Day 1

Sunday, July 20, 2008.

This day is burned into my psyche.  This day is one day after my oldest daughter, Charlotte's, first birthday party. The party was fantastic. We had tons of friends and family over for a cook-out to celebrate. It was really hot outside, in the lower nineties.  But, we are fortunate and have really great friends and family.  They braved the heat anyhow and Charlotte had received so many gifts and goodies that it looked like Christmas in July.

Now, the last of the Elmo balloons had been deflated and the trash had all been hauled to the curb.
I was flipping through our digital camera looking at photos. In this day and age, of course, no waiting for the film to develop.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I was huge.  I mean, not just a little overweight, but really overweight.  I put the camera away.  I couldn't even focus on my child in the frame because of how overwhelmed I was by my size. What happened to me? Yes, I had a child. Yes, I was diabetic. Yes, I worked a lot and was always tired it seemed. But, is this OK with me? My husband, Grant, loved me no matter what size I was.  But, did I love me? 

As I prepared to get in the shower that night, I stripped down to nothing and looked at myself in the mirror. I was so ashamed. I mean, really ashamed of myself. What a mess.

I got in the shower and washed.  All I could think of was how my belly was big enough I couldn't see my toes; the flab under my arm; my second chin.... and the list went on.

I got out of the shower, toweled off and looked back in the mirror. Then, cried my eyes out.  Not one of those "poor me" cries - but cried. I sobbed so heavily my shoulders ached. The sobs were pouring out so fearce at this point, I buried my head in the towel to muffle my wails so I didn't wake my baby.
I was hurting. The pain that only comes from hating yourself. Even as I write this today, now three years later, the tears are rolling down my cheek because the memory of that day burns. It's taken me a week to even get the guts to put this on "paper" for total strangers and friends to read.

So, there I sat, naked on the bathroom floor with my face buried in a puddle of snot, tears and hair matted to my face.

Then something snapped.

"You dumb fool," I said out loud to myself. "You did this yourself. So, are you going to cry about it? Who's going to save you from yourself? Poor baby. You drank and partied too much. You had a baby. So what? You danced when the band played and it's time to pay up. Those things don't come with out a price."

Now, I was pissed. I stood up and looked at myself again. People have babies everyday. You aren't special. No doctor is going to get rid of this weight. You got yourself into this mess and you damned well will get yourself out. Do you want your children to see an example of a woman like this? No. Hell no. My kids will never see this sorry excuse for a woman. It's not good enough.

I pinched my fat belly, rubbed my double chin and washed my face. I starred straight at myself and said out loud "it stops today". Those three words have never been so incredibly powerful.

Monday was the start of a brand new life.