I text this picture to a friend the other morning (I know, she's truly lucky to have me in her life-lol). Yeah, that's my nipple. I was about forty minutes into my fifty minute drive to work when I realized I forgot to wear a bra. It's hard to tell from the picture, but let's just say...I'm not one that can get away without wearing a bra. I'm very heavy, so that means I'm packing a couple of biggies. Plus, one is like a whole size bigger than the other, so a bra is very necessary. And last but not least, let's just say there's no lift to them. My bras get a real workout. I know this week was crazy, just coming off of the trip out west. Brian was working long hours this week, so I leave my house at 6:30 A.M. and get home between 8-10 at night (baseball every night). I've been a little overloaded. But that's life, and that's how it is for lots of people, and how it's been for me for quite a while. In this, I've always managed to wear a bra. So, I thought this was mostly funny, but in the back of my mind, I was a little worried. My brain has been so full of static and it has been especially bad this past week. Oh well, laugh it off. So, Thursday comes around and I'm feeling really good about what I'm wearing. I was a little dressed up and had on some cute sandals to show off the pedicure I get about once a year (this year I've done it twice though...way spoiled ;) when they guy sitting behind me in our morning meeting (at this point I've been a work an hour and a half) says, "I can see the tag in the back of your shirt. I think your shirt is on inside out." And sure as shit, it was.... Back to back mornings of crazy shit that I'd somehow managed to go my whole life without doing.... Now, I got worried. I knew my brain wasn't working right. I hadn't been able to remember my address and some other obvious things lately. My brain was just off, like really off. I could feel it. It took me back to recovering from my second concussion. I was actually worried I might have had a stroke or something...But I also know my diet has been total shit, including way, way too much sugar (fucking pop)....and I've been on this new antidepressant for nearly a month....so it could be this med. IDK. But it scared the shit out of me. Friday my brain felt off most of the day, too. It finally began to clear up at Ryne's baseball game that night (maybe the fresh air, maybe the fact I wasn't stressing out about being behind from missing work for the service). Yesterday I slept in, and I felt a ton better. (Yes, I just realized this is the longest paragraph in history and probably should've been broken up into about five of them-my editor would kill me). I made a smoothie yesterday morning and ate better than I have in quite a while (although far from perfect). I only drank part of a regular Pepsi, and boy did my brain feel better. Oh, I also didn't take the antidepressant on Friday and took it yesterday (that's how the internet tells me to wean off, and the internet is always right, haha). So, despite yesterday being a super busy day of baseball, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, and making a big dinner for company, my brain felt much, much better. It feels good today, too, thank God.
Sooo....I've had a lot of pause for thought this past week about the weight. I'm too young to feel the way I've been feeling. I'm so tired of feeling like shit. But I had a big wake up call when I was around my family for the service. First off, it's hard to ignore that I'm really the only fat one in that huge family. It should bother me more than it does. I wish it did. There's a day when it would've killed me. But my family is seemingly very accepting of my weight (although I shutter to think of what they say about it when I'm not there), and they always talk about me being an athlete, and this and that...they make me feel like I'm more than I am. Always. But the thing I saw with my family was pure grief. It broke my heart to see everyone hurting like that. I'd never seen grief like that out of any of them. We've had tragedies, just like everyone, but the loss of Jace and us seeing Cole like that, was unlike anything. It was gut wrenching. It hurt my soul to see my Mom in that much pain. She really doesn't get emotional much. It killed me. So, after a very uncomfortable plane ride home, where my fat ass kept pushing up the arm rest between me and the skinny kid next to me...I thought about that grief and how I never want to see my family like that again....and how I don't want to be the one to cause their hearts to hurt. I'm not being dramatic here, but I've felt for a while that I'm moments away from a heart attack or stroke. I know how I've been feeling. I know the signs I've been experiencing. I know that I'm on a shit ton of medications when they could all really be treated with a really clean diet and active lifestyle, but I haven't cared enough about myself to do anything about it. Seeing that kind of pain in the people I love, is enough to make me want to do something about it. You know what's equally as bad as that? Confiding in someone I love essentially what I just told you, and having them tell me, they are worried about the same thing for me. My family posted a lot of pictures, and there's just no hiding this kind of weight. I don't know how long my friend has felt this way, or if it was seeing the recent pictures, but having her tell me that she sees me (so, she sees the fat, I pray to God she won't see), and worries that I'm going to die from my weight, is excruciating. I don't want her to see that when she looks at me. I want her to see someone she loves, someone she's proud of...not a walking corpse. Yeah, so lots on my mind. This is serious shit, and I know it.
Well, I guess this has been heavy enough. The last two entries have made me cry, and like a lot of people in my family, I hate to cry. So, I'll go and tackle the day. I have most of Sunday still in front of me. I plan to make the most of it, along with making those weeds in my planter, my bitch.
Much Love to you,
Jen
Sooo....I've had a lot of pause for thought this past week about the weight. I'm too young to feel the way I've been feeling. I'm so tired of feeling like shit. But I had a big wake up call when I was around my family for the service. First off, it's hard to ignore that I'm really the only fat one in that huge family. It should bother me more than it does. I wish it did. There's a day when it would've killed me. But my family is seemingly very accepting of my weight (although I shutter to think of what they say about it when I'm not there), and they always talk about me being an athlete, and this and that...they make me feel like I'm more than I am. Always. But the thing I saw with my family was pure grief. It broke my heart to see everyone hurting like that. I'd never seen grief like that out of any of them. We've had tragedies, just like everyone, but the loss of Jace and us seeing Cole like that, was unlike anything. It was gut wrenching. It hurt my soul to see my Mom in that much pain. She really doesn't get emotional much. It killed me. So, after a very uncomfortable plane ride home, where my fat ass kept pushing up the arm rest between me and the skinny kid next to me...I thought about that grief and how I never want to see my family like that again....and how I don't want to be the one to cause their hearts to hurt. I'm not being dramatic here, but I've felt for a while that I'm moments away from a heart attack or stroke. I know how I've been feeling. I know the signs I've been experiencing. I know that I'm on a shit ton of medications when they could all really be treated with a really clean diet and active lifestyle, but I haven't cared enough about myself to do anything about it. Seeing that kind of pain in the people I love, is enough to make me want to do something about it. You know what's equally as bad as that? Confiding in someone I love essentially what I just told you, and having them tell me, they are worried about the same thing for me. My family posted a lot of pictures, and there's just no hiding this kind of weight. I don't know how long my friend has felt this way, or if it was seeing the recent pictures, but having her tell me that she sees me (so, she sees the fat, I pray to God she won't see), and worries that I'm going to die from my weight, is excruciating. I don't want her to see that when she looks at me. I want her to see someone she loves, someone she's proud of...not a walking corpse. Yeah, so lots on my mind. This is serious shit, and I know it.
Well, I guess this has been heavy enough. The last two entries have made me cry, and like a lot of people in my family, I hate to cry. So, I'll go and tackle the day. I have most of Sunday still in front of me. I plan to make the most of it, along with making those weeds in my planter, my bitch.
Much Love to you,
Jen
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