Progress

Here I am, your personal Biggest Loser meets The Duggars, fat mom with a lot of kids trying to become healthier/smaller/more disciplined.

I have now lost nearly 50 lbs. That puts me at hovering just above 200, just above my husband, just above the least I've weighed in memorable history. I weighed something like 154 when I got married 18+ years ago. And I'm pretty sure we didn't have a scale for the first year or two of our marriage. So, although I am sure I knew I was gaining weight, gaining girth, clothes getting smaller, I didn't really know what the damage was, probably until pregnant with our first child.

I don't remember what I weighed at the beginning of that first pregnancy, but I remember I was fat enough to ask another, fatter woman if people would even be able to tell I was pregnant. I weighed 238 the day my daughter was born.

I lost a lot of weight before becoming pregnant again, and got down to either 198 or 189, can't remember which. But that was the last time I was under 200.

And now, here I am, tottering on the brink. I can reach the other side. I will. But then I'm not sure what happens.

What happens when I weigh less than I have in nearly 15 years? What happens when I finally weigh less than my husband? What is my next milestone to shoot for? I have a lofty goal, to weigh 132 lbs. But that is a very long weigh off (pun intended).

I don't know. It's something to think about.

For now, I'm just trying to stop eating crap long enough to get to the first marker.

To weigh less than 200 lbs, at 5 foot 1 inch, would put me in the category of Way More Normal.

To weigh less than my husband, well, would make me feel like a woman. Desirable. I can't wait and never, ever want to go back.

To weigh in the 180's might mean buying normal clothes at normal stores, in sizes without X's.

To weigh in the 160's would put me nearer to my lovely sisters.

To weigh in the 150's I could fit in my wedding dress.

To weigh much less and I could share clothing with my daughters conceivably, someday.

I could be healthy enough to not have high blood pressure, healthy enough to sustain healthy pregnancies.

And yet.

I have come so far, lost so much, and yet, I can blow it all in a day, seemingly. It seems that this many miles into success, that failure ought not be just behind me. But pigging out is so tempting. My daughter looking through her new cookbook frankly depresses me. Thinking about the holidays scares the crap out of me.

I'm afraid to fail, and just as afraid to succeed. So much better to have stayed fat than to get fat again.

And so I find myself again in desperate need of the One who doesn't change.

He said to me, you don't need sugar, you don't need caffeine. So, every so often, I will have a little of those. But mostly, I need protein, I need veggies, I need water, I need to move my body around. I need Jesus. That's my plan.

So help me God.