I am obese. It's not a nice word. I would prefer plumb. Maybe if we replaced the word with something nicer, people would be less judgmental, including those of us who are .... pick one: chubs, plus-sized, heavy, stout, plump.
I have spent most of the last 20 years feeling shame and embarrassment about my expanding girth. It hasn't helped. And now because I likely have less than 20 years left of my life, I am committed to shedding not the weight, but the shame.
The advantage I have in this mission is total and absolute acceptance from my immediate family. First there's my darling husband - and supplier. He likes to bake and watch people eat. And it turns out I like to eat what other people bake. After 40 years, it most certainly has added up.
My loyal children. I would take a bullet for each and every one of them. They have always been kind in words and generous in their support. I currently am doing Weight Watchers with two of them. While my stated goal is losing shame; I still want the health benefits of shedding some pounds. So do my back and knees!
Now enter the grandchildren. My oldest doesn't want me to change body size. She has said that many times. Kids hate change in general; they also like those bear hugs, and for sure the larger the grandma, the squishier the hug.
I understand how I got here. I've known for years and years. Like for most of us over-sized people, it's a combination of factors: addiction, emotions run amok, DNA, fridge and pantry filled with homemade treats.
For me going forward, how I got here is beside the point. In the words of our next president, "What difference does it make?!"
I am plump and dammit I am OK with that!
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