Let me begin by openly acknowledging that fact. A lot of people don’t realize they’re fat. They remain in denial about it, thinking they’re not overweight, they “just need to tone”. Or maybe they think they’ve only got an extra 10 lbs on them. Nope, not me. I’m fat. And I’m not saying that so someone will then respond with “No, you’re not fat! You’ve put on weight, but it’s not that noticeable!” Please, don’t patronize me. I’ve seen myself naked and it’s not a pretty sight!
Never in a million years would anybody predict that I’d be struggling with my weight. I could always eat whatever I wanted, but stress was the culprit. Back in my 20’s stress would manifest itself in the form of excrutiating migraines, eczema, neck pain, TMJ issues so bad that I couldn’t eat without hearing my jaw crackling. It was disgusting. Now in my 30’s stress has manifested itself in the form of MASSIVE weight gain. Quite honestly, I’d prefer the weight gain to the migraines and the jaw pain. I can always eat better and exercise to lose the weight; there wasn’t enough medication in the world to make my migraines go away. So I guess there’s a bright side to my fatness.
But let me tell you–being fat is MISERABLE. Besides the obvious fact that absolutely NONE of my clothes fit, I’m sweating all the time. Always hot. Putting on shoes is difficult because my feet are so fat. Polishing my toenails . . . well that requires the skills of a contortionist, which I do not possess. Getting in and out of the car–suddenly the steering wheel is in the way. I have to gain momentum in order to propel myself off the couch. It’s a horrible, horrible way to live.
If I died tomorrow, my biography would be entitled “From Ankles to Cankles”. And that’s why I don’t plan on dying tomorrow! I have to wait until the day that my biography will be “From Ankles to Cankles, and Back Again”. I’ve always had incredibly boney ankles, but with all this extra weight on me they’re now hidden under a thick layer of fat. The only “benefit” of having fat ankles (and calves) is that shaving my legs is a lot easier. Before, I always had to be really careful while shaving because my legs were so boney. It was fairly easy to knick myself with the shaver. But now, no definition in my ankles and calves means shaving my legs is a breeze! Takes two seconds, no cuts. Hooray for me.
So here are my ankles last July . . .
POP QUIZ: Can you guess which picture was taken yesterday and which picture was taken when I was 36 weeks pregnant?
Tough one, huh? Really, the answer doesn’t even matter because the two photos look identical. But by 36 weeks pregnant, I had gained 30 lbs. The swelling in my feet was just one of the “joys” that goes along with pregnancy. Six years later and zero weeks pregnant, I have gained 58 lbs. That’s not an exaggeration. Last summer, I had lost a lot of weight because of a medication I was taking. I was 110 lbs, which is only 5 lbs heavier than I was in high school. But I wasn’t proud of being that thin because I wasn’t healthy–I was tired all the time, but the medications I was taking wouldn’t let me sleep, I had no appetite so I would forget to eat. If I’m going to be 110 lbs again I want to do it the right way–through diet and exercise. So truly, I have a staggering amount of weight to lose.
Another thing about being fat is that my wedding rings don’t fit. So thanks to a Groupon, I decided to buy myself a Fat Ring that I would wear on my ring finger until I lost enough weight to wear my wedding rings again. I had it inscribed with my weight and the date on which I weighed that amount. So once I lose the weight, my Fat Ring will be worn on a different finger and it’ll serve as a reminder of exactly how MISERABLE I was at that weight. I never want to find myself in this position again. Where I’m wearing maternity pants because regular pants don’t fit. Where I can’t cross my legs because my stomach is so large that it gets in the way.
I’ve completely neglected myself because I’m struggling to take care of Jack’s overwhelming issues. I feel like we’re sooooooo close to getting his biggest issues squared away. And then I can start to think about me again. In the meantime, I’M FAT. And miserable.