I've always been fat. As a child, I was fat and my grandmother made sure I knew it. I look back on high school now when I weighed 135 and was a size 8, and can't help but laugh at the insidious mindset that body set me up for today.
Flash forward fifteen years and I've had two children, myriad injuries, and gained nearly one hundred pounds. I eat as a solution to every single life problem and, in turn, am saddled with more and more with every passing pound. I hate my body. I hate every single inch of it and there are plenty of inches to go around.
My mom is twice my size and only an inch taller than me. I am watching her feet and calves go necrotic because of her weight. I am watching her struggle to breathe and sleep because of her weight. I am watching her justify it all under the guise of having no other options. I don't want to be that person and I sure as shit don't want to be dead by 50.
I understand the dogma behind weight loss; in fact, I've lost a ton of weight doing CICO before. What I don't understand is how to confront the underlying emotional issues that inspire me to eat with abandon until I'm sick.
Someone please help me. I can't live like this anymore.
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from loseit - Lose the Fat https://ift.tt/2OFSzwd
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