Here I Go Again On My Own

Going down the only road I’ve ever know.

Literally.

*And this is your warning that there are graphic images below.

I’m right back where I hoped I’d never be again. I’ve gained 20 pounds in less than a year. I’m disappointed.

I have a history of obsessing over my weight. It probably started in middle school. It was the 90’s. We read magazines we had no business reading, and everyone in them was stick-thin. Wearing swimsuits around my friends I was always self-conscious about my belly. I didn’t quite have boobs yet, so my belly stuck out further than my chest.

High school wasn’t much better. It was the early 2000’s when everyone was still stick-thin, and if you weren’t (i.e. Britney Spears), you were body shamed. I literally would workout on the treadmill watching the Victoria’s Secret fashion show that I had recorded on VHS, for inspiration. All of this, combined with a perfectionist, anxious, teenage brain and an awful high school relationship, led to some disordered eating.

But ups and downs didn’t stop there. After high school I gained some weight. Probably similar to a “freshman 15” but I wasn’t away at college, I was still living at home. My cousin came to visit us in St. Louis and mentioned that I had “gained some weight.” That was when I decided to try and eat a little healthier and exercise. I knew I needed to take better care of myself, so that was my goal. I joined a gym with some friends, started eating better and eventually started running. I loved running, and it seemed to agree with my body.

I took decent care of myself for a couple years, then I got pregnant with Brooklynn. I was so sick. Morning sickness never really seemed to go away. I was hungry, but the only thing I could eat was Chipotle. About halfway through my pregnancy I was able to eat things that weren’t Chipotle. I tried to stay exercising, but towards the end of my pregnancy I was miserable. It was summer, we didn’t have air-conditioning. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to survive. I was due on July 18 and I was looking forward to the hospital stay for the air conditioning alone. On the Fourth of July, we were at a BBQ, and someone jokingly said “you look like you’ve gained 75 pounds.” And I had. Yes I was pregnant. And I shouldn’t have cared, but I did. Two weeks later my precious baby girl was born, in an emergency c-section. It was traumatizing and the recovery was rough.

After everything we went through, I decided to have our other babies at home. That’s a post for another day, but my midwife was great about explaining how to eat healthier during pregnancy. She explained how important protein was and how it would help with morning sickness. Her kindness and expertise helped me have three healthier pregnancies with significantly less sickness, which meant I could exercise and I was eating better.

About four weeks after Grant was born, I took the kids to see my mother-in-law at her work. I had been taking care of four kids, four and under, but I was starting to feel like myself again, and had even begun lightly exercising. When she saw me she said I still had “some fluff around my middle.” I could have brushed it off, but in my mind it was another person telling me I wasn’t good enough.

For the next ten years my weight fluctuated. I was really into running which helped me maintain my weight for several years. Pushing two toddlers in a stroller while running was quite a workout, and I felt really good about myself.

When I started teaching things fell apart. The stress of working, parenting and never having time alone made myself my last priority.

For years I had talked about getting a tummy tuck. It was always in the back of my mind, but something I never really thought I would do.

By 2021 I started getting more serious about it. I scheduled a few consultations. I met with a few doctors, and by June I was scheduled.

I had done so much research, I was prepared for the surgery and when the time came I was thrilled. In my mind, even though all of the research said otherwise, I thought I would walk out of there looking like a million bucks. I had birthed four children, so I would be a miracle healer. And I was very wrong.

I had a drain for 10 days. I couldn’t laugh or sneeze for two weeks. I couldn’t stand up straight for three weeks. The recovery was so much harder than I had prepared myself for. After 8 weeks I was able to exercise again. Things were looking up.

The one thing I didn’t understand was weight gain after a tummy tuck with liposuction. The doctor had told me that if I gained weight, it wouldn’t be in my stomach, because there wouldn’t be fat cells there. At the time, I couldn’t really wrap my head around what that meant, or what that could look like.

Here’s what it meant, and what it still means today. When I gain weight, it’s not on the front of my stomach, it’s pretty much everywhere else. My hips, my arms, my boobs, my back. It’s bizarre. I don’t know how to explain it other than that it doesn’t look natural.

In the January 2023, I set a goal to lose 20 pounds. I felt like I had gone through so much and I wasn’t taking care of my body again, By June, I had met that goal, and then some. I was so proud of myself and I felt so, so good. I wasn’t doing anything too crazy, I worked out regularly and tracked what I ate. I hated the tracking part, but it was really helpful to see what I was really eating in a day. And the best part was that I was doing it for me. I was prioritizing myself. I was working out for my mental-health. I was eating to feel good, but also enjoying things I still wanted to eat, just trying not to overdo it. And if I did, I didn’t beat myself up, I just went back at it the next day.

Then 2025 happened. The stress of remodeling this house from top to bottom, along with the stress of Xander getting sick and probably some hormone crap from perimenopause combined to form a vortex of nonstop eating. It started small. I bought some new pants over the fall and was willing to embrace some extra weight. Then I needed to buy another size up. I was still trying to stay positive. I had maintained my workouts, and hoped that would help. Then those newest, bigger pants stopped fitting too.

And here we are. If you’ve made it this far, maybe you can relate. Or maybe you think I’m nuts. Both can be true. The problem is that I don’t feel good about myself. I’m only 5’3″ and 20 pounds is a lot on my frame. I want to feel good about myself again. All this to say, here is what I will and will not be doing…..

And I’ve made up my mind, I ain’t wasting no more time, here I go again.