Until i left for college, that is....
When i left for college, i was free to eat any way and any how i wanted to eat. My mother was far, far away. And so, my love affair with food began and continues to this day, almost 28 years later. In college, i not only gained the ol' college 15 pounds, but so much more. I left college with a degree and 85 more pounds on my 5'4 frame. Oh yes, my mother was proud, sigh.....(imagine this said in much sarcasm!). I continued to gain until i reached my all-time high of 249 pounds.
After college, i caught a serious strep throat infection. I was hospitalized for a very long time due to how seriously sick i had gotten. I had to have surgery to get rid of my tonsils and it took me a really long time to get back on my feet. I came home from the hospital weighing barely 100 pounds. Everyone, and i mean EVERYONE, could not stop telling me how "wonderful and slim" i looked. I was stunned how people who didn't give me a second glance in college, now spoke to me as if i was a long lost friend. I was invited places. I was asked on dates. I became popular. It was then, i'm sure that i incorrectly figured out that "thin was worthy of love, and "fat" was NOT worthy of love".
I slowly, the next three years, gained of my weight back; much to my horrified mother and new "friends" dismay. I remember thinking "Not so worthy any more, am i?" I gained up to 199 pounds and fluctuate between that and 180 pounds.
These journals that dated back to my early high school days read like a book of self-hating rants. Nothing positive. Nothing. Even at 105 pounds, there was nothing positive that i wrote. I hated me, it seems, and i'm not sure why. Whether at 105 pounds or 249 pounds, i always managed to find some flaw, some failure in myself. Not very heatlthy or productive....and not how a young woman should be. And in my true self-hating fashioned, i married my first husband and stayed in an abusive marriage for 12 years. Thankfully, i finally realized that if i didn't get out and save myself, no one would. I had to save me or stay there and die because i knew that is what would happen eventually.
And so, i got out. I threw myself into my job and became good at what i did. I worked on my house. I gardened. I lost some weight. I learned to walk and dreamed of one day, becoming a 'runner'. I healed. I was grateful to God for the strength that i didn't know that i had.
I met my second husband, Robert, years later on eharmony. Even 'fat', he loved me. He loved me. I became a mother at 40 and as i looked down at my little daughter, who was cuddled up in a yellow blanket and was holding my finger as she fell asleep, i promised myself that i would not let her grow up with the negative thoughts about food or herself. I would teach her how to be healthy and most important of all, to love herself, no matter what and that she is worthy. I would teach her about exercise (i would call it 'play'), how to eat fresh and how to love ALL of herself, from her toes, to the top of her head. I would teach her that she is in charge of how other people 'make' her feel and that everyone, everyone deserves love and respect no matter what they look like.
I've done a great job of that.....but the problem is still "me". I haven't lost my weight gain. I seem to be on a invisible yo-yo some times. Three steps forward and then, eight steps back. But what keeps me going and keeps me trying, is the beautiful little baby who is now a beautiful little four year old girl who loves her toes, her cute belly button, her bottom, her nose, loves fresh fruit and loves to run and jump. Emma has a zest and a love for life and for people, that makes me smile.
Because of her, because of my daughter, i keep trying.
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| Emma at 6 months.... |
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| Emma at four years old |
~Isabel