I am a wife, a mother, and a full time employee. Being 40-something-years-old, I’ve been through a few diets. I think my poor relationship with food started when I was a child. My dad, being from a different time, believed you should eat what is cooked. Unfortunately, for him and me, I am a very picky eater. Like to most people, VERY picky. I spent plenty evenings sitting at our dinner table refusing to eat the food in front of me. Oh sure, there are always things kids don’t want to eat, but there are foods that kids CAN’T eat. If there is a food that truly disgusts you, think of that while reading this. Just the mere sight of it almost brings on dry heaves! There were a lot of nights of me falling asleep with a plate of food in front of me. My mom begging me to eat it; my dad refusing to allow me up until it was eaten. Until finally, there was no other option except to let me up so I could get ready for bed. Needless to say, it made dinner time pretty stressful in my home. Then one day, my mother (God rest her soul), put a stop to it, and that was it. No more sitting at the table being forced to eat food that made me want to vomit. But I do believe that experience just began a downward spiral into the abyss known as food addiction. You see, I liked the bad stuff. Fried chicken, sugary cereals, potatoes, and OMG BREAD! Let’s not forget about my absolute favorite food group – sweets! Most notably, chocolate. You see, the stuff that I disliked the most were the very things that were the best for me, veggies. That’s right, I do not like veggies. Oh, I know, you just have a recipe I’m sure to love, right? Wrong! I have tried them so many different ways I can’t begin to list them all and I do not like any of them. The only veggies I like are corn, potatoes, and salads and uncooked spinach. I can tolerate broccoli and cauliflower if it is smothered in enough ranch! As you can imagine, it wasn’t easy growing up. I came from a poor family, so fruits and salads were not something that I had easy access to. Being from the south, at least one thing on my plate was fried. So eating was easy, except as I got older, I began to put on weight. I developed at a really young age and always looked much older than I was. It seems as if the other kids around me had a really difficult time dealing with that. I was bullied, horrifically throughout school. It was one of the reasons I hated school so bad. In 4th grade, at the tender age of 9, boys use to mercilessly pop my bra. Over and over they would run up to me and pop it. I would tell the teacher and she would yell at them, and that was it. They never really got in trouble for it. I was basically told to suck it up. I didn’t have a lot of friends, I always found it difficult. That same year in school, 2 girls cornered me in the restroom, accusing me of stuffing my bra. When I told them I didn’t, they demanded I raise my shirt to “prove” to them they were real. I had never been so happy when the teacher walked in and reprimanded us for taking too long in the restroom. Both girls proceeded to tell everyone they caught me stuffing toilet paper in my bra. *sigh* oh well. The one thing I had that never judged me was food. Then, OKCPS decided for 5th graders, they would try something different and created these 5th grade “centers”. These schools were PACKED. Again, I had few friends. I mostly kept to myself. There were 2 little girls that always talked to me and, honestly, I was kind of giddy about it. They always tried to intimidate me though. I still to this day have no idea why. One day we were talking, I couldn’t remember then and I still don’t remember what we were all talking about, but one of them hit me in the throat. Like, I couldn’t breathe. They had to call my mom and she took me to the doctor. After some exams and stuff, the doctor said we got really lucky, had the girl hit me just a little bit over, it could’ve cause life-threatening damage. We later found out the girl’s father was a black belt in karate and she had been studying under him her whole life. When asked why she did it, she said she wasn’t sure, just didn’t like the sound of my voice and wanted me to shut up. Fun right? That same year I got the nickname “whore”. My school use to pass out these slips of paper when they “caught you being good”. You got a copy and a copy went into a basket. The principal would draw a slip out every Friday and whoever’s name was on the slip got a special treat, like candy or soda. There was a male teacher and every single time he saw me, he wrote me a slip. So, just about every Friday, my name was called. Suddenly, rumors around these 10 year old kids began circling that I was sleeping with him to get those slips. Yes, you read that right. Suddenly, all the kids began calling me a “whore”. But, again, food was there to comfort me. It never really got any better. I became the “bigger” girl. By the age of 13, I tried my first diet. At that time, Slim Fast was pretty popular and so I started on that. Back then, it was believed that in order to control your weight, you had to control your caloric intake. I became obsessed with calories. So much that I lied to my mom and told her I would eat my one meal at school and then have a shake for dinner. But that wasn’t the case. It got to where I would only drink ½ a shake in the morning and that was it. I would avoid the lunchroom at school like the plague and at dinner time, I would just hang out in my room. Luckily, before I did any real damage, my body let me know it wasn’t going to allow that to happen. One evening, as I was getting ready for a recital, I almost passed out from being so dizzy. My mom found out what I was doing and demanded I get off the Slim Fast. I was upset and turned to the only thing I knew that could help, my dear old friend – food. My next attempt at dieting was at 15, only this time, I was actually making some good decisions. Even that young, I was trying to educate myself about the body. I cut back my portion sizes and developed a workout program that involved a lot of walking, running laps, and swimming. I went from a pant size 16/18 to a size 10. When I went back to school, my best friend didn’t even recognize me. It was a great feeling, but it didn’t last. Being a teenager, other things took over my life and became more important. Before long, the ups and downs of life took over and I kept going back to the one thing I could count on to make me feel good – food. In my early 20’s, something happened…I began to pack on weight and couldn’t figure out why. I would cut my portion sizes, change my eating habits, work out like crazy and still nothing. I began to notice hair on my face and suddenly my “naturally” clear skin began breaking out. I couldn’t figure it out. I consulted with my family doctor and his response was, “Lose weight”. I asked him how because I had been trying and his response was, “Stop eating bad foods”. I was completely devastated and believed there was something wrong with me. I felt broken. I tried so hard and could never get it off. Eventually I joined Weight Watchers. They had just started a new points system that was supposed to make eating healthier easier. For 3 months I followed the plan to the point. Worked out at the gym 3 to 4 times a week. You know what? I gained 5 pounds. Want to know what I did? If you guessed drowned my depression in a gallon of chocolate ice cream, you would be right. Here I was, in my mid/late 20’s and I felt broken. I was convinced I would never be married or have a family because who could love me? I was fat, my skin kept breaking out, I was growing hair on my face…no man would ever want me. Luckily, I was completely wrong. In 2004, I met my wonderful husband and less than a year later we were married. For a while, we tried getting pregnant on our own. In 2006, I found a highly recommended gynecologist to see if I had any issues. I sat there, on that table, with nothing but one of those horrible hospital gowns on, scared out of my mind. When she asked me if I were experiencing any problems, I unloaded. I told her everything. How I couldn’t lose weight, how my skin was awful, the hair on my face and how recently I had noticed thinning in the front of my hair. By the time I was done, I was bawling my eyes out. I looked at her and she had this sweet grandmotherly smile on her face. She reached over and patted my hand and as I held my breath she said; “You have PCOS or what is now being referred to as Insulin Resistance. You are not broken, but your hormones tend to have a mind of their own. But with the right diet and medication we can get things working right again.” She was so understanding and patient with me. She shared with me her own struggles with IR. She put me on Metformin and before I knew it, I was beginning to lose weight. I felt better and happier. After my diagnosis, I went on a research binge. I wanted to know EVERYTHING I could on IR, the body, food, exercise, you name it I wanted to know about it. I learned A LOT. Not just about IR, but about how the body works with food and exercise. I applied that knowledge and was beginning to have success. However, that old friend came knocking and it wasn’t long before I began to slip. I knew better. I had learned everything I needed to know about it, yet, there I was, indulging. Little by little, I began to slip, until I had just completely blown everything I worked hard to accomplish. I gave up. I fell back into old habits. I mean, food was there for me like a best friend. Good, bad, ugly – food didn’t care. It was always there through all my ups and downs. It wasn’t long before I gained the weight I had lost back and kept gaining. For years after, I came up with every excuse I could think of. Sure, I tried a few more times, but ultimately convinced myself that being obese was the way I was supposed to be. I had actually told myself that God wanted me that way. I would tell myself that I had poor genetics. I literally accepted that I was slowly killing myself. Then, in 2014, I lost my mom unexpectedly. She was only 57 years old. She had lost both her legs, was completely disabled, on tons of pain medication, had a heart-attack and one night she went to sleep and never woke up. To this day her death haunts me. But it would be a few more years before it woke me up. In 2018, I began having these weird feelings. My heart would race and I would get a rush and feel dizzy. It scared me. All I could think about was my mom and how young she was. I can remember one night looking at my son and my husband and it hit me. They deserve so much better. I deserve better. That night, as I lay in bed, I had this long talk with myself. I opened the door and allowed all my demons out. I cried. I realized that the only person/thing standing in my way of being healthy was myself. If I didn’t do something soon, I would wind up like my mother. The next day, I joined Weight Watchers. Now, a year later I’ve lost about 50 pounds. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve stumbled along the way. But my ‘Why’ is much stronger than any food product out there. Every single day is a new day. I refuse to allow food to take my life. I no longer am happy to sit on the sidelines and watch, I want to join in. My husband and my son deserve me as long as possible. You know what? I deserve to be around as long as possible. Every single day I try. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I don’t. But every day I try. This is not about my waistline, no this is about being healthy. This is about changing my life for the better. My husband does not care what the scale says about me and frankly, neither do I. But what he cares about is my health. The great thing about this is that it isn’t the end of my story. My experiences taught me valuable lessons and made me the strong individual I am. “That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” Literally and figuratively. “Change your Mind, Change your life” Do you have a suggestion for this post? Comment below and let us know. Don’t forget, if you like our content, let us know and give us a rating! Remember to sign up for updates so you don’t miss them! If you have questions or concerns, feel free to go to our contact page and send us an email.