Skip to main content

life by the numbers...the teen years

I don't know what I weighed when I was born - average sized I would presume. As a young girl and up until roughly puberty, I was scrawny. I ran around, played outside, participated in sports, had knees that stuck out farther than the meat on my thighs. I hit puberty - and while I won't blame it entirely on puberty - the timing is suspect. I don't know what I weighed in high school. I don't remember getting on a scale. And there WAS no blogging back then - there were diaries but I spent my time writing about Layne Browing who I had a giant crush on. And Steve somebody or another, and how my teachers were boring. I remember having a harder and harder time finding clothes that fit - the stores only went so high in size and there were no plus size stores. I was probably a size 12 or so? But I was still active - VERY active even.
I swam on swim team, played basketball, ran track, even tried tennis for a short time. I was on the flag team - the biggest girl but not obscenely so. And while I was aware of my weight - and a few eating issues that were starting to emerge - I wasn't too worried about it. My mom was nonchalant. She was always on some crazy diet herself. Only grapefruit, no fats, salad for dinner...I don't remember the specifics, I was pretty self absorbed. Like every other teenager. I do remember making frosting. powdered sugar, milk, butter, and vanilla. stir it until smooth - and eat. Yup - Gross.
And hiding the eating. Not conscientiously - but definately not binging in front of anyone. I had babysitting jobs and a steady income. And was independant enough that sneaking food wasn't noticed. I look back and see the patterns beginning.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

day 1 no sugar...again.... and finding an OA meeting

Today I read a blog that really finally pushed me over the edge.  In a good way.  I NEED OA.  I went to the meetings with my church group, got started, really had some good break throughs, but I can't do this on my own.  I need to quit dinking around and find a meeting to go to.  It won't be a quick fix, but I'm really struggling with the food addiction part on my own.  And recently I've been lecturing a friend about their husband's addiction.  His addiction is gambling - and he's stooped to stealing from family it's that bad.  And he goes to meetings but - as she tells me - they don't HAVE 12 steps there, it's "too complicated with all the religion stuff."  So I've been preaching the 12 step program to her...hypocritical of me since I haven't followed through on my own meetings.  Today I find a meeting and by this time next week, I will attend a meeting. I am powerless over sugar.  Last night after I blogged about day whatever ...

PHEW - She's a Brick....hoooouse....no, wait.

Ok.  So tonight I planned on running.  Came home, sat down for  little while.  Forced myself to get up and put on my running clothes.  Went out the front door...was NOT feeling it.  Came back inside disppointed.  Sat down.  Got up, changed shoes, pulled out the spinner (stationary bike) and put a scary movie on.  Biked for 1 hour 3 minutes.  about 1 hour 2 min. in I decided I was going to put in a mile run afterwards - in triathalon training it's called a "brick".  It's meant to simulate the transition from one event to another.  From swim to bike or from bike to run.  Doing a brick teaches you just how it feels - in this case my legs were JELLO from the biking.  But I ran.  One mile.  in 12 min. 42 seconds - not too shabby!!  But better than that - I broke my streak of "nothing".  And I had a good dinner, one piece of flatbread pizza and a large tomato salad (no pictures, sorry).  About 200...

two thumbs up from the Russian judge...

So, tonight, after a put a batch of Taco soup in the crock pot, I headed out for my training run.  4 miles.  I say that self depreciatingly - you just can't READ that online.  ONLY 4 miles.  MERELY 4 miles.  Not running the whole way, just intervals.  Anything to take the credit or joy out of it.  The reality is I should be proud.  SHOULD be.  But my stupid head tells me "It's only 4 miles.  and you're not RUNNING all of it - don't be fooled, you're still fat, you can't run, so don't you dare be proud, even for a moment" STUPID STUPID STUPID. I should be proud.  I should at least not be so damn hard on myself.  As I was typing the above words out loud, the insulting ones, a thought popped into my head that made my eyes water a little.  That voice.  It was my dad's.  Never good enough. Never smart enough. Never responsible enough. Never clean enough. Just Never Enough.  That should have been my nam...