You know what they say about excuses...

I am, without a doubt, an excuse-filled person. I don't mean to be, but it is what it is. I have spent the past several years promising myself I was going to lose this extra weight before I turned 40. Well, I'm down to having a little under one year before that happens. Hello weight...glad to see you're still here.
I have more excuses than I do chickens for the reasons I haven't lost the weight. While some of my excuses are legitimate, most of them are pure hog wash. At one point I weighed almost 300 pounds. I'm a little over a 100 pounds less than that now...which is good and I'm proud of myself. But, I also know I have a ways to go before I'll ever truly feel good. Feel accomplished. You see, it was over 10 years ago I lost that 135 pounds. Since then, I have bounced back & forth within a 10 pound range. Mostly because as soon as 200 gets close, I work really hard at getting down a little bit. So. Why don't I work even a little bit harder and lose yet a few more pounds? Why do I insist on eating and eating until I feel sick. OK. I am nauseaus pretty much 24/7...but overeating is seriously uncomfortable.
I LOVE the way I feel when my weight is down. Doesn't everyone?
I cook healthy dinners. We eat vegetarian several nights per week and the other nights we eat lean poultry or seafood. I don't eat dead mammals...it seems, well, cannabalistic to me. I wouldn't eat my dogs...or the forever-a-pain-in-my-ass local stray cats...why would I eat another type of mammal? I won't. I can't. I know too many loving, friendly cows. They really are cool. I think everyone should have one in their backyard!!
Anyway, this isn't about cows, no matter how extremely groovy they are. This is about my excuse riddled life when it comes to nutrition. For those of you who are saying to yourself, "Hey - grow some willpower" or maybe even worse, "Join Jenny Craig!" - bite me. I actually know how to lose weight. Duh. I'm kinda an expert at it. It's an incredibly simple formula, summarized as eat less than you expend in energy to lose weight. The average person requires 1200 calories per day to properly 'run' their bodies. 1200 calories is the 'magic' metabolic need. You will never convince me that every woman in the world has the exact same metabolic needs. That's crazy. I do, however know that if I eat 1200 calories per day, I lose weight. I also feel sick, but that's another thing entirely.
So, I know I need more than 1200 calories per day. But, I still want to lose weight. Oh...and I really don't want to 'count' every little thing I put into my mouth. Which is ridiculous. I have to count everything. Duh. Another no-brainer.
So, where am I really? I mean, if I know this is what it takes to lose a few pounds, why don't I do it?? Could it really be my childhood still haunting me as they regularly show on "The Biggest Loser"?? Could someone like Jillian help me??
I had a fairly horrific childhood. My mother hated me, still does. Apparently because she got pregnant, I ruined her life. OK. Fine. She was a whore and it was somehow my fault. Groovy.
My mother is seriously anti-fat. It occurred to me I might be her 'karma'...she's horrible to overweight people, so now she has overweight children. I dismissed that as probably not the case.
I had some pretty extensive kidney problems as a child. I was put on kidney medications...long term. I was a pretty petite child until that point. Then I went through several years where I was 'puffy'. Yes, I was chubby. Not really fat, but puffy. My mother told me daily I was fat and no one would ever want me. She told me I would never get a date with a decent guy because only the scumbags & losers would want to date a fat girl. She told me no one would ever love me. She told me she hated me. She told me she wished I had never been born. She yelled at me if I ate something for breakfast or lunch and she wasn't eating. She said hateful, hurtful things if I ate a cookie or a piece of pie at Grandma's. She starved herself for days on end...only eating what we call squishy bread (1 or 2 pcs of bread squished up by hand)or a cold hot dog from the fridge on occasion. At the end of her 'fast', she would gorge on all-you-can-eat fish or huge cheeseburgers with fries. She's 5' tall (might be closer to 4'11") and weighs about 90 pounds. Seriously. She never exercised, claiming only fat people need to exercise. What an ignorant woman.
I'm intelligent enough to realize she was wrong. Not only wrong, but hateful, bitter and mean. She continues to be this way today. I have limited contact with her. She's a negative person. I'm a positive, optimistic person. Hell, I survived her. I figure I can probably survive just about anything.
There are scars. Both physical and mental. The mental scars are the hardest. During periods of time where I'm detached from her - as in no contact for weeks or months - I am able to lose weight and reach peak fitness levels. I am able to not only do these things, but do them for me. I begin to feel strong, healthy, beautiful. Then she returns. Usually by calling me up & offering me some type of 'peace' gift - my Great-Grandmother's rocking chair and desk or her 1-year old living room furniture because she had to have new. I fall for it every time. Every damn time.
Honestly, I want to break the cycle. I want to be free from her once & for all. My younger brother lives with us. I love having him here! But, he works for our stepfather. He must maintain a relationship with our mother. We each have to make our own journey in life. I know for men emotional situations are different - they are better able to think logical and with reasoning - while as women, we let our emotions 'run' us somewhat. He is able to have a 'long' distant relationship with her and visit with her on occasion. I can't. I can't have her in my life. I give her too much power and she doesn't respect my boundaries. She is a life sucker. A tiny, microscopic, life sucker. And, sometimes, I hate her.
While I do have illnesses that require medications, and some of those medications cause weight gain, I feel most of my weight problems are a direct result of my childhood. Isn't it strange, how at 39 years old, my childhood still affects me? And how completely clueless my mother is about it? She plays the victim. How disgusting. But, it is what it is. And it's what it always will be. It's up to me to make the change. To become the person I know I can be. To love myself enough to stop abusing me by mindlessly gorging my body. Food is not the answer. Good nutrition, exercise and laughter are the answers. My family - husband, children, siblings, dad & (step) mom, our dogs, our chickens...this is what my life should be consumed with. Love, positive thinking, peaceful existence...that's what I want in life. So, that is what I shall give myself. I don't have to play by anyone else's rules anymore. No one can have the power to make me feel less than, unless I allow them to have the power.
I'm strong, I'm beautiful, I'm fit, I'm in love. So, if you'll please excuse me, I have a date with a treadmill...and then a healthy lunch.