Thursday, July 26, 2007
In October I was fat. 205 fat. I looked up my weight on a weight chart and saw – obese.
I never meant to be 37 and obese. My dreams as a young adult didn’t include cellulite. I dreamed of a life as a stay at home mom, with 5 kids, being fit, and well dressed with cute hair. I got the 5 kids, and the stay at home part, I just didn’t understand that the other parts would be so hard. Life takes on a frantic pace, and in my Florence Nightingale heroics, I forgot to take care of myself (so cliché, but true) life got busy, I didn’t pay attention, stepped on my scale 15 years later and bam. . 205.
That month my sister called inviting my other sister and my mother to have a weight loss challenge. I lost 7 pounds, but the holidays took over, and I gave up.
January came. We had gone to Canada for the New Year. Some pictures were taken and I saw just how fat I had become. In resignation tinged with despair I bought a bag of dove chocolates for the ride home. I hid it in the pocket behind my seat. I would unwrap one, place it on my tongue and let it sit until it became molten creamy chocolate. In one swallow the chocolate would glide down my throat and bring a bit of peace. My son Colton saw my stash and looked at me hopefully. I snarled like an angry wolf, in my best son of satan voice: “These are Mine get your own!!!“ I sounded like an addict.