My sister

Growing up with my sister was always a challenge, like most sisters.  She was the complete opposite in body design.  I always felt some resentment toward her.  She could do no wrong.  I would just think of fries and I would bulge. 

Genetically, I was born that way.  My mom tells a story of my Grandpa looking at me and saying "That baby is going be fat as a kid".  Of course, he was right about the kid but not about the adult.

I could walk, run, starve myself, or dance and yet my sister would still be smaller than me.  Genetically, she was born that way.  As a kid, you don't understand genes.  You just know that there is a difference.  She could eat chocolate and Dirotos till the sun came up and not gain one fat cell.  I would stare at my sister and wonder what she was doing that I wasn't.  I would eat salads and my thighs just seemed to explode.

Today, the roles have reversed.  I am smaller than she.  I do not gloat about this even though she made fun of my weight as a kid.  I worry about her.  I worry about what she is doing to her heart and joints.  I worry that she is going to get diabetes, heart disease or CAD.  Granted, there is some self satisfication in being smaller, but it is small. 

Living in my Husband's Weight Loss Shadow

When we moved to Vegas, my husband was landlocked with no ocean in sight.  Two years went by and he gained several pounds and wasn't happy.  I always felt superior to him with my sleek body.  When my husband took up StandUp Paddleboarding, he lost 4 pants sizes.  His weight loss overshadowed any muscle gain that I might have acquired over the last 6 months.  He is alway flexing and showing off.  I feel guilty when I look at myself in the mirror knowing that I too should lose some weight so that I look his equal.  Even when I competed in my first bikini competition, I never boasted about my accomplishment.  I didn't parade or showcased my accomplishment.  This isn't true for my husband.  I know he is happy with his body, I am happy for him but I just don't like how he makes me feel about myself.  I know he dosn't mean it and maybe I am sensitive because I know that I could lose some weight.  I am just happy with my lifestyle.  It truly goes back to the lack of body confidence.  It has been my dark horse for years.  I do not want my daughter nor my son to grow up with this dreaded feeling.  I am lucky that this lack of confidence isn't all consuming but it does make me feel inadequate at times.

Self Esteem

I preach about the importance of maintaining a positive body image and high self esteem.  In reality, I have the worst body image and self esteem of anyone I know.  It drives my husband NUTS. I feel very insecure standing around the pool in my bathing suit.  I cannot walk in front of the mirror naked.  I judge myself by the other women in the gym.  I do not like my body.  I work hard at my body but I do not like my body.  I have had this bad body image since high school but I think the real insecurities started in college.

I was dating this boy who I thought was the love of my life.  I followed him from high school to college.  I just knew he was the ONE.  Well, in college, I gained that freshman 15.  I experiemented with way too much midnight snacking and not enough exercise.  This boy started to notice the weight gain and suggested that I start to exercise and cut back on my eating.  I thought he was concerned for me but I was wrong.  He just didn't want a fat girlfriend.  He started calling me names, making fat jokes, and offering suggestions on my food choices.  It started to really mess with my head.  I think what really pushed me over the edge was when he told me to turn off the lights because he couldn't look at the jiggle. 

I stayed with him for way too long because I thought that no one else was ever going to like me.  WRONG....WRONG....WRONG.  I tried to change for him but I resented him so my changes were never permanent.  When I started to change for myself, good things started to happen to my body.  Of course we broke up and I did date other guys but the poor body image and low self esteem hung around me like a noose.

I have come along way baby but I still lack confidence.  I can FAKE it like no other.  My lack of confidence makes me stand higher on my soap box and preach about loving your body.  I do not want anyone to feel like I do about my body especially my children and the young females growing in a society of Perfect Bodies. 

Your body is a wonderful thing.  Think about all that it can do!  Love it, Embrace it, and Enjoy it!

The disease

My first encounter with bulimia was in college.  Growing up with a mom who could make herself vomit, it came naturally for me.  I also had positive testimonials from girlfriends about the results of "forced food."  I remember consuming pints of ice cream, throwing it up, and eating more.  I would go out to dinner with friends and excuse myself to the bathroom.  I would vomit two or three times a day to control my weight and still be able "to eat."  After about three months of this cycle, my throat started hurting and my breath was awful.  I decided that this was not for me....so I started to starve myself.

Starving was no better than vomiting.  My metabolism was going crazy.  I couldn't loose weight and I was becoming desperate so I stopped eating.  I would live off lettuce and saltine crackers.  Talk about moody.  It started to effect my thinking abilities in school, my social life, and my relationship with my friends.  There had to be a better way. 

Low and behold, it was called proper nutrition and exercise but not exercise compulsion.  I analyzed what I was eating, how much I was eating, and at what times I was eating.  Calorie counted.  I picked up walking around Charleston's downtown area and then running.  I used to run every night and some mornings.  I think I was running away from me.  If I didn't run, I would start to obsess about gaining weight.  If I couldn't run, I was doing jumping jacks, crunches and running on the spot in my dorm room.  Again not healthy.....

I finally found a balance.  I joined a gym.  I met the most wonderful people at Sweat's Gym.  The owner took me under her wing and helped me through my disorder.  She will never know how much I appreciate her helping me through the darkness. 

I still battle exercise compulsion.  I have to tell myself that the fat didn't happen over night and missing a day in the gym isn't going to hurt me.  I have to force myself to take a day or I could exercise everyday, 2 to 3 hours a day.  It drives my husband nuts!

My mom

I miss my mom.  She passed away a couple of years ago due to complications with medicines, back pain, and a loss of hope.  My mom was everything I wanted to be when I was young.  It wasn't until later that I realized that my mom battled demons.

My mother battled a controlled drug addiction.  At one point, it escalated to illegal drug abuse.  She was admitted to several rehabs but the results never lasted.  It wasn't until I was in college when she finally got cleaned. (Praise God!).  She was clean for years until she started experiencing unexplained back pain. 

I am not sure if was the medicine, vanity, or both that made my mom aneroxic.  My mom would eat and then go vomit.  I brushed it off.  I reasoned it was her sickness and the medicine.  It wasn't until later that I realized it was the disease.  This was my first experience with aneroxia and body image. 

My mom was skinny.  I wanted so badly to look like my mom.  I thought she was the ideal woman.  I know now that it was the children size rose colored glasses creating this image.  Being in my thirties, I reflect on my mom's trial and errors with fad diets.  She was always on a diet.  Eating this, not eating that.  Drinking this, not drinking that.  Eat, vomit, eat, take diet pills, and not eat at all.  I remember my mom going for days not eating.  I thought this was normal. 

I tried so hard to look like her that it was my downward spiral in college.  I gained my freshman 15 and my mom said "Wow, what have you been eating?"  Talk about a kick in the gutt.  I had to do something.  If my mom thought I was fat, what does everyone else see.  This reaction kicked off my aneroxia and fitness complusion. 

My Dad

I love my dad.  I love him with all my heart.  I would love so much to be able to help him.  I think that is why I try so hard to help others.  I feel like I failed him.  I haven't been able to help him lose his weight that he has been carrying for so long.  He has yo-yo dieted for years.  I remember him being on NutriSystem and him disliking the cardboard food.  He has a problem with food choices, portion sizes, and exercise.  I try to give him advice. He shakes his head and agrees to try but I know he just telling me that to make me happy (and shut-up). 

I remember watching him eat steak fingers, french fries drenched in ketchup and gulping big glasses of sweet tea.  I found it replusive the amount of food that he could eat but yet I have the tendency.  I can sit down to a plate of food and eat until I pop.  I have to use self control not to eat and eat and eat.  Sometimes, I don't have it.  I will go back for seconds and then clean my children's plates.  It is a disease that I have to control.  It is better today than it has ever been because I have taught myself that the food will be there tomorrow. 

Big Boned

My mother described my build as "big boned".  As far as I can remember, I was "big boned" when my bathing suit didn't fit, when my leotard was too tight, when my jeans  made the butt crinkle, or when my legs rubbed together.  I thought that this was the way it was...I never thought it was the way that I was fed. 

Being in the South, everything is southern fried and the tea is sweet.  It isn't uncommon to have fried chicken and spaghetti at the reunion with the fixins' and a big jug of sweet tea.  All the local diners had fried chicken, fried steak, or fried potatoes on the menu.  The sweet tea came free with the meal.