My weight has fluctuated up and down my entire life, totaling 141 pounds. Wow. Just did the math from when I was a teenager and became so obsessed with not eating (very limited) resulting in a 27 pound weight loss taking me down to 97 pounds, to today, including the several times I was up and down. That doesn’t count a few pounds up and down here and there. And to think there are some people who have never had problems with their weight or just have a great metabolism and are naturally skinny. Why can’t I be one of those people? I’ve lost weight on Jenny Craig and on Weight Watchers (not the first time as a teen – that was just really unhealthy). I know what my happy weight is (at least the magic number on the scale) but yet I seem to always “let myself go”. I sabotage myself. I know what I’m doing and I know how to fix it, but I don’t. I binge eat and drink. Everything in my life is good. Great husband, beautiful home, awesome job, dear friends and family and the best doggy and two cats in the world…but I have this one stupid thing that I could do without. Then again, can I do without it? Is this what an addiction to something is like? I let this stupid eating disorder and body image disorder rule my life. I take medication for depression yet that doesn’t always seem to help. My thoughts are CONSTANTLY on my body and how fat it is. I think about the fat hanging over my pants and my thighs spreading out in the chair I’m sitting in and my arm fat bulging out of my tops where the tops fit the rest of me just fine. When I’m doing yoga and trying to meditate I’m thinking about my fat. I am envious of women who truly are happy with their bodies when they have a few extra pounds on them. I’d like to think that I can be that person – comfortable in my own skin no matter what – but I’m not. I’m not comfortable in my own skin when I’m overweight. I finally realized that most people aren’t looking at me thinking what I’m thinking about myself. It probably doesn’t cross their mind when looking at me that I’m “fat”. They look at me for me. But when I look at me (pictures recently) I don’t see me. I don’t know who that body belongs to. I let the hatred towards my body define me. Why? Funny thing is too, when I’m “skinny” I still don’t like to “show off” my body. I don’t wear shorts. Period. When I’m “fat”, I think, man, I should have worn shorts and other things that skinny girls can wear. Oh what I’d do to be able to be skinny and wear those things now. I have an awesome wardrobe. In so many sizes (0 to 8). I know it’s really bad when I start wearing the same things over and over again just because they are comfortable and I feel those clothes also help hide my fat. It’s too bad really. All those cute clothes going to waste. I also feel that I don’t dress myself up to look nice either. I feel like a frump.
Feeling like this also doesn’t help while my husband and I are trying to get pregnant. After suffering an ectopic pregnancy I feel like I’ve been sabotaging myself more since the termination. Termination. Sounds horrible. I know the baby couldn’t survive, but there still was a baby growing inside of me. When perhaps I should have been treating my body like a temple after that loss, I started treating it worse. Like I’m punishing myself. I have feelings of hopelessness about becoming a mom and my husband becoming a dad. I used to say that I didn’t want children. Honestly I think I said that before because I couldn’t imagine being pregnant and being fat and gaining weight. How stupid is that? Still, that’s what I think. I also didn’t know my husband back then and finding him, the one person on this earth made for me, I believe that also changed my thoughts on having a child. I want nothing more than to be a mom and a parent to a healthy baby with my husband.
Every week I come up with a new plan. I’m going to do this and not that. I’m going to eat only fruit and veggies. I’m going to exercise like crazy. Then I slip. I let one small slip turn into a huge slip. Then try to start all over again. A healthy moderation of everything would be great. I’ve been there at some points in my life and want to get there again. The stress and obsession of trying to get pregnant probably doesn’t help. The worst part is when people say “just relax”. Are you kidding me?