Yet Again, A.K.A.: Another Start

So, tomorrow begins another start at a better life. Please note: this is not an attempt at a New Year's resolution, though this could fall under such category despite my greatest intentions, as it is a new year and a new resolution. I chose tomorrow for this simple reason: I have exactly two weeks before spring semester picks up at my university. That gives me two weeks to get into the swing of things before college life picks and pulls at my schedule, to get my cravings under control before I am faced by candy-filled snack machines in every building. Two weeks before I begin long days of low activity, locked away in classrooms for the greater part of every day. Two weeks before I begin a race of time that makes fast food so convenient.

I've always struggled with diets. They make me eat things I'd never think to eat and do things with my body I'd rather not do. It's not laziness. I simply dislike them. I've tried very hard on several diets; legitimately saw them through with no great results. With two-hundred and sixty pounds screaming at me that no diet has ever worked before and no diet will probably ever be successful, it's no wonder I leer in the general direction of tomorrow's new diet regimen.

Probably the only program that has ever worked for me has been pregnancy. Yes, you read correctly. When I was pregnant with my first child, I lost thirty pounds. No, not after - during. The doctor was bumfuzzled, constantly questioned whether I was eating the things I needed to eat. Honestly, I ate all the time! And, despite what you might be thinking, my baby was not huge. She was a healthy 7.1 pounds. I kept all of this weight off for a while. But after losing two babies during pregnancy in less than a year, I fell into bed and barely got out for anything but to eat. The result? I was roughly the size of a small boat.

In early 2007, we realized I was pregnant again. And, just as before, the pounds began to melt away. I lost a whopping forty pounds with my fourth pregnancy. I looked fantastic when my baby boy was delivered (or, at least fantastic in comparison to how I was used to looking; I was still overweight). However, as soon as I stopped breastfeeding, the pounds began to hop back on board. Apparently my stomach is the highest rated cruise ship for all things fatty, while my butt is the vacation destination for all the cool fat cells. The only problem is the vacation season never seems to end.

Over the last two years of my son's life, I have managed to find all of those original forfeit pounds, and then some. In fact, this last fall semester, I gained another ten, bringing my new horrific, shameful weight to 260 pounds.

It takes me nearly fifteen minutes to put on my clothes every morning, and not because I can't decide what to wear. Every day I get up, put on my "Higher Power" Spanx, a body shaper that reminds me of a suction cup disguised as bike shorts that ride all the way up to my bra. Once I've shimmied my way into these and tucked them under my bra band (so as to keep it from rolling down), I begin wiggling into my "Slim Cognito Body Shaping Cami" by Spanx. This is a tank-top contraption that, as directed by Spanx, I step into, rather than pull over my head. I believe this is because the people at Spanx are afraid of the possibility of death via strangling of their customers. After all, a dead customer is no customer at all.

Getting into my Spanx feels like I am trying to slide into a second skin, like the reverse action of a snake removing its outer layer. As a reward for my hard work, the "cami" rolls up from my waist under my clothes for the entirety of the day. I make several escapes to the bathroom throughout the day, not to use the restroom, as I am too afraid to take it all off, but rather to unroll the Spanx "cami" back to its original hiding place. My classmates must think I have a weak bladder, and I am sure one of my coworkers thinks I am stealing, as I duck into dressing rooms several times throughout my shift to fix my Spanx. I mean no disrespect to Sarah Blakely and her lovely Spanx; her products are marvelous. I only wear them because I understand their worth. However, as a fat girl, they have become the part of my day that I dread most.

Once I have finally dressed and I start to put on my makeup, I stare at my face, marveling at the beginning of what can only be described as jowls, and consider for quite a while how much faster my makeup must run out than the makeup of all my skinny friends. This then reminds me of how much body wash it took to get my entire body clean, and, subsequently, how I've been avoiding shaving my legs simply for the time and product it takes to get the job done. Thus, the act of getting ready in the morning is a much longer and more dismal act than that of the average girl, I am sure. It's a wonder I walk out the door at all.

It is, therefore, with all natural health fears also regarded, that I take another stab at this diet thing tomorrow. I have begun planning out my menu, which is proving to be quite the duty as my inability to eat eggs is causing a huge problem in my breakfast menu. Keeping in mind the three other people that will eat whatever I fix is creating another huge hurdle in my otherwise clear race track. But, I strive forward, hoping this time will take and I can close the doors to the famed five-star Fat Spa that resides in my gut, throwing out my Spanx for good, or, at least, a smaller size.