marmite breath slept here

Just like all the emails I have in my inbox (which, by the way, don't mean I'm popular, because they're like three months old) I also have some memes that I have been tagged with, and I keep saying I'm going to do them, but I always think of something else I need to say here first.

Lotta's got a future Milf group going on.  It's a weight loss group for women to inspire eachother and cheer eachother on.  There has been some discussion of the word Milf.  (Mum and Dad, please stop reading here).  Like I told Aaron, I think the world Milf is hilarious, but I don't necessarily think of what it stands for.  To me, it just means "hot mom" or "yummy mummy" and it never twigs with me that it might be offensive or whatever.  If you know what it stands for, then you've seen American Pie.  If you've seen American Pie, then I know you are not offended easily.  I belong to the future Milf group not because I want to be seen as sexy (even the thought makes me laugh) but because I think it's hilarious and the way to inspire me is to make me laugh.  (Also, we know I am not sexy, because, oh, Jesus, the shoes).

I didn't think I was fat until I was in the tenth grade.  I was sixteen.  My best friend was a twig.  I weighed 115lbs.  News flash to my teenage self: That is not fat!!!  The twig always went on about "fat girls" and stuff like that.  I wish I had told her to shut up.  I also wish I was still punching her.  There are many reasons why.

I gained a little weight in 1996 (thank you, weed).  I was at my heaviest when I got pregnant with Had in early 1997.  I was 127lbs.   I was enormous when I gave birth to her (183lbs), but I didn't diet after she was born.  I lived my life, and it took about 18 months to get back to 127lbs.  I did not want to stay that weight, but I didn't know how to diet.  I couldn't exercise properly (so I thought) because I had a small child.  I was so miserable about so many other aspects of my life that I didn't really care enough to lose weight.  I had crippling self esteem problems and weight was just the icing on the cake.

When Hadleigh was three, I moved in with the inlaws for a few months.  Aaron was in Chicago doing training.  I ate a LOT.  Not a reflection on them or anything, I made the decision to eat for comfort.  Nevertheless, when Aaron came home, I was 135lbs.  I immediately became pregnant with Tom.  Again, I was a hoss when I delivered him (hello! I was pregnant in Italy with gelato and pasta!).  I knew I was not meant to be fat.  I knew that I was going to get off the pregnancy weight, so when Tom was three months old, I joined Weight Watchers Online, and between that and breastfeeding, the weight fell off very very easily.  By the time Tom was eleven months old, I weighed 112lbs.  It was the first time in my life that I had ever "watched what I ate".  I did not call it a diet, because it really was (cliche alert) a lifestyle change.  I was so happy that it was working, and my confidence skyrocketed.  I took lots of progress pictures.  I felt amazing!  Seriously, it was like a drug.

In 2003, I fluctuated between 108 and 115lbs.  I couldn't seem to stay at the same weight for long.  I was no longer worried about my weight, and I learned to recognize when I was eating for comfort or boredom.  I was still doing Weight Watchers, but was just interested in maintaining my weight, not losing.

Since the summer of 2004 when I weighed 113lbs, I have only done WW sporadically.  I felt that I could do it on my own.  Well, I can't.  I like control.  I like order.  I function well with points and budgets, much like Jessica from Oh, The Joys.  It's fun for me to see how much food I can squeeze out of 19 points for the day.   I signed up for WW online again this week.  Not having much success because I am a baking fool.  But I know I can do it.  I've done it before.

I also need to get back to the gym.  I was doing so well before Christmas and I lost eight pounds just like that, from watching what I ate and going to the gym every day.  Well, now I weigh 123 again (thank you, cake with fresh cream for breakfast), and while I know there are people who will yell at me and say, "That isn't fat!" or "Shut up!" I have to tell you that my clothes are meant to fit a person who weighs between 115 and say, 120.  Any more than that, and I can't breathe well in my clothes.  What are my options here?  Buy clothes in a new size?  Or get back down to where I feel the most comfortable?  I am 4'11", people.  I want to weigh 115.  That's my goal.  So I have eight pounds to go. 

I do not claim to be obese.  I do not claim that I am sooooooooo fat.  I know I'm not.  But I'm heavier than I want to be, and I am definitely not as healthy as I want to be.  Even at 108lbs, I would not wear a bikini.  My feelings about my body change all the time.  I wish I was curvy, I wish I was big boobied, I wish my "Christmas ass" (the padding from Christmas) was voluptuous and attractive instead of looking like a table.  I'm none of those things. 

Neither do I want to look like a child.  I am not elfin.  I am not a pixie.  While you might call me petite, you could never call me tiny.  I am very, very short.  When I gain weight, I don't look good.  That's my opinion.  It's not giving in to the idea that women should be thin.  I don't care about thin, per se.  I care about fitting into my clothes.  I don't care how much you weigh if you're happy.  Nor do I think that you are disgusting if you're overweight.  I have had some people say to me before, "If you thought you were ugly at 135lbs, what do you think of ME!?"  My answer is that I think everyone is different.  I only know what I feel about me.  I don't know what you feel about you.  If I know you well enough to discuss weight with you, I probably love you.  If I love you, and you love me, why do we give a fuck about how much we weigh?  Why aren't we drinking wine and discussing Zach Braff?

Last year, I remember distinctly that I weighed 117lbs when I went to England, and when I came back, I couldn't fit into my clothes.  I had to unbutton my jeans on the plane home.  That should be proof that I eat for comfort.  I was home for my Grandad's death.

So, here I am.  Not obese, not tiny.  A few pounds overweight.  Eight pounds.  I know I can do it.  I want to have a healthier lifestyle.  I want to fit nicely into my clothes.  I don't want to give up and buy bigger sizes.  I'm just me, plodding along, trying to count points and get in shape.

Yummy Mummy or Milf, I don't care.  I would love it if people said, "Wow! She looks great for having two kids!" or "Wow! She has certainly not let being a SAHM go to her ass!" but is it my number one goal in life to have other people's opinions of me be good??  No.  I am working on that every day.