weighing in

It seems so very àpropos ruminating about weight so closely after the biggest gorge-yourself-because-you-can holiday.  I’ve been unhappy with mine for some time now, which is not a surprise since it has fluctuated greatly for much of my life.  When it comes to height I’m a little spit of a thing, reaching 5 ft on a good day and I’ve never been a waif, no, I’m a meaty, muscle-bound chick with huge tata’s that has some oomph to her already.

In the early days of life (I’ll be 33 next February) I was never really slender, or thin.  That pressure led to an eating disorder early on beginning when I was 16ish and lasting through my late twenties.  I struggled back and forth with restricting and bingeing and purging and then at times, just bingeing with dreams of dying fat in a big double coffin.   My largest weight was  160 lbs and my lowest was 95. Though weight and body-image were a big issue for me; these inappropriate behaviours also developed because of some emotional issues/baggage that I carried.  It was all just one big ticking bomb of badness.

I have always known what healthy eating is, I just never chose it.  Well, in 2006 I fell in love and it was clear to my lover (we were living long distance) that my weight was fluctuating — greatly!  It was a hard discussion between us but one of the healthiest I’ve ever had with a lover.  Something just clicked inside and I made the decision to stop the badness and live healthily.   I did so very a very long time, gaining, of course a few happy pounds in the early years of our relationship — I was still very comfortable with my weight.  We quit smoking together and started buying and eating organically  and we even began working out together.  Now, I’ll note that I’ve never worked out a day in my life before I met my partner — it just wasn’t my gig — ever.   Since we’ve begun working out it’s only been sporadic and I’ll admit, I’ve had a really hard time sticking with it and I could probably come up with one hundred excuses of why; in fact, I will: I sustained a hip injury back at the beginning of this year and this has been a really crappy year.  It’s been full of death and I am an emotional eater so I’ve eaten my face off.  I’m not happy with my body.  I turned thirty and my hips grew all round and curvy and making their mark.  I’m not happy with the current number.  It’s only sixteen pounds from where I think I would feel comfortable but it’s been really hard to obtain…and now I’m whining because it really does suck.

Truth is I just need to make another decision, it is very clear to me that I am going to have to work hard to be where I want/need to be.  This means being steadfast in the gym and possibly–okay definitely sacrificing some of my treats, i.e., soy with whip pumpkin spice lattes. Le sigh.  How do you do this when you know you’re depressed and it’s hard some days to even just get out of bed? How do you stand up to a year that has just driven you deeper into the ground? I guess you do that by acknowledging it… or at least that’s what I think you do. . .

My best friend died so very young this year… and I feel very deeply that I have to live and live well because she cannot, because she did not…  but that also feels like a great big challenge, when I’m still grieving her loss as well as the other losses we’ve experienced this year.  Maybe this year just needs to end… but for some reason deep down inside, I know this isn’t the right answer.

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