the husband and i had a long talk last night about sabotaging and self-sabotaging and fat and feeling good in one's own skin.
which? i do not.
he feels good about me in my skin, but then again, i weigh nearly seventy pounds less than i did when he married me, at least 40 pounds less than i did when he proposed to me and a solid 20 pounds less than i did when he met me. so, as far as he's concerned, i'm looking downright MALNOURISHED.
(i am NOT malnourished.)
but i still weigh at least 10 pounds more than i did the whole REST of my life-- since i was about 13, i'd say. you know, the years when you're really getting a handle on this life-in-my-body thing? the years when you REALLY discover your fingers and toes and one droopy eyelid and where your ass ends and how low-cut your top can be before you look like a ho? that part of my life i spend between 155 and 165, but more on the lower end. PLUS, i still had a babyish shape then in some ways. my waist didn't used to be SO defined, but now i'm distinctly hourglassy. my boobs used to be shapeless lumps of fat, but are now pretty specifically breast-shaped. know what that leaves? fat arms and wide hips. NOT how i expect my body to be. not how i want it to be or even how i'm used to it being. i fear i'll have to go to the middle-range of the "healthy" range for my height to get some damn definition in my legs and lose the math teacher arms. but i'm nowhere near that.
i'm still, after more than two and a half years, just trying to make it back to where i BELONG. and the fact of the matter is that is infinitely harder when there's reece's pieces and pasta and good italian bread in the house and somebody is suggesting ordering in or japanese or bagels.
it's not his fault. but i can't help but think, did i already choose between my body and my heart? did i already make the choice that excludes getting this under control?
or am i just weak?