The Weight is Over, Pt. 1

     Greetings and Salutations.

     Enough people have asked me what I've done to lose weight, how I began running, how I stay motivated, etc. that it seems the time has come to just write a blog--or three--about the whole experience.

     I strongly believe that, in order to get to where I want to be, I first need to know and confront the places I've been thus far.  And that is the purpose of today's post--to talk about the things in my life that got me to my current state of being.  This is not an easy post, as it requires me to talk about things that have been very difficult for me, but I think it's important.  And, if any of you who reads this feels alone in your own challenges, perhaps this will do some good in your own life by reminding you that you aren't, in fact, alone.  We all have burdens to bear.

     My story of weight-related struggles began somewhere around fourth grade.  I think it was during the summer just prior that I sat in my pediatrician's office for a routine physical and first heard him say that I was "overweight."  I was 8 at the time, so I'm certain that I took the news in stride; I'm equally certain that my mom, who has faced her own struggles with weight for the large majority of her life (though, no more), was crushed by the news.

     I don't recall any significant moments of difficulty in fourth or fifth grade, but, conversely, I remember very little about my time in school from sixth through eighth grade that isn't connected to the barrage of taunts headed in my direction.  Don't get me wrong--I had lots of friends, I was basically happy, and I was successful in  both academics and extracurricular activities.  But, I also spent more than a couple of nights crying because I was made fun of for my weight by boys in my grade.  I can remember exact moments from some of the "fringe" characters in the 'Taunt Kristen' show; there were three boys, though, who were so ruthless that their words, and the incidents of my public shaming, are too numerous to recall with any specificity.  I am well aware that 6th-8th grade are notoriously difficult for everyone, so I don't want to make it sound as if I lived in a world of isolated pain and frustration.  But, I can only speak for my own pain.  It was not an easy time for me.  To look back now, I'm actually even more horrified, though, because I let my own self-image be defined by the harsh words of others.  And, by the way, at my highest weight in those three years, I was about 125 pounds and a size 8.  I cringe to think of what people go through at that stage in life when their weight struggles are legitimately significant.

     Fortunately, everyone grew up a bit in high school, and the direct teasing faded away somewhat.  However, I did gain some more weight, and also became keenly aware of all of the other girls around me.  They all looked prettier, skinnier, trendier and, as a result, "better" than me.  And, I fell into a spiral of self-doubt and self-loathing.  I, unconsciously but certainly, made the determination at some point that my self-worth was wrapped up in my appearance and my weight.  It didn't matter that, weight issues aside, I was quite accomplished.  I--and so many others--invest so much time and emotion into how we look, and into feeling sorry for ourselves when we don't believe that we measure up to the people around us.

     The story goes on and on; a lot of gorgeous young women unknowingly contributed to my own self deprecation.  I realized that I was so eager to be liked despite my major flaw that there were "friends" in my life who walked all over me, but lacked the motivation to confront them.  Instead, I just worked harder to keep them happy.  And, I became the "funny" girl; and the "just one of the guys" girl and filled all of those other roles that made it seem like I was perfectly happy in my skin.  But, in the privacy of my own thoughts and feelings, I was not happy.  I was jealous and bitter.  I even, at one point, wished I had the willpower to be anorexic or bulimic  despite the fact that I knew those things were no healthier--and represented an equal level of addiction to food, manifested to a different extreme.  And, I became cruel--at least, internally--when I saw other people who were heavier than me.  I could make myself feel better if I could belittle others.  I'm embarrassed to say that that was the attitude that I adopted, but, as I said, we can't move forward without confronting where we began.

     When Joe and I dated, I decided to test the waters of my trust by letting myself open up about this issue.  I didn't say much, but to say anything at all demonstrated--I thought--a significant amount of vulnerability.  And, I genuinely feared that I might lose him in talking about it--as if he couldn't already tell by looking at me that I had a weight problem, and still loved me anyway.  To be honest, it took almost 5 years before I really let myself open up to him--which was unfair of me, to say the least.

     A few years ago, I joined a gym and had a personal trainer.  I lost around 30 pounds at that point, which was great, but driving 25 minutes to the gym and paying all of that money got old pretty quickly.  I kept coming up with more and more excuses until, ultimately, I stopped showing up.  And the weight came back with a vengeance.

     Finally, last July, I reached my breaking point.  I can't really identify any specific incident, other than to say that I had seen a progressively-increasing number on my scale one too many times.  To motivate me to do something about it, I actually sat down and researched everything to know about bariatric surgery.  I had to decide: am I going to commit to making real changes in my life, or am I going to ask Joe to commit a (nice) new car's-worth of money to an incredibly risky surgery with significant side effects and no guarantee of life-long success?  Needless to say, I chose the former.

     I set up a few ground rules for myself:  I needed to find a way of doing things that made sense in my life.  I needed to open up to Joe--at least--so that I could begin to have accountability.  I needed to find a way to make changes in my life that I could stick with beyond the time needed to reach my goal weight.

     It took some time, but I was able to meet all of those requirements...and I'll write more about them in the next post!