I feel this. So much. I’ve been switching from “I need to just finally stick to one plan forever now” to “I’m exhausted and don’t give a shit” for, like, my entire life.

The only time I’ve been able to maintain a weight I felt good with was when I was running around preparing food all day so I couldn’t care less about eating it anymore. I also smoked weed every day. Wasn’t the best lifestyle.

Then I got pregnant and gained 60 pounds. That was already horrible for me. I can’t imagine lugging around an extra 300 pounds, and I mean this purely in a rational sense: I cannot imagine it, I haven’t been there, and I can hardly imagine what it feels like when you’re constantly reminded of this and judged for it by everyone around you. I admire you writing about it so much nonetheless.

I want to say something else encouraging, but what is there, really? I wish people would grow up? The crux is with this kind of weight that you yourself are constantly physically carrying it around, it’s near impossible to just accept it and stop paying attention, put your focus somewhere else so you can at least catch your breath from all the mental and emotional exertion that comes with it. But acceptance is probably the only way forward that makes sense right now.

I’m rooting for you. Any which way.

Book designer, autistic single mom, Human Design obsessive, severely klutzy chef. https://estherpatrizia.com for HD sessions.

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