Wow. I used to love the taste of an ice cold Pepsi as a kid! And with the new "Throwbacks," I thought for sure it would be a nostalgic experience. Much to my dismay, however, I sit dissapointed; my tastebuds are screaming "What the hell is this and why are you forcing us to bathe in the whole 12 ounces?" The one answer I can rest on is that it is the last Pepsi I will be drinking for the next 7 months as I put myself through what I am certain will be the greatest challenge of my young life: Dropping all this weight that I have allowed myself to collect (mostly around the middle) over the last 16 years, and chronicling daily to remember the beginning, albeit my "rock bottom."
I believe my obsession with food stemed as a child: we were a poor family living on a very fixed income with a mother who never cooked anything unless it came processed or from a box. I have often teased my mother about the time when she would buy nothing but frozen burritos for what seemed like 2 or 3 months! Needless to say, whenever there were treats in the house like chips, candy, cakes or ice cream...I loved it! But I was never heavy as a child, in fact, I was perfectly porportioned. Until the age of 14...
That was when I met my husband (or yet to be), Rick, who's mother introdued me to 'real' food, and happily welcomed me to share their table. I truely thought I had died and gone to heaven...she is very talented in the kitchen, and although she may have never felt her meals were 'gourmet', I certainly did and still do. I would often times have seconds, and on rare occasion I would stuff myself with thirds! Her meals were often the only decent ones I would have all week, so I subconciously began to depend on eating there. I would go to school most days with no breakfast, (the whole "cereal /no milk, peanut butter/no jelly" thing totally applied to me) hardly any money for lunch, so dinner was what I had to look forward to.
As I turned 16, I found myself working at none other than Chuck E. Cheese, where a kid can be a kid and employees can spend their paychecks (in advance) on pizza's at mealbreaks! Yes! What a perfect job for me-I thought. No more depending on my boyfriends' mom to feed me exclusively. I began spending all of the money I earned on fast food...and before I knew it, my size 3 body from freshman year had steadily grown into a size 14 by seinor year...on my 5'1" frame...not a good mix.
Then came the unexpected teenage pregnancy at 17. What did that mean to me? Eating for two!! A license to eat all I wanted, and of course, the actual fat I put on during that time was masked by my beautifully growing belly. All 68 pounds of it. Yeah, 68. I didn't really think about it at the time, didn't realize what damage I was doing, but most importantly, I didn't realize that my life revolved around food. I decided to breatfeed for the health benefits to the baby and myself, and fully expected that I would have my pre-pregnant body in no time. then one night, I was about 32 weeks along, my stomach began to itch relentlessly and I can remember laying in bed, crying, scratching the skin off for hours and hours in complete misery. What happened next? Stretch marks...like no other. Thick 3-inch wide purple stretch marks from the bottom of my breasts to the netherlands, and side-to-side, hip-to-hip. They completely covered my entire abdomen and when I aske my doctor if they would ever go away, he replied that my skin must have little elasticity and I would need abdominoplasty. What? For God's sake...I was only 17!
My darling daughter introduced herself to the world via Cesarean Section. An incision directly through all thoes stretch marks, fatty adipose tissue, abdominal muscles (if any had declared themselves) and into the uterine muscle itself. Wonderful. Ought to make recovery even less painstaking...right. Needless to say, my "beautifully growing belly" did not retract in the least, it simply dropped, sagged, layed low, or hung out. And there it stayed, right along side my unhealthy appetite, taking me up to a size 16, and 184 pounds.
Five years later came baby #2! Whew, I thought finally a reason to be "big". During that pregnancy, however, I began eating healthy and walking everyday; I actually lost weight for the first 6 months! Another C-Section was in order with a repeat of incisions, and daughter #2 was here! And so was Cancer. Fantastic.
Peritoneal Cancer, meaning: originating from the Peritoneal lining in the abdomen., the lining that covers your abdominal organs and basically connects everything to one another. Treatment: gut you like a fish and toxify your bloodstream in hopes that you survive. Out came the Uterus, Ovaries, Appendix, a good number of lymph nodes and even the Omentum (a fatty sort of "blanket" that protects your innards). Only this incision stretched from pubic bone to belly button to aid in tumor exploration, leaving me with an upside-down letter "T". Just what I've always wanted!
Mind you, I am not making excuses for why I am overweight. I am merley pointing out that my abdomen, the area of largest fat reserve on my body, has been surgically traumatized to the utmost extent. That, coupled with my poor eating habits and love of food and lack of movement, has helped to create a weak core, and making my plight all the more difficult.
I have been free of Cancer for 10 years on April 9th this year, and I have been overweight for 16 years.
I am done.
With my 34th birthday arriving this September, I have made it my focus to loose 68 pounds, as a gift to myself, to my family, and I am going to document my way through all of it; the milestones, pitfalls, and emotions...as there are sure to be a significant amount of the latter.
So, as I sit here, finishing up this retro Pepsi, I am feeling optimistic about where I'm going and the goals I have set out to attain.
If only I ever read this...If only I ever learn from this, I will be much improved.

*Coming tomorrow: "Painfully Honest" statistics and goal details......YUK!