I am really overweight. Historically this has never been the case. I was a skinny teenager and I used to have dinner ladies trying to fatten me up.
I had a pretty major trauma when I was 18 and I developed an eating disorder, which seems SO ironic now. In some ways it never really went away, although once I started FT work I did have to eat a bit more just to not draw adverse attention to myself. I remained quite underweight though.
The problem is, the last three years or so have been immensely stressful and my weight has ballooned. I had to get to a healthy weight in order to start a procedure and I was 9 and a half stone in 2013. I remember DH saying he thought that was a good weight for me. But then it just ballooned out of control.
Eating (and drinking) has become the thing I do, it's my absolute favourite. And obviously the more weight I've put on the worse it's got. None of my clothes fit. I don't go to places. I don't see people. I won't have my photo taken. All in all I am miserable as fuck ... so why the fuck can't I stop eating!?
DH, my own sister, MIL and a couple of friends have in various ways pulled me up on it, some gently and some not so. I've been reminded of the effect on my own children, that diabetes and a premature death may be the end result. But it also impacts on all our lives in a thousand different ways. DD was desperate for me to ride a horse alongside her but I wouldn't (I knew the owner would ask me how much I weighed and I wouldn't say and also didn't want the poor creature to collapse.) I won't go swimming with my children. Last weekend DD wanted me to go on a ride with her - it was only a carousel thing (she is 3) but it was one of those carriages you sit in and I knew I would struggle to get my fat arse in it! I barely see my friends. I pull out of social occasions because - honestly - I just can't find clothes.
I don't know why I am posting. Well, I want to start Monday. Again. But I'm so miserable.