I Hate This Post.

This morning I wanted to write about a depressing part of my life (you love reading my blog, don't you?) My constant struggle with my ability to be happy with myself the way I am. I think there was a time, one very brief time, when I was satisfied with how I looked in a pair of jeans and was comfortable with myself. This was right before I got pregnant with Megan. 

In high school I thought I was fat because, high school. I was never happy even though I only weighed 120 lbs at 5'4". In college I gained weight because, college. After college I did every fad diet there was to lose weight before my wedding and still wasn't happy with how I looked that day. After I got married I gained weight because, housewife. 

I ended up seeing a lot of doctors for a variety of other reasons and actually found out that I was insulin resistant. Some medication I was prescribed to fix some other stuff had a wonderful side effect of weight loss. Not a lot, but enough to motivate me to eat better and get to the gym to keep it going. Brian deployed and I was able to cook my own food just for me and go to the gym whenever I wanted. I lost 40 lbs. Brian came home and we started having ice cream dates and I stopped going to the gym to be home with him. You know what happened. 

Then I got pregnant with my first baby and I felt free to eat whatever I wanted and certainly didn't work out. It was an excuse to be fat. But after he was born I struggled to lose the weight. When he was three I got serious about it again. I got myself back down to 130lbs. I think ONE timeI actually saw 128 on the scale but I was probably dehydrated. I was happy. I felt good. My husband was attracted to me again. Then I got pregnant with my daughter. 

Don't get me wrong, I wanted this baby more than anything. It took a long time and some medical intervention to get pregnant and I was ecstatic. But it meant getting fat again and my body changing AGAIN. Mentally it was very hard for me. Now that she is 19 months old I'm still struggling with my weight and my shape and my acceptance of my adult body. I know I will never look like I did in high school. I don't want to. I'm over 30, I have two kids, and I drive a mini van. I'm supposed to wear mom jeans and a pony tail. Right? I'm just not there mentally and I don't think I have to be. 

I think I can be happy with myself again, I'm just having a really hard time doing it. I don't want it to take three years but I am more depressed about it than I am motivated. It doesn't help when your 5 year old asks you why your belly is so big. *sigh* I need help.