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    © 2016 Thersdays

    I'm a work in progress

    August 4, 2016

     

     

     

     

    A few weeks ago, as I was either getting changed or walking around the house in my underwear (it's been a hot summer), Marley looked at me and said "Mom. Your. Butt. Is. Big." I wasn't offended because I knew it she wasn't being malicious. I looked at her, smiled sweetly and said "Baby, say hello to what very well could be your future." She didn't get it. LOL.

     

    As a kid, I was skinny. I used to get called skinny boney or twig. As a teen I was awkward but in my early 20's, I was a hot girl. IMO. Curvy in all the right places and flat where I wanted to be. I basked in that for a few years but then I fell in love. Frank and I spent many hours over food getting to know each other. It was lovely. When we both realized that we were in it for the long haul, we got comfortable. At which point, the genes that I had tried to ignore (my mama's genes, my auntie's genes and my grandma's genes) started to show themselves. First, I was like WTF? but then I had my man, so I didn't care.

     

    After some time, however, I began to realize that it wasn't just about looking good. It was about being healthy. My mom died of heart disease, so I know I had to get my shit together. After I lost my mother, I stopped eating. I can't confirm nor deny if it was due to a loss of appetite or my losing battle with the will to live. My size 8 frame was cute but I knew it wasn't healthy, mentally or physically. By the one year anniversary, I had to come to terms with the fact that starving myself wasn't going to bring her back, so I did a complete 180. I started filling the holes and the emptiness with food. I was a thumb sucker, as a kid, and it seemed that one bad habit had morphed into another. 

     

    Over the years, I tried a few weight loss programs but what seemed to work best was being pregnant. Seriously. For some strange reason, although I was healthy, I'd lose wait when I was pregnant. My craving was to eat healthier. I didn't want the junk. After giving birth, I lost even more weight, thanks to the baby and my boobs. I realized that I was on to something, so I had two more. Unfortunately, it's not a permanent solution because they're expensive.

     

    People would tell me that I looked great. Instead of motivating me, it would send me in the opposite direction. I'd get cocky. I'd have an extra scoop of ice cream, another slice of cake or a few more fries. I could afford it, right?...Wrong. I started packing on the pounds. At my heaviest, I was 227 pounds post baby...a few years post baby. I couldn't keep saying it was baby weight because said baby was 7 years old. If thinking about losing weight actually resulted in losing weight, I'd be the size 10-12 that I see in my head.

     

    One pint of ice cream used to last me 3-5 days. When I'd watch my husband finish the entire carton in one sitting, I'd think "how the hell can he do that? It must be a man thing." After doing it myself a few times, it's actually pretty easy. The first time, I didn't realize I'd done it until the spoon hit the bottom. During an episode of Scandal, after everyone was tucked in, I'd grab my full carton of Haagen Daz Caramel Cone (THE DEVIL!!!!!) and get comfortable. I had all intentions of eating a few spoons and bringing the rest down during a commercial break. I was so engrossed in what Olivia's next move, that one commercial turned into another and then another. Before I knew it, the show was over and so was my ice cream. I should have been shocked but I was kind of impressed that I finished it in one sitting. That turned out to be the beginning of a bad routine. Every Thursday night, I'd have a pint of ice cream and it calmed me. It became my drug of choice. After a long day of work, the long commute home, dinner, homework and the bedtime routine, it was my way of winding down.  

     

    I have to own my good, my bad and my ugly. I'm woman enough to admit that I'm an emotional eater. I'm happy, I celebrate, I EAT. I'm pissed, I want to punch something, I EAT. I'm sad, I need to fill a hole, I EAT. The never-ending cycle.

     

    I'm back on Weight Watchers. I lost almost 30 pounds the last time I was on the program. It works when you do it right. I do it right...sometimes... but I'm a work in progress.

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