More about me...

My name is Sara and I'm fat. I'm 31 years old and I'm married with one child, a 10 month old daughter named Rowan.

I have struggled with my weight ever since I can remember. I was obese by the 4th grade. I have always viewed food as a source of comfort. When I'm sad, I eat. When I'm happy, I eat. When I'm bored, I eat. When something looks good, I eat it even if I'm not hungry. My relationship with food is long and complicated, but it's that relationship that has allowed me to get up to 300 pounds at 31 years old and is killing me. To be honest with you, I hate how I look. I avoid mirrors, I won't have family photos taken of me even though my husband is dying to get one, I am embarrassed in public...I'm a prisoner to my fat because it has negatively impacted me and my life is so many ways. It's a suit of shame, and I hate it.

I think the first time that my weight really hit me was last year when I was pregnant with my daughter. I was 280 pounds when I got pregnant. I developed gestational diabetes. I had to give myself shots of insulin twice a day and restrict the amount of food I could eat as well as how often I could eat it. It was the first time I was forced to stray from food as a companion. I was able to follow the plan so closely because it wasn't just me that it was affecting anymore, it was by unborn child as well.

I think I'd be remiss to talk about my weight and not talk about how, I feel, the experience of a happy pregnancy was somewhat stripped of me due to it. I should start by saying that I truly believe that prejudice against overweight/obese people is the last socially accepted prejudice. It's ok to treat fat people like crap because they deserve it, right? Well, the doctor I had during my pregnancy constantly questioned my honesty with him about the diet he put me on, my blood sugar numbers, whether or not I had sugar problems before I was pregnant (I didn't, but he was convinced because I was so fat, I must have). He was convinced I was a type II diabetic even though the tests didn't support it and the elevated blood sugars went away the day after I delivered, that I had hypertension (he based this off of two occurrences of high blood pressure) and due to those things, he refused to write me a prescription for birth control after the baby was born. The ultrasound I had at 23 weeks that was supposed to tell me the sex of the baby was a horrible experience. The doctor was impatient and said that the fat in my abdomen kept her from getting a good enough picture to see the sex. I think she just didn't want to look, because she could see enough to tell that the baby did not have a cleft palate, had normal internal organs, etc. I was so upset that day, I can't even begin to explain it. But the process of pregnancy and delivery of my child made me face up to the fact that my weight is a serious problem, something I have hid from for way too long.

So, here we are!