I Weighed 250 Pounds

Some people will read the title and go "Only 250? Skinny bitch..." other will go "WHOA 250! That's like two Kardashians!" This isn't all about the number, it's about the feeling of it - and the hundred pounds before it - while consistently being a dense 5 foot 4. It's to offer insight to the friends who have never been close to morbid obesity, and some relatability to the ones that have been at my level and beyond.

Even at, and getting up to, 250, I've been happy, I've been outgoing, dated great good-looking guys, wore cute clothes, went on fun vacations. And even at 150, I've been self-conscious and miserable. The number isn't the mindset.

I find that my current homeostasis is to carry myself with the confidence of a skinny girl, but enjoy the public anonymity of a fat one. I don't have any medical issues because of the weight and my only self-imposed limitations have been to always fit on rollercoasters and never require a seat belt extender on airplanes (so far, so good).

This isn't a failure because I got bigger, it's a failure because I've let weight define my life for far too long and honestly, I still don't know how to stop.

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Growing up, I always felt like the fat friend next to my thinner, smarter, prettier private school friends. Looking back at pictures, I think just had chubby cheeks and small friends. I have always been heavy but not always fat, but I wasn't even aware of the scale number until the military.

Age 17 - 150 lbs -  Enlisting in the Army in 2003 was supposed to be easy. They were desperate for soldiers in the new Iraq war, my ASVAB scores were enough to give me any job I wanted, I didn't do drugs or have a criminal record, but then I failed the height/weight portion of the physical. I would end up leaving MEPS empty-handed, but with a chance to come back and try again in 2 weeks. I consumed nothing but soup and water from the time I cried in the rejection room until I reentered the same space to do it again. On the second try, I hit my lowest weight of my grown life. That July, I enlisted, and immediately bought a Butterfinger and Diet Coke from the waiting room vending machine to celebrate.

Age 19 - 165 lbs - I kept the weight down through basic training and until medic training, where the scale started to show the cafeteria next door and the effects of weekend parties in San Antonio. I failed weight again, by one pound. I stayed after formation to promise Drill Sergeant French I wouldn't eat anything and he could retest me in 24 hours. He said "That's no way to live your military career, Private. You're only a biscuit away from failure, let this be your warning to get some space between you and that fail." The phrase "a biscuit away" would keep me in shape until I got pregnant.

Age 20 - 220 lbs - During pregnancy number one, I took the freedom of the phrase "eating for two" literally. My weird craving was gas station hot dogs, and my favorite workout was to walk 2 blocks from my beautiful uptown brownstone to Sebastian Joe's Ice Cream for my daily eggnog cone. In spite of these unhealthy habits, I was still stunned when, at my last prenatal appointment, the doctor told me I weighed in at 220. I had never imagined I'd pass 200lbs in my life, I felt HUGE.

Age 20.5 - 170 lbs - But also, I was 20 years old, so I lost it all in time for the big family wedding 4 months after having baby C. I don't think I tried at all, I just kind of rubber banded back to a where my body wanted me to be.

Age 21 - 190 lbs - I shot back up with pregnancy number two, despite trying not to this time. I walked every day in the Georgia heat, limited my cravings to ONE gas station zebra cake per day, but even against my best efforts, I hit 220 again. After Baby M, losing it was harder, so I fought to get down to 190 where I would stay for a few years.

Age 25 - 169 lbs - Years later, with my weight the only thing standing between me and a military promotion, I got dedicated. I found a wonderful personal trainer and went to the gym 5 times a week. I tracked all my food, got a phentermine prescription to stop the cravings, ran 5Ks, and within 4 months, I dropped from the 190s to the 160s again. I felt great! I passed height/weight, and got compliments all the time about how great I looked.

Age 26 - 158 lbs - Then during a run in my neighborhood, I passed out  and realized I had only had 2 Slimfasts and 2 eggs in the last 24 hours. I had already been prescribed an inhaler because I was pushing myself so hard that it hurt to breathe when I ran. The smoking probably didn't help, but I heard that quitting smoking caused weight gain, and that's all I needed to quit quitting.

Age 27 - 165 lbs - Soon, the compliments became unwelcome advances from strangers - a random ass grab from strangers at the bar, a van of young guys catcalling at me while I ran my neighborhood, and a creepy higher ranking Sergeant First Class who spiked my drink, cornered me in the clinic, and found any reason or way to get me alone or touch me when he could. The insane jealousy from my husband as he noticed guys noticing me didn't help, especially when it meant he couldn't be my best friend and refuge in this scary new terrain. The running was hurting my joints and eventually caused a stress fracture that turned into a full break on my right foot during a half marathon I shouldn't have signed up for. I told myself that none of that would have happened if I was still big.

Age 28 - 205 lbs - The Sergeant affected me more than I wanted to admit. The attention and issues kept piling up. I didn't like being small anymore. I left the Army, crossed back into 200 lbs, and very much decided to be big again.

Age 31 - 250 lbs - I had developed what my therapist would call "fat armor," where I mentally used my weight as a shield against the attention and expectations I had when I was small. I gained it all back so that I could become invisible again. I very quickly had bounced back up, past my previous highest ever 9 month pregnant weight of 220, and only when I dared to finally weigh myself, as I admitted defeat in trying to lose weight for my sister's wedding, I clocked in at 250 pounds.

Age 33 - TODAY - I'm less than 250, but more than the military standard. I'm working with my trainer again and focusing on health - eating the right foods, taking my vitamins, drinking more water - but I can feel the fat armor looming over me. As soon as someone says in their cheeriest compliment "whoa, have you lost weight?" I go to McDonald's. When the clothes I've become comfortable in for the last few years start getting too big, I stop counting calories for a few days. If I catch a reflection where I'm like "damn I look good" I start snacking at night again. I've lost the same 10lbs at least 4 times this year because I want to be ready, but I'm not.

I've got some mental work to do before I keep it off. I need to get myself to a better head space and tell myself different stories of how it could be in a healthy weight range before it's really going to stick. I know I can get there, just not sure when.

I know HOW to lose weight - calories, macros, cardio, all that - I just have to be honest with myself in saying I really don't know if I want to...yet. I still want to lose it eventually because I don't want diabetes and knee problems like one side of my family or hypertension and heart disease like the other. I have a quiet goal of reenlisting in the military between now and age 41 and I have to get back to being more than a biscuit away from enlistment weight. I am learning to be content with where I am, but I truly believe that there is a place where I am content and healthy and I'm working on getting there.

If you're working, too, whether you quietly do the work every day or you post your meal plans and workouts on my Instagram, I see you and my thoughts to you are for happiness and contentment, not for a number on a scale.