I am changing. With the help of many - I am changing. However, some aspects of these changes are taking much longer than I expected. I can be patient, and I do accept the process. I accept this slow changing process with patience and understanding, but that is not to say that I sometimes ( a lot of the times) also accept this very slow process with sarcasm, bitterness, and a foul smelling funk.

Smells

It’s like a mix of yeast, soggy peanuts, and humidity. It won’t leave me. It follows me around—the back of my neck, the spot between my breasts, the moisture between my legs, it’s always there. Can you smell it? Can he smell it? I shower, I clean, I scrub—but it still remains my trademark odor; as if I am an oven preparing oat nut bread on my thighs,  croissants around my neck, and biscuits under the rolls of my flesh. It is my scent. A scent nobody would want to emulate. Who would want to capture the stench that I have become—the essence of failure, depression, and a lackluster oomph of being?

Well it’s with me, it’s what I carry on me when I sit, stand, sleep, and sweat—it is my brand, my eau due toilette; my 300+lb toilet water that was created through years of immobility, binging, and compulsion. It wasn't always so noticeable--at 285 it was barely a scent, at 250 I could carry myself without my nose acknowledging my fat, and anything below 235 was the scent of a clean, fresh, and somewhat desirable aroma. I hate peanuts and I vow to never make homemade bread.

Yes, I had a very negative attitude towards myself when I wrote this, but it WAS true. While I was writing, I realized that I had never ever heard anyone else talk about the smells that some overweight - I mean really overweight people have, including me. I smelled it on myself, and I prayed that nobody else did. Since no one else talked about it, I thought it was just me - I thought I was the only person who smelled a warm, soggy, type odor on herself. Thankfully once I started getting help and TALKING about this smell - other people related with me. I wasn't alone. 

Thankfully I do not extrude this body perfume of mine anymore. I am slowly bottling it up, and I plan on taking this bottle of failure, depression, and layers of fat very, very far away

Sister Rose