Deep breaths...inhale...exhale. I'm about to admit how much I weight right here on this blog. Right now MIGHT be the time I delete all the men I have listed as friends on my Facebook page. Especially the one ex-boyfriend and the wonderful guy friends I have around here where I live and see on a weekly basis. LOL! Of course, they probably don't READ blogs, especially one written by me.
Have you ever wondered why you are doing something that is harmful to yourself? It is hard to take a good, hard, long look at yourself and figure out why you are doing what you are doing. Either mentally or physically. For me, I suppose, it's both. Hopefully with the long term care of a skilled therapist, I can figure out why I sabotage myself and my weight loss desires.
I constantly look at pictures of myself and I absolutely hate them. THIS IS NOT ME! Why have I not actually done what I keep saying I'm going to do to lose weight? What the hell is it going to take?? A heart attack?
I am not average sized anymore, by any means. Anyone who sees me can tell I'm not the delicate flower of nature I once was. I'm hovering, and have been since before I started this blog last year, around the 285 pound limit...probably since about 2006.
That's right. TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY F**KING POUNDS! I almost weight TOO much to buy the top of the line scales...pushing their weight limit. What kind of sickness is going on in my head that I am NOT doing something about this? I am not happy with it. It is embarrassing. Any woman out there who claims they are proud of their big, beautiful self is a liar and I'll call them out on it any day. There is no way on God's green earth you are HAPPY with being out of breath, and there is no way you don't sit during the quiet times of the day or night, at some point, and reflect on what you are doing to your body and what the effects might be in the long run. There is no way you are standing there in front of the mirror, naked, saying, "Yeaaah, this belly sure looks good as Super Deluxe fanny pack." No way in hell. Stuffing yourself into jeans like a 10 pound sausage feels being squeezed into a 5 pound casing. Lies. There is no fat person out there who LOVES themselves. They're a damn liar. It's what we say to ourselves to protect our feelings. It's just more padding to add onto the whatever the reason we have the extra padding in the first place.
Sure, it's easy to dismiss it when you're 20 and fat. What are your chances of dying of a heart attack when you're 20 and invincible. When you're 40 and morbidly obese and have 2 kids...I am a heart attack waiting to happen. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
Isn't the fact that I could leave my two, beautiful daughters without a mother when they're 7 &5?? Am I that self destructive? Do I hate myself that much, subconsciously? Am I just really that lazy and selfish? I don't have an answer. I really don't. I wish I did. I *think* I like myself. Why am I punishing myself, though? Why does a person know they have alcohol issues continue to drink or someone who might have some mental health issues continue to deny that maybe therapy *could* help them. Shame? Having to face looking at oneself and see that they have failed themselves?
This isn't the person I want my daughters to remember. I don't want to die and leave my daughters with so much more to learn from me. I don't want them to look at old pictures of me and wonder what it would have been like to have their mom look like she did then, rather than this thing I have become. Why didn't Mommy love us enough? I love those two girls more than my own life yet every single day, I risk becoming an avoidable statistic. Diabetes, high blood pressure, cancer, congestive heart failure, stroke, you name it. Every branch in my family tree has had two or more of those at one point or another. I'm a walking, ticking time bomb.
Help me. Take my hand. If you have your own journey, let's try together. Let's be friends and I help you take a step toward your recovery and you take my hand and help lead me to mine. I want to be me, again. I don't want to hide behind this wall of fat to hide whatever it is I've been hiding from.
This isn't me.
THIS IS NOT ME!
This isn't me. I don't hate myself. I want to be proud of me.
And I will.
Have you ever wondered why you are doing something that is harmful to yourself? It is hard to take a good, hard, long look at yourself and figure out why you are doing what you are doing. Either mentally or physically. For me, I suppose, it's both. Hopefully with the long term care of a skilled therapist, I can figure out why I sabotage myself and my weight loss desires.
I constantly look at pictures of myself and I absolutely hate them. THIS IS NOT ME! Why have I not actually done what I keep saying I'm going to do to lose weight? What the hell is it going to take?? A heart attack?
I am not average sized anymore, by any means. Anyone who sees me can tell I'm not the delicate flower of nature I once was. I'm hovering, and have been since before I started this blog last year, around the 285 pound limit...probably since about 2006.
That's right. TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY F**KING POUNDS! I almost weight TOO much to buy the top of the line scales...pushing their weight limit. What kind of sickness is going on in my head that I am NOT doing something about this? I am not happy with it. It is embarrassing. Any woman out there who claims they are proud of their big, beautiful self is a liar and I'll call them out on it any day. There is no way on God's green earth you are HAPPY with being out of breath, and there is no way you don't sit during the quiet times of the day or night, at some point, and reflect on what you are doing to your body and what the effects might be in the long run. There is no way you are standing there in front of the mirror, naked, saying, "Yeaaah, this belly sure looks good as Super Deluxe fanny pack." No way in hell. Stuffing yourself into jeans like a 10 pound sausage feels being squeezed into a 5 pound casing. Lies. There is no fat person out there who LOVES themselves. They're a damn liar. It's what we say to ourselves to protect our feelings. It's just more padding to add onto the whatever the reason we have the extra padding in the first place.
Sure, it's easy to dismiss it when you're 20 and fat. What are your chances of dying of a heart attack when you're 20 and invincible. When you're 40 and morbidly obese and have 2 kids...I am a heart attack waiting to happen. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
Isn't the fact that I could leave my two, beautiful daughters without a mother when they're 7 &5?? Am I that self destructive? Do I hate myself that much, subconsciously? Am I just really that lazy and selfish? I don't have an answer. I really don't. I wish I did. I *think* I like myself. Why am I punishing myself, though? Why does a person know they have alcohol issues continue to drink or someone who might have some mental health issues continue to deny that maybe therapy *could* help them. Shame? Having to face looking at oneself and see that they have failed themselves?
This isn't the person I want my daughters to remember. I don't want to die and leave my daughters with so much more to learn from me. I don't want them to look at old pictures of me and wonder what it would have been like to have their mom look like she did then, rather than this thing I have become. Why didn't Mommy love us enough? I love those two girls more than my own life yet every single day, I risk becoming an avoidable statistic. Diabetes, high blood pressure, cancer, congestive heart failure, stroke, you name it. Every branch in my family tree has had two or more of those at one point or another. I'm a walking, ticking time bomb.
Help me. Take my hand. If you have your own journey, let's try together. Let's be friends and I help you take a step toward your recovery and you take my hand and help lead me to mine. I want to be me, again. I don't want to hide behind this wall of fat to hide whatever it is I've been hiding from.
This isn't me.
This isn't me. I don't hate myself. I want to be proud of me.
And I will.
That was fantastic! I'm taking that journey with you, for sure. And I think the same things. This is not me and I do not want to leave my two beautiful kids behind because I was too lazy or whatever to take care of myself.
ReplyDeleteGreat post!
Bravo Jen!! very good points and very well put.
ReplyDeleteMy friend, it takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there like this. I wish I had the same courage. I hide from people, I un-tag myself from pictures on FB because I don't want anyone seeing what I have become. I wish I knew the secret answer and could share with you. I've asked myself those same questions a million times. Why isn't the thought of dying not enough to kick my butt in gear. Why isn't ruining my chance to have kids enough to do something about it? Obviously there is a reason self gratification of food has a hold on me. I just wish I knew why. I guess maybe one of these days we'll figure out how to say "I'm more important than how I'm treating myself"
ReplyDeleteLove you girl, hang in there
I know what you mean about untagging on FB. I have made it so no pictures of me can be tagged and even if people do tag me, I remove them.
ReplyDeleteI was terrified to go back home to Michigan in September. For my family, for my friends, to see how much weight I had gained. I know they love me but when you leave at 170 pounds and return 100 pounds heavier, you know what people say to each other.
Even after writing this last night (or really-this morning at 2 a.m.) I still stopped this morning for a sausage roll and donut for breakfast with Emma. What am I teaching HER? I'm responsible for her good food choices and I don't want her to have to deal with food issues as a teen/adult.
Thank you all for your kind comments and thank you for being supportive. Now someone yell at me to work out tomorrow morning here in the privacy of my own home! NO MORE EXCUSES!