In the picture above, I am a size 18
!n real life, I am a size 8.
When I walk into a clothes store, I bring a size 12 into the dressing room….
IN MY MIND, I’m a size 12 and I always have been.
I come from a long line of obesity.
My mother, father and siblings… all obese.
Both my brother and my sister, in the last handful of years, have had weight loss surgery and I remember my parents trying but failing at every diet and weight loss gimmick ever invented.
From cabbage soup to Atkins to weird powders that you sprinkle on your food to trigger an “I’m full” response in your brain.
Food has always been a means of comfort in our family and a way to say I love you.
My parents (among other things…) were “eating buddies”. They enticed each other with talk of food, they co-signed each other’s bad choices and my dad was willing, at any time, day or night, to go on a food run! As a kid, that seemed awesome! All someone would have to do was mention ice cream or cookies and off he would go.
I learned some bad eating (and cooking) habits as a kid and brought those habits into my adult life.
I had no control when it came to food. If there was cake in the house, I thought about it until I ate it and an hour later, I was thinking about it again.