I found an old blog I started in 2013 and I’m going to share it with you here. The link to the original blog is http://tamistwistedtale.blogspot.com/2013/07/introduction.html
I’ve also copied and pasted the blogs here.
I’ve had a few thoughts rolling around in my head and I already feel a novel coming on but I will try really hard to stick with shorter blog posts so I don’t lose you with my long windedness.
So, where to start?
Addiction possibly? How I got fat in the first place? Acceptance? Denial?
Maybe I will just start at the beginning.
I was born in 1972, a normal healthy baby. I grew up a skinny little girl until around the 2nd grade. What changed? I’ve been thinking about that a lot and this is what I think happened.
My dad was awesome! I adored him. I was his little girl and he is what I aspired to be. In reality, he had a food addiction. He was a compulsive overeater and as his little protégé, I soon became one as well.
Our lives were surrounded with food. We, as a family, went out to dinner several nights a week. Donuts, cakes, cookies, chips, soda and chocolate milk were staples in our house.
I watched my dad eat and so I joined him. His dinner, at Walgreens restaurant, included a double cheeseburger, fries, chili and usually a dessert like a banana split. Here I am, little bitty thing, eating the same amount of food as a grown man. I was proud. See Daddy, I’m just like you!
It didn’t take very long before I was the fattest girl in my glass. I vividly remember, in 2nd grade, having to go to the nurses office with my class to have our weights checked. Oh, the horror. I weighed 102lbs. The fattest boy, weighed just a little bit over that.
3rd grade came and my dad and teacher wanted me to play soccer. So I did. We had to wear tank top shirts and I remember some of my team mates making fun of the fat right between my chest and arm. You know that little pinch of fat that shows up when you start getting chubby. That is really the first time I remember anyone making fun of me because of my weight but it wouldn’t be the last time.
Here I am on the soccer team. I am front and center. That is my dad on the top right. This may have been my team in my 4th grade year. A look at my weight gain throughout my early years.
As I said, I started getting fat in around the 2nd grade. You can see the progressive weight gain in my pictures.
I was very social when I was little. I loved people. I had a following of older friends. My mom tells me that when I was 3 or 4, I had all of the older neighborhood kids following me around. “Come on friends.” I would say to them.
As I started gaining weight, I noticed that people started treating me differently. They weren’t as nice. I heard the fat comments. I won’t rehash them all here. I don’t really think that is necessary plus I don’t remember every single comment anyway.
It was hurtful. I didn’t understand what was going on. Why was I getting so fat? Why were people so mean? What was wrong with me? Did I do something wrong? Am I not worthy of being a friend? Why am I being rejected? Why did I not get as many Valentine cards as the other girls did? Why don’t boys like me?
I started eating more to comfort myself. And I just got fatter.
By the time I was in middle school, all I wanted was for a boy to like me. Just any boy. I didn’t care who it was. All of the other girls had boyfriends. Where was my boyfriend? What is it going to take?
Maybe, if I wear this low cut tank top and no bra, a boy will notice and like me. It was the first time that thought occurred to me. But it wouldn’t be my last.
The High School Years
High school, oh high school. How did I go so wrong?
I’ll be straight up, by the time I started high school, I did not fit in. I had a very small group of friends, outsiders, but they weren’t like real friends. They were more like people I knew and sat with on the bus and at lunch. I couldn’t talk to them like real friends.
I was a smart girl with no motivation. I tested well and was placed in all honors classes. I was so not motivated. I had already set a pattern of leaving school early or just plain not showing up. (This started in middle school.) It seemed like my mom didn’t care. Or maybe she just didn’t have the energy to fight with me anymore.
I was 14 years old when I decided that school just wasn’t for me and I told my mom that I did not plan on going anymore. Yes folks, I am a high school drop out. I don’t even have a 9th grade education.
I would like to place blame on my mother for just “letting me” quit school. I’m sure it is more complex than that. I can’t imagine any of my children telling me they weren’t going to school anymore and my only response being “Ok”.
Not finishing school is my only true regret in life. I was a kid. I did not know how this would truly impact my future.
My teenage life
After I quit high school, I went to work for my dad. He owned a motorcycle accessories shop. He specialized in Honda Gold Wing parts.
It was an exciting time of my life. We traveled around the South Eastern United States, going to motorcycle rally’s. I developed some really great relationships with adults. I didn’t feel like a teenager. I felt like an adult.
And I was highly attracted to men. As embarrassing as it is to me now, I was a young, impressionable teenager. A lonely teenager, still wanting a boy to want and love me. I threw myself at the men. Luckily for me, they were all really decent men and no one took me up on my offers. My eyes roll now just thinking about my behavior.
I’m trying to figure out where all of that came from. What drove my loneliness? Why did I feel that I needed a mans attention? Why wasn’t I happy just being me?
All grown up
I’m going to skip ahead a little bit because after all, the past is the past. I understand where I’ve been, now I’m just trying to figure out where I am going.
The long and short of it is this. I grew up fat. Not just fat but morbidly obese. There I said it. Morbidly obese. I somehow let my outwardly look shape who I was. Instead of living life, I was hiding.
I let the rude comments and interactions with other people shape my thoughts. The image of myself was skewed. Fucked up really.
I no longer felt like a human being. I was a bag of fat living in a shell of a person. Negative thoughts invaded my head and soul.
I wasn’t worthy of love. I was never going to be good enough, for anyone.
The healing begins now.
In January of 2011, I was in seriously bad health. I weighed 320lbs. I had high blood pressure and type 2 diabetes. I didn’t take care of either of those conditions. I honestly thought I would be dead before I turned 40. (I was 38 then.)
The thoughts of leaving my children motherless was crushing me. I HAD TO DO SOMETHING!!!
As a last ditch effort, I started a low carb diet on January 15, 2011. And guess what, it worked! In just a few months time, I was completely off of my high blood pressure meds and my T2 diabetes medications and I was losing weight.
The more I looked into it, the more I realized that I wasn’t just doing another fad diet. (My original thought but I was desperate.)
I am now 2 1/2 years into my life change and I am down 110lbs. At one point, I was down 150lbs but I had a minor set back when I let stress and negative thoughts back into my head, which fueled my eating disorder.
My Body Makes Progress
Now my mind needs to make progress. The last picture in this series was taken in December, I weighed 170lbs. However, in my mind I still saw myself as picture #1. The mind likes to play tricks on us, especially those who have spent their whole lives overweight. We don’t see what other people see. We see what we’ve been conditioned to see. I look at the last picture now and think HOLY SHIT, that girl isn’t fat. I looked completely “normal”. I could go places and not get looked at weird or laughed at. I could make my way though tight spaces and fit into a booth at a restaurant. I totally didn’t see it. I saw Fat Tami. Since I did let my eating disorder take hold for a short while, I did gain some weight back. I won’t lie about it. I was on a binge. Of the 55lbs, I did gain back, I am now back down 17 of those pounds. I am in complete control of my eating disorder at this time. And even though I am heavier than I was in the last picture, I feel normal. It is almost like my head is finally catching up with my body. I am still guilty of picking apart my appearance from time to time. I’m getting better about that too.