Posted by Lisa on 01.20.11
Something I have been struggling with (and driving my husband crazy with as well) is accepting my new body. I really had it in my mind that losing weight would be the absolute end to my poor self-esteem. I have to admit it is definitely better than it was in the sense that when I leave the house, I feel very good about how I look and don’t feel like everyone is staring at the fat girl walking by.
My trouble is when the clothes are off. I hate Clint seeing me in my bra and underwear (or less). I hate when I have a tank top on or very short sleeve shirts, because of the looser skin on the inside of my arms. I hate my stomach, how loose it is…although it isn’t nearly as bad as I had thought it would be when I imagined myself at my goal weight. And I absolutely HATE my boobs. Well, if you can call them boobs, that is. The could technically be called pancakes…deflated balloons…you get the picture. These babies are the epitome of sad.
So even though the weight loss is amazing and my health is awesome, these physical things that I still see with my body, are really taking a toll mentally.
When I saw the therapist prior to having my surgery, this was something that was on her radar for me that she predicted that I would struggle with. At the time, I blew it off, because again, I thought weight loss was the absolute answer to it all. Guess she knew what she was talking about.
Feeling a bit down about all of this has taken me back to not following the rules of eating as closely as I should be. So today, I have started to write down everything that I am eating just to track my protein and calorie intake. At the end of the week, I will post my journal just so you can see basically how I eat now.