The weighting...

I have always been comfortable with my weight.  I have never had trouble finding clothes that fit, a bathing suit that was flattering, and when I took a shower, I could always look down and see my toes.

That is, until my thirties hit me like a brick in the teeth. 

I have gained TWENTY-FIVE POUNDS in the last five years.  

It all started with my first pregnancy.  I think the final count was a 68 pound weight gain.  I lost all but ten of it after my daughter (finally) came out, but it was as if my body said "let's just forget this metabolism business, it's too much work, and anyway, where are those girl scout cookies again?"

From there it was three years of fertility drugs and 4 miscarriages and two IVF's and then, the final straw, was a year of nursing school.

I am now officially unhappy with the way I look, the way I feel and the way my clothes (don't) fit.   I eat like a horse.  I am only 5'2 for crying out loud, I have no business eating the same amount as my 5"10 husband.  

But, I do.  I ate when I thought I was pregnant, I ate when I knew I was not. 

I ate when my daughter was sick, I ate when I was frustrated, angry.  I ate because it was something to do, something to think about when I didn't want to think about other things.

The year I took to complete school was kind of like the last nail in the coffin, or the final Krispy Kreme shoved into the mouth.  To combat the stress and toll it took on ALL of my relationships, I ate.  I ate when I studied, and to get out of the building, and when I was in my clinicals and when I was at study group.  It was like I couldn't stop.  

So, I guess the first step is admitting you have a problem, right?  

My name is Jen, and I am a glutton.