Confessions of a Fat Girl

Have you ever just felt trapped in your own skin? As if you didn't change you were going to explode? I have felt like that the past couple of days. I don't know if it's the sun or the spring or the fact that I have sassy new hair, but sometimes I just feel so.........trapped. I want a new job, a new life, a new body a new start, a new town a new cat....a new EVERYTHING!

Yesterday (after trying on the 18th shirt that didn't fit at Ross) I realized something: I feel trapped inside of ME! It's not my job or my life or my car--- it's me that I want to escape from. I admit that I don't like myself very much. I am constantly inundated with negative self-talk, self-hatred and loathing. I have never been able to look in the mirror and tell myself, "You are beautiful." I had some ladies tell me at a meeting this morning to do positive affirmations and I couldn't help wonder why I would lie to myself like that? I have never liked myself, never felt beautiful and always felt like the fattest wench in the world.

I am not trying to be a bummer; I am just trying to be authentic, real. I have struggled with insecurity my whole life. As a Christian I feel double shame at times because I don't ever want God to believe that I am not thankful for whom He made me to be. I just don't understand why I couldn't be who I am supposed to be only lighter? I get so irritated with all these skinny, skinny people who are "dieting". I just want to shake them! If they think they need to lose weight, what must they think of me? It's not as though I lose sleep over worry of what others think, I just wonder if they aren't comfortable in their own skin, is it any wonder I am uncomfortable in mine?

I hear all the time, "If you don't want to be fat, lose weight." Ah, if only it were that easy. I wish that people could understand that food is as much an addiction as methamphetamines, alcohol or marijuana. Food is my crack. I cannot escape it...it follows me where ever I go. I have been heavy my whole life. I have used food for comfort, company and consolation. I have turned again and again to my drug of choice when my life is happy, sad, angry or boring. I have developed a life-long habit with food and as I stare down the barrel of my last year in my 30s, I am worried. I feel scared. Why scared? Because it is a known fact that losing weight after 40 is infinitely harder than in your 30s. Lucky me.

I don't know what to do. I am in a hate-hate relationship with myself. Rene' and I have decided to join the YMCA, but with my track history I don't even know if I have the staying power. I know this is a depressing blog, but I am just expressing what is going on in my head. It's not always fun and games boys and girls...sometimes it’s just....me.

Refuge

Sometimes, when I hang up the phone, I am fighting back tears. I just feel so incompetent, so…ineffective to help. She is the only person in my life in which I have to weigh and measure every word I say before it comes out of my mouth for fear of hurting her or provoking her anger. I tiptoe. I dance around my feelings because honestly, they don’t matter. What matters is her journey to becoming an adult. She is fighting this fight not me. I have to stand by and watch her suffer, make mistakes, feel desperate and alone. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to say it. I have my thoughts and my feelings but again; they don’t really matter.

I am dying inside because I desperately want to help her. I am screaming inside my head, “Let me help you! Please!” I have begged her to let me help her. I have pleaded with her to lay aside her pride and let me ease her burden; but she refuses. Time and time again I have to reach deep inside of myself to find that little bit of restraint that keeps me from grabbing her, holding her to my chest and never letting her leave my house. She is not a baby anymore; she is well on her way to adulthood and I can no longer block the world from darkening her door or protect her from the boogeyman that lurks in the shadows.

I am learning that growing up is not just her journey, it is mine. My growing up is about learning to let go, stop trying to control everything, be still, be quiet. Trust the Lord with all my heart. Trust him because my daughter is my heart. There is no one who is able to guard and protect her the way He will. My control is just an illusion and every single time I try to interfere in her life I am robbing her of the opportunity to learn the lessons that God has so carefully crafted for her. And for me.

I must never forget that God chose me to be her mother and that I am the best person to help accomplish this good work he is doing in her. So as I fight back the tears and bite back my words I am compelled to turn to my Father who is desperate to help me and begs me, “Let me help you! Please!” Today, I choose to run into His arms, bury my head in His chest and be comforted.

“For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6