Before I start I want to say that I understand that everything anyone has done to help me with losing weight has done so out of love. Also, I understand that I have to take responsibility for the way I am today. No one shoved Ho Hos down my throat with a milk shake chaser (wow that sounds good right now).
I cannot remember a time when my weight wasn’t an issue with the people around me. I can look at pictures of me 2 to 3 years old and I was thin and sick looking. I was very sick a lot for a few years and you can really see it.
I was so pale in many pictures
I loved the water and did not mind wearing a bathing suit then
I even had dark circles around my eyes in a lot of early pictures. Then all of a sudden I see picture where I have a stomach sticking out, then the rest of me followed by getting bigger and bigger.
My mom used to call me “Little Mary Alice Powell”, who was (and still is, I believe) the main restaurant critic here in Toledo. My dad and grandparents took me out to eat all the time and I developed my “foodie” critiquing skills and a deep love for “good” food. Now we now know you get this “good” food by adding tons of tasty fat and carbs. Restaurant portion sizes weren’t as big as they are now but they were still a lot larger than they should have been. I remember I could take down a whole adult meal in some really nice restaurants in Toledo.
I liked fruits and vegetables but the strawberries were always better with sugar to make a sweet sauce or cheese on my cauliflower and broccoli. Of course a tomato wasn’t good unless it had Miracle Whip on it. Salads all had regular fat dressing on them.
As I got older there were constant reminders that there was “something wrong” with me. The doctors would talk real quiet to my mom about my weight while they were trying to figure what was “wrong”. There were diet restrictions like no candy or sweets; talking about what I would eat and what days I was allowed to have dessert while on vacation before we even left town. Even at 7 years old I would save up all my money and sneak over to the drug store and buy the things I “wasn’t allowed” to have and eat them anyway. I even paid with 250 pennies one time at Hills and they got the supervisor to come over because the cashier didn’t want to take all pennies. Oh, don’t mess with a 7 year old’s candy stash, YOU WILL LOSE! I had to “weigh in” every weekend at my dad and other mom’s house (I hate the term “step” for my step parents but never figured out a good term with a better picture than stepmom, stepdad…) which I dreaded and absolutely hated.
I remember the photographer talking about how to best angle this shot so I wouldn’t look so overweight. I still love him though.
There were times in gym class when you had to get weighed. In Junior High they had a scale that still seems HUGE. Maybe it was a perception thing, who knows. I was always the biggest kid and it was so embarrassing. The gym teacher would always have to comment, too. Every doctor’s appointment we always get on the scale. That was one thing I appreciate about my midwife group, they don’t weigh you. You weigh yourself in a bathroom and tell them what you weigh. I am an adult and don’t need someone standing over me like I am locked up in a hospital and need supervision so I don’t hide my meds under my tongue. AND YES, I HAVE ALWAYS TOLD THE NURSE THE CORRECT WEIGHT!
GYM CLASS, every fat kids nightmare! I would do anything and everything to get out of it. First of all you have to change clothes in front of everyone else…Hell on Earth! I was always picked last for teams…Hell on Earth! I always sucked at all the activities…Hell on Earth. And I was always last in the track or running activities…Super Hell on Earth! The gym teacher would yell at me for stopping or running (usually walking in my case) too slow. Other classmates made fun of me for being slow. Tell me how this is helping me? Wow, I really needed a chocolate bar after gym class.
I will continue this topic in my next blog post. I know I am long winded and you might need a break.