A Weighty Issue

Or Yo-yos Aren’t the Only Thing That Go Up and Down…

I touched upon diet before, but that was more in relation to food sensitivities and allergies- which, don’t get me wrong, can affect weight a lot- but I want to talk more about the emotional side of things here. Because it really messes with your self-esteem, even if you’re the most self-assured person ever, when you look in a mirror and don’t see you. That’s what it feels like. A stranger is staring back at you. A pleasant stranger with a familiar face, but she’s not you. I am not this puffy face, these dark circles under my eyes, this sallow coloring. I don’t know who she is.

it’s even more frustrating when you carefully monitor your diet and exercise, only to see the scale steadily creep upwards. Which it did to me for years. When I’d go to my doctor, he’d tell me to cut more calories and exercise more. It took gaining 80 pounds in three years, feeling like crap, practically starving myself, and finally being unable to exercise anymore due to pain and lack of energy before I finally fired my doctor and found out what was wrong with me. I let him bully me that long because I thought I was doing something wrong. Why else would I be fat? I felt I deserved to be punished for being fat.

My weight has always gone up and down all my life. I would joke that my diet didn’t even matter, my weight changed when it felt like it. I never realized it was my thyroid, never realized my fibromyalgia caused it. I never realized that I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was always a relatively healthy eater, but my weight turned me into an anorexic. A chubby anorexic. I barely ate, counted every calorie, popped diet pills, exercised for hours a day, and I still never lost enough weight. I hated myself.

It wasn’t until my 30s really that I stopped caring about my weight. Yeah, I don’t love being a big girl because some things are harder to buy and other things are harder to do, but I definitely don’t hate myself anymore. I learned to not base my entire worth on my looks. But, yet… I’m used to seeing a happy face, glowing skin that always gets me compliments, bright eyes. I want that girl back! I feel so defeated, so….sick. Depressed. I can deal with the additional weight, even if I don’t love it, but this? I feel isolated.

And I know I’m not. I know I have an excellent support system. I have people who even understand what I’m going through. Why don’t I talk to them? I just never do. It’s how I’ve always done things. Not a great excuse and not exactly a healthy way of dealing with things but I’ve always had to do things on my own. Process them myself. And, then, complain how lonely I am because I’m completely insane.

Just like I’m losing this weight. Slowly. By myself. Figuring things out as I go. Finding out what my body likes and doesn’t like. All those years I spent hating it, I never listened to it. I’m listening now. I’m trying to do all the right things. And if I don’t lose all of the weight I’ll live. But I want to recognize myself in the mirror again because I miss that girl so much!

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