I’m (Still) Sick of Being Fat
I’ve had enough, it’s time for weight-loss surgery.
In New South Wales, Australia we are just emerging from a lock down that exceeded four months. After more than six months of relative freedom, which included interstate travel, the Delta strain plunged us back into a life of working from home, limited interactions with others and restrictions on our daily movements.
Like so many my husband and I were desperate for a change of scenery. As I write this I’m sitting in a beautiful hotel in the mountains, five days in, to a six day escape.
Unfortunately it’s been raining, a lot. I could blame that for the lack of hiking and bike riding, but the truth is there is something far more restrictive to our leisure activities than the weather could ever be.
Our enjoyment of life is restricted on a daily basis, by the state of my body.
I feel like a hypocrite, and you may agree
It’s been a little over a year since a I wrote my first article about my 30 year struggle with my weight. My story, I’m Sick of Being Fat, was well received and continues to be read by dozens of people every day.
And that makes me feel guilty.
