May 27, 2011 § 1 Comment
That’s a scary number. It’s a number I said I would never see on the scale. It’s especially sad when I worked by butt off (literally) three years ago to drop from 258 to 199 pounds. What made me do it in the first place was getting stuck —- yes, stuck — in a hospital cafeteria chair. I was working as an EMT at the time and my Paramedic partner not only laughed so hard that he almost quit breathing, he felt the need to describe the humiliating incident to all of our coworkers. So, there stopped my inhaling Mt. Dew by the gallon, eating fast food almost daily at work, and forgetting to eat my vegetables.
In February 2009, I was introduced to my future husband. We went out to eat, a lot. Mainly because he didn’t cook, and his kitchen was kind of crappy and small and I was kind of lazy. He also hated that I smoked, so I quit smoking (yay me!). In August of that year, I started my current job as a 9-1-1 dispatcher. I weighed 206 pounds when I started there. I could fit into a size 18 without sucking it in. Yeah, I was chubby, but considering where I came from, I thought I still had it under control. Obviously I was wrong.
In February of this year, my doctor got serious. My blood pressure was up in the 130s over 90s range when I had always been the 110/70 person. My weight sky rocketed. My doctor started talking about scary things like hypertension and diabetes and sleep apnea and gastric bypass surgery. For some reason, I never really got it thru my head that I indeed was that morbidly obese.
I started looking at pictures, and I started noticing that usually I was the biggest one in the group. Be it a picture of me and my future hubby with my future sister-and-brother-in-law or a picture of me with a group of friends. It didn’t matter where the picture was taken or what I was wearing. I was always the roundest shape in the picture. I get winded walking from my front door of my townhouse around the corner of the building and up 1 set of stairs to the lot where my car is parked. I fill a bath tub from wall-to-wall if I try and take a bath. I’m never comfortable in bed, my hips and back always hurt, and it makes it really difficult to get much restful sleep. Every step I take hurts my knees. A large men’s t-shirt is skin tight on my upper arms. Sunday night, I bent down to pick something up when I walked in my front door and heard a “ping” — it was the button off of my size 22 work uniform pants flying across the room.
In 2013, I’m marrying a guy with a 34″ waist who thinks he’s fat because it was only 32″ when we met. I’ve probably got 80 pounds on him when he’s 4″ taller than I am. I know he loves me either way, but I feel like we both deserve better. I’m scared. I’m scared I’m going to die. I have a very stressful job. Combine that with my weight and the track I’m on, a heart attack or a stroke is pretty much a guarantee. Not to mention I hate being uncomfortable all the time. It’s hard to move around and do things. I’m 27 years old. I shouldn’t be like an old lady with bad arthritis. This past Sunday, I weighed in with Weight Watchers for the first time in a long time (at a staggering 261 pounds). Today will be my 8th day of Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred. I also plan on completing the couch5k program on my iPhone. I need someone to keep me accountable and not let me give up. I can’t make excuses for myself anymore.
And I will not be wearing a plus size wedding dress on my big day in 2013.