So. Here's the deal. I'm fat.
Now, many of you are probably thinking, "Um, yeah about that, Allison? Yes, yes you are."
Some of you may be thinking, "Well, yes but so what?" and maybe a few are thinking that I'm being too hard on myself. But probably not. You're more than likely wondering what took me so long to come to this point, and what was the cold water in the face that snapped me into reality.
After looking at the pictures of Henry's birthday and wondering where Tom and Laura got a Macy's Parade Balloon on such short notice (and then realizing that was me), I've decided that this has gone on long enough.
Here's what I weigh - 223 pounds. I know, I know - I don't look a pound over 215. I'm hiding it all in my feet.
Here's the size I wear - 18W or 20W depending on what it is, who made it, etc.
So, yeah - that's 12 pounds heavier than my previous all-time high of 211. And I checked, by the way - my home scale is not running heavy. It is dead on.
So. Now what?
Well, from my time doing Weight Watchers, I can't say I didn't learn what and what not to eat. But knowing isn't doing.
The next time they photograph me with my nephew, I don't want it to look like I'm about to eat him.
Or in this case - try to hide behind him. Nope, didn't work. Also, it would be nice if my boobs weren't bigger than his head. Matt may argue that point with me, but he doesn't need to worry - I'll never be so thin that it renders me flat-chested. Genetic impossibility. Also, damn, that's a cute blouse - I can rock the paisley!
Now on the positive side - I'm not a bad person. I have lots of good qualities, and it's not as though I can't see that. And I am not one of these people that believes my body is the sum and total of who I am.
But wouldn't it be nice if all the good things on the inside had a better carrying case?
Ready or not, here I go.