kcericson
So, obviously, for starters, I am fat. Always have been. My Mom's "pleasantly plump". My dad's a bursting Apple. If you look down both sides of my family tree, it's amazing that we haven't toppled the thing over yet. Yup, we're some big ones, alright. You've never seen a spread of food like the ones at our family gatherings.
Here's the thing, though...I really am TIRED of being fat and tired. Sure, I love my macaroni and cheese as much as the next chunky cousin, but I want to start really living.
Nine years ago this year I married a wonderful man who loves me for me. I mean, really, every single pound of me. He will tell you that he doesn't see the extra weight, that he sees me for who I am on the inside. While that makes me feel wonderful, I want to be sexy. I want to go dancing with him. I want to take an exotic vacation with him in a little hut by the ocean and make out all night long like two lustful teenagers.
I have two beautiful children, who are literally my whole world. Here's the thing...they don't know mommy's fat yet. At 3 and 2, I'm just mommy. I don't want them to know, either. I don't want this to be their life, too. I don't want to pass on my poor habits to them, nor do I want them to wonder why mommy can't run and play.
So, here I am. I started this journey 7 years ago, and at the time, I was denied by insurance. I never sent an appeal, I just gave the idea up and told everyone that is was for the best, that I really didn't want to do it, anyway. That I could lose the weight myself...and now, here I am, 7 years later, and in even worse shape. My thirtieth (it's painful to even write that number....)birthday is less than 6 months away. I spent the entire decade of my 20's fat....I won't waste another one!
