Someday I'll Be Saturday Night
Good morning, my Lovelies!
Long time, no blog! Sorry guys. Life has been life-ing lately. I hope that life has been far kinder to you since I last checked in! If you're reading this, please know that I am currently at a signing event. Yes, I took the coward's way with this blog and scheduled it for a time I wouldn't have to think about it and wouldn't be bogged down worrying about what everyone thinks after they read this.
So, I'm coming to you with a confession - part I'm not proud of and part I am.
I'm fairly certain that I've spoken with you all before about my struggles with depression. Once I finally came to terms with it, I've tried my best to talk about it. I may not always volunteer my story, but if you ask, I will talk about it. I'm a firm believer that sharing our experiences can be beneficial all around. It helps to talk. It helps to listen.
What I haven't spoken about too much is my lifelong struggle with my weight. Well, here we go.
I started putting extra weight on as a child and continued to do so for many, many years. Please don't get me wrong when I say this, I love my mother, my grandmother, but between the two of them constantly pointing out I was gaining weight and the side looks I would get every time I ate, it messed with my head. It took me many years to realize that, acknowledge it, and accept it.
They truly thought they were helping me, but I think it may have made it worse. It certainly didn't help when my mother took me to Weight Watchers when I was twelve years old. Constantly talking about it, constantly telling me what I needed to do to lose weight... It sincerely did nothing but mess with my head, and I've often wondered if things would have been different if they'd never said anything to me.
Alas, I'll never know.
Ever since my teenage years, I've been on and off diets. I've taken ALL the weight-loss drugs to try to help, and all it ended up doing was making things worse when I stopped. It was a never-ending rollercoaster - a cycle determined to defeat me and keep me down.
My depression did not help matters at all.
After the birth of my second child, I actually lost a decent amount of weight all on my own. But then it started creeping up on me again. I felt beaten down, defeated, like there was no hope for me.
I contemplated surgery and was actually on track to do it, but when the time came to schedule it, I chickened out. I just didn't feel it was right for me, and truthfully, I started to get scared. What if I went through surgery, and I was one of the people it didn't work for? I would have irreparably caused harm to my body, with the possibility of no results or potentially gaining the weight back.
It just wasn't worth it.
While I was caring for my mother last year, I did a LOT of soul searching. I did a lot of research. I made a lot of changes.
It took me a while to realize that I have more than just a bad relationship with food; I have physical issues that were causing me to gain weight and not be able to take it off.
For years and years, I dealt with stomach upset, and for some reason, the doctors would always shrug it off as no big deal. I could eat a meal and would end up running to the bathroom within 30 minutes of finishing.
I now know I have a gluten intolerance. Those changes I made have helped me drastically.
I cut all starchy carbs from my life. If you see me eating one, it's simply because there was no other choice. I also cut out the majority of my refined sugar intake. And I also started working out, which I've always enjoyed. (I mean, I did work at Curves for several years as a trainer.)
Doing all of that helped me take off about 60 pounds. I'm very proud of tackling that much without any other medical intervention. But I reached a point where the weight just wasn't budging.
After a bunch of bloodwork, we were finally able to determine that I'm also insulin resistant. Turns out this was a lot of the reason I was unable to take the weight off and keep it off. My numbers were all over the place.
After talking with my doctor, doing a lot of soul searching, and fighting with my insurance, I made the decision and was able to get on one of the GLP-1 meds. Since then, my bloodwork has been absolutely perfect, and I've been able to lose more weight.
I am still overweight. I'll likely always be overweight. But I feel better than I have in way too many years to count. I have energy, and mentally and physically, I've done a complete turnaround. I have a long way to go, but I'm making strides and I'm so fucking proud of myself for how far I've come.
I haven't shared my total weight loss with many, but my blog is all about being vulnerable, so here it goes...
From my absolute highest weight (the highest weight I saw on a scale, at least), I've now lost a little over 130 pounds. It's been an emotional journey, and I'm sure it will continue to be one for a long time.
So, there it is. Now you know. This is also why I don't show full-body photos. I just don't have it in me yet to share that part of me with the world. Maybe one of these days...
For now, it is what it is. So, if you see me and are surprised by my weight, just know that I'm working on it. I'm working on me. And I'm damn proud of how far I've come.
Until next time and as always,
Much love and pursuit of health and body positivity from me to you,
Shelly (a/k/a Dawn Love)
I'm so very proud of you for being honest and open with your readers and followers. As someone who is also insulin resistant (among other things) and has done bariatric surgery and also a stint on GLP-1 meds, I know none of those aids are an easy decision or the easily way out...you are doing a great job, and you acknowledge the life long struggle with your relationship with food and have made changes where you can. Be proud of every bit of success, and don't beat yourself up on the days you don't "get it right", we are human and we are flawed. You are amazing, my friend. ((HUGS))
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