This will no doubt be an emotional journey. I have cried more in the last week than I did in all of 2013. I do want you to know that I appreciate all of the support and well wishes!
What is it about being in control of what goes on around us that makes us act like crazy people. I know that if I feel like I have lost control of something I get mad. Yet, my weight is out of control. How did it happen?
I think it started for me when I was a little girl. I remember trying to starve myself to try to drop some weight when I was as young as 6th grade. I developed early. My breasts grew quickly and my friends started making fun of me and calling me Dolly Parton. I also remember talking to one of the neighborhood boys about me and my friend Josephine having him and his friend as "boyfriends" and he told me that they would take Josephine, but I would have to go on a diet. So, this bad relationship I have with food and exercise started a long time ago.
Control...why do I think I can control anything? I struggle to allow God full control in my life. I guess I think I know what is best for me. My control, or lack thereof, allowed me to become 350 pounds (before my lapband). I was reminded that it is in my weakness that I become strong. What does that really mean to me and how will I use it to give up my need to control things?
Now, I want you to know that this blog is going to be used as a way for me to get my feelings out. I am not trying to push what I believe on you and you are not obligated to read my posts. I am going to be as honest as I can be and share what I believe to be truth about my life and my relationships. I ask that you encourage me and support me, but don't try to make me feel like my feelings are not real. They are very real. I will talk about things that will make people uncomfortable and may challenge you to see things from the other perspective...my perspective and the perspective of people all over the world that struggle with their weight. Now, back to my thoughts.
I have been a large woman for a long time. Those of you that work with kids or have kids know that they say what is on their mind. They don't mean to hurt your feelings, they just really want to know. I appreciate that about them. I have had more than one child call me fat...usually when the were mad at me and sometimes the word fat was followed by another word. I remember clearly a particular incident early in my teaching career where a student called me a fat b...they said the word in class. I decided that day that I was going to have to have tough skin to be a teacher. I would not let them know that they hurt my feelings when they called me fat and I would use my weight to make fun of myself. I would say things like, "Boy, if you don't quit I am going to knock you down and sit on you until you have an hour glass shape." How's that for control?
This year, I had a student say to me, "Mrs. Stuart, no offense, but why are all fat people funny?" He was trying to tell me I was funny and was comparing me to someone else he knew that was overweight and funny. I thought about it and answered him as honestly as I could, because he wanted to know. I explained to him that my sense of humor developed as a way to keep people from laughing at me. If I can make them laugh, then maybe they won't notice how big I am. Fact is, I am big and I am funny. Being funny was taking control...you know, by distracting others.
Even my child has asked questions. "Momma, why are you so big?" Those words cut right to the heart. He didn't know he hurt my feelings and I used it as a teachable moment. I answered with these words, "Well, baby, I really like food. I eat way more than I should and I eat the wrong kinds of food." We talked about how I got to be as big as I was and then I gently told him that he should choose his words carefully because people could get their feelings hurt. My boy is a sweet kid and he loves people...all people.
You know, I lost control the other day on the football field. I was mad. I was mad because I was last and everyone was leaving. I was MAD! And then I was broken. Right there on the ten yard line, I was broken. I realized that I was believing the lie that I was not worth the effort, that everyone thought I was fat, and that no one cared. I wanted to quit. I wanted to fall on my face and have a pity party...right there in that grass. For 43 years I have bought into what the world says beautiful is...and I believed the lies that satan was telling me. He would have me believe that I have to be in control, when in fact I need to give up control and be broken so that I can be built back up. Control...it is overrated!
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