Over the last 5 years I have had an interesting relationship with my weight. Prior to those 5 years I absolutely hated my body. I didn’t know at the time, but I was struggling with a hormone imbalance, accompanied by my body having difficulties absorbing a number of nutrients and minerals. The result of this was that I was 95 lbs, had yet to fully hit puberty, and was continuously hit with a string of colds and the flu. I was 23 years old, and I looked like a 12 year old boy, peach fuzz included.
My (not yet) hubby was my best friend at this point, he was my supervisor at work, and my ride to and from. At that point in my life, he saw more of me than my family, and it was he who pointed out that certain things about me were not normal. Even more detrimental, my health was very nearly costing me my job, what with the amount of sick days I was taking.
After a couple months of prodding (and nearly a full month of being on my period, complete with cramps so bad I was passing out, while running a chop saw) I finally agreed to go to the doctor. He took a quick look at his charts which had my complaints and said I should have come to see him about this 10 years prior. He did some testing, put me on the pill, advised that I change my diet and add suppliments to help my body absorb everything it needed, and sent me on my way.
In the first 6 months I went through 4 years of puberty… It was a bad 6 months. However, I came out the back end with a woman’s body, less peach fuzz and a frame that was 30 lbs heavier. For the first time in my adult life I looked at my body and I was pleased. I had some not so good outside influences who were “concerned” about how fast I put on the weight, and advised that I should diet as I was “perfect” the way I was before and if I wasn’t careful I would be “fat” and “ugly”.
I was 125 lbs, I was 5’6″ tall, I was at the low scale for my healthy weight and really had no reason to be concerned. I attempted to ignore these comments, but they were persistent and eventually they crept into my thoughts. Over the next two years, I slowly put on another 20 lbs, the main part of this was that I had stopped my dance classes due to lack of funds. With the lack of activity, I gained weight.
Now at 150 lbs, I was staring down the finish line to my wedding, having “helpful advisors” giving me tips on how to look my best, and ordering my dress one size smaller than I was when I tried it on as incentive. The last 4 months coming up to my wedding I lived on Subway salads and that was pretty much it. I dropped to about 145 lbs, but my dress was still a little tight.
On the honeymoon I stopped caring. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted and didn’t let the voices in my head natter too loudly. I had a doctor’s appointment shortly after my return home, to find I was now 159 lbs, this is where my struggle really began.
It’s been nearly a year since that weigh in and I’m still sitting at around 160 lbs. I’m trying to make changes that will drop me back to about 150 lbs, but it’s hard. I look at my body and to me it doesn’t look bad. Then those “concerned voices” start up again in my head, pointing out the flaws, screaming that I’m getting ugly and fat. Telling me my husband won’t want me. I try to push them away, but they’re still audible.
Time heals all wounds… But it can create some too.