I Wear My Seatbelt (Unless It Doesn't Fit)

I’m in a rut.

Not a stall or anything, but a life rut.

It’s daunting to need to lose a good 80 pounds.  Even 50 is daunting.  It sounds exciting, because it would CHANGE MY LIFE.  But it is a LOT of work.  Time that I might not have.  Or maybe it’s faith or patience that I don’t have.  Maybe more than I want to give.

I have a dear friend who is right around the weight I am.  She struggles, too.  Every time we get together we talk about our weight and why we can’t change it, and what we might be missing.  This last time it was rides.  Carnival rides.  Being too fat.  That was the major tangible thing we could come up with.

I can think of others, but we were a couple cocktails in and that stood out.

Did I ever tell you about riding in my dad’s truck?  How the seatbelt didn’t fit around me?  It wasn’t a big truck, and the seats didn’t slide back.  He’d pick me up on more than one occasion and I’d have to tuck my seatbelt in next to me, or hold it down so it looked like I had my seatbelt on.  And – it’s not like my dad is an unloving jerk.  But I didn’t want to tell him.  I didn’t want to say it out loud that I couldn’t fit that darn belt around me.  This was when I was 330 pounds, give or take.  I’d just given birth not too long ago.  It was before I lost the 50 pounds that I never found again.

It was horrible.

Because, I WEAR MY SEATBELT.  So, not only was I hiding from my dad, I was terrified for my own safety.  My dad is a bit of a reckless driver, which never helped the situation.

It was a horrible, shameful feeling. 

I just can’t find the time or desire to get over this hump.  I do know it will happen, but it hasn’t happened yet.  I’ve maintained at 283 for too long.

I’m taking steps, and I’ll talk about that next time.