Okay, time to spill. (breathe)

Six years ago, I was fat.
I was happy when I was fat...or so I thought.
And then I got real, joined Weight Watchers and started losing weight.
And I was happy...or so I thought.
I was 37 years old and wanted to try to exercise.
Understand, at this point just taking a flight of steps winded me. No.Joke.
I took a big bite, joined a fitness group and basically got my ass kicked daily.
It was the start of a beautiful relationship. Yay me.
But then there was the "other" relationship.
I couldn't deny - it was my worst and most unhealthy relationship.
FOOD.
A four-letter word.
FOOD.
Something I needed to live, to get stronger, to get fit.
But I hated it. Hated it. Hated it.
"It" always seemed to win.
I'd give in. I'd binge. I'd starve. Any way I did it, food WON!
So I basically developed a "F*ck you Mr. Food" attitude.
I hated food, that way I had something to be mad at other than myself, food failed me, I didn't fail me...right?
So, fast forward almost 6 years...the hate was still there - daily.
A week ago past Monday I decided, since I was at my "fluffy" weight and needed to take off a few LB's,
return to what works.
I rejoined Weight Watchers.
That was my first "change" post. I figured, I'd try it, trim down a bit and just continue with my struggle.
Same ole, same ole.
But...that is not what happened. Not at all!
Seven days later, I allowed myself to have and accept this epiphany.
Thus, "change" post number 2.
I made amends with the foul four-letter word foe FOOD.
I had a great week, lost 5 pounds and after all I have learned, know, discussed, shared...
I realized it was time and it was okay.
I could LOVE food because food doesn't make me, own me, control me.
I FINALLY got it.
I FINALLY GET IT and food isn't going to win anymore.
Ahhhhhhhh, what a relief!

-d