Posted on my xanga January 25, 2008

Most of my life I've been on the chubby side. Actually there is only one summer that I can remember being on the thin side. My mother had a strict rule that in order to wear a two piece bathing suit I had to have a flat stomach. Having said that there was only one summer when I wore a two piece. That's not to say I was a fat kid growing up, probably not even chubby, just not thin.

Busy, doesn't even begin to describe the early years of my life. Gymnastics, cheer leading, softball, basketball, three different types of dance and girl scouts are just a few of the activities I was involved in. I ate anything I wanted and never really worried about it. Needless to say I was never one of the smaller girls, but I was never really overweight either. Even when I was at my smallest, I was never small. My father still laughs that when I was shopping for my two piece (about 10 years old), I couldn't fit into a swimsuit my mother wore after they were married.

My eighth grade year is when my metabolism went down hill. Several of my closest family members started to become extremely ill one at a time. This lead to my slowing in activities. By the beginning of my tenth grade year almost all of my activities had ended and I had three close family members spending time in intensive care. Up until tenth grade I had been roller blading 26 miles a day at least three times a week with my dad. He was one of the unfortunate few who ended up in the hospital. We never really picked roller blading up the same once the habit was broken.

I was on the chubbier side in high school for a lot of reasons. I viewed myself as fat, I wasn't. This view kept me unmotivated from being thin. I figured I was destine to be fat and that was how it would be. I didn't get fat until Eric and I broke up in 2002. I was getting hit on and sick of male attention. My heart was broken and I didn't want to have to worry about men trying to get in my pants while I was healing. I ate to cope, I ate to avoid and I did little. I worked three jobs and went to school. I didn't do anything I attempted well, but I stayed as busy as I could. I didn't eat right. Working two restaurant jobs doesn't allow for any regularities in your eating schedule. You eat as much as you can whenever you can since you aren't sure when you'll get to eat again. This is just some of why I put on weight.

Even after Eric and I got back together six months later, things didn't get a whole lot better. I had trouble trusting him. I then had to convince my friends and parents that things were ok. We realized if we were going to stay together and stay clear of temptation we had to push our wedding date forward. Family relations had been sour for Eric for a while, but at that point things got sour between me and my parents as well. The end result was Eric not having a place to live for months and several weeks of the same for me.

Depression quickly followed. I felt responsible for a lot of pain in many peoples lives. Looking back that was probably an over dramatization, but I hate seeing others sad. As soon as I came to terms with that, I was overstressed adjusting to marriage. Don't get me wrong being married is great, it was just a big adjustment. It seemed like there was always something throwing me back to my depression.

About the time I was finally emotionally ready to handle my struggle with weight I found out I was pregnant with Abigail. I wanted to return to my love of roller blading, but everyone I knew advised against it. I gained seventy pounds when carrying Abigail. After giving birth I lost a chunk of the weight. I was regularly doing DDR and it seemed like I might finally make some real progress. I went on vacation and let a friend borrow my DDR. By the time I got it back again I found out I was pregnant with Hannah. By the time I cleared use of it with the doctor I was nearly unable to use it. I didn't gain as much with Hannah, but I'm still about 10-15 pounds over where I was when I got pregnant with her.

Again I find myself at a crossroad. I am ready to give a good effort into gaining control of my weight. I would like to lose 75 pounds before I get pregnant again. Ideally I would like to get pregnant again when Hannah is about 15 months. That is a little over a pound a week. I figure if I make it great, if not I'll be patient. So many times in my life I don't even try because I realize my goals are unachievable.

I'm not guaranteeing my success. With my track record it probably doesn't seem likely. But this time I'm going to approach things differently. Patience and perseverance are going to be the difference this time. Nothing big, no big picture, I'm going to focus on monthly goals. I'm going to adjust those goals weekly. If I fall behind I'm going to cut myself a break and reevaluate my methods. I'm going to make healthier choices and less drastic changes. So many times I fail because I try to run before walking. For the first couple of weeks I'm not expecting any major changes in my body and I'm ok with that. Alright I'm not ok, but I will try really hard not to let it discourage me enough to quit. Life was so much easier when I just thought I was fat...