This is it.
Breaking point. This is the breaking point. I will be 35 in less than 3 months. I have spent my entire adult life (and some of my teen years) overweight. At my heaviest, I was 246 pounds at 5’9”. I got pregnant with my son at that weight, and thanks to 7.5 months of morning sickness, went in to deliver him at that weight (ha ha, never thought morning sickness would be a GOOD thing!) I came home 12 pounds lighter, lost about another 6-8 just being exhausted, wrangling two kids, and breastfeeding like a fiend. I decided that THAT was it – it was a complete turnaround on my outlook, on my mental state. I’d been given a gift from the universe – a pregnancy where I didn’t gain any weight, and came home lighter than I’d been in years (but still, at 234, not anywhere near healthy). I was careful, eating more conscientiously, not depriving myself, pretty comfortable with the way things were going. I got down to about 225 and stayed within a few pounds of that for months.
It’s funny, I’m not a New Year’s Resolution kinda gal, but I always seem to start off the new year with some type of activity I don’t normally undertake. So I started going to the fitness center at my job, using the elliptical to work out without blowing out my knees (crappy, crappy knees). Slowly lost some more weight, and decided I wanted to be a runner. I hit the treadmill and quickly worked myself up to running anywhere from 1-3 miles a day, 4 days a week.
But depression is a sneaky bitch, and I started feeling more and more fatigued as spring rolled around. It became a struggle to run even a mile, and my hopes of running a spring or early 5K were dashed. I gained 5 pounds out of nowhere between May 1 and June 1, and pretty much gave up. I was so exhausted all the time, and started getting more and more irrationally emotional. It took me a good year to finally listen to my husband and my new best friend and seek help. Therapy has been helping, antidepressants have been helping even more. The depression is not necessarily something I can change quickly, but the weight is something that I CAN change. But I’m sick.
Sick of being uncomfortable in my own skin.
Sick of feeling like shit.
Sick of the sweat under my boobs, or in my fat rolls.
Sick of aching knees.
Sick of finding no cute clothes in my size, and sick of paying more for clothes because of my size.
Sick of having to knit and knit and knit to finish a sweater that a skinnier me would finish more quickly.
Sick of having no energy.
Sick of having no self-esteem.
Sick of hating myself so much.
So things are going to change.