I must be careful not to be seen as I cross the parking lot from the drugstore to the alley where I'll duck in the back door to work. Once there, I'm happy to share my loot but as I dodge fashionable moms, grad students, and Jewish grandmas I'm glad that I changed my mind and got a bag to carry my purchase. It's one thing for a skinny chick to be seen carrying Oreos and milk. Even other skinny people think something along the lines of, "Gawd, I bet she can eat anything. Ugh, look at her and her stupid skinny legs." It's quite another for the fat chick to carry the Oreos. It's like a greedy little Gus the mouse in Cinderella trying to carry too much corn-- only not so cute. Even the other fat people look at her disgustedly thinking, "Doesn't she know how she got that way?"

Yup, I know I how I got that way. Instant gratification. I want milk and Oreos. I want it now. I want it more than I believe I can be skinny in 6 months, so snack time wins. Actually, it was lunch, but whatever. A meal by any other name...

Of course, there's a million and one ways I got this way. When I was 10, my metabolism got all freaked out because I nearly died. I hate exercise and always have. My knees are bad. I have fibromyalgia. I have no discipline, I have low frustration tolerance, and I cannot, for the life of me, actually see how I will be skinny in a few months unless I change everything. And I can't change everything. So I eat Oreos and hope my boyfriend still loves me and hope that I still love myself.

I wish a doctor would tell me that I have to change. But so far none have. Doctors have gone really soft these days. My last doctor visit was to a neurologist for migraines. She gave me a list of medications and told me that I should choose a couple and let her know what I wanted to take. Since when, I ask, am I the doctor? What do I pay her for? The problem with the weight/eating issue is that I can't tell a doctor to tell me what to do or I won't feel like they really have that authority over me.

In the meantime, I will probably continue to be consistently inconsistent at the gym, embarrassed to be seen in public, and will eventually look back at myself at this time and wonder how I was ever this skinny. How depressing.