The Struggle is Real

If you have known me for any amount of time, you have been witness to my struggle and occasional victory with weight loss.  UGH!  It is the hardest and most constant struggle I’ve ever had.

It began when I was young, and I didn’t get to have any hand-me-downs from my sisters because I was larger and taller than they were.   I always felt different.  In high school, while walking to the track  in my “sexy” little-knit P.E. uniform (enter sarcasm) and a male classmate hollered at me from behind to ask, “What are those dimples on the back of your thighs?”   Enter cellulite.  My next memory was when I was riding home with the most popular girl in our class of over 500,  again in my favorite P.E. uniform, and I noticed when she shifted gears in her car, her legs were so stinking thin!  I looked at her legs and looked at mine and back and forth countless times.  Enter peer pressure.

The kicker was when my mother told me she wanted to introduce me to an engineer where she worked as soon as I lost 15 lbs. Enter lack of self-worth!  I wonder what each of you is thinking at this point.  Are you perhaps curious as to what size I was?  Well, I’ll tell you and I would honestly give anything to be that size again.  I was 5 ft. 9 1/2 in. and weighed 140-145 lbs and a size 12-14.

The author in high school

After the birth of my first child, I began to pack on the pounds due to stress, lack of sleep from a sickly little boy and severe post-partum depression.  The depression is another blog post in itself.  I promise it is an incredible, inspiring story and I share it as often as I can. I settled in at about 65 pounds heavier than I was before pregnancy and lived contently that way for the next few years.

When we started planning for our second child, I wanted to start out healthier since I had gained 40 pounds during the pregnancy with my first child.  I walked a mile a day on the treadmill and cut out all sweets and dropped 100 pounds pronto!  It felt so good.  I only gained 25 pounds with this pregnancy, so I was looking and feeling great.  My second son spent the first two weeks in NICU and was also a very sickly baby. When this Momma’s stressed, she eats.  And it’s not healthy stuff, sad to say.  I packed on every one of those pounds I had previously lost.  Back to square one complete with voices of failure shouting in my head.

After seven years, God impressed upon us to have more children (again, another blog post).  I immediately set out to lose those same dastardly pounds I had toyed with in my adult life.  Without sweets, I dropped 100 pounds and with added prayer gave birth to a healthy, precious baby girl.  Being nearly 40 years old, I was much wiser than when I delivered at 24.  I only gained eight pounds during the pregnancy.  My angel weighed 7 pounds, 11 ounces.  Life was great.  When she was seven months old, I conceived again, and as you can probably tell by now when I am stressed, I turn to the pantry and plate section and console myself.  I was overwhelmed with four children.  Although I love children, to be brutally honest, I am not wired to be a laid-back parent.  I was very hands-on, hovering mother with all four children and couldn’t seem to balance all that it entails as well as what I dreamed I could.  I was homeschooling a 10th grader and a 5th grader and had two little ones under two to care for, and my latest addition was sickly too.

Several years later, serious medical problems forced me to have a complete hysterectomy and with that surgery came a surprise bonus of a 25-pound weight gain.  I had read every book available on hysterectomies, and I had not run across that tasty tidbit in any of my research.  (No pun intended).

Warp speed to current day.  I have continued the struggle of gaining and losing weight.  I have at least five sizes of clothes in my closet at all times.  I have fought demons, dealt with past failures and lack of self-esteem.  I have run to the mountaintop and screamed, “Hallelujah” each time I reached a goal and then on a much quieter note yelled, “Here we go again” when those pants get more difficult to button.  My friends love me through thick and thin (literally)  and are so supportive.  My husband must wear rose-colored glasses because he is madly in love with me whether I’m itty bitty or big butt Bertha (no offense to any Bertha’s out there).

I am blessed, and I must remember my triumphs, my supportive family and friends as I once again tread those dietary waters.  I will repeat what I used four years ago when I lost 80 pounds for my son’s wedding:  a high protein diet.  It works for me.  While my second son is preparing for his wedding, I need to get this horse hitched up and start on my next weight-loss journey.

Pray for me and feel free to share your scale stories too.

With a smile and a happy heart,