Here Comes the Bride

Five years ago tomorrow, I got hitched. We had a beautiful wedding, I wore a beautiful dress. Upon returning from a gluttonous honeymoon, I found that the beautiful dress no longer fit & hasn't fit for the entirety of the last five years. Not that I had occasion to wear such a dress, but a gal's wedding dress is one of those items that can either be an encouragement or an albatross. Mine was such a big albatross that I shoved it in a box, in a pile of boxes, on an extremely high shelf, in a closet I never look in--wedding dress maximum security.

It's not like I strutted down the aisle in a size 2. I wore a plus-size dress in a size smaller than I wore when we got engaged. On my wedding day I felt gorgeous & glamorous & for one whole day I didn't once think about whether I was sucking in enough (wasn't really an option, the infrastructure of the dress demanded it) or if my butt looked huge (again, the dress came through with its full skirt camoflage). But, the fact that my dress was a "reasonable" size & I couldn't even get it half zipped within a month of the wedding was disastrous for me mentally. I didn't have it "preserved" (or even cleaned--I'm pretty sure you can recreate our whole reception by following the stains on the dress) because I wanted my future kids to be able to see & touch a piece of the history of our family from the day it all began. Now my future kids are my real kids & the dress had yet to be a tangible reminder to anyone except me.

After I lost my baby-weight I needed a new mini-goal. Wedding dress by anniversary seemed very attainable & fun. Now, not only am I in the dress (as I sit here typing!), but it gapes in places. Some good (hips) & some bad (boobs), but all a testament to hard work! Not only am I less than the weight/size that I was on that day, but I'm a totally different shape.

Now I have an occasion to wear the dress: Thursday! Link just told me that I look like a "pwin-cess," & Coraline is picking at the beading thinking that she has never seen anything that looks so delicious. For my part, I think I can safely say that my albatross has flown the coop & I'm already looking forward to next year when it'll be a good thing that it isn't a strapless dress, because otherwise it would fall right off!

In the Beginning

In my beginning there was a strong family history of obesity (perhaps that is a simplification--nearly ALL of the women in my family are obese) & a "can't-do" spirit that ran rampant through my mother & poured into me. I was raised to feel that there were athletes & then there were the regular people. We were regular people & as such, my physical education was limited to presidential fitness tests & games of Hoover Ball in PE. I remember the exact place & time when I knew (in sixth grade) that my mother was fat & I would be fat when I was a mother. It wasn't a question, it was a reality & I cried right there in the middle of back-to-school shopping, hidden in one of those old round clothing racks. And then I accepted it & didn't think anything of it for years. Rather, I ignored everything having to do with health, wellness & weight. In fact, in my mind, wellness & weight were two topics as connected to one another as pterodactyls & petunias.

I lost the freshman fifteen during my first stint in college. Lost a LOT when I dropped out. Gained when I met my husband & went back to college. Lost a little before I got married. Gained a LOT after I got married & had a baby. Lost all the baby weight while I nursed but gained it back when I weaned. And then I got fed up...so to speak.

I realized that I was taking in more calories than I needed & calories unspent save up for a rainy day. All that saving left me with an Ark on my hips, but no sign of rain. I was depressed, I was tired, my back hurt like it did when I was 85 months pregnant & I didn't have energy to get down on the floor & roll around with my son. I changed my eating habits, lost 30 lbs & started my second pregnancy 10 lbs lighter than my first. I ended it up 60 with a new daughter in my arms.

Something clicked when I looked at my baby girl. I knew that it was my opportunity & my responsibility to kick my binge-eating, emotional-eating, boredom-eating self to the curb, to break the cycle of obesity that was ravaging the women in my family. I love my son, but my daughter saved my life.

That was 70+ lbs ago. I eat reasonable servings of real foods. I don't believe in forbidden food, but I do believe in portion control. I work out 3-4 times per week, more if my kids sleep. I try very hard to make sure that my food has the capability to rot & would be recognizable as food to my great-great-grandmother. Though I've had help on the food piece of the puzzle through Weight Watchers, I won't ever call what I'm doing "dieting," instead I eat a healthy diet. I'm not losing weight anymore, I'm getting rid of it. It's not that I "can't" eat those fries, it's that I choose not too because they aren't worth it to me any more. I believe in the power of those kinds of word games with myself. Semantics are a way of life. Choosing the right words to frame my thoughts is the first step into changing where I am to where I want to be.

With that in mind, I decided to put some of those words into text. Mostly for myself, partly for my family, partly for vanity. For too long my life has been defined by the big pink elephant that was my body. By writing about it, I'm choosing to pull back the curtain & let that elephant see the world. Since it hasn't ever been a secret that I am overweight (despite my best attempts to wear black & avoid horizontal stripes & photographs), it shouldn't be a secret that I'm doing something about it. My only regret is that I didn't start my catharsis in the beginning, but I was too scared of failure. I didn't want to commit to something that I couldn't deliver. Now I think about the time in the future WHEN I meet my goal & I will never say "if" again.