me vs. the world

i do not hate fat people.

i think sometimes that i throw that word around.

fat.

it doesn't meant to me what it might mean to you.

i was fat.
fat fat almost 300 pounds fat.

when i go places, like today when i went to mcDonalds for a playdate,
i look around and i see all these morbidly obese people with trays full of burgers and fries and full sugar cola's...ice cream.... sugared coffee that shouldn't even be able to be called coffee anymore.

i look at them and i think about the days that not only did i eat that crap (minus the meat)...
but also when i wished i could be as thin as them.
really.

i look at them and i hate that i was fatter.
i hate that i am now looked at with hatred, the way i would have once looked at me...
looked at with that "i might be fat, but at least i'm able to eat a cookie" look.

i look at them and i wonder how long it is until i become one of them again.

i realize that i've had an eating disorder of one sort or another since i was 15 years old.
i had skinny years of slim fast and pickles.
many years of fudge rounds and nachos.
and now i'm in the starve mode again. 
protein powder and rice cakes.  not together.

please, please, please don't let me be like that ever again.
the fear makes me angry.
it has made me bitter.

i'm not sure if it's the fat, the fear of being out of control, or the realization that the skinny i thought would make me happy didn't.

i often find myself stroking a bone or muscle. like a nervous habit.
like a security blanket.
i used to eat a bag of chocolate for comfort.
i wish i could find that comfort somewhere real.