Now I know, it’s just a lousy three pounds…but those are added to three other pounds, and I’m back at a weight I swore I’d never, ever hit. It’s just one more reason to be pissed off at myself. (Work has been stressful lately, and I’m recuperating from hormonal effects…the result is, frustration with myself.)
Weight is a very sensitive issue in my family. I grew up with a mother who yo-yoed 40-70lbs all her life. Gain 20, lose 60, gain 80, lose 40, blah blah blah. She is a compulsive eater who seems to cope with stress and depression by buying 5-6 candy bars and chowing down. When I was in high school, I cleaned the house for weekend play money. One time, while cleaning, I discovered an entire box of generic Twix candy bars tucked under her recliner. It was empty, and filled with plastic wrappers. Now, there were only three people in the house: Mom, Dad, and myself. Dad is hypoglycemic and won’t eat that stuff (and said he didn’t, anyway). I didn’t know the box existed, and I most certainly didn’t eat them. Yet, despite being confronted with those facts, Mom emphatically denied eating the chocolates. That was both the most elucidating and saddest encounter I’ve had with her about her eating problem.
Sigh Okay, I’ll lay it on the table: As of Friday (when I was weighed during a doctor appt.), I am 5’7" and 150lbs. The ideal weight for my height and build is 138lbs–12 pounds away. Last year, I hit 150 and angrily attacked SlimFasts every day to lose the weight (I believe I lost about 8 pounds). I’d managed to keep the weight off until Spring Break, where I gained 3 pounds, and then the holidays, and now it’s back. I am so afraid of turning into my family…argh!
I used to be thin, skinny even, but how I stayed that way was far from healthy. I had very poor ways of handling stress, and whenever stressful situations erupted, I’d stop eating. I’d seriously get nauseated and have no appetite, and would often lose ridiculous amounts of weight in days (10 pounds in one week was the record). As I’ve grown, matured, and emotionally healed in several respects, I’ve learned new coping mechanisms and I’ve never done that to my body since. Stress just doesn’t do that to me anymore.
Thus, the weight gain. I hate the pooch belly (although the larger breasts are a nice touch!) and want to be a size 6 again. Or at least, a smaller size 8. I want a flat stomach, dammit.
Now gang, I know many of you are much bigger than I, and Opal especially…I applaud and am inspired by your dedication to lose weight. All I ask is that my situation not be discounted because of the number of pounds I want to lose…I know it doesn’t seem like much, but it does have a negative effect on me.
I’ve started power walking and jogging everyday, and I’m trying to eat less (it’s so hard…I don’t want to diet per se, I just want to change my eating habits and counterbalance calories…). I just don’t want to be my mother, always unhappy with how she looks, and always doomed to stay the shape she is. My wonderful love adores my body, and eagerly tells me so. I want to love my body as well, no matter its imperfections. Dammit.
Just Laura’s rambling of the day…
Teaching: The ultimate birth control method.
