I’ve heard almost my entire life, things like, “You’re too skinny,” or “Do you ever eat?”or “You need a couple of cheeseburgers!” Now, I realize people are not trying to be mean spirited when saying these things, and I’ve mostly taken them as compliments on my lean figure. I’ve always had a high metabolism and could eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. I took fore granted calories, fat grams, sugar, and so forth. I was skinny. It never changed.
And in walks age 30…..Metabolism stopped. Like, it seriously is non existent. I found I have severe food allergies (gluten, eggs, dairy, processed sugar, corn, beans..etc…), so you would think I would lose weight or at least stay the same weight right? You’d be wrong. I have gained weight. I had to buy new clothes! Now, I realize shopping is fun for most women, but not this girl. I had to keep going back into the dressing room because nothing fit right. It was either too tight, too short, too big, too long, or too revealing. I managed to buy a few nice pieces (and a pair of shoes), but it seriously drained me. I say all this to point out that while you may think you’re being kind telling someone how good they look, or how much weight they’ve lost, or how amazing their new make up is; in reality, we’re setting our self up for failure. We take that compliment and instead of just letting it be, we dwell on it. We revel in the power it gives us. We focus on being and staying that skinny/tan/toned. And then, when inevitably we gain a few pounds or winter comes and we lose our tan or life happens and we aren’t 17 anymore, we become depressed. We dwell on the negative. My heart literally broke when I couldn’t fit comfortably in my jeans. Me, the always “too skinny” girl, was anything but. I can see people twice my size and see nothing but beauty and life. But when I look at myself at this size? I’m disgusted. I don’t know when or how that happened. I don’t know when looks became important to me. I constantly tell my kids that it doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside, it matters who you are on the inside, and what you look like to God. Maybe I don’t like that way I look on the outside because it is a reflection of how I feel on the inside. I know I stress eat, especially at night when it’s quiet and nothing can keep my mind calm. Anxiety and stress set in, and I eat. It keeps my hands busy. I used to smoke, but due to heart conditions not being what they should be, I can’t. Sooooo I eat. And when I put my clothes on in the morning and that “after having kids” pudge pokes out, I break. I vow to never eat again. Until my thoughts run rampant, and I eat. the cycle continues, and will continue until I stop it. I’m working on that. But for now….I have new clothes. I hide the pudge like I hide the depression. Never dealing, never healing. One day though. I’ll be better again, one day.