ar2

I am part of the Survivor challenge, and today we got a little homework assignment.  :)  I have to write a blog about:

1) Why did I gain the weight or what prevented me from losing it sooner?
2) What am I prepared to do to change that?

Well, here goes.

There seems to be about half a billion reasons why I gained weight.  I think the first time I really porked out was in 1st grade.  My dad was having a lot of health problems, which meant many late night trips to the ER for him and my mom, so my sister and I got dropped off at Grandma and Grandpa’s while our parents were at the hospital.  Grandma and Grandpa were firm believers in solving problems with food, so I learned to eat when I was upset about Dad, and the food would make everything all right.  My dad’s health problems continued, and so did my weight problems.  When I was 9, my dad passed away.  He was only 40, but he had so many health problems due to diabetes.  So I continued to eat to kill that pain.

My weight problems continued, I remember getting weighed in gym class in 5th grade, and I weighed 105 lbs.  Yes, in 5th grade.  It was awful.  It get better for a while.  In 7th and 8th grade, I was on the track team, so I did a lot of physical activity, plus running which I loved.  I don’t know how much I weighed at that point, but I do remember being in double digit sizes even though I was very active.  I was still insanely fat compared to my friends who were all twigs.

I didn’t participate in any sports in high school, so my weight climbed again.  I remember getting on the scale at home one day and I was at 196, but I don’t even remember how old I was at that point.  My first brief stint in college wasn’t much better, though I was eating less because I was poor, and spent a lot of time barfing because I drank to an excess almost every day.  Eventually, I dropped out, changed my ways, and got a physical job in a factory where I worked building industrial fans.  Lifting those suckers all day every day really helped out, and I stepped on a scale at a party (I didn’t even own one!) and I was at 140 lbs.  That was about 10 years ago.

I moved to Chicago with my sister right around that time, and I spent a couple months unemployed so I just sat around and ate since I didn’t know anyone.  I got up to 170 lbs when I went in to get my physical for work, which was about 5 months after I weighed in at 140.  I think my weight stayed in that range for a while, until I started dating my husband.

It seemed like all my husband and I did together was eat.  Well, okay we did other things, but eating was always a big part of our plans.  I learned to just eat and eat and eat with him, and I really packed on some pounds.  After a few years, I got up to 246 and was totally disgusted with myself.  I changed jobs and started walking partway to and usually all the way home from work, and my weight dropped again, though not a lot.  Then we moved to Wisconsin after getting married, and I didn’t walk nearly as much anymore.  Of course, I hardly ever left the store I worked at, so most of my meals became stuff I could buy at the store (it was a drug store) or fast food on my way home from work.  Not a great combo.

When I got pregnant with my son, I weighed 223 lbs.  I actually lost 4 lbs early into the pregnancy, mostly because I was watching what I ate.  I didn’t mind putting insane amounts of nutritionally void foods into my body, but when those same foods were going to feed someone else, I couldn’t handle it.  Two days before my son was born, I weighed 241 lbs (he was a 9lb baby).

I remember eating the small portions of bland food in the hospital after my son was born, and those tiny portions were more than enough for me.  I hoped that I was changing my ways, but with lack of sleep and issues with breastfeeding, my eating took a turn for the worse.  I would spend all day with a baby attached to me, and if I tried to detach myself, he would scream his head off.  I learned to eat only what could be easily cooked with a baby attached (mostly microwaveables) or things that were ready to eat with zero prep (which ended up being lots of chips and stuff).  I would then wolf this down before he stopped eating and started crying.  I don’t think I tasted anything for like 2 months, but I did pack on some weight.  I kept those same habits even after I stopped breastfeeding, and that got me where I was about 4 months ago, 250 lbs.

As for what I am prepared to do to change a lifetime of emotional and other crappy eating habits and a lazy lifestyle, well, I’ll do what I have to.  I know exercise 5 days a week most weeks.  Though I’m not always good at it, I try to eat healthier foods.  I eat more fruits and vegetables than I think I ever have.  I have given up sweets and pop because I can’t seem to master moderation with them.  I try to pay attention to how I’m feeling and why when I sit down to shovel food into my face.  And I remind myself that there is a little man that sees everything I do and learns by watching me.

Well guys, that’s my story.  There’s more to it, but that’s the basic.  I’m already afraid to see how long this thing is going to end up being.  Thanks for taking the time to read it!