The Weight of Reality, The Reach for the Stars

If you had read my post The Human Garbage Dump where I got real on dealing with my weight, well here’s the sequel.

I have always struggled with my weight. Who hasn’t? Everyone has at some point.

Even Chris Pratt.

In full transparency, Mr. Pratt has firmly become my new obsession besides the obvious reason. Because, y’know.


No, Lex. I have no idea what you mean...
No, Lex. I have no idea what you mean…


But he’s given a real and very public face to struggling with weight.

As you know, I’ve been doing Weight Watchers for years. And I do mean years. I’ve gained. I’ve lost. I’ve gotten on the wagon, but the wagon became a treadmill going nowhere.

Pratt was nominated of the Sexiest Men Alive in 2014, yet his own self-image of the “heavy funny guy” remains.

Since Guardians of the Galaxy and Jurassic World, he’s been hounded by repeated questions about his weight. He’s given a frank discussion about dealing with a host of health issues from depression, poor self-image, fatigue, and hiding in a “costume” of his weight.

Somehow, this clicked for me. A complete breath of fresh air. Not only has the tables been turned about women being hounded about questions on staying slim and how they fit into their costumes (Sorry ScarJo!) The table has been flipped and set on fire because Pratt, a guy, is sharing his story down to the tragic details.

I’ve always frankly discussed my weight. I’ve also encouraged others, shared tips, cooked up storm with creating recipes, ran a weight loss blog about my journey. It all felt so hollow. It all felt like screaming into the wind. I don’t know if I wanted a pat on the back, or to inspire someone else, but the truth is I absolutely did. We all crave validation. And nothing made me crave validation more than that.

And when it didn’t come… I ate.

But my issues with my emotions and food have been a lifelong battle.

I’ve coped with a lot of tragic happenings in my life with food. My response to dealing with surviving domestic violence is to hide it in a “costume” as it were of fat. If I was funny and charismatic, I wouldn’t be considered love interest material. I could cover my poor body image with snark.


You can hide anything with a laugh and a smile.


Chris Pratt actually turned down the role of Star-Lord in Guardians of the Galaxy at first because he didn’t think he was good enough. And he was still heavy, but he had Peter Quill’s charm and charisma.

In late May, I went to my doctor because all of a sudden in the course of six hours my body had swelled so bad all of a sudden my shoes didn’t fit. I couldn’t even get my foot in them.


Guinness World Record of Cankles.


I was pretty terrified. And then I got on the scale at the doctor and was smacked with the harsh reality I had gained back every last pound I had lost since 2013. Not only every single one, but more.

My doctor, who’s usually a very kind and upbeat person, put on her disappointed mom hat, and I was given yet another medication and told effective immediately, to sit and keep my feet up at all times, and never touch sodium ever again. She was pissed. This was a woman at the end of her rope. And a woman I didn’t want to disappoint.

Now I’ve followed her orders and I feel awesome and my check-up is this Thursday. But I’m freaking out. I’ve lost 12 pounds, which is a yay but now I’m on the cusp of worrying if I’m doing things right, and if I’m good enough.

Or if I’m always going to be the “fat funny person.”

Fuck being the “fat funny person.”

Fuck wearing a “costume.”

Fuck being afraid.

I’m gunna be Star-Lord.

Hooked on a feelin~
Hooked on a feelin~

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