Weighty Issues

I know. The subject is tiresome and boring. Yet somehow the topic of weight creeps itself into every other conversation I have with another woman and probably every conversation I have with my husband. Eric is tired of hearing about it and I am tired of talking about it. Solution: write about it. Let all the dirty and weighty laundry swing in the winds of the Internet and get swept away, never to bother me again! (Note: inevitably, the shirt baring the words, "You still have 5 more pounds to lose!" will somehow whack me in the face again, but hopefully I will not feel inclined to put the shirt on and walk around telling everyone what it says.)

Deep breath....exhale...truth vomit. You've been warned. I am obsessed with my weight. Always have been. I can remember being thirteen years old and weighing 132lbs at my physical for track and field. I thought I was huge. Before I go any further I must mention that I was basically full grown, except for a couple of inches, by thirteen. I had the body of a woman, not a little girl. I would compare my adult body to the girl bodies of the other thirteen year olds in the locker room. Yes, I was bigger then they were at the time but not because I was overweight. Also, my two older sisters were/are shorter and of a slighter build than I am, and instead of making that connection I assumed I was a mini-elephant. Other then thinking I was fat I didn't do anything about my weight as far as dieting or excessive exercise. Fast forward three or four years and you'll find a teenager who viewed her body as a disgusting burden to carry around as opposed to a gift of health and beauty. I could hardly stand to look in the mirror because every bone in my body was not sticking out. One time I went four days without eating any food. All I drank was SuperGreens, thanks to some well meaning relatives, in order to cleanse my system. I could hardly walk up the stairs and my vision went blurry because I was starving myself. These same well meaning relatives thought the best thing to give me after my cleanse was cookie dough and chips and a sandwich. I naturally tried to eat as much as I could and gave myself a horrible stomach ache. This started at least five years of either eating too little or eating too much. When I would eat too much I would exercise to compensate for all the food I ate. This was an every day battle. During one of the times I was eating too much someone told me that my face looked, "jowly." Really? I have jowls? Like a dog? That is what you're comparing my face to? Ugghh!!! That comment has stuck with me ever since. The saddest part is that I was born with big cheeks! Look at my baby pictures or toddler pictures and all the way through adulthood, no matter what weight I have been my cheeks remain. Truthfully, sometimes they are bigger than others but they are always there. I still delete any picture my husband takes of me that I don't like while repeating the words, "my face looks jowly." Shame on any adult that says any comment like that to a teenage girl. I'm tempted to steer into another rage inducing topic of mine; teenagers may look like adults but they are still children. But, I will save that for another day. Let me emphasize that I did not casually wish to weigh ten pounds less, I actively hated every part of my "fat" body. I would cry at the department store because I had to wear a medium instead of a small. What a waste of energy! My weight obsession has taken me from a size 8 to a size 14 and back again. Weighing less did not make any difference as the obsession is still there and no size is ever thin enough. I'm disturbing myself while writing this, but it is the truth. The fact that I never had a weight problem to begin with and somehow managed to convince myself that I, in fact, did is also quite irritating. I could have done so much with the time I have spent berating myself for eating! Not just when I don't eat healthy, but any time I eat in general. Ridiculous, I know. Surprisingly to no one, I am not extremely thin. I dislike hunger pains and I like food, especially chocolate and marshmallows. I do love to exercise but I have learned that I prefer to feel strong when I exercise, as opposed to weak and lethargic.
My weight makes no difference to my husband. He thought I was as beautiful at nine months pregnant and 191 pounds as he did the day we got married. I'm back down to 161 pounds and the extra five pounds I mentioned earlier does not seem to want to come off any time soon as I exercise one hour a day, six days a week and eat healthy 85% of the time. I could put myself on a strict diet and increase my exercise but I'm afraid I would start getting on the scale every day and waste all my energy on getting the number to go down instead of enjoying my blessed life with my husband and son. Also, I gave birth only three and a half months ago so I should probably be more patient with myself.

The only real conclusion here is that spending one more minute worrying about my weight will do no one any good. I take care of myself and I should appreciate the healthy and strong body that God gave me. Plus, my husband tells me every day that he thinks I am the most beautiful woman in the world. I better stop trying to convince him otherwise.