I'm So Overweight


SAUSALITO, CA (ASRN.ORG) -- I recently told someone that I've weighed anywhere from 114 to 170 pounds in my adult life, but one thing was constant: I always felt like I had a few pounds to lose.

For the past ten years I've weighed enough to put me in the BMI category titled "Overweight". This jives with the story in my head, a perfect description of me for as long as I can remember.

I've obsessed for years. Dieted. Starved. Then binged because I only lose so much weight before I plateau out and start heading back up to where I started. Last fall I started Weight Watchers, and decided to publicly blog about it; I figured if everyone knew what I was doing, somehow that would magically make it work this time.

I blogged every day--good or bad. I announced my weight to everyone I know. People would email me and tell me I was inspiring them to lose weight and exercise. At family gatherings it was the first thing people would ask me about: "How's the diet going?" I lost 13 pounds. I was feeling great, like this is it! This is the time it's going to work!

Then it stopped working.

People still asked, "How's the diet going?" But instead of motivating me, it felt the same as when I was a teenager and my mother would ask, "How much do you weigh these days?" and then announce that I need to lose 5 pounds. No matter how much I weighed, it was never the right number.

I started to obsess. To pick myself apart in front of the mirror. To feel insecure when my husband went a day without telling me I was beautiful. To wear baggy, sloppy clothes to hide myself. Nothing was fun anymore. I dreaded going on our boat because it meant putting on a bathing suit. 

My husband noticed my sadness. He ramped up his compliments. Then finally told me that I seem so depressed, and I really need to do something about it. "Maybe you should stop thinking about diets for a while."

I sat with that notion for a few days.

Then I started looking for things online that might help. And after I assimilated a lot of things I decided to get over it.

To stop labeling myself "overweight" and be "over weight".

I'm over thinking about how much I weigh. I'm over comparing myself to other women. I'm over denying myself certain foods for fear they will set off an eating binge. I'm over doing exercises I hate just because I think they will help me lose the most weight.

I'm over weight.

Lately I've been just paying attention to my body. If I think it's time to eat, I ask myself, "Am I bored?" And if I am I just go about my business and the urge to eat passes. Then, when I'm really hungry, I ask myself, "What do you want to eat?" and I eat that. It makes me giddy with excitement every time I do this. Every time. Like I have a little secret between me and me.

I've also taken to looking at myself in the mirror and consciously telling myself I'm beautiful. If I'm a little bloated or something, I will tell my little internal critic, "You know it's only temporary. This happens. Bodies are supposed to go through changes. This is normal." And then I wear my stretchy clothes that day.

I went shopping and bought myself some new clothes that fit me perfectly: most are size 12 petite, some are 14 petite. I've avoided buying myself nice stuff for a while because 1) I didn't feel I deserved to look nice and 2) I was going to lose weight and I'd buy clothes when I was a size 8. But I'm over that. I even bought myself a bathing suit that makes me feel sexy. When you focus on accentuating your best features, it's amazing how good you look! 

Previously I weighed myself every day, tracked all my food, counted calories. I haven't done that in several weeks. I weighed myself the other day, just to see. I haven't gain or lost a pound. Just stayed the same. Which is perfect, since I'm becoming very comfortable here and enjoying all my new clothes. 

So, yes. I'm over it. Over weight. I know it's going to take constant diligence to be here, at least for a while. I mean, sure, I see my reflection in a window sometimes and notice the bulge in my tummy when I sit, or the flesh that puffs out around my bra in the back, and I have to tell myself, "Really, Kristi, no one cares, or even sees that." But lord knows I'm used to constant diligence. And it seems I may have finally found something that works for me to be diligent about. Acceptance.

Copyright 2011- American Society of Registered Nurses (ASRN.ORG)-All Rights Reserved  


Articles in this issue:


  • Masthead

    Editor-in Chief:
    Kirsten Nicole

    Editorial Staff:
    Kirsten Nicole
    Stan Kenyon
    Robyn Bowman
    Kimberly McNabb
    Lisa Gordon
    Stephanie Robinson

    Kirsten Nicole
    Stan Kenyon
    Liz Di Bernardo
    Cris Lobato
    Elisa Howard
    Susan Cramer

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