Might as well Jump!!!

I just went to the gym, and now I'm staring at my grilled chicken salad. Right now, I feel good in my post workout glow. But in true Grace fashion, I think of the long road ahead and I'm suddently overwhelmed and think "what is the point?"

I was rail thin up until puberty, and then overnight...(seriously, ask my friends and family), I had boobs and curves. Not just little "OMG those are so cute" boobs, no, full-fledged "Girl you should be in pornos" boobs.
They brought unwanted attention to an 11 year old girl. The boys soon followed with their taunts, and the girls joined them with their accusations of me being a slut. Food always provided great joy to me, and when I needed it more than ever at 11, it became my security blanket. Food provided that warm happy glow in the bottom of my soul.

I was curvy but never heavy in my teens and most of my twenties. I was able to fight the battle of the bulge, proably because I was young.  I dated boys that for the most part appreciatd my lovely ta-tas dressed and from afar...but up close, those fools had no idea what to do with them. In my mid twenties, I dated a boy that insisted that more than a handful was sloppy. I felt humiliated, I felt disgusting. So I went for a plastic surgeon consult. But I never went through with it, thank god.

I gained weight for various reasons, food is fun etc....but the one theme was the nice warm happy glow feeling. The feeling that in this moment, as a cheese-laden orgasm washed over me, my problems didn't exist. Boys weren't harassing me to cop a cheap feel, girls weren't accusing me of stuffing my bra. But yes after the glow, came a soul-crushing low. A nasty nagging feeling that I knew I wasn't loving myself and putting myself first. That I was intentionally beating myself up, inflicting these brusies (pounds) upon myself.

My husband loves my curves, and if he could walk around wth his face implanted in my bosom all day long, he would be a happy boy. He wants me if I lose 20, or if I gain 20.

I remember when I was younger, my parents divorced, and my mom put on a lot of weight. She spent a lot of time on the couch watching her programs. As typical with childhood friends, we would have our little fights. But what stuck with me was how they would taunt me that my mom is fat, and she loved her remote control more than me. I was humiliated. I don't want to do that to my kids.

My personality doesn't fit my body. I know I will never be skinny, I just want to be that voluptous bombshell I was back in the day. The one that I didn't get to enjoy and appreciate.

My husband has a point, I live too much in the past. I don't need to hide anymore, it's time to shed the armour made of fat. But it's the strangest feeling...I feel like a little kid standing on top of a diving board, trying to muster up the courage to jump. What if I fail, will everyone laugh?

Here I go...Jumping...off....now....