It has been 3 years since I last posted on this blog. 3 YEARS!!! I can sum up my health and my weight in one simple sentence; I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about the times I have restarted and given up. I don’t want to talk about the fact that here I am, starting yet again, only this time at nearly the same weight that I started. I don’t want to talk about that 103 pounds that have found their way back on to my body. I don’t want to talk about the excuses I’ve made, the many Monday’s I promised myself I would start over on and didn’t. I don’t want to talk about my pants size or the fact that I have donated most of my size 4’s and replaced them instead with 18’s. I don’t want to talk about the defeat I have felt when I’ve looked in the mirror or stood naked in the shower. I don’t want to talk about the number of times I visited a drive thru in the past 3 years. I don’t want to talk about the number of times by babies, especially my impressionable little girl have heard me call myself fat. I can’t stand to think about the years where I have simply given up, let alone put them into words out loud or in this post. I don’t want to talk about it, so I won’t.
What I will talk about is that I’m here, again. I am starting over. I will not allow myself to continue in this place of sadness, shame and food.
I can’t keep pretending I will start again tomorrow. The more tomorrow’s fly by, the harder it is to start again, the more my health suffers and the greater the odds are that I will leave my beautiful babies motherless and an amazing man a widow because I was not will to stop; stop making excuses; stop filling my body with things that are only killing me. I have been killing myself for the last 3 years, and that is something I don’t want to talk about.