Thursday, December 25, 2014

Weight! Weight! Don't Tell Me!

Let me start by saying I have always had a pretty good body image and relationship with food. As a kid I had a fast metabolism and was a picky eater with food texture issues to boot (which I am now working off karmically with my oldest son, but that is a post for another day). So I was a skinny kid, but healthy. I could do what ever it was I needed to do physically. (Well, sort of. I was also uncoordinated, deeply challenged & troubled by spatial relationship, and asthmatic. But again, a post for another day.)


Annette Funicello, not me. But I believe we had a similar adolescent experience. Minus the  whole Mickey Mouse club thing.
Puberty came late and seemingly overnight- BOOM! Boobs!!! BOOM! Hips!!! This did not help with previously mentioned coordination issues, but my high school boyfriend was being high-fived in the hallway, like he was some kind of scout who had recognized potential in hereto unknown wunderkind.  Should I have felt trivialized and marginalized by this new found attention? Probably. But what the heck, I was 16 . I had been praying for boobs for years. It just felt like confirmation in a higher power.

20's were filled with gaining and  losing the same 10 pounds, but I wasn't overweight. As someone who was trying to make a career as an actor, I was hyper aware of "industry standard". And for all of my foibles as a twenty-something (Numerous posts for another day), I had a pretty good head on my shoulders about that whole thing. I had what I called a "fighting weight" that was at the low end of healthy for my height. And I would try to stay there. But I recognized it wasn't the weight my body wanted to be at. So I would do my best. I still had a rocking metabolism, but I joined an uber fancy gym I couldn't afford and went 4-5 times a week. (Eucalyptus steam room & whirlpool made utter hatred of all things exercise a little more bearable) I would watch what I ate (mostly) and go on every fad diet imaginable. And of course, I smoked. So much smoking.

A cigarette for breakfast never hurt anyone, right? (Sigh...) But I didn't obsess. And I didn't starve myself. And I didn't hate the way I looked.

30's came and I left NYC, stopped actively pursuing a career in acting and began a career in academia. And I moved to Missouri to teach. Oh, Midwest. How I love you. No pressure to eat chicken breast and steamed vegetables 24/7 or have a fancy gym membership, so I let myself gain that 10 lbs, keep it on and gained 5 more. IT WAS AWESOME. No seriously. GREAT.  I even quit smoking. Again, I was healthy, not overweight and while I jiggled a little more in some places, I still felt good.

And then I tried to get pregnant. And couldn't. And couldn't some more.  And really, really couldn't. And I really, really wanted to. So I went to a doctor and got some help. That help included various drugs and injections that caused me to gain weight. 

Again, not me. Lucille Ball, playing the role of Me.
Then I got pregnant. I was thrilled. Weight/schmeight, I was having a baby! But I was NOT one of those women who looks exactly the same as they always did, but with a cute little beach ball belly in front. Nope. I EXPLODED. Every part of my body got wide. My feet, my ankles, my thighs, all the way up to my hair.

Godzilla had NOTHING on preggo me
Baby came, baby weight came off. But the trying to get pregnant weight was still hanging on. And my rock star metabolism, like most rock stars, did not age gracefully. Still in Missouri, eating what I wanted, not working out. And now I was not so happy with how I felt and what I saw in the mirror.

Baby 2 came. We basically just thought about trying and I got pregnant. Crazy after the drama of Baby 1, but life is weird and wonderful, is it not? Got wide. Got wider. Got another beautiful baby boy. Baby weight came off for the most part, but carrying a person inside of you, for all the miraculous beauty, SERIOUSLY MESSES WITH YOUR BODY. (Wow will THAT be a post one day)

Please Don't Eat the Daisies TV show. Not me or my kids or my dog. But it feels about right.
Went back to work full-time with 2 little ones at home. Working out and eating right fall by the wayside. I am so tired, I eat what is easy. What makes me feel good. All sorts of food issues (food as reward, eating my feelings) I had NEVER worried about started to creep into my psyche. I hate it. I hate the way I feel physically. I hate that I hate what I see when I look in the mirror. I escaped that BS for over 30 years. And I have a pretty great life. I don't want that nonsense to get in my way.

So that's my 40 lbs. 
Tony Curtis is not starring in my dieting efforts

I won't be sad to see it go.

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