Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Inside the Fucked-Up Mind of a Fat Girl

This morning I weighed 205 pounds.

In 2 weeks (I'm betting that's all the time it will take as long as Mollie's birthday doesn't throw me too far off track) I'll leave the 200s forever and be in the 190s. I won't be staying there either but right now I'm trying to handle the idea of never weighing in the 200s again.

You'd think this would be huge and joyous. I haven't weighed that since, well, maybe since Mollie was 1 year old and it's her 16th birthday we're celebrating on Saturday. Outside of twice in my life, I've weighed over 200 since I was a teenager. I weighed 160 in high school. And I kept getting bigger.

It is huge and joyous. And scary as shit. And I'm trying to understand why the idea is so scary.

My awareness recently has led me to recognize that the primary reason I've been obese as an adult is because it was all I really knew. I was used to the habits of overeating and sneak eating and even when it did nothing for me emotionally, I kept it up.

I expected to have a hard time on Weight Watchers and I'm not. It turned out that I wasn't that hungry after all. Turns out that I'm just as happy eating an apple as I am eating cheese popcorn. Turns out I don't miss sugar.

But I've never been thin. I don't know how to do thin. I don't even know how to do weighing less than 200. And that's daunting.

I'm not looking for a reason to quit or fail. I don't plan on quitting or failing here. I'm facing this head on and dealing with the idea of living my life in a way that isn't failing. I didn't know I could do that. And it's a new situation for me.

And it's scary. And exciting.

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