I just thought I would take some time to introduce myself and give a little information about who I am.  Well, to start, my name is Jen.  I’m 27 years old.  I’ve been an Occupational Therapist for just over a year. 

It’s contradictory that I’ve wanted to work in the health field since I was a child, considering I was born and raised in such an unhealthy environment.  As I have alluded to before, I was raised by overweight parents who knew little about nutrition or a how to have a healthy relationship with food.  It doesn’t seem like someone should have to worry about having a healthy relationship with food, does it?  But I do, since I’ve struggled with my weight since I was a little girl.  I was a chubby toddler and a fat girl by elementary school.  I still remember the first and last name of the boy in second grade who called me fat.  I remember how my friends could sit on the floor with their legs straight out in front of them and their hands in their lap during movie time at school.  I had to put my arms behind me.  When I asked my mom why I had to do that, she said “well, your tummy sticks out farther than theirs does, so you have to use your arms to hold yourself up.” 

I went on to junior high as a fat teen.  I remember the boy who I had a crush on saying “hey, you’re pretty…..pretty ugly.”  That same year of junior high is when someone wrote ”pig” on my locker.  I unknowingly gave my mom multiple cries for help, but she ignored them.  Like the time I asked her where I would get clothes when I was an adult since I was already wearing a women’s size large at the age of 11.  She responded by telling me that there was another department of clothes for women like us called “plus size.”  One would think those questions would have gotten her attention and showed her that she needed to make a change in my life.  But it didn’t.  She continued to fry food and buy fast food on a daily basis.  Because of this neglect on her part, I have a much more numerous amount of fat cells than I should.  So, my fat cells shrink when I lose weight, but they are always waiting to swell back up if I eat something with too much sugar or fat.  Because of this neglect, rich food affects my body detrimentally, where it wouldn’t if I did not have so many fat cells.  The only way to remove these fat cells is to have the removed through lyposuction.  As I became older, I felt ashamed to go out in public.  When I began my weight loss progress, I went for walks with my head down.  I didn’t want to look into people’s eyes and know what they were thinking about me.  As the weight began to come off, I was slowly able to lift my head and go out in public with confidence. 

I continue to struggle with my weight and with food on a daily basis.  I am breaking away of the hold food has on my life though.  I have a great support system, which has truly helped me with my weight loss and staying focused on what I should.  I advise anyone who is trying to lose weight to get a support system.  Whether it’s friends, family, or joining Weight Watchers.  Being accountable to others and having the motivation/support of others is priceless. 

They’re my actions, my feelings, my thoughts.  So, it makes logical sense that my actions only effect me, right?  Well, that’s not the case and I’ve had too many first hand experiences in finding out that’s not the case. 

 Is there some type of old saying that we hurt those closest to us the most?  Whether or not it’s a saying, it’s certainly the truth.  We put on our best behavior for our co-workers, bosses, even other shoppers in wal-mart.  Then we save our bad attitudes and ugly behavior for those we love the most.  Why, oh why?  We can’t control what goes on around us or everything that happens to us, but we can control how we respond.  And we can control how we act around others.  We really should be giving our “best behavior” and best attitude to those we love the most:  significant others, household family members, etc.  We love them the most, so don’t they deserve the very best from us? 

If there’s something about me that I don’t like about myself, I have the ability to change it;  I don’t always treat those closest to me as well as they deserve to be treated.  And for that, I have regret.  I want to live my life without regret.  I want to live my life in truth and honesty and be proud of my actions.

Two hundred and twenty one pounds, wow that’s a lot of pounds.  That’s how much I used to weigh.  How on earth did I get there?  Although there are multiple answers to this question, the main answer would have to go back to the beginning (which is where all problems begin).  I can sum it up on two words:  my mother.  I grew up in a very unhealthy environment.  My parents ate awfully and taught me nothing about nutrition or health.  My dad’s mealtime motto was “take all you want, eat all you take.”  He was more concerned about not wasting food than his child over-eating and gaining weight.  Looking back, I now realize that my mother’s main concern was keeping control over me, her only child, her supposed “reason for living.” She used any means she had to keep me under her control:  unhealthy diet, money, and lack of teaching me skills to allow me to be independent.  For example, I was not taught about taxes, how to pay bills, or support myself.  I was given no tools for the future, only “help” from her. 

 Back to my childhood, I rarely remember being told “no” when it came to food:  KFC, McDonalds, pizza, ice cream, popsicles, donuts, whatever.  I was a little kid with little self control and my mother provided none for me.  You may be wondering why my dad didn’t step in and take control of the situation.  Well, a few answers come to mind.  One, he worked nights and slept during most of the day, so he wasn’t highly involved in my life.  Also, he and my mother didn’t have a very good relationship with eachother or regarding my upbringing.  At one point, she told him “you just let me worry about raising her.”  Fine job you did, mother.  Now, thanks to you, my overly-numerous fat cells blow up like a balloon if I look twice at something fatty or sugary.  My skin is stretched and damaged and will eventually need surgery for repair, but it will never be as it would have if I hadn’t spent my life in this prison of obesity. 

We’ve all heard about it, many have experienced it:  those last ten pounds are the hardest to lose.  Your body is fighting you with all it has to hold on to it’s reserves.  “There may be a famine”, it says “and we’ll need this fat to survive!”  Somehow you win the battle against your body and you reach your goal weight.  Yay!  All is perfect, you’re happy, you’re gorgeous and you fit into that perfect size jeans.  And the best part: you can finally eat what you want!  Yeah right, huh?  You learn for yourself that what those experts say is right:  it has to be a lifestyle change; if you go back to eating the way you used to, you may just go back to looking the way you used to.  Although those last ten pounds are the hardest to get off, they are unfortunately the easiest to gain back.  This is where I’m at right now.  Working to re-lose those last ten pounds.  I’m doing pretty well so far since those last ten creeped their way up to those last fifteen.  So, I’m on my way and I’ll keep you posted!