Turning 40, Fat

And what I’m gonna do about it

April marked a huge milestone in my life. As the title suggests, I turned 40 years old. And August marks another milestone, one I’m less proud of. I will have been over 200 pounds for eight years.

Now, granted, I was pregnant eight years ago. But I was only four months pregnant… and I’d maintained my weight between 150 and 160 before my pregnancy.

So yes, in a matter of four months, I’d gained about 50 pounds! I gained weight so fast during the first part of my pregnancy, my doctor gave me the benefit of doubt and said I’d guessed my starting weight wrong.

I promptly informed her that I did indeed weigh 50 pounds lighter four months prior to that visit. I still don’t think she believed it.

I’m getting off-topic

There was a cascade of excuses events that happened to make me gain weight so fast. I was in an abusive relationship, my father passed away, I’d just finished my first semester of nursing school and had to make the hard decision to put school on hold for a year, not to mention I was a high-risk pregnancy due to high blood pressure. Life was really rough at that point in time.

I didn’t help matters either. I drank a ton of soda, ate my feelings, and just generally did not care. Food became my escape…

And I’m still dealing with those issues today.

When I gave birth to my third (and final) child, I weighed in at a whopping 260 pounds! I’d gained 100 pounds (or more) with this pregnancy, the most I’d ever gained and weighed in my entire life. And my daughter was born a month early!

I felt shame, pity, sadness, grief.

I suffered a severe bout of postpartum depression, failed a semester of nursing school by TWO POINTS, and ended up moving in with my daughter’s father. Shortly after that, the physical abuse began, leading me further down a spiral of unhealthy habits.

I began to drink…heavily.

I consumed probably half a liter to a liter of wine every night.

It was the only escape I had from the pain I was enduring in my home… the place that was supposed to be my safe haven.

Once I left my abuser, I thought I would lose the weight. You know… the turmoil was over so I could let go. At least that’s what I told myself.

But there’s something about trauma that doesn’t allow you to just spring back to your old self. No. It imprints on you in more ways than one.

And one of those ways, on me, is my weight.

Every day, I’m a walking reminder of the suffering and pain I went through. Mourning my father, dealing with the horrors of nursing, and coming home to terror each and every night. It was just too many emotions for my mind to process at once.

I’d tried multiple times to lose the weight while I was still in the relationship. Even got down in the 220s, speed-walked several 5ks, and felt better about myself. But once the abuse ramped up, I became a prisoner in my own home, and my health took a backseat to my survival.

After I left, I kept telling myself that I would lose the weight. That there was no way I was going into my 40s in this body that aches when I get out of bed in the morning, that can’t walk fast without being out of breath, and that can’t stand the sight of herself in the mirror.

Every…single…year…

For eight years.

And yet, here I am. 257.8 pounds. And 40.

So now what

So what am I to do dear reader? Cry? Eat? Wallow in misery?

Or pick myself up from these jagged rocks one more time…dust myself off…and try again?

Yes.

That’s exactly what I have to do. For the sake of my kids… and because I’m still here on this earth. I survived. I need to heal and let go.

And this time I need to figure out what my triggers are, why I continue to overeat, and solve those issues.

I need to get into a routine and stick with it.

I need to learn to love myself and not be so rough when I slip up.

And most of all, I need to stop breaking promises to myself.

I’m worth a healthy mind and body.

I’m worth feeling sexy.

I’m worth looking in the mirror and liking what I see.

And most of all, I’m worth self-love… something I’ve deprived myself of for pretty much my entire life.

So I’m making this pledge to you, readers, that while I may have come to my 40s fat, I will not leave that way.

I pledge to start taking care of myself by getting some exercise every week.

I pledge to eat more fruits and vegetables.

I pledge to drink more water.

I’m happy to say that I’m not drinking near the amount I used to. Now I will go weeks without having any alcohol. And when I do drink, it’s not in excess.

But truth be told, I’m horrible about drinking water. So I’m going to start there. I’m going to get myself to the point where water is my main source of hydration.

I will say that I’ve pulled myself from my soda addiction… which was a feat in and of itself, but I’m now addicted to tea!

Baby steps, right?

I also pledge to show my progress and keep it updated so that I can be reminded of how far of come, or how much I’m slacking. I’ve got to hold myself accountable. And I also need to celebrate the victories.

Join me

If you’re in the same boat I am… hopefully this will help to motivate you too. I urge you to join me and start now.

No waiting until next week…

Or next month…

Or after the birthday party planned this weekend…

Or the 4th of July.

We need to start now, do the best we can, and not beat ourselves up.

I look forward to anyone joining me on this journey.

Remember…

YOU CAN DO THIS and YOU ARE WORTH IT.

Now let’s go and get un-fat! Cause I sure as hell can’t get un-40!

Be Open Says;