Sunday catharsis

I married into a family of beautiful people. My husband is very good looking, and he might be the most "average" of them all. They are extremely wonderful, kind and loving folks who just happen to have been very well-appointed in the looks department. Both his parents were knock outs in their youth - I wish I could find pictures of them in those days to post so you would really believe me. It makes sense that their union produced more gorgeousness. Tom is the oldest, then a drop dead hunk of a brother 4 years younger (definitely showing his age, in a good way), then 2 highly attractive sisters about 3 years apart. None of this gang are conceited or evidence awareness or superiority of their good looks - they are who they are, with the gamut of goodness and badness found in all humanity. I am ridiculously blessed to have married into this family and fortunate to have good to excellent relationships with every member - some closer than others, but all good.

Tom and I will celebrate our 28th anniversary in February, so it's been awhile that I've been one of this clan. (God really made up for me being a lonely only whose Dad died when I was 11 and Mom when I was 23.) Over the years we've been with them zillions of times. They all live in the Atlanta area, and when Tom and I had been married for just 2 years, and coinciding with the birth of our first child Jean, we moved from there to Pennsylvania for Tom's work. So we see them only a few times a year, now exclusively in Atlanta, though when the kids were young, grandparents and Aunt and Uncle and cousin groups visited us occasionally.

Bear with me here; I'm going somewhere related to weight issues and trying to set the stage and provide background information.

I was quite lean when Tom and I got married in 1982, and stayed that way pretty successfully until after the birth of our 3 son in August of 1987. I gained more weight with each pregnancy, but after the first 2 eventually managed to drop the weight. Not so the third time, and so I went from being lean and pretty plain looking in this family of beautiful and THIN TO AVERAGE people to being overweight, and eventually obese (according to the BMI). My highest weight was 237 (same as Oprah's), so I kept some semblance of a lid on my weight; alas not enough to not usually render me the fattest girl in the room in general, and the fattest person in the family in particular. It's been very painful to me over the years. They never seem to mind, and don't comment but it was certainly noticed (because I've endlessly brought it up, apologized for it, vowed to lose the weight...). It's been much more my issue than theirs.

I wrote a while back of how one day about 8-10 years ago, Kristin, my youngest SIL with whom I'm very close confided in me that her mom had commented to her the she and I were "the family fatties". First - why would she tell me this? Second - Kristin had a very minor weight problem when Tom and I first got married. For a few years she was a little heavy. Since then, she's been lean in a healthy way with not even vapors of the struggles with weight she'd had for a number of years. When she told me that, I felt embarrassed for me and bad for her that her mother had lumped me in with her, if that was the truth, which to this day I don't know for sure. I absolutely believe the MIL said it about me; but I've always wondered if Kristin wanted me to know this and to soften it a bit put herself into the statement. My response was something to the effect that she certainly wasn't in that category and that of course I WAS the family "fattie". God, just writing that right now makes me cringe and feel ashamed, sad, and mad. My MIL is a person who has to pigeon-hole people - categorize them in some way. She has an opinion on most everything, and while she's loving and I have a great relationship with her, this kind of crap is in keeping with her endless tendency (need?) to critique all in her periphery (and not always to their faces).

In family pictures from the last 20 years, I always look bad - self conscious and fat. I'm not very photogenic to start with, so this truth has also been painful. The family has never noted this, BTW. It's how I feel about my appearance, and in my mind I think I "ruin" every picture I'm in. Pretty pathologic, huh? I'm aware that some of my oldest issues are surfacing as I write this, so feel free to NOT "wonder" about it. I'm know this is f'ed up thinking, but it's been my reality.

So - why am I going on and on about all this ancient and real history of Leslie's life? Because I am now at the lowest weight I've been in years - many years. And there is a family wedding in Atlanta in March that we'll be attending where of course there will be zillions of family photos taken over the course of the 5-6 days we'll be there. The wedding is just after the end of the Perfect 10 challenge which, if I'm successful, will help me to be 15 pounds lower than I am now. The difference in my size will be substantial. The family will be surprised and happy for me, but they won't be any happier to see leaner me than they would be to see me in any form. They genuinely love and care about me. I really know this.

The wedding is starting to loom large in my mind - not because of the joyous event it is for the couple, but because every trip to Atlanta sets off the familiar feelings of shame of being plain and fat. Countless times over the years I'm determined to lose some weight before I go there, and usually fail to do so. So I show up feeling inwardly bad about myself and certain that all the family are thinking, "Oh, she's still fat." After the initial "appearance" with the various family members, I relax and have a good time, but always with my default setting of feeling "less than" them because there is so much more of me. I don't want that to be the case this time. I want to enjoy the whole experience and all of the family. I want to forget myself and be available to be one of the many. A family member among family members. The egocentrism of me in my fat girl identity seems to know no bounds. And the confusing thoughts I'm having about this next trip to Atlanta, given my already substantial weight loss and hopefully even more, are starting to undermine my commitment to this weight loss and exercise journey to better health and fitness as my way of life. I'm finding myself focusing on the "event", and wanting to lose as much as possible prior, rather than just staying in each day and doing the best I can a day at a time, in accordance with my belief that this truly is a way of life, and not a quick-fix prior to an event.

I've decided to write about this because the morass of feelings is scary and threatens to knock me way off my square. And when this happens, I eat. My fear and feelings of being less than the rest of the family swirl and begin to inform my self concept and worth. Too painful to bear, so before it gets out of control or even conscious on my part, I eat. Maybe by spewing this sh*t out of me, the negative energy of it will dissipate and I can continue to eat less and move more one day at a time. If I break it down, I can know that I have no control over the future or the past. I can only take action about anything today - right now. Reel it back to today, Leslie.

This post feels very dark and revealing, and makes me feel vulnerable. But if I've learned anything in AA, it's that you're as sick as your secrets, and the truth will set you free. I sure as hell hope so, because I've had a lot of food thoughts swarming today, and took a day off yesterday from my plan. Two off days in a row is a lot harder to come back from than one. I intend to stay clean with my food the rest of today, and hopefully this post will ensure that.