Heavy Post

The pun is fully intended in my subject. =D

I stumbled upon this amazing post on A Practical Wedding this afternoon and it just made me smile. If you follow me on Twitter, then you probably saw my tweet about it.

It is no secret that I’ve struggled with weight all my life. I was put onto Weight Watchers at the age of 12 when I had the least of my weight problems. My biggest accomplishment (as a 12 year old) was fitting into a pair of 28 waist Guess jeans. I hated changing in gym class and at camp. I’ve been a member of a handful of gyms. Lost up to 40 pounds several times in my life only to put it back on and more. I was forever comparing myself to my slimmer cousins and classmates. However, I didn’t eat to escape. I’m not an emotional eater. I watch what I eat and often forget to have actual meals. I feel lazy more often than not and know I should do something to change this. I know losing weight will certainly help when we start having children. Yes, I know the heavier you are the more difficulties a woman has getting pregnant.

The thing is, my last doctor couldn’t have been more thrilled about my tests and blood work. I have no health problems, perfect cholesterol and blood pressure, am not pre-diabetic or anything else. I am just fat. There, I said it. Did I mention that I come from a large Jewish family? Typically, Jews are not drinkers, we are eaters. At every family gathering the tables are practically buckling under the weight of food.

And nothing makes me feel worse about myself then buying clothes. I despise shopping. I don’t keep up with current trends. In fact, I could care less what skeletons on the runways are wearing. Show me a model with fat on her bones and I’m more likely to pay attention. Speaking of which, have you seen the Lane Bryant ad the networks are trying to ban?

I tried on my wedding dress last night and sent a picture to a few of my girlfriends. Aside from the comment about the bra sticking over the top, a good portion of them said the dress looked fantastic. That made my night. Sure, it’s a size I wish I didn’t fit into, but it still looks good on me. I know that on my wedding day, no one will care what size I wear (except maybe my mother) or how much arm fat I have. Those concerns will be mine alone. It also doesn’t hurt that Steve loves everything about me and never once made a crack about my weight.