Oh hey. A while back I blogged about being concerned that my weight would be something that other children could use to make fun of my own kids for… you know “your mom” jokes and worse. You can read that initial post here, if you haven’t already.

Yesterday, something that I hadn’t really thought to be concerned about happen. Yesterday, I was helping one of my children get ready for swimming lessons, she was saying different adjectives to describe me. Words like silly and nice were coming from her mouth and then came the phrase that has left me paralyzed in many ways ever since: “you’re kind of a big fatty”.

“You’re kind of a big fatty.”

I heard her, but did one of those “what did you say?” that happens when you want to make sure you heard someone and I think that my face must have shown some small hint of hurt and/or her incredibly empathetic and loving self thought maybe she had made a mistake and her response was “I said I love you”.

“You’re kind of a big fatty.”

It was said carelessly just like the more positive phrases of admiration before it. My six-year-old simply states the truth and is learning to navigate this world. She did not say it to be hurtful, it just came to mind as a way to describe me. As evidenced in the previous blog post, she knows how to be compassionate and think about how others may feel. Thinking before you’re speaking in all situations is something many adults have not mastered, so I am not holding anything against her. She could have said it even if I wasn’t overweight. She’s just a child. But I am overweight.

So, there it is. “You’re kind of a big fatty.”

This comment has thrown me off guard. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to punch the wall. I want to punch myself. I want to start running and never stop. Although, clearly, you won’t really find me running anywhere at all. I am so incredibly disappointed with myself. I am so frustrated with my inability to take care of myself and be healthy. What in this world is going to be the “motivation”, the “last straw”, the “thing” that pushes me over the edge to improve my health? How many times more times am I going to allow myself to feel such disappointment and frustration? I honestly haven’t cried very much over this experience. My eyes well up and then I push down the sadness because I’m afraid if I start crying I won’t be able to stop. So I decided to write a blog post about it. That’s all. I don’t really have an ending. I’m still pretty paralyzed. My mind is trying to muster up the courage to devise a plan to go over the edge, for real, like over to the other side where I actually consistently work on my health.

If I have no conclusion, why actually post to the internet? Because I know that somewhere, someday, out there in the internet there may be someone who has had or does have similar feelings and experiences. It’s comforting to know that we’re not alone. So for now, I’ll just slowly let myself feel these intense emotions. For now, I will continue to love and care for my family as usual. For now, I will consider the next step. Once my legs start working again.

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