Lesley's Story

I've been sitting here for thirty minutes watching the cursor blink while trying to figure out how to begin this entry. First impressions, and all. (Well, first impressions if you are reading this and you aren't Emily, lol. She already knows me...and likes me despite my self-absorbed and bitchy tendencies. Ha.)

I guess since I've outed myself, I'll just go on and tell it like it is.

I'm fat.

Obese, actually, and completely miserable. I'm not one of those women who chirps about the fat acceptance movement and continues merrily on her way. For myself, I do not accept being fat, even if up until this point, I've done little to change that about myself lately.

Maybe this is because I haven't always been overweight. I am in my thirties and have battled my weight just three times in my life (and the first of which was after pregnancy, so that doesn't count, lol). The other two times were gains thanks to antidepressants (Celexa) and lasted over a period of at least two years.

This time has been the worst. I am the heaviest I have ever been in my life; 20 pounds heavier than the day I delivered my daughter, and 75 pounds heavier than my healthy weight. Not only that, but I haven't been taking Celexa since November 2013. The drug may have caused me to pack on the pounds, but enough time has passed that I can't lay blame wholly on it alone anymore.

I'm not going to lie. I'm a relatively vain individual. I like to look nice...clothes, makeup, hair. As someone who spent most of her life at a healthy size, being overweight has definitely not helped my depression. Most of 2014 has been spent at home in my husband's sweatpants and t-shirts, hair pulled back in a messy knot, and not a stitch of makeup. When I did leave the house, I'd swap the sweatpants for the only pair of jeans I have that fit.

While I want to look better,  it is actually not the motivation behind wanting to lose weight. The motivation is my health. I want to feel better. I want to be able to walk upstairs with a load of laundry and not have my heart pounding in my chest because I'm so out of shape. I want to be able to sleep on my stomach and not have to hike one of my knees practically up to my boobs to get comfortable. I want to stop snoring. I want to not sweat when I'm just loading the dishwasher.

I want to live beyond my 50's. My 60's and 70's. Hell, my 80's! (More about this in another post.)

I want so much more for myself than my current weight and habits allow.

I'm finally mentally ready to make the changes necessary and start on my journey to fabulousness *grin*  Luckily, I don't have to do it alone, and I'm so grateful for that.

Healthy here I -- no, we -- come!