Tell you this story and then do something about it.
Something tells me I must at least try.
I want to lose weight, but I will be honest, I don’t want to work hard for it.
And what I know about losing weight is that it takes a hell of a lot of work.
I’ve done it before with some success. It’s just time to get serious about it.
I’m not at my biggest, but I am by no means close to my ideal size or weight.
I have always struggled with weight. I hate even saying that. It sounds so cliché and generic, but it’s true.
Thoughts of not liking my weight took up residence in my mind a very long time ago.
That was the first time I knew I was a big girl. I don’t know what happened to my average sized third grade self, but come fourth grade, the width of my shoulders nearly equaled my height.
Okay, not really, but I remember this picture of some of my classmates and me on the front steps of our elementary school. I was in a class with the tiniest girl in our grade and stood behind her in the picture. She was so damn little with wispy white blond hair. I was easily twice her size.
I didn’t even realize it at that point. It wasn’t until a boy (isn’t it always about a boy) called me out good and proper. And of course, he was the cutest boy in my whole grade. I think I accidentally stepped on his foot. He looked at me and said something similar to “Geez, how much do you weigh anyway?”
I knew from that point on.
I was getting a little taller which was helping the broad shoulders, but I was still heavy. Remember that time of the school year when you had to go the nurses’ station to have your eyesight and height and weight checked? I dreaded that day like the plague. I was a bright kid, paid attention in class and all, but when Weigh Day came, you could forget it. My heart would race as I would wait for my name to be called. If they had only taken blood pressure at that age, mine was probably out of control. Thankfully, we had the sweetest school nurse ever. She probably saw the fear on my face a mile away, so when I asked if I had to be weighed, she smiled so sweetly and shook her head No.
Sweet relief flooded my sixth grade self.
And it lasted for about 2 days.
Apparently, the school nurse had a couple high school girls come over to our school to do the perfunctory tests on any kids that missed school on Weigh Day, or as it were, to fill in any blanks missed on the charts.
And I had a blank, remember? A blank okayed by the nurse, but the high schoolers weren’t buying it.
I went hot all over as I stood up on that scale. The number didn’t mean anything to me. I didn’t know what a normal girl my age was suppose to weigh. I just knew I exceeded it. That boy in fourth grade told me so.
Finally my broad shoulders gave me a break. I was slim in all the right parts and curvy in all the right places, too. Boys began paying me attention in a good way. The cutest boy in my grade wanted to be my boyfriend, instead of wanting to humiliate me. I was a great size and healthy, too, but I still felt like I was the big girl. All the attention in the world couldn’t ease that feeling.
College and Beyond.
Sometime after college, my weight began to increase and did so steadily. When Justin and I married, I was happy with my size, but within the next two years, I would reach my heaviest weight. Not my proudest moment. I joined Weight Watchers and had great success. 33 lbs lost to be exact.
And then I went back to what was comfortable and easy. Here I am today wishing I had stuck with the program because I loved it and I rocked it out.
The bad memories of people being cruel go on and on. I hate those memories. I could chronicle them here for you, but there’s no point, really.
So kids were cruel to me. Big deal. Don’t we all have some version of that story to tell?
I am 28 years old and I am ready to beat this game.
If I don’t try to beat it now, once and for all, I fear I will battle it all my life.
And that thought sickens me more than all the cruel things that were ever said.
I know food will have to be a part of my life forever, I am just ready to put it in it's rightful place and quit allowing it to reign over me.
Just so we’re straight… I don’t blame the people who said cruel things to me for my weighty issues. I am the sole keeper of my body and blame no one other than myself.
So what are you going to do, Molly?
Are you going to listen to all the lies that You Can’t Do This? Because you won’t succeed if you believe you can’t.
What would happen if you actually believed You Could Do It?
You’ve just got to want it bad it enough to do something about it.
A while back, a great friend said these words to me: Until your desire to change becomes greater than your desire to remain the same, nothing will change.
My hands are going to tremble as I attempt to hit Publish.
I don’t want to post this and yet I do at the same time.
I know we each have our struggles. It just sucks that people who struggle with their weight, whether they are heavy or skinny, wear their struggle publicly for everyone to see.
My hope is that publishing this tale will help motivate me to do what I need to do.
And that if you are reading this and any of it makes sense to you... you will know you are not alone.