As my divorce became a part of history, I worked full time and shared custody of the children with their father. We had it working out perfectly to accommodate all our schedules with work and school. I was doing very well as a manicurist and financially was pretty happy with what I had become in the industry.
The children were thriving and doing fairly well in school. Lots of meetings with Counselors and Professionals to set up their Individual plans for educational goals and therapies for different things. Special education, speech therapy, physical therapy, occupational therapy and just plain old Dr. appointments for all the details. The usual visits to the school to protect my boy from the bullies that were not just other kids but adults too. Sadly, I had to bully the Principal and call the authorities.
We made the best of our life. We went on day trips, weekend getaways and even a week long cruise to the Mexican Riviera. We always had fun. I also made sure they were grounded and had rules and that the rules were followed strictly. I was kind of a drill sergeant at times. My son still talks about the wooden spoon in my purse and “that look” that told him it was time to chill because moms gonna go off. BTW, he asked a few years ago where my purse was and I told him I didn’t need one anymore because I don’t carry the spoon anymore. He replied with “Oh.” Before you ask… No, I didn’t abuse them, but they knew I meant business.
The defining moment….
One day we were at a place called Scandia. Basically, miniature golf, arcade games, roller coasters and all the fun things kids love. They wanted to go on the roller coaster. My son didn’t meet the height requirement which meant I had to ride with them. So we waited in line and got on. I got them belted in and attempted to belt myself in…. The belt didn’t fit around my body. I tried. I sucked it in. I sat up taller. No matter what I did I couldn’t make it reach the connection on the other side of me. So I stood and said “come on, we cant ride” I was trying not to be noticed, I was disgusted, I was embarrassed, I was angry, I was sad and mostly I was horrified. How did this happen? When did it happen? I wanted to hide from all the other riders who were waiting for the attendant to push the button. I felt all their eyes on us…my son was SCREAMING. He was very upset (to say the least) that we had to get off. I couldn’t even be mad at him for acting up. After all it was my fault.
I don’t recall the time frame, but it was somewhere around early 2001 or 2002… I started noticing other things that were caused by my size. Remember the turnstiles that used to be in stores? I always had to go another way to get in to the store. I couldn’t walk through them. My belly rubbed on the steering wheel when I drove. I was avoiding social events. My feet hurt so bad regularly and I retained water like you wouldn’t believe. One could argue that these things can happen to anyone, even someone who is thin or I can blame my Thyroid disease like everyone else who makes excuses.
I went to “Diet Doctors” who prescribed medicines that are not even on the market now. I took prescription fat blockers that made me sick and ultimately needed another visit to get my intestines back on track. I over the years tried different fad diets. So many I cant even list them. I ate and drank anything to get a result. I think I lost 3 pounds and gained them back before my next weigh in with my GP.
You know what? I was otherwise healthy. I didn’t have High blood pressure, Diabetes or any other disease you might expect for a morbidly obese female who’s BMI was 43. I was desperate for a solution and nothing I tried was helping. So I did what everyone does and gave up. I was destined to be fat forever.