3 Strikes is Enough!!!

My weight didn't start becoming a problem for me until I was a teenager. When I was sixteen years old I was diagnosed with a chemical imbalance which required me to start taking medication. I also found out I had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome which required me to start taking birth control. Both these medications cause weight gain, and I truly believe these medications were the catalysts that set my weight gain in motion, although I have no medical backing to confirm that, of course. 

My weight gain was slow, so it didn't really trigger any red flags for me. I am also 5 feet 9 inches tall, so I was able to hide my weight very well (and at first my weight gain went straight to my boobs - not necessarily a bad thing!!!). I lived what I would call a normal, average life. I was active and happy in high school. I was a Madrigal and Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper. I had lots of friends and a boyfriend (who I later married). After high school graduation I went to college on an academic scholarship. I got my Bachelors degree in English, and then married my high school sweetheart. Everything was going great. My life was perfect (but always in the background, the weight just kept slowing coming).

Attempts were made at weight loss. I'd loose some; I'd gain some. It was always a vicious, vicious cycle. But then in the fall of 2009, I had a beautiful, perfect little girl, and something changed inside of me. I immediately had this mantel of responsibility for her and her well-being. I made a pact with myself to be the best mom I could possibly be for her, and that I would always be there for her no matter what. That is why my experience in the fall of 2010 was Strike 1.

In the big scheme of things it was very minor, and yet it had a huge impact on me. My husband and I had taken our little girl to a corn maze during Halloween time. The maze was on a farm and there was a petting zoo, corn cannons, and a big alluminum slide that you slid down in an old potato sack. To get to the top of the slide; however, you had to hike up a tall, steep, dirt hill. My husband went to take our little girl down the slide and asked me if I was coming, but all I could do was stare at that hill. I knew I couldn't physically do it. I was afraid I would make it half way up and then have to come down, which would be embarrassing. So, I didn't do it. No. I couldn't do it. I couldn't take my little girl down the slide. I couldn't be there for her. Strike 1.

Fast forward a few months. I'm on a family vacation in Florida. We go to Busch Gardens where they have some really fun roller coasters, and I LOVE roller coasters!!! The first roller coaster my husband and I go on. I sit down on the seat next to my husband as he pulls the latch down over his head and secures the belt. I go to pull the latch down, but it won't close. I'm too big. My husband tried to push it down from his seat, but it's a no go. Then a worker comes and tries to push it into place. Then another one comes, and then another. Finally, the three workers were able to get the latch to click into place. Whew! That was a close one. I laugh it off. Then my husband, sister, and I go to get on the second roller coaster. This time the workers couldn't get the seat locked, and one of the workers said, politely as he could, "I'm sorry, Miss, you're not going to be able to go". So, with my face red with pure humiliation and embarrassment, I had to get off and walk out of the ride alone. Not being able to go on rides with my little girl at an amusement park. Strike 2.

Strike 3 happened in the spring of 2011. I went to my OBGYN to get my IUD taken out. The appointment was uneventful until the doctor simply asked if I was getting the IUD taken out in order to have another child. To which I innocently responded with a "Yes". He then cleared his throat and very slowly said, "Oh course it is your decision in the end, but I would strongly, no adamantly, suggest that you do not get pregnant until you lose at least 50 pounds. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. This doctor had practically saved my daughter's life during delivery. I trusted him and respected his opinion. At that point I knew I couldn't knowingly get pregnant and endanger the health or life of my future child. Not being able to give my little girl a sibling. Strike 3.

So, there it is. How I struck out and let my weight win. But never again. Never again will I let my weight make my decisions for me, or prevent me from doing something I love. This is where my FINAL weight loss journey begins!!!