I am fat. I just spent about 20 minutes trying on clothes that I don’t look too stuffed into. (I didn’t succeed; I just have to go to work).
I am happy. My x doesn’t bother me with niggling questions anymore and I like the person I’m dating a lot.
I am not fat and happy, however. I hate clothes that don’t fit. I hate looking in the mirror at clothes that used to fit my body and now hug it like a lumpy sausage.
Fact is, I’m not self destructing anymore. I have an appetite. Dating people eat and drink together. There was a time when I thought I would just subsist on gin until I eventually died, and that was as an acceptable way to go as any, I thought.
So, I am grateful I’m not in that place anymore. I need to work on portion control so getting dressed is a pleasure again. And, I am happy, and I need to keep that going as long as I possibly can.