And yet, another book.

Of course, another book. Because in one of these books, surely there will be my 'answer' and my 'solution'.

Like you eat when you're not hungry and you don't exercise enough....

But thus far, this book has been different.

Of course, i can't remember the title, but it's an "Oprah" book that she recommended. I think that the title is something like, "Food, Love and God" or something along those lines. The author is, well, i forgot that, too.

This book says that it's not really about the weight like i think it is. (Yes, i think that if i 'only' loose weight, i'll finally, finally be happy with me! sigh...) It's more about me eating to stop feeling. To stop feeling whatever i think that is too much to feel.

Oddly enough, i remember the first time i used food to stop 'feeling' something. In fact, i remember it so clearly, it could have happened yesterday.

I was in the third grade and my best friend and i had a horrible fight. I don't remember what it was about, just that i was horribly upset about she and i not being friends anymore. And i stayed indoors for most of that summer, eating. Which was so not like me as i would spend every single second of the day, outside, on my bike or with my best friend. I remember eating sweets. Eating, eating, and eating some more. I remember my parents trying to force me outside and me not wanting to go. In fact, i refused to leave the house. I ate and read books. And then i would eat more, and read more.

At the time, i didn't know it, but i had found my "new" best friend.

My new best friend, and who is still my best friend to this day, is food.

Food, it seems, would never let me down. It would never laugh at me, turn it's back on me, make fun of me, leave me out, hit me, yell at me, call me ugly names or leave me. It was the most dependable friend a person could want. It was always there, ready to make me feel better, comfort me, and let me pretend that things were okay. Even when they were NOT okay....food made it so.

In my senior year of high school, i became very, very sick. I had tonsillitis. I lost over 80 pounds, was hospitalized and almost didn't make it. When i went back to high school after finally getting better, i weighed about 110 lbs. I was 5'4. People who never paid any attention to me, all of a sudden, became friends. "The" popular girls became friends with me. The captain of the football team asked me on a date. People who never, ever gave me a second glance while i was fat, all of a sudden became my "friends".

I remember thinking, "As soon as they figure out that i am really that fat girl, i will be friend-less and alone again." No one ever figured it out, and i went on to college with many "friends".

I exercised during this time. A lot. I spent over 2 hours in the gym, 6 days a week and rode my bike or ran on the 7the day. Every. Single. Day. I refused to be the fat girl again. I didn't care what it took. I would not be the fat girl again. I watched every single thing i put in my mouth. I drank nothing but water, ate nothing but chicken and maybe a few spoonfuls of rice. Nothing else crossed my lips. Nothing. I was scared that my best friend would show up again, and i would fall back into that relationship of hiding and eating and being alone.

I would not be the fat girl again, i swore to myself.

It wasn't till after college, when i found a job far away and moved and then got married to my first husband, that things started to change. And they changed quickly after i got married to Jeff.

I loved him. We met at the gym that i worked at. I loved him the moment i saw him. I loved him like i had loved no other. For a while, things were so amazing, so good. He took "care" of me. He loved me. He showed me the world he lived in with drugs, alcohol. His friends adored me...and i think that this made him "love" me more.

It wasn't long before his anger showed up, and it was directed at me. He didn't mean to. It seemed he now had "different" ways of showing me his love, however, and it took it's toll on me. No more gym as i didn't want to go with bruises showing. I didn't wear anything with a short sleeve. I sometimes wore high necked things so no one could see the bruises on my neck. Makeup can only hide so much, and you can't wear sunglasses to work to hide a black eye.

I went to work, worked as much as i could, came home, tried to not make Jeff angry, sleep and then start the next day all over again. I paid for everything as he couldn't get nor keep, a job. I gave him money. I had no friends. I stayed away from my family, who i loved, because they had warned me not to marry him. I started not to go home on holidays and i called my mother less. I knew that she would be able to hear in my voice that something was terribly wrong, so i rarely called.

Alone, with no friends, i found my old best friend, food, waiting patiently for me. Maybe i thought that if i was fat, if i looked ugly, he would leave. I don't remember thinking that; but what i do know is that once again, my very best friend, was back.

I'll leave out all of the gory details, but after 12 years of marriage (yes, that was 12 YEARS of marriage), i caught him in bed with another woman. At this time, i may have weighed 180lbs. The woman that i caught him with was larger than i was. He eventually left me for her.

While now i see that as a gift from God, back then, i didn't. I continued to cuddle up with my besty, spending evenings and days eating. And i ate all of the way to 250lbs. I ate so people would stay away from me. I had no 'true' friends that i trusted or confided in.

But i did have food.

For some reason, one day, i went to a WW meeting. I wanted to prove that the program didn't work, so i did it. Imagine to my great surprise when i lost weight. In that room at the WW meeting, there were women like me. I didn't become friends with any of them, but i remember thinking, they are just like me.

I lost weight....i lost to 160lbs.

I didn't date for six years...and when i did, i invited my besty friend along.

And i ate my way back up to the 200s.

I am married now to a unbelievably good man with an amazing heart who loves me.

I have an amazing, beauty of a daughter.

I live in an amazing home; one that i use to dream of living in.

But my best friend?

Is still food.

Because in the back of my mind, i could loose all of this. I could loose my husband. My daughter will grow up and hate me. The house will go to my husband.

And i will once again, be alone.

To squash that feeling, the anxiety of being left, i eat.

Food (eating) stops that feeling and calms me.

Yes, i think that this book is on to something....

Why not to....

....make a blueberry cobbler:

~Although, yes, blueberries ARE good for you, eating a entire blueberry cobbler is not.

~You will not take a small "bite" and leave the rest alone.

~You will add more sugar for cobbler than the recipe calls for.

~You will eat bite, after bite, after bite, until the entire cobbler is gone.

~You will get sick in the middle of the night because you ate a entire blueberry cobbler.

oh, yes, i did.

I ate 97% of a blueberry cobbler last night. The only reason that i didn't eat the entire 100% is that i had to bring my husband a cup of it. Otherwise, it would have been mine.

So, then, lets add 'blueberry cobbler' to the "red list" of foods below.

sigh.

I suck.

Reading.....

...yet another book to try and understand why i am the way i am.

As if the answer can be found in a book?

At this point, i'll look anywhere...even in a book.

The book i'm reading now is called "Hungry" by Allen Zadoff. He hit 350 pounds at 28 years old and started the next many years doing the dieting dance. He's funny...and does have some insight. But, his insights are sometimes scary.

I'm on the "Red, Yellow, Green" chapter. I'm suppose to make a list of my "Red" foods, which are foods i can't handle. Basically that means that i am to list any foods that i can't stop eating once i start.

"Red Foods":
~Anything chocolate
~Cake/Cupcakes, Muffins
~Candy
~Doughnuts
~Toasted Sourdough bread with butter
~Sodas
~Oreos
~Cereal (especially sugary ones....)
~Bagels (toasted with Cream Cheese...)

Behaviors i can't handle are next. These are the behaviors that cause me to make bad choices, overeat, etc.

"Red Behaviors":
~being anxious?
~getting nervous or stressed?

"Yellow Foods":
~Ice Cream
~Sandwiches like Grilled Cheese
~Potato chips/chips in general
~Steak

"Green Foods":
~Spinach
~Veggies (all...)
~Chicken
~Fruit

Great, here's the bad part of this "Traffic Light" scenario.

"Think of this list like your own personal food traffic light. Green foods are always "go". Yellow foods mean "caution". And red foods and behaviors stop you dead in your tracks."

And it gets worse...

"Ignore the traffic signals and you risk accident and injury. You speed up when you see a yellow. If it's late at night and nobody is looking, especially a police officer, you may just run the red light or drive up on the sidewalk."

sigh...yeah, i would run a red light for a doughnut or two. And i would probably drive on the sidewalk if i was anxious enough.

If you're a 'food junkie', you must abstain from your red light foods and behaviors.

And guess what, folks?

I'm pretty dang sure that i'm a food junkie like this guy.

Doesn't it suck that my favorite foods are on the red list and my not-so-favorite foods are on the green list?

I still have some way to go on this book....but i do see it. I get anxious, i grab a red light food....and there i go, eating my weight in whatever poison i have in my grubby little hand.

So.....if i take away being anxious, being a nervous ball of fluff, take away the red light foods....

....maybe i have a chance at being normal. Whatever that is.

It is an interesting concept, though and one that i've never considered.

Off to read more...

Still struggling...

...and i am truly bothered by it. It's not like it takes a genius or a rocket scientist to know what it takes to be healthy. It's not like i don't know. And yet, i "pretend" that i'm going to do this. I "pretend" that i have what it takes to do this. I "pretend" that THIS time, i'm serious. I "pretend" that i'm ready, that i'm strong enough to do this.

I rush up to the starting line to put my toes on it...and BANG!

I go no where very fast.

Do i have to hit dirt bottom to realize that this is truly serious? Do i have to have a freakin' heart attack to get it? Do i have to have diabetes to understand just how important it is that i take care of me and loose the rest of this weight? Do i have to continue to huff and puff up my stairs to understand the seriousness of the fact that very soon, i'll be FAT MOMMY and not CHUBBY MOMMY?

Apparently so.

Because apparently, i don't get it.

It's insane odd that i don't "think" that i'm overweight, isn't it? I look at myself in the mirror, and don't see an overweight me. What in the world am i looking at?!?! I love how i'll occasionally be somewhere and see this cute, fat woman and think to myself, "Dang, she'd be really beautiful if she lost that weight!" and then realize, in horror, that it is MY reflection that i'm looking at.

I just think it's insane that i have clothes that go from size 12 to size 16 in my closet. Really, i do. At this rate, i might as well start buying clothes that are even bigger. And this is really hysterical: I refuse to buy size 18 clothes. I guess that i'll be running around naked if i hit a size 18.

I actually watch "The Biggest Looser" and eat a snack while i'm watching.

I am insane.

sigh.

What is it going to take for me to get off my butt? I know how i feel when i'm doing the things that make me healthy. I know how i feel when i'm doing the things that don't make me healthy. There is a lot of difference in those two feelings. And yet, even that's not enough for me. It's almost like i need a diet babysitter to keep me on track.

And maybe, what scares me the most, is if i do get healthy, if i do the hard work, in the end, will i fail and end up where i first began? Is that worse than never getting there? Failing? At least this way, geeze, i've already failed by not even trying.

I want to scream at myself: "Stop THINKING about doing this, and JUST DO IT!"

Because just thinking, well, does nothing.

I want to go to the Pilate's class tomorrow morning, but as usual, i'm worried that i'll be the only overweight one there. Like that should be my biggest concern, right? I should be concerned that i'll die in the middle of the class because i can't get through it.

I have an amazing treadmill here at home that is gathering dust. No one will see overweight me if i got on it.

Enough complaining.

Enough.

I'm tired of listening to me already.

Maybe i'll pick just one healthy thing to do a week. Like for the rest of the week, i'll commit to going to the classes i've picked out. Surely that i can do just ONE thing, right?

Okay, that's what i'm going to try.

Anger....

The thing about writing when no one really knows who you are is that you can be totally honest without worrying about hurting yourself. You can say what your heart feels and not worry that someone will say something along the lines of 'You don't realllly feel that way, do you?' and have to come up with an intelligent answer.

The Chubby Mommy is a good name for me. Of course, i did play with other names like "The REALLY Chubby Mommy" and "The Chubby Mommy with the Pretty Face" for my secret blog. And then, of course, there were the "The Growing Chubby Mommy Blogs" and "The Chubby Mommy Eats Again"....

Back to "Anger"....

I have anger 'issues'. And it's not pretty. I've always thought that my being angry was my best kept secret next to my being chubby but it's not really a secret. I hate my anger. It's a non-forgiving type of anger that stretches way back to my much younger years. I know the roots of where my anger started. And i know why the anger runs so hot. Instead of fading, this anger has gotten worse. This anger of mine has grown and has spilled over into other areas of my life. I'm embarrassed by it, and i'm ashamed of it.

Instead of realizing that i need to do something about this anger of mine, i keep feeding it. What started out as anger towards my father for how he treated my mother has turned into heart wrenching mess. My father has issues; he has always had issues. Hurtful, ugly issues. And his issues continue to this day.

What is interesting about my anger is that my husband tells me that the only place that my anger doesn't spill over to is with my daughter. There, he says, he sees
a gentleness and a sweetness that he wishes i would share with others.

I don't do forgiveness well. Okay, i suck at forgiveness.

How would it be if God was like that in the forgiveness area?

What if he was not forgiving?

I'm reading a book now about "Women and their Anger Issues".

I'm only as far as Chapter 2.

It's hard to read, because i see myself. And it's not in a pretty light.

And of course, it leads me back to being fat chubby....do i eat to sooth my anger? Or is food my constant source of comfort no matter what the emotion may be? Are my issues with food due to my anger?

Either way, both my anger and food issues need to be dealt with. Both have had enough time in my life, i think. Those issues have been a part of me for so long, i wonder what i would be like without them?

I suppose it's time to pull up the big-girl panties and start figuring things out...i am uncomfortable looking at me on the inside and the outside. Self love isn't one of those things that i'm blessed with. In fact, it's kinda hard to find for me.

How can i teach my daughter healthy traits if i don't learn them for myself first?

Begin Again...

Well, i've mapped out my classes for this week.

Monday: Basic Zumba 11:15am-12:00pm
Tuesday: Flow Yoga 9:30am-10:30am OR Basic Step 7:30pm-8pm
Wednesday: Zumba 9:15am-10am
Thursday: Mat Pilates 9:30am-10:30am
Friday: Beginner Running Class 8:15am- 9:15am
Saturday: Zumba 10:15am-11:15am

My size 16 shorts are VERY snug.

I'm sick. I'm sad. I'm disgusted.

But what did i expect? Really? I stopped exercising. I eat crap. I rarely drink water. I drink diet soda. I eat stuff i know to stay away from.

If i don't get off my rear, i can expect those size 16 shorts not to fit very soon.

I can't let that happen.....

Sadness

Sometimes my sadness gets the best of me. Maybe despair is a better word than sadness. It's a feeling that i will never change, that i will always be this way, that i am not worth trying to change. That i'm not the wife that i should be, that i'm not the mother that i want to be, that i'm not the woman that i want to be and never will be.

This feels like giving up. Like not bothering. Like not trying.

To feel like you are not worth bothering with is a sadness and desperation like no other.

The list of things that are "wrong" with me is endless: i'm fat, i'm ugly, i'm lazy, i can't loose weight, i'm a poor role model for my daughter, i'm not a good enough wife, i'm not a fantastic cook, i snore, i don't keep house well enough, and did i mention that i'm fat?

Yes, it's been that kind of day for me. Actually, it's been that kind of week for me. It gets harder and harder sometimes to care. I do the things that i'm suppose to do and to everyone else, i suppose i look like and feel like the happy wife and mother.

On the inside?

Not so much.

If i could hide under a rock, stay under the covers and not come out, i would. It's a fight sometimes, it truly is. It's almost as though things are too hard to deal with.

The most amazing part of this is that i have a wonderful daughter, a sweet and caring husband, a home and all of the things that one thinks they need to be happy.

So why isn't it working?