The most embarrassing day of my life.

I decided when I started this blog that I would be as open and as honest as I possibly could about my weight struggles, and my feelings before and during my weight loss journey. There have been many people that I have encountered that have no problem reminding me of my weight, regardless of whether or not they know. My own grandmother has told me that the dress I was wearing made me look like I had sausage casing on my rolls. I had two people within 20 minutes of each other either call me the fat chick, or a fat cunt. Just because I brushed it off, does not mean I have forgotten.

The one thing however, I cannot brush off is the day that I went to Six Flags and the pure self loathing I felt. I  had been so excited on the ride to the park. We were listening to 90s music, and I felt like a little kid. Giddy because I was going to a park, nervous because I hate roller coasters, but mostly I felt truly happy because I would be spending the day with my best friends. 

The first ride we went on was a little kid's ride. The one with the ship where it goes back and forth. I chose that ride because I am a fussy baby and I can't handle roller coasters. It was basically all (hot) dads and tiny children. I felt comfortable knowing that I wasn't going to plummet to my death.

We decided to venture out to try more roller coasters, and while my heart was beating like a drum line, I agreed to try it out. We waited in line, and finally after what felt like a lifetime, we reached the front. I tried getting into the ride, and closing myself in with immediate panic setting in. I was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and trying to hold back the hot tears that I could feel springing up in my eyes. Before the ride attendant could even reach me, I jumped out of the bucket and told my friends I would see them after the ride. I stood in the corner, and held back the sobs that were quickly rising in my chest. I would not let any one in the park see me cry. I would make them think that I had chosen to get off due to my fear, and not my weight. 

That was not the only ride I had tried to go on. After the second attempt at a roller coaster with the same results, as a group we decided to ride a water ride. It was hot, I was miserable, and I wanted some validation that I wasn't the most disgusting person in Six Flags.

We chose a ride with 6 seats in it, and a family of 3 joined us in the ride. Everyone had buckled, and my sausage fingers were still fumbling with the buckle when the ride attendant came over to check. I sat on my buckle to make it look like it had been fastened because I refused to be turned away again. The mother and son had spotted my predicament and could see how red my face was, and kept quiet. (I don't think they knew how much I appreciated that, and how I still fondly think of them.) We took off, and the whole time I kept thinking about falling out and being dragged under and what the headlines would read. I couldn't even enjoy myself because I was too terrified of dying. 

Finally the scariest ride of my life was over, and I was back on solid land; feeling no less defeated than I had before I went on the water ride. To the everlasting credit of my friends, they knew that I was ready to go and none of them put up a fight. They quietly suggested it, shut down any talk of how I was ruining their fun, and we made our way back to the parking lot. I don't know if I ever thanked them, or if they ever knew how much my heart swelled with love for them. But it did. And I thank them now.

This was the most embarrassing day of my life. The only people that know this story are the people that were there with me. To this day, they still maintain that I was able to ride each ride with them, and only talk about the good times we shared. I'll never forget their kindness, and their acceptance without judgement.

But the worst part of all this was not the fact that I couldn't ride anything at Six Flags, but it was the fact that even after this day I did not stop myself in my tracks and change. I allowed myself to put on more weight, and make more excuses as to the reason why I was eating. 

I do not tell this story to garner pity or remorse for me. I tell this story to hold me accountable, and to remember what I felt that day. And to remember that I never want to go back to that. I tell this story because it is a big part of me, whether or not I like it. The only thing I can do from here is press on, and realize that I am currently on the ride of my life and that there's no getting off.