My Roadblock.

Do you ever get this sense of impending doom? Like something bad is going to happen and you just shut down for the rest of the day? Nothing goes well and you just want to sit around and do nothing and eat everything in the house, even if that means a package of mashed potatoes because you have nothing else?

Man, that was me today. Give me a minute and let me explain why this happens to me.

October 2011, Charles and I found out that I am infertile. We immediately tried some medications to try to spark my body into ovulating...and nothing worked. Nothing even got close. The next level of medications was in the thousands and we just simply could not afford putting that kind of money on a chance. A chance that I felt in my heart wouldn't work. The doctor did, however, tell me that there is a chance that if I lose enough weight my body could start working. Talk about pressure.

I didn't immediately start up on the weight loss, in fact I gained quite a bit of weight because I was severely depressed. There would be days I wouldn't get out of bed, or I would start uncontrollably crying in the middle of a store if I saw baby stuff, or saw a pregnant woman. I know to those who don't understand, that might sound dramatic. But to me, a baby was everything I ever wanted, and I wanted my own.

March 17, 2012 I finally got my head straight enough to join Weight Watchers and I quickly lost 50 pounds in 6 months. Once that 50 pounds came off, I was so excited to see if my body had made any changes. I knew that I probably wasn't going to ovulate, but I was excited to see if maybe one of my needed levels had changed.

It didn't. Nothing.

And that's when the roadblock hit. I did not lose one more pound after that. Instead, I gained the 50 back.

Fast forward to now. February 2014. Man, that roadblock was up a long time, wasn't it? I don't want to look back and regret not losing it and seeing if I could have my own baby. I don't want to regret it. But that means the pressure is back on. Because even though I have two beautiful foster baby boys, that doesn't change the want to try for my own. It also doesn't mean that I don't have days that I don't want to get out of bed and I want to cry all the time. Because I did today, and I do often. (only now, I do get out of bed and I cry in the bathroom while the kids are napping.)

(And yes I know that I have these wonderful boys and I am so blessed, because trust me - I know. Please respect the way I feel. I would adopt them both in a heartbeat, but the want to know what it would be like to have my flesh and blood is not going to go away just because I have other children.)

Anyways, I just had to write about that and get it out of my system today. Thanks for bearing with me. And to tell you, that if you have days like this - you're not alone. Whatever the circumstance may be. And to remember that just because you have one bad day (like I did today), tomorrow is a new, fresher day.

But man, this is going to hurt at Weight Watchers on Saturday. *sigh*

Forgetting Fat?

Welcome to my blog! Let me start off with a warning: This is a weight loss blog. This can get emotional, this can get angry, and this could get overwhelmingly happy. If you don't want to be on a roller coaster ride with me, then don't go any farther. I'm not sugar coating anything here. Also, I'm not an English major and I'm not paying anyone to proof read this, so get off me with the correcting of where a comma should be. Nor do I truly care where it should be.

If you do want to be a part of this roller coaster then sit down, strap on your seat belt and hold on tight!

Why is it called Forgetting Fat? (I seriously just typed fart .. awwwwkward)
It's called that, because I would love for the world to forget that word. But, since I know that'll never happen, I'm going to work on me forgetting that word. It's full of hate. I am very overweight. I know this. I don't need the judgmental looks from strangers when I have to squeeze into a chair or when I'm out of breath walking up some stairs. I get it. I'm aware. To call someone 'fat' is hurtful and isn't doing anyone a favor. In fact, let's just clear something up here - calling anyone any hateful name isn't doing anyone any favors. You will NEVER truly know what that person has gone through or how they got there. 

Let me be clear on another thing - I am very aware that I put the food in my mouth. I chose to eat Whataburger several times a week (and sometimes more than once a day). I chose to sit on the couch for hours watching trashy TV shows and eating tubs of ice cream. I'm not crying about how "I didn't know I was getting so big!" "OMG WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??" Not here. Gaining weight is very very much a mental battle, and there are reasons a person gets to that point.

For me, every pound represents the life I've gone through. I didn't wake up one day and say "Let me pack on the pounds, I'd love to not fit in a airplane seat!". Instead, I've turned to food for comfort, spite, anger, happiness, love, and a thousand other feelings. My pounds represent times I was made fun of, or asked when my baby was due (never been pregnant), boys calling me "just a friend", disappointment, failures. They also represent birthday celebrations, and holidays, as well as wonderful date nights. It's an addiction. As I share with you my current weight loss journey, I will also share with you stories of my past journeys and how I got to where I am and to where I'm going.

But here I am, at square one for the hundredth time. And I'm happy to be here.