Gift to Me

I hate this. I hate being heavy. I hate being the big girl (I suppose by now I am a big lady.) I hate having to think about what I put in my mouth every stinking moment of the day. I am not by nature a negative person, but I have thought very deeply lately about why I gave up on my body, and the answer is very simple:

I do not deal well with stress in my life. I hate working out. I hate food being an issue. I want to eat like any other normal thin person. 

Whah? 

My doctor's voice: You are not like any other normal person. You are two hairs distance from diabetes. You can't eat like a normal person. If you don't change something you could gain 100 pounds in the next 5 years. 

Gah! Shut. Up. That's what I want to say, but I don't. 

This morning I woke up and told myself it was time to start. I have done this so many times before. I have succeeded and failed over and over and over. I know my brain has to be in the right place. I woke up this morning and somehow it was. And here I am. 

Just for your information, my heaviest weight of all time was 235 lbs. My lightest weight ever in my adult life was 162 lbs, and that was before giving birth. My lightest weight after giving birth was 167 lbs. I feel right anywhere from 167 lbs to 174 lbs. 

I was on phen-fen in the 90's, and if it became legal again I'd be the first in line to use it. I have recently been on phentermine, off and on for the past two years. I absolutely love it, but my doc said he can only give me a limited prescription, not more than 6 months out of the year. When I am on it, I lose weight and have total control of my eating. Energy is an added bonus. When I go off it I plummet into that deep dark place where there is never enough food to eat and where one can never be truly full. Way down there in the dark, I realize, it's not a real place. It's withdrawal symptom of the phentermine. 

I want to do this on my own. I want to be the one to take the credit, not stupid phentermine (love/hate relationship going on there). I want to be strong. But I can not see myself feeling any love for the fact that I have insulin resistance, and that I can't eat like everyone else. I really do hate it.

I turn 45 years old next week. My back is beginning to ache again, my hips hurt again, and I am breathing heavy when I take the stairs; all these were completely gone when I was thinner. I don't like who I am when I look in the mirror. I am disgusted with myself every day for not being able to stop eating junk.

Today feels different. It's my gift to myself.