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I remember being a size 12-14 in high school. From my freshmen year to I guess my junior year of high school I thought I was fat. I didn’t think I was over weight, I thought I was fat. My thighs have always touched each other and I had a small pooch in my stomach. This is what I considered fat. I can admit that I was called a few names jokingly when I was younger, but I don’t know where it kicked in that I thought I was fat. Fast forward senior year and freshmen year of college, I went from thinking I was fine to knowing I was fine. I don’t really know what happened. I just remembering having to shop for clothes for college and I bought clothes that were comfortable and tennis shoes. When I made new friends in college they brought it to my attention that I could wear certain clothes and look really good. I remember those days. Unfortunately I did what so many other college freshmen in America do their first year of college, I gained weight. I gained so much weight that my grandmother accused me of being pregnant.

Over the next 20 plus years I would gain over 200 pounds. Yes, I now top the scale at a whopping 364 pounds. Instead of that small pooch I had, I now have a sack of fat that hangs from my belly. When I try to put my body composition into words, it baffles me. I can literally pick up my hanging stomach and move it up and down or put my pants under the belly fat or put the belly fat in my pants. Sometimes I have to lean against the wall to put on panties or socks. It is really difficult to paint or clip my toenails because the fat is in the way when I try to bend and reach my foot. I often wonder how did I let myself get so big. I feel that I can’t keep asking myself this questions. I feel that I need to be about losing the weight and now. It is has been four days since I turned 41. Everything inside of me says stop thinking about this and be like Nike and just do it and then I hear another small voice. The small voices says we should talk about why you are so overweight.

I realized a few years after college that I would binge eat and whenever I was upset, frustrated, mad, happy, confused or sad I would over eat. I lived by myself so many people didn’t see it but they could see the weight. When I went home for the holidays it was the time to over eat. I couldn’t hide the overeating for long. Family members starting commenting about my weight. They would say how big I was getting. My mom talked with me in a different way. I could see things in her face and hear nice comments about my appear and every once in a while she would sit me down to talk about my large portions or how often I ate. She even tried to talk with me about depression. I would just blow her off because she wanted to get to the issues of weight gain and she tried to approach me in a positive and supportive manner. I was not ready and so I walked away and I kept walking away every time she tried. At the age of 41 and with the hope of have babies in the near future, I am seeking out people like my mom that will talk kindly, yet firmly about why I am inhaling food to cope with life. I have starting on this positive journey of having a healthy conversation about my weight frustrations. I hope if you need this you will start to take steps.