I need to lose 100 pounds.
The doctors have told me over and over again. Lectured. Berated. Denied treatment. My body screams from the soles of my feet to the top of my lungs. My health history is full of red flags - high cholesterol, family history of diabetes and heart disease, overweight (or obese) since puberty, sedentary job, ex-smoker. The extra weight I carry effects every part of my life.
I haven't lost 100 pounds.
Not for lack of trying. I start, I lose, I regain, I give up. Over and over and over. Every single time. Sometimes I don't even start before I give up. The need is ever present. Like the weight, it defines who I am. If I let it, it will define who I will become. I obsess over it. What will I do next? What is the right answer? Is there even a point? I get depressed. I get embarassed. I get overwhelmed. I GIVE UP.
I want to lose 100 pounds.
I want to walk upstairs without losing my breath. I want to roll around the floor with my kids without pain. Enjoy new activities without requiring physical therapy. Wear dresses comfortably with cute shoes. Walk trails carrying my food for the day. Go camping. Run a 5K. Wear the outfit I like so much on the model. Know the cat call I just heard was not making fun of me. Dance, dance, dance. Have acrobatic relations with my husband. Go skiing. Go skating. Inspire envy from another good looking woman.
I will lose 100 pounds.
I will make a plan. I will overcome the fear and anxiety I feel thinking about my body and my future. I will celebrate my accomplishments. I will learn from my failures and stop punishing myself for them. I will stop fearing food. I will show my daughters what a healthy, confident woman can do. I will become a healthy, confident woman.