mightymeagan

So, I’m new here, but not new to weight loss (or weight gain for that matter).  I’m a yo-yo’er.  I loose weight only to gain it back again in frustrated cycles.  Most recently, in the past few years I’ve gone from 330lbs to 250lbs - then gained to 300lbs and back down to 265. Then silly me - there I go again back up to 300 then a great shock hit my system I’ve topped out again at -320lbs. Which is 10lbs shy of the biggest I’ve ever been.  I’m not going back there. I didn’t like being there, why try it again?

So, I’m here to see if this helps. I’m here to document my trials and my triumphs. I’m here to find support and give it when I can.

 I’m here because I NEED to be.

Which is I guess the first step to many that I will take on this march toward weight loss glory.  I say glory because I’ve always associated that word with war, and really that is how I look at weight loss.  Each pound and inch lost is a battle won for myself.  A victory to cheer over.  Each pound and inch gained is a battle lost.  A battle to mourn.  But, the war, ah - the war - it will never end. 

I’ve been “chubby” all my life, though in the past few years I’ve finally realized. . . I’ve long passed “chubby” by on the highway and zoomed right into severe obesity.

I hate the words fat, obese, large, chubby; I detest them. Because they ‘describe’ me - but not the me I see in my mind’s eye.  Not the me I FEEL I am.

Inside myself I am mighty.  I am strong. I am a temptress. I am sexy. I am… glorious in all my beauty.

I must reconcile my outer image to my inner one.

Now, please don’t get me wrong.  My mental image of myself is not always so constant (whose is??).  I get as depressed as the next person. Sometimes more-so, sometimes less - I’m sure.

Part of me just doesn’t understand - How the HELL did I get here??!! How in the hell did I get to be this . . big??  I know it didn’t creep up on me. I mean come on, even I’m not that dense.  But the IMPACT of it all - is mind-boggling.

Yesterday I made the decision - something needs to give. Something has to change.  Or I will eat myself into heart disease, diabetes, and an early grave.

That is unacceptable.

So, I’ve decided to record progress with BMI, inches, and pounds. These are the measurements of success or failure. I anticipate success, though I know the war will be - if not bloody, at least - sweaty.