Weight has forever been a hard topic for me. I have struggled with self esteem and self image since I was a child. I honestly think it started when I was in dance. The dance class I was in consisted of all extremely tiny girls whose parents were extremely well off. Not that there is anything wrong with that, however I realized very quickly that I was different than them. I let myself think that because they were skinnier than me, they were better than me. This followed me into soccer as well. I never could assess my full potential because I didn't believe in my ability. I was never obese, overweight yes, until middle school when I dropped the weight, started dressing for my body and paid attention  to my looks rather than hiding from them.

I have carried at "fat girl" stigma of my self ever since. I have never thought I was skinny. Never. And if I am being honest, I don't think I ever will.  Now, don't take that wrong. I base beauty on way more than weight. I think a strong mind and quick quit is a million times sexier than the number you see on the scale. Fat is not ugly. It is the persona that "fat" in my mind carries with me that is ugly. In American society, the worst thing you can be is fat. And that is pathetic, but it is very real. Want to know discrimination that does not matter your skin color or ethnicity... try weight. If you don't believe me, lose 20 pounds and see the attention that gives you. The constant "you look great" "what are you doing to look so good" and even "damn girl"... all compliments that low ball the simple fact that losing weight is the best thing you can do for your outside image. I am guilty of it myself, complimenting others for a drop in the numbers on a scale. It is an invisible kind of discrimination, that is so bright it is blinding. That's why weightless is one of the biggest marketing industries in the world.
Anyways...

I do think I am beautiful. I am smart and driven. And I'm a good mom, caring and empathetic. But I would be lying if I said I didn't feel more beautiful when my pants button.


High school brought on a whole new level of self esteem issues for me. I used to be so nervous to eat in front of people because I didn't want them to judge me. I never once bought lunch in high school. Never. That may sound dumb, but it was very real. On my trip to Europe for three weeks, I was not only sick from the different foods... But I also rarely ate anything because of my insecurity. My weight bothered me so much that my mood truly was affected by how I felt when I looked in the full length mirror. Theatre and the stage helped me cope. I could be someone different on stage. I had talent and ability, to make others think, laugh, cry.... that weight was not the overwhelming elephant in the room anymore. Sounds like an oxymoron, but it makes since when you have been on stage.

 I was a still a constant up and down with weight.














Returning from Europe at about 115 pounds, I hadn't been that small since before I could remember. That weight came back and the yo-yo diets started. What I didn't know then was that I was setting myself up for the ultimate failure of disordered eating.

Paris, after three weeks of barely eating.

This followed me into college where I took a turn for the worse, dropping 20 pounds in a month by starving myself. I worked out two times a day, obsessively. So focused on my body and how good being thin felt. Well that can only last so long before your energy plummets, hands and feet hurt from poor circulation, sleep is all you want, headaches, stomach pain .... And the doctor was very worried. My parents were too. I was happy, but I knew I was killing myself. I could feel it.

So I got help. The weight crept back, and I struggled even more. I couldn't focus on anything other than when the next workout would come and why I should skip the next meal. I took extreme measures to make myself happy. I regret it now, wish so badly I could honestly appreciate the beauty that I held outside of the way my body was shaped.

After my first year of college.

Football season, dropping weight fast.

A month before pregnancy.

5 Weeks Pregnant

When I got pregnant I was in the slow progress of loving my body again. Losing weight slowly. Loving myself again. The pregnancy threw me for a loop. Not only was I sick but the only foods I wanted were the things I had deprived myself of ever having. Pizza, burgers... Ice cream. Working out was a negative. I was miserable... And getting fatter by the second.


I let my weight bother me so bad that I never even bothered with maternity photos. I was so embarrassed by the scale I refused to look at the doctors office. I accidentally looked at one of my last visits and I was at 183.


183... And still going. I cried.
And then I remembered just months before how I saw the numbers on the scale at the doctors office (pre-pregnancy) at 141 and how I cried then. I was dumb then.


I died inside. I am only 5 foot 1. So short in the scheme of things. I didn't know what I was weighing before I got pregnant but I figure about 135-140. So I gained nearly 50 pounds.

Once Aislynn was born I was on a high I can't hardly describe. Something so amazing, as a mixture of having my baby in my arms and finally not being pregnant anymore. Such a relief ran over me. I breastfed for as long as I could, 3 months, and afterwards I didn't even feel bad about how I looked. I just wasn't pregnant anymore and that was all I cared about.

One thing had changed though, the disordered eating I had known for so many years was gone. I started doing small workouts, tried a few cleanses. Even did Advocare, which I ended up gaining 4 pounds on. I couldn't tell you why. The scale was sitting at 160. My short stature is not meant to be that heavy. I loved my body for having carried my daughter in it, but I wanted to feel like me again.

Breastfeeding helped keep the weight down at first.

I was sucking it in too. Pre-Advocare.

Post Advocare = No change

A month After Advocare.

2 months post-Advocare

3 months out.

4 Months.

5 Months. I haven't been able to fit into these jeans since early college.

Fast Forward:

The disordered eating is gone, and my happiness is back. Go figure, if I had known that is what it would have took I would have tried that years go.

5 months later, with healthy habits, moderate exercise and the love of an incredible little child who looks up to me and needs me no matter how I feel about myself or what I see in the mirror...
I'm sitting at a satisfying 134. The number doesn't define me though

It's how I feel. I don't stress over eating. I don't want to break down every time I put on a pair of shorts. I am happy. I am not so obsessed with my weight that I can't enjoy my daughter. When we go to the beach I play with her in the water and in the sand and don't stress over the "belly role". I can't imagine pushing my stress and insecurities on my child, inadvertently or otherwise. She deserves to feel beautiful and have a mother who fosters that beauty, both in her life and my own.

You define your own beauty. And the most beautiful thing in the world is how your children remember you and that beauty you hold on the inside and out for them.