Why do I have a weight problem?
I have a weight problem because I don’t have the will power to say no. Food is a comfort. It always has been. Food tastes good and therefore makes me feel good. Growing up I never felt good enough for anyone. My parents always treated like I could never do anything right. Or maybe that’s just how I perceived it; either way, it’s how I felt. It’s how I still feel from time to time and I believe it’s a sub conscious excuse that I use for a lot of problems that I have and/or decisions that I make. Food tends to bring people together, at least in my family. Food is always used as a celebration tool. I feel closer to my family and feel more accepted and bonded with friends and family when we are eating together. I think that’s why I enjoy going out to eat so much. The food isn’t really that much better than something I could make at home and it’s much more expensive. When food is always used as a celebration tool you start to associate it with happiness; therefore, when you’re feeling sad or lonely or bored and want happiness where do you turn to? Food.
Why am I holding on to this extra weight?
Because I can hold on to the extra weight and it gives me an excuse. It gives me an excuse to not do everything I want to do. As weird as that sounds it almost acts like a comfort. I doubt myself and sometimes instead of facing my fears and self doubt, I have an excuse to not even attempt to try and possibly fail at things. It prevents me from failing when in all actuality I’m failing myself by staying this way. I can do more and become such a wonderful person but the thought that I might not get there as easily as I would like scares me. I try to please people. I try to make others happy. I try to impress others. Again, it goes back to not feeling good enough. I want people to look at me and think that I am smart and I can do anything. Staying the same is easy. Change is scary and can sometimes come with failure. I tend to like sticking to what I know and not taking risks. I usually go to the same gas station because I know exactly how the pumps work. I go to the same stores because I know how they are set up and where everything is. I don’t want to look stupid. What if I try to lose weight and I can’t? I’m afraid to look stupid.
How does the weight serve me?
It’s my own personal coat of armor. My shield. My protection. My excuse. It allows me to put up walls ‘because I’m fat’. It allows me to not take risks in fear of failing. It allows me an excuse to sit on the couch and watch tv. I can’t fail if I don’t try.
When can I move on and fully commit to action?
Now. I can’t wait any longer. Every wasted day is just that, wasted. I’m not truly living. I’m not truly loving. My laughs aren’t always sincere and my smiles often hide more than they show. This life isn’t fun and nothing tastes as good as the feeling after you see a loss on the scale.