I don’t know what the point of this post is, but I think I just need to get my thoughts out. If you’re prepared to read a short novel, I appreciate your time. If not, I completely understand and wish you the best of luck in your personal journey.
Weight has been a problem my whole life, and by whole life I mean I can remember being around 5 years old and not wanting my friends dad to pick me up and throw me in the pool like the other kids because I knew I was bigger and I was embarrassed. I was 5 and somehow I was already ashamed of my body. My parents were great and my mom always made sure I had healthy, tasty meals. I’m adopted, so I can’t really look to my parents as a reference for my weight. I don’t know much about my birth parents, but I know my birth mom had gastric bypass surgery at some point and struggled with her weight as well. I want to be in control of my weight, but when I lose weight, I can never maintain the loss.
Cue to the summer of 2015. I went from 235 to 205 in one summer just by being active. I didn’t even try, it just happened. I then went back to college which was an incredibly toxic environment and I gained it all back.
Cue to summer of 2016. I once again had an extremely active summer and went from 235 to 205. This time I wasn’t going to gain the weight back because I had learned my lesson from the year before. Well, turns out toxic environments aren’t great for weight loss and I gained all the weight back again.
Cue to December of 2017. After graduating college and being accepted to grad school, I decided that I was going to join Weight Watchers. I had recently moved to a new city, had a great new job, was accepted to grad school, and was financially stable for the first time ever. It was like I was finally ready to make a lasting change. I started my WW journey at 258.8 pounds. (I’m a 5’7” woman for reference)
Cue to February of 2019. Thanks to diligently tracking meals, walking EVERYWHERE and being in the most positive environment I had been in years, I was down to 196. A number I hadn’t seen since 2013. 196 at 5’7” might sound like a lot, but for me, it was a dream weight. I have a very athletic build and was a former college athlete. I have quite a bit of muscle and 196 for me felt good. I still wanted to get down to 165, but I was incredibly confident at 196.
Unfortunately, although my physical health was at an all time high, my mental health was at an all time low. I lost a lot of that last 20 pounds just by being a nervous wreck. I was in grad school full time, working full time, and also interning part time. I had a mental breakdown and took a quarter off of school and postponed my internship. I was managing my mental health, and decided that it wasn’t possible for me to gain the weight back again and I just didn’t have the energy to stick to a plan. I wanted to drown my sorrows in Mac and cheese and ice cream. And I did. For months.
Cue to September of 2019. My sabbatical was over and I was ready to finish grad school and complete my internship. I had gained 30 pounds back and felt terrible about the gain. I was now back to 225. However, I felt ok at 225. It’s like the highest weight I’m comfortable at. I’m not “happy” at 225, but I feel like it’s manageable. Something about the 220’s feels successful to me. Maybe because my default weight is usually 235. Either way, I was 225 and feeling ok. I finished my internship, graduating with my Masters degree, moved into a new place, began an amazing relationship, and as of today, gained 15 pounds.
I now weigh 240.6 and I feel absolutely defeated and miserable. I recently got my dream job, am in a fantastic relationship, have a wonderful home office, and I hate myself. The thing that’s most frustrating is that I wasn’t eating like I was when I was gaining weight in the past. I’ve tried actively to lose weight since March and it’s just. not. happening. I was going on 8 mile bike rides daily, combined with HIIT workouts, tracking calories and points on WW and MFP and still, nothing. I wasn’t gaining, but I wasn’t losing. I was hovering right around 235 since February, and today I finally hit 240. For me that feels like rock bottom. I can’t seem to string two consecutive weeks of losses together. I don’t know why it’s so hard this time. Usually once I commit, I see success. Not this time. And it’s heartbreaking. I feel so defeated. I want to make this change. I really do. I want to be successful. But seeing the scale not move, or go in the wrong direction, is so demoralizing. I’ve had all the tests done and by the numbers I’m completely healthy otherwise, so that’s a positive.
It doesn’t help that my boyfriend and I weigh the exact same. We’re close to the same height as well, he’s a little taller. Knowing that I weigh as much as him disgusts me. I’m so disgusted with myself. He’s great and incredibly supportive, tells me I look great, all the right things. But it doesn’t matter. I look at that scale and I hate myself.
So here I am. September 13th. Hating myself for getting to this point. Starting over. Again.
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