I got nothin'

I can't imagine the woman at the well being invited to any of the "what's cool in home sales" parties to which I've been invited in the past year, let alone actually show up. And yet she is the person in the Bible I relate to most. Our situations aren't exactly the same (I've never been married even once) and yet somehow I feel like I could sit and talk with her. I don't believe she would judge me, and I don't know that I could judge her. It seems like everybody knew who she was... she had no airs... so when she showed up to the well to get water it wasn't like she was trying to hid anything. She wasn't parading around or blowing a trumpet, but she wasn't trying to hide in the shadows, either. She wore her situation, not proudly, but openly for all to see. 

That's kind of what it's like, for me, being obese.

I'm not fooling anyone by wearing my clothes a little baggy. (Although the bigger I get the harder it is for me to find clothes that actually ARE baggy.) My shapeless t-shirts and hoodies may cover up my individual rolls of fat, but they don't hide my size. Nobody assumes the shape of my shadow isn't indicative of my actual height and weight. There's no tiny mouse coming over the horizon at the bottom of that huge, scary, monster, shadow. The shadow is huge because I'm huge. Don't tut-tut me, or mentally tell me to "hush." This is no fishing expedition. I'm not looking for pity, or comfort, or for someone to make excuses for me. I'm showing up at the well, trying to get some water. I'm not proud, but I'm not going to try and hide it anymore.

Because the fact is, it's not pretty. It's not ideal. It's not easy. It's not working. Everything I've ever done in the past to try and get over this shit has failed. I have failed. Or if it isn't a matter of me failing, it's a matter of things not working out. Me quitting a diet program too soon? Failure. Me giving in to my addiction and eating that food that will send me back to square one? Failure. Me joining a gym only to show up for a week then bail? Failure. Me being dishonest on my food journal? Failure. Me skipping a meeting because I've had a set-back? Failure. Gastric by-pass surgery? No insurance coverage - didn't work out. Biggest Loser try-outs? Didn't get picked - didn't work out. And here's me showing up to the well after each "try," bigger, more out of shape, that much closer to death. No dramatic overtures here, just reality. Just failure.