I had thought, but I was wrong

I had thought that once I got to goal weight:

  • I would look in the mirror and be totally happy with myself.
  • I wouldn’t constantly think about food.
  • I would feel super hot and would strut around and put effort into my appearance (like actually putting on makeup and jewelry and other extravagant things like that).
  • I thought it would be easy to stay this weight now that I had made it.

I was wrong.

I look in the mirror and, to me, I don’t look any different. I know I must look different because I’ve had people tell me I do. But I don’t see it. I feel like I look exactly the same now as I did when I weighed 20 pounds more. I see the same jiggles and rolls and dimples that I have always seen. I think I look like a Fatty McFatterson. And I don’t know how to change that.

I think about food all. the. time. You may think I’m exaggerating, but it’s totally true. I have always been like that. I think about what I’ve just eaten, what I wish I had eaten, what I want to eat next, how long until I can eat again. what was my favorite meal ever, what should I cook for dinner… well, you get the idea. I just seriously love food. Those people who only see food as fuel for their bodies and not something enjoyable? Yeah, I think they’re crazy. Eating and drinking are two of my favorite past times ever. And being at goal weight hasn’t made my food obsession go away.

I am still too lazy to bother with makeup and jewelry and looking all put together. Oh, I can manage about one day a week but the rest of the time, it’s not important to me. I don’t think a coat of mascara makes me a better person or a more competent nurse or a less-frazzled wife and mother. The days that I do bother – yes, I feel great. I feel pretty. I get an ego boost if people look at me like I’m attractive. But the 10 extra minutes of effort in the morning just isn’t worth it to me. I’d rather have a second cup of coffee.

Now, for the last bullet on the list, I have an excuse. I’m pregnant. I’m not supposed to stay at my goal weight. But damn, it is hard not to freak out when the scale goes up a bit. (And by a bit, I mean a pound. I’m technically still lighter than I was when I got pregnant (Thank you first trimester food-aversion-induced weight loss) but the downward trend has stopped and its starting to creep back up again.) Yes, I know I am growing a person. Yes, I know I am not supposed to cut calories at this point in my life. I know, I know. But damnit, I worked really friggin’ hard to lose the weight and it’s hard to know that it is all going to come back and I’m going to have to do it again in another 6 months! I am so happy to be pregnant – most of you know how badly I wanted another baby – but I’m also selfish and imperfect. And I didn’t even really get a chance to enjoy being thinner. ((And yes, I know that being at a healthier weight will be better for this baby and make it easier to lose the weight post baby and blah blah blah. Thank you for pointing that out. Now go away and leave me to my pity pot.)) Heck, I haven’t even bothered to buy new pants that fit because what’s the point? I’ll just go around in the ones that are clinging to my belt for dear life until I blow up and can fit in them properly again.

I know that the first and last things on my list will come in time. I will get back to my goal weight in time after I deliver BIT next June. And I know that in time I will stop seeing myself as a Fatty McFatterson and instead see myself as a healthy, attractive woman. The food obsession and inability to bother with makeup? Eh, I’m pretty sure I’m stuck with those for life. There are worse afflictions to have, no?

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