Today marks an important day for me. It’s the day I put my reality out in the universe for all to see and know. It’s not anything I’m proud of, it’s embarrassing and it’s been years in the making. I’m really scared for everyone to know how much I weigh. I have been very careful all these years for no one to know. If I told you, I trusted you. I’m on the right track now and that’s what counts. I have to be honest and that’s what my blog is all about. The good. The bad. The ugly. It’s my reality. My truth. My story.
My Adoption
I was adopted when I was 73 days old. I always had everything I needed or wanted. I was adopted by the two most wonderful people ever. When I was 25, I set out to find my birth parents. In 1992, I met my birth mother and in 1996, I met my birth father. My birth mother is great. We get along so well and she doesn't judge me and accepts me for me. My birth father doesn't really have anything to do with me because of my weight, saying "his step daughters were a size 7". I can't imagine how anyone could deny their own flesh and blood because of how they look on the outside. I just don't get it. The part that really gets me the most about being given up, is that I was in foster care. Its just the idea of it. When my parents picked me up at the attorneys office, all my belongings were in a little bag, probably the size of a brown lunch sack. In it was a little dress, which I still have. All my worldly possessions in a little sack. Most newborns have lots of stuff. Not me. I had a dress. The idea that I was given up, messes with my head at times. Part of me thinks this is why I have a hard time giving myself to someone. Letting someone completely in. If you were to meet me you would never know any of this. My own parents don't know this. My own parents truely don't know me at all. All they know is the little girl they raised - not the adult she became. They don't know what kind of music I like. What my favorite shows are. What the goals are I have for myself. What kind of activities I picture myself doing. They know nothing. All in all, I was blessed with 2 great parents who loved me and have always been there for me. It doesn't get any better than that.
The Family Unit
I was thinking recently of my childhood years through my teenage years. I don’t remember much, but there are things that stand out in my mind. We always lived so far from family. My Dad’s family in NY, my Mom’s family scattered and we lived in the South. Looking back, I realized I never really felt like I belonged anywhere in the extended family unit. When we went to visit my Dad’s family in NY on summer break, none of my cousins would really talk to me much or play with me. The grown-ups were always busy with their talk and I was just a thorn in their side when I would interrupt (what kid isn't at that age). I reconnected with my cousin almost a year ago and he told me recently the memories he had of us back then were of my parents getting on to me. He said he felt sorry for me because he thought they were being too tough on me. I basically had to find things to entertain myself during our visit. I spent the days at my Grandmother’s house with no friends and nothing to do. Even though my parents were there, they were trying to keep themselves from being bored. I didn’t feel a part of the family and in some ways I still don’t. It could be my complex and not that way at all. My earliest memory is when my Mom and I went to her sister’s house. My Aunt was going to give me some of her daughter’s clothes, but I couldn’t fit in any of them. Her girls were skinny. It really bummed me because the clothes were so cute. No one on my Mom’s side of the family has anything to do with me for the most part. They are busy living their own lives and none of them know me really. The last time any of them saw me, I was probably pre-teen age. I truly believe when my parents pass some day, I’ll never hear from anyone. They will all forget I exist. Except for my cousin. He is really making the effort to be in my life and we are able to have a relationship.
No Child Should Go Through
I really don’t think this has anything to do with my weight gain, but I was molested as a child many times. Each time it could have been prevented. It didn’t have to happen. There were bad choices made or not paying attention to people around me. If had a daughter I would watch them close and be careful not to leave them in the care of the opposite sex. I don’t think about this much but when I do, I really start to feel sorry for myself, then I’m over it. I don’t dwell on it long. I never told my parents about some of them. My Dad recently brought it up out of the blue and I had to go through the anguish all over again. All these years no one has spoke a word about it. It was dismissed like it never happened. During this conversation my Mom questioned what happened and I told her it didn’t matter it was in the past. She told me if something happened and I didn’t tell them about it (at that time) she blamed me for it happening. What??? How could you blame me? I was a kid!
The Summer I Got Fluffy
As I got a little older, I got taller and thinned out. I guess the prior years were baby fat? Well, that’s what I’m going to call it. It wasn’t until I was 14 yrs old, that I started to really pick up the weight. The summer of my 8th grade year, my best friend Staci and I would walk down the street to the store. We would buy sweets, candy bars, Little Debbie’s, you name it. A sack each full of crap. Then we would walk over to the library and eat it all. Staci and I loved going to McDonalds. We always had coupons for the “buy one get one free” Big Mac’s. We would go to McDonald’s, order the Big Mac’s with a large fry or two and inhale it when we got back to her house. My fat years had officially begun.
High School Years
The weight brought on self-esteem issues. I had a hard time making friends. I was very shy. I went to work for McDonald’s in high school and that quickly brought me out of my shyness having to face the public and greet people. I also think that was the start of me eating the wrong foods and "sneaking" food. On Friday or Saturday nights, me and a friend would go roller skating. We would “scope” the guys out and ask them to couple skate the next song with us. Some would say yes, some no. But I remember this one guy who I thought was so cute, said yes. I was so excited! When it was time to couple skate, he saw me waiting and rolled up to me and said “I’m not going to skate with you, you fat pig!” Just slit me open and put an apple in my mouth! I was crushed and hurt. How could someone say such ugly, mean things? I usually hung around the same group of people and I had this friend named Ellen. For the most part she was skinny, wore all the clothes that were in style and I never knew her to wear anything that wasn't name brand. We hung around other girls as well – our little group. We always seemed to have such a good time and we were always into some mischief. This one particular day, I don’t recall why, but they all called me stupid. They felt I was stupid! The words still ring in my ears like it was yesterday. This is how my friends thought of me. We always loved going shopping. It wasn't much fun for me, but they had a good time. Every store we went into, there was nothing I could wear. They didn’t carry my size. I commented to Ellen about there being nothing I could wear in those stores. She said, “that’s why I go in there”. What kind of friend says that? Our group of friends were all in band together, so we spent a lot of time together. I was very active in high school. I belonged to a lot of clubs and tried to be apart of everything I could. I always thought I was a part of the popular crowd. Maybe that was just in my mind. I did get harassed about my weight and picked on by guys in the upper grades. This one guy, Jimmy, always made "moo-ing" noises behind me when I walked down the hall. I tried to ignore it, but then he started calling me "Moose". I don't think he had any idea what kind of affect his bullying had on me. Now I have to mention that there were people in our school who were much larger than me, but in my group of friends, I was the "Fat Friend". If it hadn’t been for my friend Michael asking me to Prom, I never would have been asked by any other boy. All the school dances, Michael took me. I didn’t really date much in high school or college. There were boys I liked, but none liked me back. I wasn’t ugly or hideous looking, no hump anywhere. I guess I just didn’t appeal to anyone. Who knows? I could care less now.
The Adult Years
Being an adult and having some years behind me now, my issues still haunt me. I’m not shy in the least bit, I’m Chatty Cathy. I always have something to talk about and will talk to anyone, anywhere, whether I know you or not. I do care about what others think of me, even though I say I don’t. I suppose it depends on the day and my mood if I truly do care or not. Again, looking back on my food and what I ate, I could put away a lot of food. It never occurred to me that one day it would ever grow to become a bigger problem. That extra burger, the large pizza I ate by myself, or the extra helping of pie, would one day affect my health.
Saying “I Do”
I went through a couple marriages. My first husband molested his daughter and I didn’t know that when we got married. I wanted to have my own baby and could not bring a child into this world with a man who molested a child, his own daughter. I stayed with him for 4 years, then left. My second marriage was a HUGE mistake. There must have been a black cloud in the sky the day I met him. He was a cop and his motto was to “serve them all”. And that’s exactly what he did! He was a whore. Plain and simple, a whore. A year and 4 months later we separated and I filed for divorce. Divorce Day was the best day for me! Hallelujah! I stayed single for many years, dating off and on. I went back to college and just did things for me. I prayed everyday for many years that God would put a man in my life that was just for me. The stars and moons aligned just right and in September of 2005, I met him. The next year we married. Tim is wonderful to me. He’s so gentle, very compassionate. He never complains and is so very patient. He never has a bad thing to say about anyone and he adores me. And I adore him. My prayers were answered! We’ve been married 5 years and we’ve had our share of problems. Most were caused by someone outside our marriage. Had this person not interfered, we would have had a good start to our life together. So moving on…I went on a diet and lost 50 lbs after we got married. Then I quit smoking in 2008 and gained 50 lbs +. It’s been an up and down ride.
Life Today
And here I am, present day. I’ve been taking medicine for arthritis, high blood pressure pills for several years and now cholesterol. I have gout flare ups in my knee and take meds for that too. I’m at the point where I am disgusted with myself and I don’t want to live the rest of my life like this. It’s no fun and I deserve better than what I’ve given myself. The person I feel on the inside is certainly not what is displayed on the outside. On the inside, I am beautiful. I am active and daring. I am girly and feminine. On the inside I am a person who wants to be seen, to be famous, to run marathons, to sky dive, to be physically fit. When I look at myself, I don’t see these things. I am tired of life passing me by. I’m tired of watching everyone else have the fun, while I can only watch from the side. I’m tired of living my life from my recliner. I deserve my chance to wear the cute clothes and to be noticed (and not just because I'm fat), to have my inner self prevail over this ugly shell. To no longer be the butt of people's jokes. No more!
Life starts…NOW!
