I just looked back. It was exactly three weeks ago, today, that I was so depressed and just plain lifeless because of my weight and my gloomy outlook on life. I didn’t even want to type another word on this format. I didn’t want to look in the mirror or go to church [In fact, I actually stayed home one Sunday!!! Don’t tell me that I wasn’t in a deep funk! I never stay home from church!] I didn’t want to talk to people. I didn’t want to bother spending time on hair and makeup. I was beating myself up badly every single day. I was a failure in my own eyes and that’s not easy to live with. I had two belly rolls, not just one. I spent a lot of time folding my arms across my middle. I spent all my extra time making excuses for myself! I was eating junk every single day. I was overeating, stuffing myself, really. Stuffing my feelings of inadequacy. Numbing myself. Erasing myself.
And, I was emotionally bankrupt! My heart was a Chapter Seven!
That’s how much being at a normal, healthy weight means to me.
Don’t you even dare try to tell me a little extra weight doesn’t make a huge difference!
Sure, I could lose ten more pounds to meet some height to weight heath chart. I’m just not sure I could maintain it. I’ve totally proven that over the last 40+ years! Enough to make me believe it! This chart puts me right square on the line between ‘you could do with dropping a few pounds’ and ‘congrats you’re within the ideal range.’ 5″3″ and 141.
My point? I might be nuts. [Is there really any doubt?] But I’m happy. I’m a happy nut! Yes sir ree! At least I can type away and not be all morose and depressed and lifeless. That’s no fun!
Yipee. I’m me again! [It’s so hard when I lose myself!]