A Constant Battle

An adorable little cartoon has been circulating Facebook this past week and it got me to thinking... 

I have been trying to lose weight constantly since the beginning of 1997. That just amazes me. I think there has only been about 1 year's time that I wasn't trying to lose weight, and that was during my 2 pregnancies. It's sad. I've spent almost half my life in a seemingly unwinnable battle against my own body. And a good decade before that was spent thinking I was already fat when I wasn't. 

I gained nearly 50 pounds during college. I gained another 15 immediately after my first wedding, when I couldn't find a job after we'd moved to Des Moines. I gained another 35 while pregnant with Jake, but lost that pretty quickly. I gained only 15 pounds with Tyler and incredibly lost 30 pounds after giving birth. It was the first time I'd seen a number south of 200 on the scale for over 5 years. It didn't stay that way for long, and soon I'd gained the 30 pounds back: the most I'd ever weighed not pregnant. 

When my ex and I separated, the weight practically fell off me. But I still couldn't get past the barrier that was the 190's. I gained a few pounds and lost a few pounds for many years. When I met Eric I was back in the 190's. I started gaining and was back up 20+ pounds, even while push mowing several lawns a day, helping Eric with his business. That made no sense to me, or my doctor. My hypothyroidism is medicated, and levels have been fine for well over a decade. 

I've tried Farrell's 10-Week Body Makeover twice in my life. Once in Des Moines, and once before the wedding with Eric. I lost no weight either time, and really lost no inches either, so I couldn't blame it on muscle mass. Somehow after I quit the 2nd time, I miraculously lost some weight right before the wedding, but was still a little over 200. And then I gained again. Up to 226 this time. 3 pounds more than my previous non-pregnant all time weight record. I started really working out and eating organic foods. I got down to 204 and got stuck. The scale wouldn't budge. It didn't matter how much I worked out or what I ate. I ate more, thinking maybe I was eating too few calories. Nada. I ate less. Nada. That was a little over a year ago. I've been yo-yo-ing ever since, and have now gained back every single pound I lost. It seems my body enjoys being overweight. I, however, do not. I don't fit into any of my clothes, I've got SERIOUS muffin top that grosses me out, and instead of being motivated, after 17 years of no REAL weight loss, I have a serious case of the Fuck-Its. 

I have fucking HAD IT with this piece of shit metabolism I have. I'm sick of eating lunch with my skinny friends who can eat twice as much as me and not gain an ounce, whereas I just LOOK at food and gain weight. I am sick of people telling me I am NOT fat, because CLEARLY I am (especially those same skinny friends) and though your sentiments are meant to be kind, they are only pissing me off. I am sick of working my ass off and getting nowhere. I am SORRY I don't have 4 hours every day to dedicate to working out and eating like a fucking rabbit. I thought that 45 minutes a day, 6 days a week, PLUS volleyball 2 nights a week was enough. IT WASN'T.  

FUCK YOU metabolism! FUCK YOU fat cells! Pass me the Swiss Cake Rolls, bitches, because I am DONE.