Thoughts on Weight

I hope the title of this post doesn't turn you away. Weight is a topic I don't care to read or write about, and yet, here I am... writing about weight.

To get to my point in this post, I need to tell you a little about my history with my weight. Bear with me.

As a child and as a teenager, I was very thin. I ate anything I wanted - practically living off of junk food for the first 18 years of my life. Then, after getting married, I started putting on weight. I'm now classified as "overweight."

I'm telling you this as a matter of fact, not to put myself down or to whine. A few years ago, I had high cholesterol, and my doctor urged me to lose weight. The weight he recommended is 43 pounds less than what I weigh now (I'd settle for 20).

I never thought I would struggle with weight. I thought being thin for life was a sure thing for me. Even when I started putting on a little weight, I just brushed it off and thought, "I can afford to gain a few pounds. No big deal." But then I got to the point where it was too much weight, and I started feeling bad about myself.

The truth is, I feel bad about myself... a lot.

But I'm not going to dwell on that. I've realized that, even if I were 20 (or even 43) pounds lighter, none of it would matter if I didn't already like myself. So I'm working on that. Liking myself. But there's another important lesson I have learned from my weight.

A few years ago, I realized that if I'd stayed skinny my whole life, I would have continued eating absolute junk until I either acquired a life-threatening disease or died. I would have never exercised. Sure, I'd be thin, but I would treat my body like utter crap. That's just how I am.

But because I have struggled with weight, I have taken the opportunity to make lifestyle changes. I exercise, and because I exercise, I am strong. Yes, I weigh more than I should, but I have developed strength that I wouldn't have otherwise. This morning I was at an exercise class, and I was dripping sweat as I did burpees and push-ups, and I thought about how I never would have been able to do those things in my skinny body because I never would have had to.

Additionally, I know that if I'd remained skinny, I would have given myself the credit for it. I wouldn't have acknowledged that it was in my genes. I would have truly believed that I'd worked for it and deserved it (I can say the same thing of my children. I think God gave me strong-willed, slightly challenging children so I wouldn't give myself the credit. If they'd been well-behaved and obedient, I would have thought it was because of my wonderful parenting, and I would have been judgmental of all of the mothers whose children weren't perfect like mine because, clearly, those mothers would be doing it all wrong).

So in some sick, twisted way, I'm grateful for what being overweight has done for me.