Back in February this year, I weighed 127 kilos.
It’s the heaviest I’ve ever been but I didn’t know it at the time. I had refused to get on a scale since having a baby eight years earlier, terrified of what number would appear.
I knew that seeing that number would send me into a spiral. I would be bitterly disappointed in myself for having allowed this to happen. I would be screaming internally at the thought of what would be required of me to reduce that number and so I just flat out refused to weigh in.
It wasn’t like my weight was the biggest issue in my life. The body positivity movement had told me that my shape meant nothing to anyone but me and with no real health conditions to be concerned about I was doing alright.
But while my health was overall doing ok, one of my joints was not. I injured my left knee playing netball when I was 14. Two reconstructions and a multitude of cartilage clean ups later and it was a mess. I was in daily pain and that 127 kilos it was having to cart around was not helping it any.
GPs I had visited previously had advised that losing weight would help with pain management. One told me with every five kilos I lost I would reduce pain levels by 10 per cent. But here’s the problem, losing weight is not easy and being told to just up and go drop 10 to 20 kgs does not make that magically occur.
I have always watched what I eat, but I do not have a great relationship with food. I have since found out from my dietician that I am a punish and reward eater. In that I punish myself for being too fat so I restrict but then reward myself with treats when I think I've done well.
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