Another pound, the scale has been the enemy my entire life. But I come by it naturally, it haunted my mom too. Caring about anything but my weight wasn’t an option, that was how I defined myself. During middle school I was made fun of for it and in high school I was descibed as the “bigger” girl. Everyone said I had a pretty face. Funny too.
Graduation came and I went with my best guy friend, we were never more than that, I was the “bigger” girl.
How many times I starred in the mirror and hated myself, the way I looked, the way my clothes fit.
I wasn’t fat on the inside.
Jumping to get out was a skinny girl, but the fat girl was eating her.
Knowing this made it worse, I felt judged, it made me cry. Learning to eat well wasn’t the issue.
My college graduation came and I had never felt more comfortable in my own skin, but I was hiding behind my humour and obnoxiousness. Not only did I hurt inside but I was the biggest I had ever been. Obviously I had tried every diet, program, video, weight management tool, and pill on the market. Programs failed to work, or I did.
Quitting was easier.
Regular exercise was tedious and painful, not something I wanted to participate in. Someone would have to be crazy to continually put themselves through that in order to fit into the right jeans.
Then I got fed up.
Under the support of friends, family, and Brian I threw myself into a routine and healthy eating to get the fat off that has plagued me my entire life.
Visions of failure creep into my head everytime I stepped on the scale, everytime I looked in the mirror.
Without my daughter I never would have realized the importance of loving myself, being healthy for her, and projecting a positive self image.
Xanax also helps this.
Yesterday I was the fat girl.
Zoned in I’m now the mom on a mission.
This post is inspired by “The Red Dress Club” who’s assignment this week was to write a 26-sentence piece, fiction or non-fiction, with each sentence starting with the letters of the alphabet in order