I didn’t start out fat.

As far as I know, I was an average sized baby. With a long head. My parents (read: father) thought that I was disabled because of my long head. Turns out, I just have a big head.  Somewhere along the way I went from being a lanky tallish girl, to being a BIG girl.

I can psychoanalyze it all for you at a later time, but the short version is this:

I learned very little about nutrition from my parents. My mom got a job at Krispy Kreme when I was in the eighth grade. I’d eat four donuts (cinnamon twists to be exact) for breakfast, lots of junk for lunch, and return home for more donuts. I went to my first trip to Weight Watchers that year. Somwhere along the way, food became a coping mechanism for me. A way to cope with the pain of social isolation and fear, and with the unhappiness at home.

Fast forward five years…It’s my first year of college.

I am one the largest girls in the freshman class at my all-the-girls-are-skinny Ivy League school. I learn about nutrition, start to exercise and I lose most of the excess weight. After graduation approaches, I am stumped. What does a woman like me do now? The weight starts to creep back on. Old habits come back.
200 pounds comes…

and goes…

202..

210..

212..

220…

225…

247.

It’s been almost 7 years since I graduated from college.

I am now 28. Married. A mother. A teacher. And very fat.

(See the number above.)

Somewhere along the way, I lost myself. I got caught up mentally in past pains, and I.let.myself.go.

I’ve said it. It’s true.

But a recent trip to see old friends reminded me of who I am, and what I want. I want to see my son live. I want to travel the world. I want to grow old with my husband.

I want to me proud of myself again.

So, I’ve joined the challenge (www.50millionpounds.com) in order to free myself.

Join the ride.