A Come To Jesus

147.8 pounds.  Even with a baby in my belly, I have never weighed that much.  That is 45 pounds more than on my wedding day, 49 more than the day I found out I was pregnant with Hayley.  29 more than when Danny was in Iraq, but most importantly, 18 more pounds than when I was fit and healthy doing FXB.  Today, the scale was the highest it had ever been.  The fat around my belly was visible under any shirt I tried on, including a sweatshirt.  My thighs don't just touch, they cling to each other to nearly my knees. 
I stood in front of the mirror today for a long time.  Just trying to determine how and why this happened.  What shifted in me that made me stand here today and really dislike the image I see?  And most importantly, what in the world am I going to do about it?
Well that's when I had a come to Jesus.  You know, that moment that is the very bottom.  There are a lot of come to Jesus's in one's life.  I have had several.  The biggest of course, was when I made the decision to stop cutting.  But this come to Jesus is really just as important.  I am still hurting myself.  I am obviously hurting my health.  Carrying around what is probably ten pounds of extra fat is not healthy.  I have no upper body or core strength which creates this vicious cycle of back injury, rest, weight gain, back injury.  How in the world will I play with grandbabies if I cannot get on the floor or get up off of it?  At this rate, I won't even be able to pick them up. 
How did this happen?  Well it started when I stopped going to Farrells which meant I stopped exercising.  Ashlyn got sick and I immediately assumed that my weight would be fine because I lost so much weight when Danny was away, I would be the same with this stress.  Well, I was wrong. We ate good while Ashlyn was sick.  There were so many incredible meals made for us and so many fast food meals when we were on the go that eating did not suffer.  Exercise just didn't stay in my life.  I ate more and exercised not at all.  And that became the trend.  Had I been smart, I would have taken advantage of the stress release that exercise is.
Oh there have been many, many, many returns to exercise.  All that last a day or two or three, but nothing has made it to a week.  It is embarrassing, it is shameful.  I have a healthy body that can move and do and I choose to not move and do.  I waste a God given gift every single day.  I might as well put a knife to my arm for all the love I am showing myself now.
You see, I was not equating what I was doing now to what I was doing then.  I would find ways to sneak in a slit of the skin so that no one would really notice.  I would cut under my watch band or in the crease of my elbow.  Now, I keep candy in my work bag or put soda in my water jug.  Well, standing in front of that mirror today, really looking at myself, I paid attention to the changes in me. There is a web of spider veins on the back of one knee.  I am sure it is partly from standing all day, but also from carrying extra weight and not getting the blood moving enough throughout the day.  The innertube of goo around my midsection is awful.  It cannot be hidden or disguised or ignored any longer.  And the scars on my arm, well they are fading, quite a lot but they will never completely go away.  The important thing about those scars is that I didn't add anymore.  Now it is time to say that about the fat and the pain and the frustration.
So 147.8, you are not welcome here anymore.  You are my bleeding arm, you are my bottom.  Leaving you will be no easy feat though.  I have tried to leave your friends before and it didn't work.  But if I don't do it now, right now...  If I let you stay one more day...  If I don't look in the mirror one more time and make myself believe that I am truly worth being healthy, then I might as well resign myself to black, shapeless dresses and standing in the back of all photos.