Back in the day (aka 2004/5) I was pretty unhealthy. I exercised compulsively. I didn’t eat much. But damn, I was skinny. I was in my mid 20s and weighted about 95 pounds. It was glorious. Fast forward 12 years and 3 kids later and I’m straight up fat. My third kid pushed me over the edge. I found out I was pregnant with him when I started trying to lose the weight from baby #2. I was doing crossfit and getting in shape. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t losing weight. But then I realized it was because I was pregnant (oops!).
I stayed with crossfit until I was about 6 months or so pregnant. Then my back started to hurt and I was worried I was going to really hurt myself so I stopped going. The second I stopped moving, the weight came on regardless if I ate nothing or everything. I hated it but realized I was growing a human and changes would happen. What I was not prepared for was the fact that being 36 and giving birth basically meant I was never going to get rid of this weight. Breastfeeding did nothing at all. I tried clean eating and that didn’t do much except make me angry. I’ve gone back to crossfit and quit crossfit because I hated being the fattest in the class. I went to OrangeTheory once but jacked up my back so I didn’t go back. I like yoga but that doesn’t do much for weight loss.
I know what I need to do- join a gym and just start moving. But here is my thing… I am truly embarrassed about going to a gym and being the largest person there. I know no one is looking at me per se but it doesn’t help when my kids say things like, “Mama you have a big belly. When is your baby coming out?” My response: “Half past never. I’m done having kids. My belly is squishy now.” Yet I don’t want it to be squishy. I am realistic and know that having abs is something that won’t happen. Yet I would be happy enough to just fit into a regular pair of jeans again. Or even one of the many expensive dresses I own.
I don’t eat crap. Heck I don’t eat much at all. I work from home and am pretty busy the hours my kids are at school. I’m lucky if I remember to eat a small package of salami and cheese. I eat a banana at most for breakfast. I make dinner at home and we’ve drastically cut out takeaway. Yet nothing seems to give. I can not eat for days on end from being sick yet still gain weight.
This all circles back to how I look. Personally, I can’t stand how I look. I hate looking at pictures of myself. I try to only be photographed from the neck up. I dye my hair fun colors to distract people from noticing my size. But why do I feel this way? I am married. I am a feminist. I have daughters I don’t want to pass this bullshit on to. I believe all women are beautiful. I am all for acceptance of people of all shapes and sizes. Yet I can’t get past feeling the same acceptance for myself.
I want to be a role model to my girls and boy. I want them to know that you don’t need to be 95 pounds to be considered beautiful. Beauty is more than appearances. But all of this feels like platitudes. This conversation has been beaten to death but yet, here I sit contemplating my feelings towards my fat self. I’m not exactly sure where I am going with this but I do know that something has got to give.
(As an aside- I actually looked into gastric bypass surgery. Apparently I’m not fat enough.)
For funsies here is a clip from one of my favorite episodes of The Simpsons. I also work from home and find pants confining.