Post date: Dec 10, 2016 4:09:25 PM
I woke up this morning feeling a little better. I did, however, at some point in the night, wake up and open the window because I was hot. Clearly not a wide awake decision, because it is 30 degrees outside. Oh well. I was hot.
I've been thinking about weight. When I was seven or so, I got my tonsils removed. At that point my PCOS kicked in and I gained 30 pounds. For a 7-year-old, that's quite a bit. I don't think anyone really knew what that was or how to cure it, so I became the fat kid.
I remember having to go shopping for new clothes, because none of mine fit. I remember the comments my mom made about me being big. I remember my mom constantly calling me fat. My brother calling me fatso, fat ass, and numerous other fat names. In school, I was called lots of fat names. I was kicked, spit on, pushed around, pushed down, belittled, and bullied.
When we moved away, I had a chance to start over. I thought my happiness had to do with my weight. So I starved myself for a month or more. I lost 40 pounds and became "normal", I guess. I starved myself and threw up for years and years and years. I never considered myself skinny enough. The thought that I was pretty or beautiful, was never even a thought.
It seemed people liked skinny me. Even my brother stopped beating me up. Skinny = good.
When I was in high school, remember my mom began different weight loss programs. I remember her taking laxatives before Weight Watcher weigh ins. In more recent years, she's been taking my step-dad's medicine, because it causes weight loss. She was clearly not a good role model for a healthy body image.
When I got pregnant with Taisha, I decided I needed to take care of my body. Sadly, my PCOS kicked in and I gained 100 pounds while pregnant with Taisha. We were living with my mom at the time. She would make comments all the time about how Jared wouldn't want me because I was fat. She would make comments about what I ate. She once took me shopping and bought me the ugliest clothing I'd ever seen. Fat people don't get nice clothes. Now, when I say she bought me, I mean, I had no choice. I tried the clothes on, didn't like them, and she bought them anyway. Then I felt guilty about not wearing them, so I would wear them.
My self-esteem tanked. Memories of my life as a fat kid replayed constantly in my mind. I lived with the fact I was fat and ugly for years. Now Jared never said anything to me. He just loved me. But in my mind, he was loving a very fat ugly person. I wore clothing which was sizes too big, trying to hide my fat. Once, I was doing baptisms for the dead. When I came out of the font, I remember Jared's grandmother making a comment that I wasn't that big. It horrified me. My fat was ugly. I was ugly.
I tried to lose weight for years. After each baby, I gained it all back. Finally, after Mali, I decided to do something. I had gastric bypass. I lost 125 pounds. I fit into a size 6. My flabby skin fit into a size 6. My very ugly flabby body was a size 6. I was weak. I was ugly.
I looked at others and saw how perfect they were and how lacking I was.
Growing up, I never had any validation in my life, about the way I looked. No one ever called me pretty or beautiful. No dad to call me pretty. No mom taking prom pictures and telling I looked beautiful.
Today, 166 days in, I know I am beautiful, sexy, amazing...on good days. On bad days, I squeeze my fat butt into my freshly washed jeans and wish I could lose a few pounds.
I understand that my self-worth is not a number on a scale or a size on a tag.
Some days, it is hard to not see myself through the eyes of the 7-year-old me. Of all the battles codependency has had me battle, this one is kicking my butt.