The Best Hobby Ever?

As the title of this blog suggests, I have an issue with my weight. I wish I was more original, but that's just one more reason that I suck.

The point I am at now is roughly 20 years, give or take a few years of thin, in the making. Focusing on my weight and obsessing over my appearance has without a doubt been the most consistent activity in my life. I have graduated from various institutions of higher learning, obtained and ditched jobs, dated, broken up, married an amazing man, etc., etc. All the while my big fat ass has been my constant companion. The one I can always count on. There is something almost reassuring in that, as sad as that is. I always have it to blame when times are tough.

Every year at the start of summer and my birthday (which happens to fall around the end of the year -- New Year's Resolution time!) I have an epiphany. I'm not going to live like this anymore! I'm not going to hate myself anymore! By this time next year I'll be a new person, I'll be running marathons and fitting into size 4 jeans! It's going to be fantastic! And I'm GOING to DO it. This time will be different. This time I'll follow through and make myself over into the person that I really am under all this fat. The REAL me, not this padded impostor who is intent on ruining my life. And then shit happens, I don't get results and I give up.

I have had more 'last hurrah' meals than I can count. I've done the 'very last time McDonald's breakfast', the 'my diet starts Monday Red Robin grease fest', et al.

I could blame my mother, who among many, many things used to mock me when I came home from school by calling me Doritos breath or who called me obese once when I was really only about 20 pounds overweight or who would make me go jogging with her and then get mad at me and lash out when I wouldn't race her, as if the whole thing was just good fun mother-daughter bonding. I could blame my dad who sat back and let her pick on me for years and never once defended me even though he also has weight issues. I could blame my beloved grandmother who once grabbed my back fat and told me I would have to starve myself for a week to look good in my prom dress. And on and on it goes....

But the only person I have to blame is myself. No one forced me to overeat for comfort when my mom picked on me (because she "loves me so much" -- yikes) or when I was depressed, or for joy when things were great. I am to blame for my bad choices.

So, summer is upon us and I am once again stating -- in public no less -- that I am going to change my life. I'm going to get it together. Why is it going to work this time? Why would this be any different?

Because I turned 35 this year and I am about to go under the knife to have my baby-maker fixed.

My amazing husband and I have been trying to have a child for over 2 years now with no luck. In that time I have watched relatives and friends turn out enough younglings to fill a small school. It's painful to fail for 24 months in a row. Really painful. And it's even more painful when seemingly everyone around you won't shut up about their wonderful 'miracles' OR constantly ask why you don't have kids.

So, after I have surgery, I should be good to go. Which means that I could get pregnant. Which also means that I will most likely want to live to a ripe old age and not die of obesity related illness.

I also want to look good in my clothes.

And my fertility doctor said he was shocked to see how much I weigh. I hide it well. And that he wants to see me in the overweight range instead of the morbidly obese category. I have to agree with him.

From this day on, I will be posting as often as I can what I eat, how I feel about it and everything in between. Will it keep me honest? I hope so.