Its as simple as this:
I’m not losing weight. I might be the only person on the planet who’s not.
However, I changed my relationship with food. It took a long time, luckily I started the journey when I was 12.
I used to need things. I used to want a full belly, not a mouthful of something yummy. I wanted a distraction from the loneliness and sadness over the fact that my father didnt want me, that I never had friends because we moved so often.
When I was in junior high, my mother joined Weight Watchers. In four years she lost 200 pounds. She gained it back over the next six. I watched her methodically put chocolate in her mouth like a robot while watching TV. I say her deny herself things she wanted until she cracked and went on a bender of sugar and french fries.
In short, I learned everything not to do.
My freshman year of college went so badly that I over ate more than ever. If I wasn’t eating I wasn’t awake. Yet every time I would hop off the train for a holiday at home, my mother would exclaim, “You look so skinny.” Depression does funny things. I eventually left that school, came home, got an apartment and really learned how to cook. Vegetable soup, pumpkin bread, and chicken pot pie were my first cozy comforting attempts at real meals. It was in that townhouse next to Kroger that I learned that mashed potatoes out of the box are blasphemy and no self-respecting person should use frosting out of a can.
Once I learned what goes into food was when I learned what I can and can’t get out of it. The smell of bread baking, the sound of slicing a crisp pepper, the feel of mashing potatoes by hand. All these things are like heaven to me. Actually eating it has become a formality.
I am at least 60 pounds over weight. I wear a size 22.
Okay, a 24…… Sometimes a 26 YOU GET THE IDEA!
I go to the gym 2 days a week, 3 when I’m bored.
I can still wear my sophomore year Homecoming dress.
I’m not small and that’s not my goal. I may never be and I’m okay with that because Jason calls me sexy everyday. And Kirby thinks I’m keen.
And isn’t that the point?