I am struggling. I’m heading into Wobbly week 5. Considering the first week was just thinking about what I wanted to achieve, this is really my fourth week of healthy eating and living. This is the time I normally give up.
Predictably, to me anyway, I’ve let myself slip off the juggernaut quite a few times – chips for breakfast, lots of indulging in my eldest child’s 7th birthday treats and just talking myself out of sticking to my plan. This is how it generally begins for me. The downfall.
Normally, I am amazing for three weeks and by the end of week four I start to falter. Then by week five I’ve returned to my old ways. Within a week or two I’d have put back on any small bit of weight I’d lost. I’d have stopped exercising. I’d be back to more drinking days than alcohol free ones. And I would have succeeded in my self prophecy of ultimate failure. This is a cycle I repeat over and over.
A few years back I lost 15 kilos and felt really fabulous. But then I stopped making healthy choices and the weight slowly crept up and up, over my starting weight. So, I went on the Michelle Bridges program and lost about 10 kilos. I felt good, but hungry. I changed my contraception to the Mirena which stuffed with me, both physically and mentally. I blinked and I was 90 kilos. I’d put on 18 kilos. Since then, I’ve tried numerous times to get back on track. With each weight loss attempt, I’d lose three kilos and then put on five.
When I started on this Wobbly journey I was heading towards 95 kilos. Yesterday I saw 90.8 kilos. Congrats you might say. You’re doing great you might say. But you know what? I am still obese. I still look and feel unhealthy. My body aches when I get up and down. It’s heavy to carry myself around on my short legs. My stomach is huge. My clothes pull over my rolls and I wobble all over. I feel very conscious of how I look.
In the past two weeks my children have told me I’ve got a baby in belly three times and they’ve informed me that I am fat. Another child told me I had a huge bum. They don’t mean any harm from it, they are kids. They just say what they see. They have not yet been told that some people think fat is bad or that you should be ashamed or embarrassed by the way you look. Or that fat, to some, equals lazy (which is a crock of shit by the way). I don’t ever want them to feel the way that 40 years of life has changed my view on the world. Your weight doesn’t define you – I know that. I never define others by their weight. But for me, I feel that my weight is unhealthy.
Then one of my daughters came home with a gorgeous Valentine’s Day card showing us together.
It made me cry. I love her so much my heart aches. This is how she sees me – happy and joyous. But her picture of my body, broke me. It was like when you see yourself in a photo and you realise you’ve been kidding yourself. Except this is how she sees me. I wish my initial reaction of nervous laughter was genuine. Like when people pass comments about balding men or people with big noses or ginger hair or small breasts or extra long legs. Everyone has something about themselves. It seems harmless and funny, but I reckon depending on how they’e feeling about themselves at any given moment – it could cut deep.
I never use the word fat around my children. I never say anything to them about how I feel unhappy or ashamed of my weight. I always talk about health and that it’s what’s inside your heart and brain that matters. I just wish I could believe it myself. It’s stupid, but real.
I know I’m reading too much into what is essentially a gorgeous display of love, but I am struggling with this, I’m swinging from fragile to powerful in a matter of minutes. I have the drawing sitting on my desk to keep me going – for myself and for my kids, who adore me. And me them.
This is too important for my health to give up.
It’s the beginning of week four of healthy living, my breaking point and I’m holding on by my fingertips.
Do you think people care what you weigh? Does it matter what they think?