That darn contraption that sits on the floor of my bathroom has struck again! This time, it was not me, but DD. My heart breaks for her and I happen to blame myself.
The reason I blame myself is a simple one.... I have not been setting a better example for her in respects to my own health. Not all of it is my fault. I cannot control the hormonal shift and the weight gain that comes with it. I cannot blame myself for the stress that I am going through that creates that belly expanding cortisol that plagues me. Sure, I happen to have some control over what should be stressing me in order to control the chemical gain that is happening under my skin, but the constant battle is very tiring and very trying. I really do not have a support system in place to help with the burden because DH has his own concerns that even he refuses to share with me and with my Ms. Fix-it mentality, it would only add more to my already overflowing plate of concerns. My job is tough enough with the need to at least earn a paycheck. Being on commission is hard and I have learned to roll with the punches as best as I can, but I know it will never be enough. I am only human, you know.
With the expectation of what is considered beautiful to look at as well as the expectations of what a healthy weight is supposed to be, there is a lot of pressure for people to conform to these expectations. Especially, in the eyes of a teenager. A person of my (cough, cough) age, does start to not really care anymore about their weight. Especially, when the cards are stacked so well against them. I'll admit it... I like food. What is unsettling is the need to have more variety in food because DH and his perpetual food jag of sorts that limits us to the category of foods on the food pyramid that is under, "consume sparingly". Of course, I happen to have a sweet tooth and a serious love affair with carbs. Knowing this and doing something about it is just as appealing as getting a root canal without anesthetic.
So here I am again.... preparing to take the hard road to attempt to at least hover near the expectations of a goal weight that I have had in mind for years. The last time I managed to achieve my goal weight after a little fluctuation in my 20's almost killed me. I became sickly and sick all the time because I went from one extreme to the next. From eating what I wanted to not eating at all. Looking back, I did have the serious threat of having an eating disorder. In fact, I still do to this day. It is those times that I just don't pay attention that I seem to feel my healthiest and rarely ever get sick. It is almost like I have been destined to always carry a little extra on me. Case in point.... My first round with Weight Watchers resulted in a 45 pound loss of weight, but at the expense of getting two root canals, multiple rounds of bronchitis, and the removal of my gall bladder. What was sad is that I still had more weight to lose back then. All it took was for a plateau of epic proportions to not let me lose another pound, yet that plateau also did not allow me to even gain a pound, either. That was pretty cool being able to go rogue on that lifestyle plan and not see a change on the scale. Sadly, I quit Weight Watchers and continued on my rogue path, not watching that gradual weight gain happen until I gained almost half what I lost back. When I returned to Weight Watchers, thinking I could finally lose weight again, I ended up with a body that just flat out refused to drop the weight like it used to the first time around. Feeling defeated and not wealthy enough to keep paying to go to meetings, I quit again, but with the determination that if I followed the plan on my own, I could at least win at losing on my own terms. Needless to say.... I really hate that scale in my bathroom and have not stepped on it in years. I can see my failures in the mirror every morning. I don't need a scale on my floor to tell me that this madness needs to stop. Knowing that I will have to flip my thinking from food lover to food hater is what should tell you that I tend to go a little extreme. Especially, when I put a time limit to where I should be in an unrealistic light. Major recipe for disaster is all I can say about that.
With that in mind, I watched DD break down in tears last night. She was with her boyfriend and he took a picture of her. Upon showing the picture, he told her she looked so cute and all she managed to see was that she gained a little weight. It got the waterworks flowing. Thinking DD's boyfriend did something wrong, I immediately starting asking questions to what happened. DD shut me down, as usual, but her boyfriend managed to calm her with a hug and some supporting words I could not hear from across the room. It was after her boyfriend left to go home, is when she came to me with her concerns. I immediately went on the defensive and asked if her boyfriend said anything to have her think she was fat. She said, "no". In fact, he said he would support her in helping her achieve what she wants to achieve in any way that he can. Even with going with her to exercise after school in the school gym. I think that his gesture to support her in the process that she wants to take is probably the sweetest thing I have seen from him besides him having my back when she gets defiant regarding her inhaler. That kid sometimes does not want to miss the fun by taking a moment to use her inhaler when she is wheezing.
It is actually humbling as well as comforting that these two kids are open to talking to me about things. I seem to know her boyfriend pretty well and I know that he would never say DD looks fat in anything. He always points out how beautiful she is and makes it his life's mission to make her smile. I believe with him in her corner, cheering her on, she can do great things. Luckily, she is stubborn like her father and determined to boot, and will get that weight off in no time. I'll admit it... I did see a little bloat going on around her middle, but not enough to freak out like she was freaking out.
I did see, my youth replaying right in front of me. That insecurity and that desire to be thin and pretty like the models in magazines. That placing your self-worth in the hands of the number on the scale or the size of my clothes. That being attractive was solely based upon a number and not who I am as a person. Yep, been there.... done that multiple times and I still feel that way about myself. I just don't know how to create a confident child if I lack the same confidence, but I am going to give it my best shot. I am joining DD in sticking it to the scale. We are going to revamp the system we have been working with. There will be a day solely focused upon planning everything to the last detail when it comes to food. Food scales and measuring devices are going to be in the spotlight, as well as choices not becoming options anymore. The Weight Watchers Food Nazi needs to come out of retirement in a serious way and I think I can make it stick because I am doing this with and for someone I love unconditionally. I just hope that my cheerleader abilities can handle giving myself a little pep talk while I cheer DD on to success. I am currently not my biggest fan and there is an age gap between DD and I. She has youth on her side. I have menopause to deal with. My expectations need to be more realistic that I have a far harder path to take, with a far more stubbornly slow metabolism. I just need to keep my eyes on the prize for her and hopefully, I can also be a winner at losing... weight, that is. I have to remind DD that this journey is going to be a hard one when her favorite foods are going to be cut back.... way back. That love of carbs and sweets are going to be severely reduced.
My journey is going to be a little different than DD's, though. I am going to still refuse to have a relationship with that bathroom scale. I am going to step on once a month instead of once a week in order to gauge my progress and even with that.... I cannot put full stock in that number. I am placing more of my faith in how my clothes will be fitting. I will one day be back in those jeans that I had when I lost that weight from the first time I was on Weight Watchers. In fact, my ultimate wish is to make those jeans from my thinner time feel a little loose when I am done. While those jeans have a size number on them, I am not focusing an numbers for this journey. I am focusing on feel and I no longer want to feel ashamed in my clothes, and what I mean by ashamed is by wearing smocks to work all the time that cover me to my knees, or over-sized shirts with yoga pants as my clothing choice to go out in public. I want to hold my head up high and feel good about myself. I want DD to become a confident person in her own skin, but I also want her to not place her worth on external appearances. I want her to have a healthy relationship with her body and by showing her a reasonable lifestyle of choices, I think I can help her break the desire to be so focused on numbers and placing her self worth with those numbers. Someone needs to break that chain and I believe I can help. I need to get my head in the game and stay in the game this time around. Wish us luck! It will be a tough one. Maybe DH will ease up with his limited food choices and join us. One could only hope, right? I just hope I can make this work with food choice roadblocks all over the place.
Thanks for reading! Have a great day!
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