Let’s be honest-I’m fat
Being fat is NOT what you think it is . . .
Editorial Note: I wrote this post over 4 years ago. I’m getting the help I need to heal the part of me that feels unworthy. The part of me that is killing herself with food. I’m desperately seeking the Renee that I lost along the way. It is so frigging hard. In some ways, it is easy to be fat, miserable and treated as though you are invisible. I no longer chose easy.
Why did it take over 4 years to finally own my one moment of clarity? I have a lot of healing to do. When you have a miscarriage you lose part of yourself in that baby. We lose parts of ourselves all the time, sometimes it’s taken from you as in a miscarriage, but sometimes you give yourself away.
My life has been a strange mix of freely giving away myself and being brutally taken advantage of. The end result is feeling empty, worthless, emotionally homeless.
My moment of clarity in 2012
I think I’m real. I think I’m honest. I pride myself on not having an agenda.
But I lied. and it is bugging me. So I’ll confess here and then again later.
We moved and I needed to get a new driver’s license. I put it off because I still struggle with this place being “home”.
So studied for the test, made sure that my hair looked great for the photo, packed 4 kids in the van and went to the Secretary of State. (I won’t mention here that I forgot all the paper work on the counter and had to go back home . . . that would make me seem ditzy and unorganized–of which I am neither.) When I arrived for the second time, ahem, I went to the various counters and answered the questions–took the test and only missed 1 for a score of 97%–I was feeling very successful until . . .
ma’am, how much do you weigh?
For the record, “none of your business” is not the correct answer!
I lied. I lied. I lied.
I gave a number that is 20 lbs less than what I really am. I feel like a fake. I feel like a fraud. I am embarrassed. I don’t want to be this size. I feel like I betrayed myself–again.
Why did I lie? If it causes me so much unhappiness, why did I do it? If I knew that they were going to ask–maybe, maybe I might have told the truth–maybe not. I haven’t said the number out loud to anyone.
I’m not sure what I am going to do about the lie. I thought about going back and telling them that I lied–but then they might think I lied about other things and take my license away or they might just think I’m crazy and take it away. A lose-lose situation.
So I decided to do this. I decided to own the fact that I weigh 60 lbs too much! I’ll be honest about that. I lied about 20 but the real number is 60!!! I have decided that now is the time for me to let go of all the heartaches that I have made me seek out food as my friend. I have real friends now–and I’m not going to eat them! We don’t eat our friends–we eat food to nourish our bodies not to be a friend. I’m getting it. Now is the time in my journey to figure this out.
I have watched enough Oprah episodes and a season or two of biggest loser and read the Roth books . . . I get that it is not about the food for me.
For me it’s about having things taken away from me–it’s a long list–if I thought that the list actually mattered I would make it, but it is not in the list but in the repeated heartbreak of losing.
I think when I finally gave up was when I had my first miscarriage–I was 3 months pregnant, 136 lbs and wearing a bikini with an adorable little bump. Then not. The pain and loneliness of the loss of a child was overwhelming. From that moment to when I had my son (a span of 12 months) I gained over 100 lbs. Once I held that baby the world seemed “right” again, yet I had a shadow of disappointment and feeling like a failure.
A few months later, after losing a bunch of weight, I found out I was pregnant the day after my Mom died. After . . . the weird thing is she asked me the day before she died if I was pregnant? In some weird way I thought this pregnancy was a gift from God, an exchange for taking my mom away from me. But . . . I lost that baby the week before Thanksgiving . . .thankfully I was so upset I couldn’t eat. I’m sort of joking here but if I could eat I think I wouldn’t have ever stopped.
I remember feeling empty, failed, hurting so deep inside at a place I didn’t know was even there. The doctors told me I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant again. I stopped living and caring. I did not feel alive. I felt dead. I lost ALL hope. I poured myself into my only child.
Well, the happy ending is that I did get pregnant again, and again, and again. I have 4 beautiful children and with each one I put on 20 lbs that never came off!
Now I am ready to be honest with myself. I am ready to own my size. I am ready to change.
(oh, yeah–I’m scared out of my wits to push the publish button on this story–praying for . . . what should I pray for grace, understanding, fortitude???)
Be Blessed–not matter what size you are!
P.S. Since I wrote this I have gained yet more weight. UGGHHH. But, I have decided that 2017 will be my year to lose the weight, take my life back and make a difference in my life and the life of my kids. It has taken me a long time to get to this place of loving myself. Sometimes we just need to get our ass kicked before we get serious.
Originally published at reneebaude.com on October 1, 2012.
