Today, I weigh 250.6 pounds.
There, I said it. The number—that dreaded, awful, huge number—that plagues my thoughts on a daily basis. It has been written out in bold print for the world to see. I am ashamed, I am mortified, I am disgusted.
But why? Why am I ashamed to share that number? Why does it make my palms sweat, and my knees weak, to think that people…not just my husband, but people I know…will see that number and think “Crap. She IS fat.”
It will not change how much my best friend loves me. It will not change the wonderful relationship I have with my parents. It will not cause people to un-friend me on Facebook, or unsubscribe from my blog (I hope.)
That number—250.6—is just that. A number. It is not who I am. I will not be defined by that number. I will not allow myself to be defined by my weight, just like I won’t let myself be defined by my infertility, or my Southern heritage, or my liberal politics. I won’t allow myself to be typecast, pigeonholed, or labeled. Because I am more than the sum of my parts. I am more than a fat girl, a childless mother, a tree-hugging hippie. I am more that the definitions society wants to place on me as part of its stereotypes.
There have been obstacles in my path so far–ones that I should have scaled over or navigated around–that stopped me in my tracks. So now it’s time to pick myself up, and dust myself off, and figure out just why I keep falling down to begin with.
I may need a band aid over to cover my scraped ego. I may even need a kiss and a hug and a pat on the head.
But I will continue my journey, even if I have to tread through the brambles in order to find my path.
Who cares if I have to start over? Who cares if I’ve done it a million times before, only to fail? This time might just be the time that it all makes a difference. So I’ll get up in the mornings and go to the gym that we haven’t visited in two weeks. I’ll count my calories and eat more vegetables and avoid my trigger foods. It’s back to the grind, back to the full time job that is trying to lose weight. I will tell myself that this 2 week layover was a setback, not failure. And I will move on. To a healthier, happier, thinner me.
Abby’s Weight Loss Journey, Day One, is today.