How I Lost Myself by Losing 65lbs.

Not long ago, I looked like this:

Now, wearing the same dress, I am 65 pounds lighter:

Am I happy about my weight loss?  Sure.  Is my self esteem better?  No.  Do I feel better?  Not necessarily.  I had expected great energy and stamina.  That never did come with weight loss.  Neither did the happiness that so many people seem to think will come when they lose weight.

Truth is, I'm struggling.  It seems arrogant, or silly to say that losing weight has unearthed some things about myself I don't love, and perhaps buried some of my better qualities under layers of new clothes and budding vanity.  A year ago, if someone had complained that they felt unhappy after losing weight, I may have spit in their measly salad.  Because of course I would LOVE to be thinner!  What kind of terrorist would complain about having lost weight?!  It is UNAMERICAN I tell you!  But then I became that sad sack; that first world problems person; that UNAMERICAN terrorist; by trying to explain why I'm more unhappy now than I was 65 pounds ago.  Let me explain.

Many moons ago, I weighed a lot more than I should.  I was 19 years old, and had been in the "Obese" category for many years.  I posted briefly about this in an earlier article.  Well, I finally got fed up with snide comments and the fat shaming that goes along with being heavy and did something about it.  What did I do?  I developed an eating disorder!  Now, mind you, it was under the very clever guise of going to the gym and eating in moderation.  What the general public (or anyone) didn't know, was that I was at the gym ALL DAY, and ate only three apples a day.  Now that is what I call moderation and self control!  The compliments and the body centered comments I got felt disturbingly good to someone who had spent her life up to that point trying to get people to find her attractive.  Even if their compliments always sounded vaguely like insults to my pre weight loss body.

Eventually, I decided I wasn't happy being OBSESSED with weight, and I let go of my choke-hold on "health".  Unfortunately, I gained it all back after several years, a traumatic injury, and a few kids.  But I also gained back a healthier perspective on life, love, and human dignity.  I loved my body for the fact that it kept me alive.  I ignored my sexuality and focused on my personality and spirituality.  I can honestly say I LOVED the person I was.  I felt okay in my skin.  I loved my life as a wife and mother (most of the time) and focused on the things that really mattered to me.

I became that fun loving non judgmental gal I always was before.  I stopped hating myself for what the scale said and started focusing on how I felt.  I was free!

So you are wondering, "If you were so happy, why lose weight again?"  Don't deny it, I know you are.  And frankly, I wonder it too occasionally.  Honestly, I started a weight loss program to see if I could stick with it.  It was hard on me.  I was grumpy a lot, hungry even more, and stressed to the max.  But I stuck with it.  I lost weight, pound at a time, and continually made trips to Goodwill to donate old clothes and buy new sizes.  Eventually, I lost more weight than I ever had, and at this moment, am the smallest I've ever been in my adult life.  (Really not all that small).  I lost that weight, and along with it went my peace of mind.

I know, I know.  I'm not making much sense here.  Because we still haven't established how losing weight makes one unhappy.  Here it is:  it is not the weight lost, but the person lost.  Dropping pounds also somehow began to morph me into a person I don't want to be.  Someone who spends too much time thinking about not eating, or kicking myself if I do.  Someone who judges (while attempting not to) others on their figures.  Someone who is consistently complimented and insulted at the same time.  Someone who doesn't know what I should value more: my body or my personality?  And what they say is true.  Losing weight doesn't solve the old emotional and psychological scars that you carry with you from the past. 


I miss me.  The old me.  The me who loved me no matter what size.  The me who didn't stress out about eating and having fun.  The me who didn't look at other people and wonder what they do/don't do to stay the size they are.  The me who just didn't notice people for their looks, but their personality.  This girl.

Not skinny but happy.  Not all that confident that I had a great body, but 100% positive I was worth loving.  No matter what I looked like.

I wish I could tell you now that I am over it.  That I've snapped back into my old self.  That I've come up with an amazing plan to stay at a healthy weight but gain back what I have lost of myself.  I haven't.  I'm open for suggestions.  But for now I'll just keep hoping and praying for a way to find that elusive and happy middle ground.  Until then: