I'm a stress eater. I wish I could be that woman who gets stressed out and can't eat a thing. You know the one who goes through a divorce and 3 weeks into the process has dropped 25 lbs. Alas, this is not me.
I'm the grazer. I'm the woman who goes through stressful situations and constantly shoves anything into my head all day long just for something to do. I'm the gal who medicates herself with wine and hopes to get to that blank place; the "flat" place where nothing matters and all of the emotions level out. For me, that's usually glass two, anything after that is really cake. I don't like to "feel" too much. I don't like to be uber-aware of my emotions and be in touch with them. That would require action, action I am too lazy to follow through with.
I'm not a big person. I'm a size 8. I have been a size 8 for as long as I can remember. If there is a size 6 on clearance for a low enough price, they come home too. They also fit but I would never dare to buy my wardrobe ONLY in a size 6...that would leave me absolutely NO wiggle room. Eight is my comfort zone. I'm so depressed about my weight. I've only ever weighed this much when I was pregnant. Even though my size hasn't changed my weight has gone up. I'm losing my mind over it. It consumes me. Every waking minute of every day is spent thinking about how huge I am. Every thought in my head comes back to, "well, if you weren't such a giant cow maybe your marriage would be a happy one." "Of course your husband has no desire for you, you're repulsive." It never fails. I look in the mirror and see a giant, wrinkled vague resemblance to the girl I used to be. I am dismayed and heartbroken every time.
I KNOW this is insane. I KNOW this is unhealthy but it's like a train barreling down the track and I am powerless to stop the momentum. I can tell you my weight at every milestone throughout my entire life. Eighth grade- 84 lbs. I know this because I remember the summer going into ninth grade being at the beach in a lounge chair thinking I will probably be over 100 lbs in high school. When I went to college I was 111 lbs. After one week, I was 106. I could NOT get on board with the food. End of freshman year, 134 lbs. I COULD, however, get on board with the partying.
This body obsession is nothing new for me but couple it with the intense dysfunction I am living and it's almost unbearable. I want to lose weight. I want to be healthy. I normally work out every day (I know some of the weight is muscle as when I weighed so little I had ZERO muscle tone) but lately it's hit or miss. I walk the dog every day without fail but some days that's as good as it gets. I know I will feel better if I get those endorphins pumping. I know I will feel better if I give my body the nutritious food it craves rather than the "food" man has created. I KNOW all of this yet I cannot put it into action.
Since this seems to be the week for me to do rather than think, I will make it my mission to really turn things around. I want to be healthy. I feel better when I am strong and thin. I need to do it for me though. I do not need to do this for anyone's approval or acceptance. I really think that's the difference. Lately I'm so worried about others' opinions of me that I've lost my own in the process. I never in my life thought about what another person thought of my size. Perhaps I have just hit upon the key to my success...it's all about me.
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