For pretty much my entire life, I’ve thought I was fat. I look back at old photos and I can’t believe that I’ve thought that. I mean, I wasn’t skinny, I was average, healthy. I shouldn’t have been worried about it at all. But I was. I was always told I ate too much, and maybe I did….I did eat a lot. I was told I weighed too much. If I could just loose a little bit of weight guys would actually like me. This along with constant reminders to “stand up straight” and “too bad you have such bad acne,” caused me to have a big complex. My confidence level was low. I was constantly concerned about what others thought about me.
Fast forward…Zach helped me get over these insecurities. I won’t say they left, but I did begin to feel better about myself. I lost a few pounds and my acne didn’t seem to bother him. Amazing how good it feels to like yourself.
Fast forward again…We’ve been married four years, my acne has cleared, probably due to age, but I’ve gained 15-20 pounds and am currently at my highest weight. I’m miserable….I feel ugly and gross….and then I get pregnant. 9 months of eating good, but got being to concerned with gaining weight. I honestly can’t remember how much total weight I gained during pregnancy. I remember having a panic attack when I went over 170 and I think that was around 30ish weeks.
Now…18 months after giving birth, Isaac has stopped breastfeeding and I feel like I can just focus on my needs. I don’t have to load up on calories and nutrients to produce milk or feed a baby inside me. So I’m watching what I eat…and I’ve lost five pounds….I’m at my lowest weight in over two years. All this is good and I hope I continue on this path, but that isn’t exactly what this post is about.
Yesterday I was at the store and I was watching a girl younger than me lumber out of the store, her clothes were tight (like she was trying to show off her curves) and he seemed to wobble around. She was maybe two or three times bigger than me. I realized then that I’m not fat, despite my own vision of myself. My overweightness doesn’t not effect my ability to do anything. I can walk just fine, I can buy clothes at a regular store, I do not need special scales or two seat on the airplane. In fact, I’m probably where many women would like to be. I need to learn to accept this and love myself, instead of getting down on myself for that one or two extra pounds