Pretty In Ink

I started putting on weight when I was about 10 years old. With my Mom battling cancer, and my dad being an alcoholic, I needed something to make myself feel better. Food was it. My Dad made an issue about my weight as soon as it started coming on. He has always been very "anti-fat", and would restrict everything I ate. I would get dirty looks when I would asks for seconds at the dinner table. But of course, this is a man who has never had a problem with weight. The more of an issue my parents made of it, the more food I would sneak. When I was 18 I weighed about 200 pounds. I got pregnant with my first son. Then my second. After I had my second son, my weight climbed to 290. I got divorced, lost about 30 pounds, and then found the love of my life and got married. I had my third son in 2008. When I had him I weighed 330. Since then I have gained another 80 pounds. I look back and wonder how in the hell I got this way. When I stepped on the scale in the dr's office and it read 418, I went completely numb. If I didn't start making some permanant changes, I am going to die young. Then it hit me. Am I really living? I can't shop for clothes in a store because they don't have any sizes that fit me. I can't go snow skiing with my kids. I can't run around the yard with my 3-year-old. I don't go to many public outings because I'm always the fattest person there that people laugh at and make rude comments. Hell I can't even wear shorts in the summer to stay cool. I am not living. I am existing. I am cheating myself out of LIFE. So here I am. Ready to live again. Ready to make my dreams a reality. I WILL find a way to comfort myself without food. I WILL chose to eat healthy. I WILL reward my body with exercise and my mind with good thoughts. I WILL enjoy the fruits of my labor. I WILL stop being so negative and instead choose to be gentle with myself. I'VE GOT THIS.