I am so tired of being over weight. It amazes me how much I, and so many others spend time obsessing, struggling, and outright fighting with our weight. I wish it didn't control me.
But it does.
I wake in the morning, and it's the first thing I think about. I go to sleep at night, same thing. It makes me so angry!
I was obese. I lost the weight, slowly. About 75lbs. I even got to a decent goal weight and maintained for years, but I wasn't happy with the results because, while I was viewed as thin, I had "skin issues" (seriously unattractive, when the skin won't snap back like it does on those lucky people. My skin is more inelastic than anyone else I have ever known. Accidentally zipping my tummy skin in my jeans was an eye opening experience, let me tell you.) So, being at goal weight and knowing I was supposed to look better than I did depressed the hell out of me.
I started to lose my way. If I didn't look good, and I didn't feel good - what was the point? Because the food sure as heck TASTED good. It was the only "good" I could find in the equation. Of course, it had a lot of bad attached too, along with pounds. It wasn't the right decision. But for an emotional eater like myself? It wasn't all that surprising that I went that way once again.
I gained. About 30 back. I talked with my husband; maybe a tummy-tuck to deal with the skin issues would make it worth staying at goal? I did it well over a year ago. I'm STILL about 20 lbs up. This is ridiculous.
If I lost all the weight I want (20 lbs from here to my old goal weight, 30 to my ultimate goal weight), my surgery choice will not have been useless. I feel the pressure - to not make that horribly vain decision to get the surgery that i saved up for a wasted effort. More pressure, along with all the rest. The question I am struggling with is finding the reason why I can't seem to get my act together.
It's me. 100% me. NO excuses. I know it, and well.
I think it's all about the emotional eating. Where I live, I am lonely. There are no neighbors, no groups to get together with, no family, no organizations minus a couple of churches that I will not attend for myriad reasons, no gyms (I exercise at home), nothing. I work out of my home (although even that has ground to a halt - I tried looking for jobs, and no one is hiring - not even the little service jobs, which would be awful with so many degrees under my belt - but I looked anyway), and I also take care of my children. But, I am lonely. My husband is my only friend, and I hate that he carries that burden. He is not lonely here. The kids are not lonely here. Only I am.
Knowing that I am the only "defective" one makes it even worse. I can't talk about it, because when I do I'm the idiot. The whiner (Yes, I am aware I am doing that here - but I'm also sharing a valid reason for my motivation to act stupidly when it comes to food. It's no excuse, it's just a motivating factor.)
I work hard at having only myself be enough for me. But I'm not. I'm training for a 1/2 marathon, I know fitness and nutrition forwards and backwards. And... I've come to realize that maybe my weight... my FAT is my only friend? As long as I have weight to lose, I have that to focus on. I may hate it, I may loath thinking about it morning, noon, and night... but at least it's always there.
What happens when it's gone?
So, this is where I am. Working on trying to move forward. To lose the weight. To conquer my own stupidity in the process. If I'm this lonely fat, I think I'd rather be this lonely thin - all things considered.