I got the on the scale last Sunday, and was mortified. 194.2 lbs.
5.8lbs away from 200. A number that I never, ever, dreamed I'd ever see. I saw it while I was pregnant, and I sure as hell didn't want to see it again. Let alone, not pregnant.
I was disgusted with myself. I cried. I'm crying now as I type this.
The fact is, I have a food addiction. It all started when I was little, I used to hide under the table and eat sticks of butter while my mother was in the shower. This was before she died, so I was 5, maybe 6 years old.
After my mom died, I turned to food and got chunkier and chunkier. Ultimately wearing "Pretty Plus" clothing, and stretch pants, because I just couldn't fit into anything my friends could wear. Something I would never wish on any child.
Once puberty hit, and all of my friends were thin, and now had boobs and butts for the boys to oogle, I decided that in order to love myself, I'd have to be thin. So I stopped eating. I'd have a snack size applesauce in the morning for breakfast, and then nothing. Sometimes, I would skip breakfast and only have a pack of Zebra cakes for lunch, and nothing else, all day.
Then I discovered the joys of diet pills and ephedra. I figured out that I could be thinner if I didn't eat and took the pills. Instant weightloss.
But since I wasn't eating, I started self-medicating, with substances other than food. At 13.
I started smoking, to be cool of course. And drinking, because it made me feel good about myself. And smoking pot, because it allowed me to live in a world without problems. And then sex, at 14, because I just wanted to be loved.
This continued for a really long time. My "medication" benders would come in spurts. Sometimes I would be hammered or stoned every. single. weekend. Other times, I could go for months. I was a straight A student after all, so it was easy to keep my pain hidden behind a perfect report card.
When I left my high school sweetheart (if you could call it that--very volatile, abusive, relationship), and started dating my husband, he told me that what I was doing to myself was immature, and that he wouldn't put up with my behavior, as I laid drunk in my driveway on a hot summer night.
Once again, to feel loved, I adapted my behavior. And now that I wasn't drinking or smoking as much, I turned back to food for comfort. I didn't gain much weight, because I still had my occasional medication, to keep me sane.
A little over a year after my husband and I got married, I found out I was pregnant. That day, I dropped all of my "problem behaviors" and the eating began.
While pregnant, NOTHING healthy was appetizing. I lived off Mexican and Chinese food. Ultimately, I gained 60 lbs, developed gestational diabetes in my third trimester, and gave birth at 220lbs to a 8lb 2oz baby four weeks early via cesarian.
Today, my son is almost three years old. For the past 3 years, I've lost about 20lbs, and gained it back 3 times. It's disheartening.
In my last post in May of 2012, I wrote about my adventure in OA. Well, in the past week, I went back to OA because I just couldn't pull myself together. And that brought me back to Jesus. Whom, I have come back to and deserted several times over the past 3 years as well.
Jesus is helping. Reading my bible is helping. I've been tracking my food and working out for the past week as well. I know that's only 4 days, but I'm doing it. But despite my spiritual help, I really need a human support group as well. That's why I'm re-pledging Mamavation. I just can't do it alone anymore, and I need a group of friends that is going to stay on top of me--that I can be accountable to.