Here’s The Post I Wondered If I Would Write.

I’m so sick of crying over my weight. Really, I am. It has been an issue since my childhood. The depressing thing is looking back on it now, it really WASN’T an issue.

I remember being bigger than the other girls. Actually I don’t. I remember thinking I was bigger but I don’t know if I really was. And if I was, that didn’t mean I was fat.

An incident had happen when I was young. I was nine. Up until this time, I had heard my mom talk about her weight being a problem, and a cousin having a problem but I never considered myself as having a weight problem. Until….

The summer going into the fourth grade year, my brother and I were playing soccer in a parking lot with some cousins, when I slid over the top of the ball and sprained my ankle pretty bad. I couldn’t walk on it, so my cousins ran to get my mom.

I remember clearly, as my mom looked down on me saying, “I can’t lift you.” She turned and went to get my aunt.

I cried. Not so much for my ankle, although I’m sure it hurt, but because at that moment I told myself I was SO fat, your mom can’t even lift you.

This is one of my most vivid childhood memory.

Twenty-six years later, I learned the reason my mom couldn’t lift me that day was not because I was fat, but because she had a procedure done sometime that week, that I didn’t know about. It had nothing to do with me and yet from that day forward, I had a weight issue.

If you’ve never had a weight issue, I want to fill you in on something you may not know. You don’t feel fat, you just think you are.

I didn’t feel any different that day or the next. Well, I couldn’t walk for a few weeks, but that was because of the sprained ankle.

But now I looked harder at that girl in the mirror. I studied her face. I noticed her double chin. I saw how her clothes hugged her body. I took notice of the girls who ordered a small soccer jacket and was embarrassed that I didn’t.

Nobody. Not one person in my entire life had ever made fun of my weight.

But I did hear, “You’re getting too big for that”, instead of, “You’re getting tall” or “You’re turning into a young lady” or, “You’re growing up.”

As I started to develop into a young woman, which I did early, I never appreciated the soft curves or extra padding. I only saw that I am, once again, different from my friends. That I am fat. I hated what I saw.

Why am I telling you this?

Because this is me, and I am struggling. I feel inept and insecure. I feel out of control. I feel bad. And I don’t want it to be a secret.

Satan loves to keep secrets. Satan wants me to wear a mask and tell the world I’m fine, when I’m not, really. Satan enjoys me feeling alone and disgusted with myself. He likes that I beat myself up, so he doesn’t have too.

I believe if I take my secret out of the darkness and into the light, Jesus can heal it. Jesus is light and he is the truth and although I don’t feel it or see it right now, there are changes going on.

It’s a process, I’m told. It’s about the journey, not the destination. So as long as I still see myself as a mess, I know my God is by my side and He is never idle.

– Oh Lord, I’m tired of crying over my weight. I’m tired of carrying this load that was never mine. However, I know this journey is not a waste. I know it’s what keeps us close. Continue to reveal to me your truth. Help me see the person you see. Teach me to be the woman you designed me to be. –

I want it to be known. I am weak. I am powerless. I do not have it all together. And I am in need of a Savior.
Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results. – James 5:16

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