Day One of Blogging; Day Three Working Out

~deep breath, sigh~
I'm going to admit so much in this blogging experience that I'll probably be ashamed more than I already am. But I believe that the first step to healing and succeeding in your goals is to be open and honest about everything, including, and especially, your weight.

Sometimes I ask myself 'why me?'. Other times I ask myself why I let myself get to this point. It's not that I LET myself get here per se. I did not make a conscious decision to enjoy food and despise exercise. It's just a part of who I am. But the biggest part of who I am (no pun intended) is my being a mother. I have a child. I need to be here for him. If I'm going to die at a young age, I'll be damned if it's going to be by my own hand. My son will be four next month, and he already realizes his mommy is fat, and says he doesn't want to have a big belly like his mommy. It's heart breaking. I want to be there for him as he gets older. I want to be there for his high school and then his college graduation. I want to see him get married, have children, be successful in life.

It's not fair to him to have me as a mother if I can't even give him a good example to live by.

I went to the store last night and purchased some various work out equipment; I already have six different workout DVDs. One item I purchased, which I grappled with (let's face it... who wants to know JUST how out of shape they are in numbers!?), was a scale. Now, before I tell you what my weight and body fat percentage is, let me first say the highest I've seen my weight in the last six months is bordering three hundred pounds. That being said, I got a scale in which you put in your height, age, and gender. Get on the scale and it tells you your weight and your body fat percentage, as well as hydration/water level/s. For the entirety of this experience, I will be focusing on body fat and weight in terms of numbers that I'll be focusing on.

This morning I took a deep breath and stepped up onto that scale. I'm sixty three percent body fat at five foot (zero inches) tall, a twenty two year old female, at two hundred and sixty eight pounds. My heart jumped in my throat. It's so depressing. I've let myself go, and though my family and my son (especially) are suffering, I'm suffering the most. I hate what I see in the mirror. I hate feeling so uncomfortable. I hate the stares and the comments I hear as I walk by. Sometimes I don't want to leave my house.

Sometimes I feel like Mel Gibson's character in 'What Women Want', hearing the thoughts of others (for me, both genders, not just women). I can only imagine what people are thinking as I'm walking through the store. 'You don't need food you fat bitch.'

Yesterday morning I went through the drive through of McDonald's for orange juice. Even when it's the afternoon and I just want a soda, I won't go inside if I don't have to. Not because I would need to get out. That's truly not a big deal. I just don't want to walk in and people staring, thinking things along the line of 'why is she here!?' or 'kid has no chance'.

I hope that whoever comes across this blog doesn't disregard it as another fat person complaining. I mean, I guess you could take this as such. But that's not my 'goal'. I truly want people to realize just how much their 'silent' comments, their stares, and the blatant disregard and disrespect for the obese really, truly does hurt, and that obesity is not necessarily always a lack of self respect. It really is a disease. I know I will have to struggle for the rest of my life. And I'm pretty sure I'm finally ready, one hundred percent.