I hate my body.
I’m fat, seriously overweight even. As I write this, I’m 138kg (2kg down already) which is considered bad unless I’m a bodybuilder, which I’m not! My BMI is high, in the 40s. I’m at risk for all kinds of diabetes (which I have a bloody blood test every year for), heart disease, not to mention the varicose veins I’ve had the last year or so, and now a sodding leg ulcer. Fuck.
I’m writing this having been to the doctor today about the leg ulcer, and being told that I HAVE to lose weight. I have been trying believe me.
Five years ago, it was a similar story, although not quite so many health risks. I was 151kg when we lost Melody, having been living off takeaways and pies and such for the five weeks whilst she was in hospital. Afterwards, not only did I finally…
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