Everyone has their own relationship with food and their body so here’s mine, just so you know where I’m starting. Growing up, I was always naturally skinny no matter what or how much I ate (don’t hate me, my genetics aren’t my fault. Blame my mother, that’s what they’re for apparently lol). My mother was very into healthy eating so we never had too much junk around. And I was very active. All Summer I lived at the Y, swimming in the pool and using all the equipment in the weight room. Family vacations were usually camping and a lot of hiking, which I loved. For a (very) short while I played basketball but those practices kicked my ass way harder than say, gymnastics so I quit. For several years, I was lucky enough to go to camp, which was always the best week of the year, besides Christmas. We had to pick two activities to do while there and I always picked horseback riding and swimming. One lucky year the pool was out of commission so I got to ride horses all day. So I was always in pretty good shape. Not basketball team shape but pretty good.
At 19 I had a son, and at 20 I had another, but luckily my body bounced right back both times. Good thing, since my husband called me fat anytime I got over 120 pounds. By the time I was 23 my marriage was ending, which sent me into a deep depression. It wasn’t the healthiest of relationships, but to me divorce was like a huge failure. A couple of months after separating from my husband, I was in a car accident, the repercussions of which I still suffer from today, 21 years later. It could have been much worse though and for that I’m grateful. One of the tires on the car was bad and my friend lost control of the car, we hit a guardrail and flipped over. I wasn’t wearing a seat belt so my back and neck got pretty messed up.
By this time I had begun a new relationship, trying to put my life back together. But truthfully, I was still severely depressed. Which is a very bad time to get pregnant again, but that’s what happened. Just as I was getting used to the idea and feeling a little happier, I began bleeding and was ordered to bed rest. It didn’t work; I miscarried. And spent the next six months on the couch all day, watching TV and eating. And crying. And eating some more.
In that six months, I don’t recall looking into a mirror even once except to brush my teeth and hair quickly and then get back into bed or on the couch. Then one day, quite on accident I got a look at my naked self after getting out of the shower. I was shocked. I remember being most appalled about the size of my butt! I had never weighed above 125 at the most, usually stayed around 115, which I know now is too skinny for being 5’7” but that had always been my normal. Well, that was a wake-up call. I weighed myself and nearly cried when I saw 165 on the scale. I know, I know, that’s not that bad. There are people out there killing themselves to get down to 165, but for me this was 50 pounds above normal and I was miserable.
I decided right then and there to get back to my normal weight, and informed my boyfriend so when he arrived home from work that night. He said nothing which I mistakenly took as him being tactful by not calling me fat, but I believed inside he was happy I wanted to get back in shape. After all he was something of a bodybuilder and spent about an hour or two at the gym most every day, not a spare ounce of fat on him anywhere. I was wrong though and little did I know that this decision of mine was the beginning of the end for us. For the first few days, he kept bringing me McDonald’s which at the time I loved to eat. He stopped that when I screamed at him like an enraged banshee.
I threw myself into getting into shape. I lifted weights, ran and stretched every day. I counted and cut calories. Like a lot. Too much. It worked. I lost the weight, and fast. I lost my boyfriend too. Turns out he likes big women. He was happy when I was gaining and not so happy I was losing. After the first ten pounds he stopped touching me. After 20 pounds we were done altogether. We were stuck living together for a bit because of finances, but he didn’t say anything anymore as I continued to lose another 20 pounds, getting back to 125. I went back to work and eventually made enough money to move out.
I couldn’t keep up such a strenuous diet and workout regimen, especially working full-time and being a single mother now, but I was still very active and didn’t mind putting back on 10.
Life continued on uneventfully for a few years. And then I made yet another bad choice in men. I really can pick ’em let me tell you. After 4 crazy years of breaking up to make up another ill-fated romance ended. Once again, I fell into depression. Now, I didn’t go crawling into bed for another six months; that wasn’t possible at that point. But I did eat. A lot. And drank. A lot.
This time I saw the weight going on but I didn’t care. I mean I cared, but not enough to do anything about it. I bought bigger clothes and ate more. As time went on, my depression lifted and I began to enjoy being single. Life was amazingly peaceful without a jealous boyfriend interrogating me every time I was five minutes late getting home and freaking out about innocent things like someone calling and hanging up. I had a lot of friends to hang out with, and I never minded being alone anyway. I can always find something to keep myself occupied. Like learning to cook. And when you’re single and wanting to stay that way, you can eat all you want and not worry about getting fat. Eventually I got up to 180.
After about a year at 180, somehow 10 pounds just fell off. I don’t know how, I hadn’t changed anything. Maybe because I didn’t have a car for awhile and had to go back to walking everywhere, I really don’t know. I didn’t pay any attention to what my weight did for a long time but I did know it went up and down. I had several wardrobes in several sizes. Eventually I settled around 160.
And that brings us to now. Once again life has changed. After almost 11 years happily single, the most amazing man has come along and I’m in love again. With a good one this time! So I’ve finally figured something out lol. But I’ve gotten older and definitely out of shape. So now I want to get healthy. Not skinny; healthy. I don’t really have that much weight to lose, just about 20 pounds, but I have a lot of work to do to get back in shape. I’m hoping this blog will help keep me on the right track. I tend to give up too easily on things sometimes.
So this has been an exceptionally long post, but I wanted to share how I got where I am, because after all you have to know where you are to know where to go, right? Does that make sense? If anyone ever actually reads this blog, please feel free to share your story. If you’re working to get healthy or lose weight, I’d love to cheer you on!