0 to 18W in 60 seconds ...

Okay ... so that's not really the truth.  It wasn't 60 seconds but since life seems to fly by in the blink of an eye, it kind of feels like it.  As I mentioned before, I was always a really skinny kid.  As a matter of fact, people used to tease me about how skinny I was and it really offended me.  The only clear explanation for my being a thin child/teenager is that I must have had a monster metabolism.  I didn't eat healthy, was not then nor will I ever be an athlete and I believe food comes in three food groups:  (1) Deep fried; (2) Sweet; and (3) Salty.  I have abided by these food group rules for as long as I can remember and while that diet seemed to work for me in my teens, it took a drastic downward spiral in my 20's, 30's and now my 40's. 

My weight crept on gradually ... a short time after graduation in 1989 I lost the big hair and gained a bigger physique.  Quite frankly, when I graduated high school I was 5'6", a whopping 98 pounds and needed a little meat on my bones.  At the ripe old age of 22 I married, was four months pregnant and had reached a size 6.  I assumed (as all naive young mothers assume) that I would have the baby and leave the maternity ward wearing the same jeans I wore before conceiving this little bundle of joy.  What I hadn't counted on was the fact that the aforementioned three food groups (deep fried, sweet and salty) would bring about gestational diabetes and turn my slim, size 6 figure into that of a small NFL linebacker.  At 8 months I was put on bed rest, had grown out of the largest available maternity clothes and could no longer drive myself because in order to fit behind the wheel I had to put my seat so far back I could no longer reach the pedals. 

By Thanksgiving 1993, I was a week past my due date, fat, miserable and resembled a balloon from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Pregnancy was not the joy everyone claimed it to be, I was not "glowing" (although I did have a sticky kind of sweaty look to me) and just wanted to meet this child of mine and get back to "normal" (aka ... thin).  My first child did finally make his arrival a full two weeks after that Thanksgiving, my second child a mere 15 months later and truth be told ... I'm STILL trying to lose all of my "baby weight." 

As easy as it would be to blame my pregnancies for my current predicament, I'm pretty sure there's a statute of limitations on weight gained during pregnancy.  Although I recently discovered a pair of jeans from my size 6 era and have since donated them to goodwill (more on that subject at a later date),  I never recovered my 1993 size 6 figure.  I went from a 6 to a 12 in 9 months.  I did a lot of yo-yo dieting and sporadic bursts of exercise but size 12 carried me through my 20s.  Once I even squeezed into a pair of size 10 shorts ... I shouldn't have. 

Then along came 30.  I spent the afternoon of my 30th birthday alone at a Weight Watchers meeting.  I've had a love/hate relationship with Weight Watchers throughout the whole of my 30's.  That's a story, however, for a different day.  The number on the scale on that particular day terrified me ... I hadn't weighed myself in ages.  None of the Weight Watchers staff realized it was my birthday when they filled out the paperwork and I left feeling old, fat, depressed and hungry.  My solution ...treating my 30-year-old self to a deliciously fattening lunch at the mall after buying a pair of jeans ... size14.  From this point on, the sizes go up, up, up and away. 

I fancy myself to be fabulous ... however, the latter part of my 30's were a lot less fabulous than I would have liked.  As all married, working moms can tell you ... life is hard.  I had my share of ups but I also had a lot of downs.  While I don't particularly like to focus on the downs, they are part of my history and no matter how hard I try ... I can't rewrite it.  Your life experiences mold you into the person you are so you have no choice but to accept the good with the bad and move on.  That being said, the bulk of my weight gain came during a particularly dark period of time after the age of 35 ... catapulting me from a size 14 to a size 18W.  I believe the "W" stands for "woman."  So, I guess if you are female and wear any size that doesn't end in a "W" you aren't a woman.  I'm not sure what you are ... you can let me know. Perhaps clothes should all be labeled with numbers and letters.  For example, a size 00 could be 00I for "invisible."  Sizes 1-5 could be 1-5SB for "skinny b*tch," size 6-10 could be ... well I don't know ... and size 12-14 could be marked A for "average."  But I digress ...One day my daughter was helping me shop for clothes when I graduated into a size 14W ... she said "Mom, I found a 14 Wide."  So, ever since then, I like to call it a "wide" size for every "woman." 

I still fancy myself to be fabulous.  I'm a pretty girl. I'm a fun girl.  I know how to have a good time, how to hide a multitude of sins with Spanx and the proper cut of clothing and I love with my whole heart.  This journey is about finding and unleashing the most fabulous version of myself I can find.  Heart disease is not fabulous.  Diabetes is not fabulous.  Climbing one flight of stairs and finding yourself out of breath is not fabulous.  18W is not fabulous.

I am not laboring under a misapprehension that a size 6 is or ever will be in my future.  I am not 20 (thank goodness) and youth is not on my side.  This journey is simply to find the girl I once was and find others that would like to bring their "Pretty Back" as well ... thanks Molly Ringwald.

 © 2010-2011 Melanie L. Miller All Rights Reserved