A weighty issue

Somehow the little bits of weight that I have put on have turned into an enormous stomach.  I look like the creature that ate Cushie.  I am extremely embarrassed about my huge belly.  I am tending to try to hold my stomach in (believe me this does not work) all the time.  I try not to eat in public because I feel like people are waiting for me to burst whilst they work out the number of calories I am consuming with gusto.  I have persuaded myself into thinking that donuts consumed outside the shops have no calories.  I eat them crouched down in my car seat and trying to shield the Donut King bag in my lap.  Well let's face it I don't really have a lap.

I am worried that I will have to ask for an extension seat belt in the plane at Christmas time, so I have taken some steps in my weight gain/loss saga.  I bought a box of Optifast.  I was terribly saddened to find out that they do not make you less hungry.  The other problem is that they are expensive.  If I had three a day they would only last for four days.  Piffle.  I hate being fat but I also hate having to cut out starchy foods.  I want to eat bread and bread and bread and biscuits and ice-cream and in fact every fattening thing known to man/woman.

I was a skinny baby, a skinny toddler and a skinny school girl.  Just before I got married in 1967 I started taking the pill. The pill had an unfortunate effect on me and I became incredibly hungry so I managed to put on a stone in a month.  I couldn't get into or out of my clothes.  I have slowly put on more and more weight since then.  As this is my sixtieth decade I am sure you can imagine just how extremely obese I am.  Don't get me wrong I am still able to walk and get up and down off my chair and the bed but my centre of gravity has markedly altered.

My trips to the physio are suspended.  He always wants me to turn over which exposes my immense belly.  I hate it since he is beautiful and slim.  The doctor always looks at me and suggests things like that disgusting word "WALKING."  I have no get up and go, that has got up and gone.  I need a person to bash on the door and force me to come out and walk. I think about walking but it never goes beyond that.

I would like a miracle drug to take every night so that in the morning I have lost a kilo.  Why doesn't someone invent that I say?  So as we say farewell picture my huge tummy wobbling like a jelly and finally ingesting the whole Cushie and forming some other type of life form, 'The Blob'.