Can’t wait to feel like me again…
Unlike many weight loss bloggers, I am not someone who has always been overweight. In fact I have been 6 different sizes in my adult life…from 10-20 and so I not only know how it feels to be fat, I also know how it feels to be thin. Don’t get me wrong, by “thin” I mean “thin for me” which is still curvy in the right places with a soft stomach and the ghetto booty my husband first fell in love with 14 years ago. Like Heinz ketchup, when I’m “thin for me” I am still thick and zesty.
What I don’t know shit about is how to just be “thin for me”, how to just eat standard amounts of food to maintain a healthy size. I am always dieting or gaining with nothing in between. In fact, I have never even hit a plateau while on my hundreds of dieting days in my life, which has become an urban legend to me.
After I had my daughter in 2007, I suffered from post-partum depression. If you are reading this Tom Cruise just go ahead and leave my blog because it is a real thing with real side effects. I wasn’t working, had a newborn, my husband had just been let go from one job and (God bless) just started a new job, and I had a rambunctious two year old to take care in the meantime who’s idea of a nap was staying in one place for a while 5 minutes. Between our lack o f money and my lack of sleep I was in a fog most days. Because I am not an emotional eater (one blessing for me) I actually LOST weight during this time. In fact, my weight was the only thing I could be in control of and so it was therapeutic for me to measure meals and follow up with weekly weigh-ins.
As things got better, so did I, I finally got the courage to speak up at my doctor’s office and get the help I needed. I was feeling like ME again, happy, sexy, fun, a spirited mom with lots of energy and small pants. What sucks is that because things were better, and so was I, I slacked on my diet, I took my kids for Happy Meals, and filled the freezer with goodies from Costco that was now once again in the budget.
The weight that had taken me two years to loose was back in about 6 months, with 15 pounds more a year later, and 15 pounds more a year after that.
So here we are today. I am not ME again. I am trapped in this body that I hate, that makes me uncomfortable and sick, that I have no energy in, which makes me feel like a failure.
I went into Victoria’s Secret to pay my bill (don’t get excited, it’s mostly make-up and clearance bras; even while plus-size I still can fit into their now extended sizes) and no I wasn’t jealous of the bins of lacy butt floss but I saw the CUTEST Chicago Bears sweatshirt with the bear head all blinged out in blue and orange sequence from their hipper PINK line. I almost cried when I saw that sweatshirt. The ME inside can fit in the sweatshirt and roll around in the leaves with my kids on a fall day. The ME inside can sit on my husband’s lap in the recliner during a Bears game and not break the fucking thing. The ME inside can walk my dog in that sweatshirt and have neighbors secretly admire how cute it looks on me, the sequence and my smile shining in the sun.
But the ME outside has to walk past. The ME outside always misses out. The ME outside is FED THE FUCK UP.
Next Tuesday is the Psych, November 1 is the Pulmonary, then my blood tests and letter saying I’m good to go from my Primary doc and BCBS IL should have my file in their hands by the Holidays. And then, it should be a happy new year, with the new/old ME fighting her way back out of the darkness.