In fairness, this blog is not really the full story of my weight loss journey. That story began a long, long time ago. I’m starting this blog at the point in my journey where I’ve decided that more drastic weight loss measures may be needed. Specifically, I have begun my journey towards weight loss surgery (hereinafter “WLS”). You see, I have struggled with my weight since college. Prior to that, in high school, I was a beauty pageant winner and did some modeling. I was captain of the cheerleading squad and one of the captains of the track team. I would see fat women and think to myself “How could they let themselves get that way?” My junior year of high school, I found myself in a very destructive “romantic” relationship. The relationship was brief, but the scars it left behind stuck around long after the relationship was over. I started self-medicating my emotional pain and confusion with food. In two years my 5 foot 7 inch frame went from 130 pounds (a size 3 for me) to 180 pounds (a size 12). As the years wore on the numbers on the scale kept moving upward. By the end of college, I was at 195 pounds. By the end of law school, I weighed 230 pounds.
My last year of law school, in 2003, is when I started really dieting. I tried everything. I would lose anywhere from 5 to 25 pounds and then would quit when the numbers on the scale stopped moving as quickly as I wanted them to. I tried personal training, gym memberships, training for a 5k, taking “power yoga” classes. Nothing stuck…except for the fat on my hips.
In 2005, I met my husband. He could care less how I looked, as he is one of those rare men that truly care about brains more than beauty. In 2008, we married and started trying to have a family. I had whittled my weight down to 185 pounds for the wedding. When I came back from our 9 day honeymoon, I was back up to 196…11 pounds in 9 days…impressive, right?!? We quickly discovered that I was suffering from infertility. My first infertility doctor told me that I would never get pregnant if I didn’t lose weight. Instead of losing the weight, I lost the doctor and found a new doctor who would focus on helping me get pregnant at the weight I was at. Three long years and a lot of surgeries and ART procedures later, I got pregnant with my son.
I started out the pregnancy at 255 pounds. I had terrible hyperemesis, gestational diabetes and other complications during the pregnancy and ended up losing 30 pounds in my first trimester. On the day I had my son (7 weeks premature), I weighed 252 pounds. Two weeks later, I was down to 233 and was so thrilled that I had finally “conquered” my inability to lose weight. I decided that the combination of breastfeeding, stopping infertility medications (which pack on the pounds), and having the emotional void I had been feeling during the years of infertility finally filled by my son must have been the magic ticket to Skinnyville. My son is four months old now…and I weigh 257.5 pounds. Apparently, my magic ticket was a fake.
It hurts me to walk. In fact, sometimes my feet and knees hurt as soon as I get out of bed in the morning. I get winded going up one flight of stairs. I am wearing size 24/26 clothing…and not well I might add. My cholesterol is at 236, with my bad cholesterol numbers coming in way too high, and my good cholesterol numbers showing up as way too low. I likely have sleep apnea, though I will have to have a sleep study to confirm that. I’ve stayed home with my son for the last four months, and will be home for another three months before I return to work. I thought staying home with my son would mean I would have plenty of time to exercise and focus on me. Not so much. I seriously underestimated how much time a baby chew up each day. Being home has also given me an opportunity to mindlessly raid the cupboards, eat in front of the television, and do all of the other habits that I know full well are NOT healthy for me. I’m a carb and cookie addict now…making up for the seven months that I was on insulin during my pregnancy and had to deprive myself of those naughty indulgences. I am watching myself spiral out of control at an alarming rate…and it is time for a change.
I look into my son’s eyes and I picture who he is going to become over the coming years….even the coming months. He is going to need me to keep up with him, to protect him from getting himself into trouble, and to guide him in starting healthy habits that he can take with him for the rest of his life. I can’t be that person for him right now…not in my current state. That realization is what has finally brought me to a place where I am ready to do something about this…something other than just whine and get depressed about how fat I am. My son deserves a happy and healthy mommy, my husband deserves a wife who isn’t always desperately seeking affirmations and approval, and I deserve to be the person I know I am…the one trapped inside of this fat suit I’m wearing around.
So…in a sense…this is where my journey “starts.” No more excuses. No more procrastination. I need to get moving on my weight loss right now. I welcome you to follow my journey. I can’t promise that it won’t be a bumpy ride but…if nothing else…it might be entertaining.
