I can't believe how obsessed I've become with my weight.
In the past two years I've put on 20-25 pounds--depending on the characteristics of either a "good" or "bad" day on the scale. I can hardly look at myself in the mirror and few of my clothes fit. The few that do, have to be dried on the lowest level in the dryer to prevent any shrinkage, and then when I put them on I stretch them out to accommodate my beastliness. I haven't weighed this much in almost 15 years.
A little history:
My whole family could be described as whack-job eaters...scooting up and down the scale like busy little beavers. Mom has always been 'petite'--God, I hate that word--and claims she just doesn't like to eat, but she has always been very conscious of her weight; working out at health clubs during her working years, and now actively involved in too many senior exercise activities in the retirement community that she and her husband reside in. Dad, on the other hand is a big guy at 6' 2", and struggled with a pudgy self-image from high school on. He's been on and off diets for as long as I can remember. Currently, at age 73, he weighs a mere 188 pounds and he looks underweight--face drawn and just...well...skinny. My brother and his wife (who's had issues with bulimia) are admittedly insane when it comes to their bodies and self-images. A few summers ago my brother was so thin he looked emaciated.
And belonging to a family of this nature, I have always been on some "program", as we like to call them, or other since I hit puberty at 11. I had a relatively brief experience with anorexia during my teens when, at almost 5' 9" tall I weighed a light 113 (BMI of 16). I remember standing in front of a mirror in my bikini and my mother asking if I wanted my stomach to be concave and I replied without missing a beat, "Of course!!". Throughout my college years I was relatively healthy--well, as healthy as you can be on a beer and pizza "program". But as I moved through my 20's into my early 30's, the lack of exercise, tending bar, hence working late nights and eating poorly, took it's toll and I porked out to 180!
Serious disgust took hold--I quit drinking alcohol and started walking--obsessively--and over the course of a year and a half--lost 45 pounds, which conveniently put me at 135 (BMI of 20) for my wedding and honeymoon to Aruba. I was very thin--really too thin for my frame.
But never, fear...time, early menopause, two hip replacements, and a failed marriage helped me pack back on 20 of the 45 I lost. I wasn't happy at 155 but it gave me a BMI of 23, which is normal.
So what's up with me today!?? Well, I divorced my alcoholic husband, left my career as a pharmaceutical sales rep...a few other life-changing moves...and fell in love. Oh love...there's a definite reason that love and appetites co-exist.
Glasses of wine, homemade blueberry pancakes, romantic picnic dinners in the park, lunches at every local restaurant in town, candlelight dinners in out of the way bistros, lunches at tiny little cafes, more glasses of wine, Sunday brunches, Honk Kong Buffet, Las Vegas and more buffet, late night pizza delivery, and did I mention lunches? Ah yes, the appetites of lovers!
Today I am closing in on my all time FATTEST, and am disgusted beyond comprehension.
Ah...to return to the days of robust, Ruebenesque women!