Who is that person?? Seems like a lifetime ago, and not just a year ago. Or just a bad dream really, because I can’t possibly for one minute even believe I ever existed like that at all. That I lived in that body, that was never me on the inside even though I was betrayed on the outside. I fucked up. I owned it. I don’t want to look at it myself it brings so much pain to my eyes, but I have to look at it. Really fucking stare at it until my eyes go cross because unless I do that I won’t feel all the pain I need to feel to know I can’t ever go back there again to that horrible, God-awful place. The people in your life will always love you unconditionally, but I don’t love myself unconditionally. I don’t love myself gluttonous and unhealthy and living a life with one foot in the grave. Through it all my husband was never “different” to me. I don’t know how he dealt with me like that. He says because he loves me. Nice answer but I wouldn’t want to be with someone that overweight, I am vain like that, I have standards when it comes to the health and attractiveness of my mate. Is that so wrong? Am I a shallow bitch? Guess it doesn’t matter, I am a shallow bitch when it comes to myself. I can’t erase the past no matter how hard I try. I can’t not think about that person that was hiding under all the baggage and weight, like I was only just deep inside wearing a fat costume. But I have escaped, and just like a prisoner of war I have to keep that horrible memory with me so I don’t slip. It is still a nightmare in my daily life I struggle with. The emotional baggage is agonizing. The healing begins.