we were immediately arguing. They put me on a strict diet and I couldn’t argue, I couldn’t leave. Obviously I tried to get around this by ordering food but dad took my money away, then I ordered takeaway anyway expecting mum to be embarrassed into paying. I got a pizza delivered and dad answered, paid the man then took it around to the bin outdoors and threw it away. I was livid, he was absolutely mental, he took my phone and laptop away so I couldn’t do it again. There was some screaming and crying and I acted like a fucking two year old for way longer than I would like to admit, but eventually I had to settle into the arrangement like an adult.
Life was fucking horrible. I felt like shit all day and I didn’t even have food to keep me happy. I played videogames when I didn’t have a stinking headache, was only eating 2000 calories a day and drinking nothing but water. And when I say nothing I mean nothing, I was going through a couple of bottles of spirits and a dozen cans of lager every week at my flat, let alone 2 or 3 big bottles of pop throughout the day, but I had to just go cold turkey in the hospital and after a while I was used to it.
I have to admit I felt a lot better over the following months. I had my first Christmas around my family that year where I wasn’t confined to a bed or sofa in fucking ages. I didn’t leave the house all year though, my legs are completely fucked. I’m going to be in a wheelchair for life, the cartilage in my knees is all gone and the joints are fucked. I’ve still got fluid retention in my lower legs and my ankles are like huge hams, I can just about stand to get out of my chair for the loo or bed. I’m showering much more often now too, several times a week, so my rolls don’t have time to get infected, which was something that happened a few times before. It was a huge worry before because I knew everytime I washed them that I wasn’t doing it right. I still need mum’s help and I’m still signed off as disabled, that’s pretty much going to be the rest of my life now.
I had terrible hunger pains the whole time up until xmas, my stomach was just so used to the food that nothing short of a family meal was going to satisfy me. I cried a lot especially at night and guilt tripped my mum a lot but she was strong for a long time. The diet period ended around Christmas, I wasn’t in immediate danger of dying, but there were no takeaways or fast food, mum just gave in after Christmas with things like muffins and donuts. I stopped losing weight around then and I’m somewhere around 30 stone now. I don’t have to eat a lot to keep my weight this high though, I’m pretty much completely sedentary. All I have to do is move out of my wheelchair a few times a day with help, so I only really need a few thousand calories and I must be getting them all because these deflated rolls of pork have gone nowhere for a while now. I don’t get to stuff myself the way I’d like but occasionally mum will make a totally massive meal just so I can feel full for a change, usually something like pasta or mashed potato to bulk it out, but its not as frequent as I’d like.
I knew you wouldn’t want to hear any of this so I didn’t write it. I tried a couple of times and just got to this point and figured my days as a circus fat lady are over so why bother with the blog. Well that was what I was thinking for a long while but Vicky somewhat took up my role of family shame over the past few months and that’s a story you probably will like. Fucking perverts.
Bear in mind I’m telling this from what she told me so it might be a bit awkward to read. Anyway, after I got kicked out she got a lot of shit off my mother for helping me get this bad, but especially for not doing much when I had the stroke. To be fair I didn’t have a clue and I often felt that shit. I guess the eye should have given away that there was a problem but whatever. She had lost me, basically her only friend, a stranger moved in who didn’t want to know her and she spent a lot of time in her room just watching TV, she told me she just didn’t know what to do.
Without my bad influence and sending her to get fast food and takeaways her weight dropped off quite quickly. She was 40 stone when I’d last seen her, when she came to visit me in summer she was probably less than 30 but told me she’d not used a scale. She said she was hungry all the time but that overall she felt better and could walk around the flat now without wanting to pass out. She even started doing the cleaning again. She wanted me back in the flat but that wasn’t going to happen. Without me there she couldn’t claim a carer’s allowance and that was really fucking up her finances. She saw her doctor about signing off as disabled like me but the doctor just gave her a note for the job centre saying that she had limited fitness and wouldn’t be able to take on demanding roles, so the job centre basically ignored it and she had to apply for work. I haven’t worked in a long time now but I know its gotten harder out there and nobody was going to take her on for anything.
She kept complaining that she couldn’t be expected to get a job with her limited mobility (a slightly cheeky over exaggeration) and they eventually sent her for a disability assessment. She had to attend a meeting at an old council office, she was asked some questions by a nurse with a computer who wasn’t interested in anything and then had to have a meeting with a couple of arse holes who obviously didn’t want her claiming anything. They asked her about all sorts of personal stuff and she had to tell them she can barely walk, she struggles even getting dressed, her legs and back hurt constantly, she has trouble breathing and she’s diabetic, but they just didn’t give a fuck and sent her home. She got a letter back from the job centre saying she was declared fit for work. I told her she should have borrowed my fucking wheelchair.
After that she failed to show up for a few interviews and had her benefits stopped. My dad didn’t charge her rent because shes family and that was part of the deal when she moved in but she didn’t have any money for anything and she didn’t want to ask anyone either. I didn’t have any to give her myself or I would have.
So a few weeks go by and she comes over really upset about everything, says she’s going to lose her car because she can’t afford the insurance, so we talked about stuff she could do. My mum saw her crying, weedled it all out and then gave her 400 to get her by for a few days and so she could keep her car, but we still didn’t know what to do after that. The thing is, I knew exactly where she could get pretty much unlimited food from.
I’d kept in touch with Steven over the years, quietly so my dad and his wife didn’t kill him, and I still knew his email address so I told Vicky to just email him, say I said hi and explain why I wasn’t online and see if he wanted to chat. She got a email back before the end of the day and they were chatting probably more than I ever had. Obviously he did exactly what I expected he would do and the moment he realised a fat girl needed food he was round the flat with bags of takeaway.
I will admit, even though we don’t have much of a relationship anymore, since I got my phone back he’s brought me over a fair few mcdonald’s meals when my parents have been out....
Vicky is somewhat impressionable and Steve is very persuasive so she was basically fucked and I should have known better, or at least felt worse. But frankly I can’t feel much other than jealous. He has spent the last year and a half feeding the living shit out of her and to be honest I’m amazed she’s still alive because he had me eating so much it was coming out of my ears. She was back at around 40 stone as of last summer and I haven’t seen her since. Apparently she’s too big for her car now and doesn’t leave the flat. There’s nobody to drag her away like there was with me and nobody in my family knows that Steve is feeding her so they’ve just carried on. Even better for him, he got divorced years ago now so its plain sailing and he only has to hide from Vicky’s family rather than his own. So I don’t know whats going to happen but I’ll be sure to post something when I hear back,
My life is completely boring now and my diet is mostly bland and uninteresting. I game all day, don’t get much to snack on and can’t drink because of some of the medication I’m on now. I have an oxygen mask for most of the day and all night because my blood oxygen is so low without it. It doesn’t look like things are going to get any better because these are all lifetime issues now apparently, and I now qualify for weight loss surgery which would improve my life and my chances of living past 40 by a huge margin. So that might happen too. Fuck knows. I don’t know or care anymore. Hope this wasn’t too depressing.