Seasons of Weight

          I’ve rode a weight roller coaster my whole life. Every season the struggle is different. Sometimes I’m up in pounds, sometimes I’m down. I never seem to find a resting place, a constant weight where I can eat a little, splurge a little, exercise a little and ultimately be happy in my skin.

In July I had this amazing trainer who was encouraging me. With her help I lost seven pounds and was snugly fitting into my size 10s again. She was amazing. Just as the pounds were falling off my amazing trainer, who is also in the Navy, was stationed to Florida. She left as the first cold gust of winter came, and as if it were instinctual I started hoarding food like a bear in preparation for the cold months ahead.

              Food comforted me; it helped me during stressful times, and it always knew how to make things right for the moment at least.  By November I had managed to pack on five of the seven pounds I lost with my trainer. Then I met Javi, this fine, suave Latino man who was very much into appearances. I wanted to look good, and by good I mean slim, next to this gorgeous man so I started hitting the gym again.

I started working out again every other day, and managed to shed about six pounds. But this time it didn’t feel as great as it did when I was with my trainer, working out for Javi felt forced. I could tell he liked that I was getting my shape back by his compliments and glances at my ass. But, it didn’t feel right, because I was losing weight for all the wrong reasons: to feel good inside, so Javi would want me, so I could feel beautiful.

By the time the holiday seasons rolled around, I was over working out. I wanted to eat whatever the hell I wanted and be one of those curvy women who love their full figure bodies. I wanted to not give a fuck what my boyfriend thought of my work out schedule or eating plan. So I started hoarding again.

Large fries, soda, chicken nuggets please, and yes I will have dessert. Eating took the edge off the pressure to be skinny, the stresses of work, and a boyfriend I no longer felt connected to. As I packed on the pounds, my self-esteem  plummeted.

I hit rock bottom when I couldn’t get my size 10’s to fit over my huge booty. I pulled, tugged, and stretched but there was no helping it.  Getting on the scale was even more depressing. I had somehow managed to pack on 10 pounds in a matter of two months.

With spring around the corner, I want to find a happy place, a place where I’m happy in my weight, comfortable inside and out. And, I desperately want to get off the roller coaster. This spring I just want to be healthy. I don’t have to be string bean skinny or humpty dumpty fat. I just want to be healthy whatever that means for my body. I want to go up a flight of stairs and not be winded. I want to shimmy into my size 10 and do a victory dance in the mirror. This spring I want to get me back. The slim, kinda curvy kinda slim, kinda thick Lauren who can eat food responsibly and not turn to food when my feelings overwhelm me. I am ready to shed my winter coat. And, this spring I want to do it for me.