The Struggle with My Weight

I want to lose weight.

I am 5'8" and 215 pounds. I want to weigh 165 and be tone.

I think I'm actually ready to make those changes.

Recently, I saw a horrible photograph of myself that really shattered any ounce of self-esteem that I had left. And last night, and I reflected on my weight over the years. And then I thought about how badly I want to take control of that. I'd like to share with you that story today.

From the age of 10 and on, I've struggled with my weight. By the age of 12, I was already tipping the scale at 200 pounds. I endured teasing, bullying, and various forms of abuse due to my weight, but I took it like a champ in the public eye, and cried quietly behind closed doors. My dad was incredibly supportive and always had uplifting words to help me through it.

Around the age of 14, I hit a growth spurt, and I evened out quite a bit. By the time I was a freshman in high school, I weighed around 175 pounds. I was still overweight, but I looked proportioned, and I was generally happy with myself. Around this time, I started spending a lot of time listening to music and dancing away in my bedroom---you know, like a normal teenage girl. All of the extra cardio allowed me to drop 15 more pounds, and by the age of 15, I was 160 pounds and quite happy with my appearance.

Little did I know that 160 would be my lowest post-puberty weight in my life.

Unfortunately, I have no body shots of myself from my lowest weight, but here is a photograph of my "narrow" face when I was 160 pounds.

I stayed at 160 pounds for a few years until I found out that I was pregnant with my son. By the 36th week, I had gained 40 pounds. I was 200 pounds when I gave birth, and post-pregnancy, I dropped 20 pounds and was down to 180. I was incredibly unhappy with myself, but I never did anything about it.

I maintained that weight for six years, when I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. By 40 weeks, I had gained 40 pounds (apparently 40 pounds is the norm for me when I'm pregnant). I was 220 when I gave birth, and 200 pounds afterward.

Ready to change my weight, I started working out and making healthier choices. I dropped 10 pounds before I "relapsed." After giving up on my diet and exercise, I ended up at the highest "non-pregnant" weight of my life: 215 pounds.

That is now my current weight.

I have grown to be less concerned with what other people think of me nowadays. I guess having two kids will do that to you. Over time, I started to just be me, without worrying about my weight. I honestly grew to believe that it wasn't that bad, that I wasn't that fat.

I would take full-body photos every now and then that would increase my self-esteem and show me that, no, I actually wasn't incredibly huge.

 

When I went to my friend's daughter's birthday party back in January, she had photographed the kids having a great time, and I was in the background of a couple of them. To my surprise, I actually didn't mind the way that I looked. Sure, I was not thin, but I didn't think my weight looked ridiculously out of control. Another tiny boost of self-esteem.

 

 

 

A few weeks ago, I attended my sister's bridal shower, and even then, I thought I looked nice considering my weight. The first picture boosted my self-esteem (I'm in the middle, wearing the coral shirt with the white blazer), while the second one told me that my posture could improve a bit. Even still, I wasn't totally insecure about them. I even shared them on Facebook.

 



And then the photos of me the day before the bridal shower were published. I had gone to an Easter egg hunt with my kids, and my friend and her daughter.

 

I accepted those photographs and I thought, "Okay, so, yeah. It's true. I'm big. But that's me." I shared them on Facebook and felt my self-esteem drop a bit. And then I saw this photograph:

I gasped. I cringed. I zoomed in and examined every angle of my "ballooned" face. I put my head in my hands. I wanted to cry. I hated that picture. I loved the one of my baby girl and her cheesy little grin, but I couldn't stand to look at myself. I couldn't believe how hideous it was.

You may think that I'm overreacting, but you know, I actually felt confident that day and thought that I looked good. And that was the result.

Maybe it was just a bad picture? Maybe the way I was trying to tickle my daughter caused me to squeeze my chin into my neck? I'm not sure that's the case.

I stared at the picture for what seemed like eternity until I finally accepted it and clicked, "Add to Timeline." After all, it was me. But I spent the rest of the day going back to that horrible photograph. I thought about asking the friend who'd shared it to have it removed.

And then I realized that if I am truly that unhappy with myself, that I'm willing to have an adorable picture of my daughter removed because I look like shit, then I need to get motivated. Removing a picture from Facebook is not going to make me thin. It's not going to give me motivation. It's not going to change a damn thing, except feed into my delusion that my weight is not an issue. It most certainly is an issue. If I'm unhappy, that needs to be resolved.

I've been living a lie in order to mask the problem instead of fix it. On Facebook, none of my photos show exactly what I look like. In fact, when I take selfies, I take them at high angles, in various different lighting, and many times, I'll even add filters to remove some of the wrinkles and double chin shadows.

These photos make it somewhat difficult to tell that I have an issue with my weight. You can also see that I like to utilize scarves to hide my double chin. And sure, we all want to look good. But do we want to look like someone we're not?

Last night, I thought about sharing these photographs on the blog. I was torn. I didn't know if I wanted more people to see them. I decided to sleep on it.

When I woke up, I felt different. I wanted to make a change. I reached for a glass of water instead of my normal sugary drink. My son, who practices Pangai Noon karate, was practicing his exercises, and I joined him. I looked at myself in the mirror, and instead of telling myself how bad I looked, I admired the color of my eyes and the shape of my lips.

I'm ready to do this. I think.

I am going to start by cutting out my sugary drinks and getting in cardio at least 3 days per week. I'm going to drink more water and eat smaller portions.

Baby steps.

I hope I can update with progress.