Why does my weight matter

I know I’m fat, I’m aware I’m in the backswing of having anorexia for over a decade, don’t tell you that when your in the hospital that it’s going to swing wildly and disordered in the other direction, so I’m trying to fix it, why does my weight matter, at all? And why are my feelings about it always wrong or too much when people especially my mother make comments about it , I’m always meant to get over what other people say but not one takes into account that I, a human being, might have feelings. I have eyes I’m aware of what I look like now. I’m ashamed I have feelings at all. If my brain had a power cord I’d rip that worthless shit out of the wall. No more thoughts feelings or consciousness. Here’s an extra bit of shame ; I spent few minutes punching the shit out of the wall split the skin on not one but two knuckles , like the genius I am. and now I can’t even light a cigarette because it hurts to straighten my hands . I’m too old to still be doing any of this god I wish I had an off switch

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