i talked to my mom later, who was in the kitchen having cereal. miss 2 a.m. snack looked at me and said she's concerned for my "health" and that I need to exercise more. read: i'm too fat. think: "hm, oddly reminiscent of childhood when fat mother constantly nagged at fat daughter while feeding her fattening foods or not feeding her at all and expecting the 8-year-old to miraculously be nutritious and active, despite not being allowed to join neihbourhood sports teams. hm. i smell a rat." think: "hm. bitch."

i just looked at her. tried to be calm.

"you know, you've said this before. and, like before, i'm asking you again to PLEASE STOP IT. you are really hurting my feelings."

and she wouldn't listen. she kept going on. and on. she apparently doesn't sleep because i'm so "unhealthy." thanks for the vote of confidence in your apparently morbidly obese child there, mother.

and now, i imagine my body ballooning. i almost want it to be bigger, i almost want her to stay up all night worrying because it will mean THAT I WIN. this is MY FUCKING BODY. who the fuck thinks they have the right to tell me what i should do with it? i'll cut it up into pieces if i want to. i'll starve it if i want to. i'll make it grow to size 30 if i want to.

being fat means (and has always meant) defiance against my mother. she can tell me to trim down, to lose weight.. and the more she says it, the bigger i get because the more i want to prove that she can't control me.

why do people keep pushing it? keep telling me how fat i am? as if i don't know, as if i don't see it in the mirrors and feel it in my clothes and know it when i go into a clothing store and having the sales clerks look at me, thinking, "nothing in here will fit you."

my fat is my defiance.

and now, i almost want to keep it.

is it worth the misery?

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