shellyphaunts

I don't know when it happened, and I don't know why.  But at some point during the last twenty years, I gave up... on myself.  I lost hope.  Gradually the weight came at first. Towards the end, it began piling on.  My self esteem was gone.  There was no joy in my life.  The more weight I gained, the more depressed I became, and the more I ate, so the more weight I gained.  And the vicious circle continued, until I was at my bottom.  Finding the courage to have weight loss surgery was difficult.  I was told I would need to quit smoking.  Yikes, I had only been trying to do that for twenty years!  But something funny happened, I succeeded.  I not only quit smoking, but I quit drinking.  And I gave up diet pepsi!  I started believing that maybe I could change my life! After the surgery, I realized I had hope again.  It was about three days post-op, and I felt so good, but I couldn't figure out why.  My body was still sore, and I was tired, but there was this overall feeling, I didn't recognize.  I realized it was hope.  And as I began to lose weight, hope grew.  I started seeing and feeling changes.  I could comfortably cross my legs.   I could walk farther everyday, without back pain.  My clothes didn't fit anymore.  I started bowling after 23 years.  People started commenting on my joy.  I was happier than I had been in years, many, many years.  I started to realize I was strong.  I had will power I never knew.  My journey is far from over.  And it hasn't been easy.  It takes alot of blood, sweat and tears.  Some days I have to remind myself to get out of my own way.  And not everyone I love has been supportive.  But even on the worst of days, I still have hope.  Hope that I will succeed.  Hope that I will be the best me I can be.  Hope that I can finally love myself.  Hope.  What a magical gift!