i am so flat

"You're flat," he told my sister.

"What?" she said.

"Flat.. Right here," my five-year-old son waved his hand over my sisters belly.

He was trying to use his new word, "fat".

You see, "fat" is a bad word around our house. Actually, it is simply a word we don't say. Unless we're talking to each other. Two fatties. Otherwise, the word is off limits. We don't say the caterpillar is fat. We don't say that man is fat. We just don't say "fat".

My son learned the word fat when my hubby slipped up [he is not really aware of our unspoken word. He's not fat.] and called the dog "fat". Son tried the word out with his aunt. [While, he was trying to use the new word. Flat versus fat.] She didn't like it.

So, Son and I had a talk about fat. About being fat. And saying fat. [Not flat.]

"See, Honey, Mom's fat." I confessed, ashamed.

He studied me. My rolly belly. My huge boobs. Yes, I was, undeniably fat.

"Why are you fat, Mommy?"

Time for raw honesty. I took a deep breath. "Because I eat too much and don't exercise enough." There, I said it. I felt so ashamed. Now, he knew.

"I'm not fat," he said.

"No, praise God, you're not."

"You wanna know why?"

"Pray tell, why?"

" 'Cause I go like this," he said and pumped his arms up and down in the air. "I go like this whenever I'm watching TV. I exercise!" Then he proceeded to exercise his way all around the kitchen and the dining room and the living room. Yes, I suppose, that is one wonderful reason why he is not fat. Like his mother.

So, now my oldest knows his mother is flat, er, fat.

the see-saw

I loose five, gain two. Loose three, gain one. Gain one. What a ridiculous up and down.

But, I'm not quiting. I'm pressing on. Really, I am. I've lost nine pounds in ten weeks. Nothing dynamic, but not too terribly shabby either.

I'm going away for six weeks. My fat sister and I are competing to see who can loose more weight in the next six weeks. I hope I come in a close second with a weight loss of over six pounds. Then, we both win.

Note to self: freezing the cookie dough does not make it un-edible. Oops.

the tip of the fatberg

I have started too many diets in my 29 years. Despite my best efforts to not relive those failures, they are there. Staring at me as I attempt, yet again to change my life.

I lost five pounds this past week. It's great. I am happy with the results But. I've lost five pounds before. Heck, I've just recently lost five pounds. And then gained five pounds. So, while loosing five pounds is great, it is not the end. This is just the beginning.

I ask myself, "will this really be it?" Will this be the time when my life really changes? For forever?

Oh, I so desperately hope it is. I know better than to even call this a diet. Diets don't work because diets begin and end. I don't want to ever quit eating this way. Healthy. Foods that are good for you. This is a lifestyle change; I get that. I do.

moving past the weight gain

I have done some soul searching the past few days. I have come up with the following truths:

1) [As you all have been so sweet to remind me] I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I have realized that I do not believe that as I look in the mirror. I saw He's Just Not That Into You last night at the theatre. The love scene between two characters reminded me of the early days with my husband. While incredibly inappropriate and not what a Christian woman should be viewing.... it made me long for the days when I willing gave in to my husband's advances. When I felt beautiful and sexy and just let myself go during our love making. Whether I want to admit it or not.... my self esteem is limiting our sex life. He kisses me and touches me and my thoughts disrupt the romance. Sometimes, all I can think about is how fat I am... how can he love me? How can he want me? Does he wish I were different and how could he NOT wish I were different??? So..... obviously, this is an area I need to seek the Lord for freedom. I want to fully accept me, where I'm at, right now. This is my reality, flabby belly and all. I want to love me.

My darling does love me; he tells me all the time. He promises that he does not mind the rolls of fat; even says he loves exactly how I am. It is incredibly hard to trust that he is telling me the truth. [This may be TMI, but you don't know who I am anyway. So, it's OK, right?]

2) I also realized that I was adapting the TW program to my own. I was picking and choosing which aspects of the guidelines to follow, dismissing the ones I saw as unnecessary. Gaining weight this past month shows me that I need to commit more fully to the TW program.

3) Also, several of you supportive followers reminded me that it is not just about loosing weight; but also about my relationship with God. I have found another measure of freedom this past month. I have learned how to go through out my day without grazing all day long. That is a huge accomplishment! Now, I am applying that victory towards not eating in the evenings. I know I can do that, because God has helped me quite the unnecessary snacking through out the day.

4) Plus, I learned I need to eat healthier foods. TW says to eat whatever you want... but, I think I was taking that too far. I was eating cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And for snack. Nutritionally, that's way too many calories. While there is "freedom" to eat whatever, I don't think it's the best for me. So, I am committing to saving the cake and other sweets for dessert. [Duh! Only a fat girl would need to be reminded of that!] No more sweets for a meal; only food that will bless my body.

There are other revelations that I'll share as time goes by, but I think this is enough for now. Thank you, all of you, for you support and encouragement. I move on, holding the hand of the Lord God Almighty. Deep breath... here we go.

humongo boobs and a wanna-be-flat-stomach

I learned yesterday that when I smoosh my flabby belly against me so that it is "flat", I look pretty good. This gave me hope because 1) If I never loose the very round butt, I can still look great and 2) oh, I forgot number two.

Why do we stand in the mirror and criticize ourselves. I made the mistake of sitting in front of the mirror the other day and can we say "roly poly"??

Sigh. It's not that I think I'm disgusting to look at. I like my hair. I have been told I have nice eyes. Frankly, my husband thinks humongo boobs are great. But, for me, personally, I would like to magically twitch my nose and loose about 150 pounds. OK, OK, I'd settle for 120 pounds. Heck, just take way one hundred pounds, and we'll call it even.

Alas, no magic happens and my nose is getting itchy. I must plod along in this fat body and get there myself. Well, with Jesus, but you know what I mean.

Tootles! Have a happy Valentine's Day!

i do not love me

Here's a revelation for ya. I do not really love myself. Yep. If I did love myself, I would take care of me. I would not stuff my face to the point of a belly ache. I would go for a walk every day. I would not keep eating even when I know it hurts me.

I don't let my children have more than two cookies; why do I eat the entire jar? I take better care of my kids [not to mention, my husband] than I do myself.

It is a shocking realization, but I don't think I believe I am worth it.

What will it take to make me want to take care of me? God tells me in Psalm 139 that I am "fearfully and wonderfully" made. "His works are wonderful". That means ME! If I could really grasp His love for me; if I could truly wrap my frail mind around what his LOVE means to ME... I just might be free. Free to take care of this fearfully and wonderfully made person.

Now, that's a Valentine's Day thought.... Anyways....

lacy wedgies

I thought they would fit. I dug the sexy, lacy undies out of my underwear drawer. Beneath the granny panties I wore through the last pregnancy. The granny panties have begun to hang a bit loosely on my rear, so maybe, just maybe the sexy ones will fit.

Here I sit. Quite uncomfortably. Lace digs into my fleshly flesh. I have an acute wedgie. Not too comfy. I guess I need to come down a few more pounds. Pounds from the rear.

hoping to not die

You're right, Katster. Thanks for commenting on my blog and keeping it real for this obese girl. If I keep marching along, without making any changes, I will die. As you so eloquently put it.

Every fat girl needs to be reminded by a stranger that she is eating awful foods. Food that kills her. The sad thing is, I already know that!! I am addicted. That's what I keep saying. A.D.D.I.C.T.E.D.

BUT GOD! Psalm 30:2-3 says "O Lord my God, I cried to you for help and you restored my health. You brought me up from the grave, O Lord. You kept me from falling into the pit of death."

Back in January, God brought this verse to my mind. I am desperately seeking His face, remember? I need him. Like a baby needs its mother, I need Him. Like a ship needs its rudder, I need him. Like an addict needs its deliver, I NEED HIM. I believe if I keep following him and seeking him for freedom (like the Thin Within program teaches), God can and will be faithful to save me from the death I so deserve.

I do not want to replace my addiction to food with low-fat or sugar free food. I do not want to replace it with water. Or fruit. Or exercise. I want to replace food addiction with a fulfilling relationship between me and my Creator. This is my deepest desire. To truly not be hungry again.

"I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again." John 6:35a
I'm coming, Lord! I'm coming!!

ugly fat

Ugh. The fat is just sitting on me. Rolls over the top of my blue jeans. Yuck.

I caught a glimpse of a my reflection yesterday. Sadly, one of my fat rolls is as big as my boobs. Great. Very unattractive. I immediately sat up. Slightly better.

It is icky to be fat. I do not like it. I hate it. I do not want to be fat. It is a struggle to not be bogged down about it.

My husband says, "you are so beautiful!" I stare at him in disbelief. I contemplate his honesty. Is he trying to make me feel good? Or is he blinded by love? Am I truly beautiful? Even with fat hanging all over the place? Yuck. How can that be beautiful?? Silly man.

ouch. that hurt.

Children are so annoyingly observant and honest.

"Xuse me, Ms D..."

"yes?"

"um, you have a big butt!"

"Yep. I sure do."

That three year old was quite right. He is a nice three year old. I know he is not out to get me. I know that. He had no idea that his innocent (and accurate) comment brought stupid tears to my eyes.

Why do I care what a child thinks about my derriere? Plus, compared to his little bottom, everyone's butt is big, right?

And yet, I care. Sigh. I spent the rest of the evening worried that the other children were secretly whispering about my big butt. Snickering about how big Ms D is compared to the other grown ups.