I see many posts online about people struggling with weight issues and my heart goes out to them. I wish for each of them an easy road of losing whatever holds them back from losing weight, so that they can start to lose the weight.
As for me, I have to take full responsibility for my weight gain.
I was always skinny. I have pictures to prove it. Even when I started putting on those few extra pounds, I wasn’t too concerned with it because I finally developed enough cleavage to have to wear a bra. That to me, was awesome! I had been flat chested, flat butted with no hips for my entire life. I finally had a figure!
But then I moved into a stressful situation and started eating to numb the pain of having my daily life interrupted, controlled and abused. I would sit through the meals I was invited to and shovel food into my face just to make it more bearable. I would wait until a time I started sneaking over to the fast food restaurant of my choice, going to the drive through lane, ordering a tremendous amount of food and then I would sit in my car and just eat so that I could recover from the mornings. I kept telling myself that it would get better if I just tried harder, but it never did. It just continued to get worse.
I was ridiculed for working out. “YOU’RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT!!”
I was called FAT to my face.
My friends were called FAT.
I was bullied into exercising and when I relented, I was bullied through the entire process.
The pounds packed on, the numbness was never enough and I bought more and more clothing in larger sizes all because I was too afraid to take a stand and enforce my own personal boundaries.
I remember listening to one of my friends tell me how her ex-husband had laid down the law with her about her eating habits. He policed every single bite she took, so when he would go to work in the morning, she would go down to the local pizza shop when it opened and order a large pie. She told me that on really bad days she would order two of them. She would come home and eat every single slice. Some days she ate so much she wanted to vomit, but she didn’t. Then she would take the empty boxes and any other evidence of them, out to the back yard and bury it, so he would never know what she had done.
I had become that person.
I remember shoving fast food wrappers to the bottom of the trashcan so my husband wouldn’t see them. Not out of fear, but out of shame.
My husband has never tried to control me or anything I eat. If he had seen the fast food wrappers, he would never have said anything to me about them. He has always been my greatest champion in anything I’ve ever done and loves me in spite of my weight gain, or loss. He was never the problem for me.
I thought my problem were other people that felt they had the right to control me. Those were the people I needed to enforce my boundaries with and eventually I did that. I needed to break the chain of control and abuse. It wasn’t easy, but it has gotten easier and every day that goes by, I miss them less and less and can finally smile about my life and my progress without hearing the disapproving, judgmental and denigrating voices they put in my head.
I knew I wasn’t a bad person and I knew I didn’t deserve what they were saying to me. I also know that I no longer care what they think of me. I don’t care if they think I’m fat, ugly or have two heads and buck teeth. They aren’t the boss of me and what they think doesn’t pilot my life. I pilot my life. 🙂
But is it their fault I let myself get into this pickle?
No, it’s not. It’s nobody’s fault, but mine. I’m the one that picked food over bravery. I’m the one that took those big bites of food and swallowed little pieces of my self esteem and independence. I did that.
My real problem…was me.
Once you start taking a look at why you’re overweight, whether it’s medical or mental, you’ll find out that the weight will take care of itself once you start taking care of you.