I'm Fat; Grossly Obese, Morbidly Flabby, A Blubber Balloon.

I'm fat. I'm really fat. At 257 pounds, I weigh more than I ever have in my life. I'm more than 100 pounds heavier than I was the day I got married all those years ago. Since getting diagnosed with ALS, I've gained 40 pounds. In the last year I've gained 17 pounds. I'm not just a bit fat. I'm grossly obese, a lump of gelatinous dead weight sitting in a wheelchair. My body looks disgusting; my shape is lumpy round. I hate this.

It's not just that I am fat. It's that all of this extra weight is around my belly and chest. I've had to buy new pants with a bigger waistline. For the first time in my life, I have boob fat under my arms. I look terrible. Yet my arms and legs are getting skinnier every day. I'm like the Stay Puff marshmallow man, only with twigs for my limbs instead of a layer of well distributed subcutaneous flab. I hate this.

It's all come to a bit of a head this morning. My HCA was helping dry me off after my shower. While I was sitting there, naked on the edge of the bed, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the horror of my own body. I commented to her about how fat I was getting. She, wisely, said little. Then, not 15 minutes later, one of the HCA Supervisors came my apartment to discuss a problem; a couple of the HCA's had complained that my legs were too heavy to life. MY LEGS! Dammit, I'm losing mass in my legs. Alas, Katherine also says my legs are heavy. With my weakened arms, they seem pretty heavy to me too.

So here I am, sitting in my wheelchair, appalled at my shape and condition, with almost no ability to change it. I can reduce my food intake, reduce my alcohol intake. These things will certainly help me reduce my body size. On the other hand, reducing my food intake is almost certain to have an impact on the progression of ALS, and not a good one. There is a lot of research supporting this. Reducing my alcohol intake is certainly a good thing for my body, but not much fun for my life. I like wine.

This is what ALS has done to me. It has made my body a mess, my life a mess. I'm going to die from this illness. All I want to do is be happy until I die. Instead, I get to be this fat, ugly, blubber filled balloon with no mobility, no activity, no ability to get out there and be alive. I hate this fucking disease!