This is one of those posts that I feel needs a disclaimer at the beginning: Tonight's post is ONLY about me, my own personal struggle with being overweight and diabetes, and in no way is meant to criticize or judge anyone else who may be overweight. I know all too well the emotions that can accompany being labeled a "big" woman in a society and a culture that promotes, praises and pushes being thin. Please, please, please take my words this evening in the spirit in which I write them and know that I'm writing ONLY about myself and nothing I say is intended or directed toward anyone else. If I haven't learned anything over the last eight months since my January 1 post, I've learned that it's impossible to know what another person is feeling if you haven't walked in their shoes or lived in their skin.
I was skinny as a little kid, very skinny in fact ... so much so that people often said I needed to "put some meat on my bones." As a teenager and young adult, I was a jock, and a pretty good one at that. The only sport I didn't excel in was basketball, and that was only because I was, and still am, a short little gal. Staying thin was never a problem for me ... I could eat pretty much whatever I wanted (and a lot of it) because I was so active physically. I didn't even gain a lot of weight when I was pregnant with my sons ... it was when I got pregnant with Meghann only nine months after Brad was born that I started packing on the pounds. I gained almost 85 pounds when I was pregnant with my only daughter, and I lost very few of those pounds after she was born. Oh, I would lose a little from time to time, and after I got divorced, I actually lost about 60 pounds. But then I gained it back ... along with another 70ish pounds. By the time I was diagnosed with diabetes almost four years ago, I was ... well ... there's really no nice way to say it ... I was just plain old fat. Not just a little chubby or carrying a few extra pounds or pleasantly plump ... I was fat. And down deep inside, even though I tried desperately to deny it or ignore it or wish it away, I knew that I was fat. But then came diabetes and walking and eating little to no carbs or sugar, and my weight began to drop ... and drop ... and drop ... and today, I weigh less than half of what I did four years ago.
In the course of my conversation with my new friend Jim at my son-in-law Barrett's birthday party Sunday evening, he asked me why I wasn't eating any cake and ice cream. I explained to him that I have diabetes and that I don't eat a lot of sugar or carbs. Barrett joined our conversation just as I was telling Jim how much weight I've lost. Jim said, "I can't imagine you with that much weight on you!!" and I assured him that I really was very heavy a few years ago. As Jim looked at Barrett for confirmation, my darling son-in-law laughed and said, "Yes, she really has lost that much weight. But we loved Fat Terrie." I laughed along with him as I said, "Yep, Fat Terrie was pretty fun for sure, Barrett." I laughed out loud as Barrett talked about how I used to supply all of my children and myself with Taco Bell and Sheridan's Frozen Custard and lots and lots and lots of other not so nutritious food items.
I've mentioned before how God often has to put a lesson before me several times before I actually get what He's trying to teach me, so I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me that the truth He meant for me to absorb on Sunday evening was presented to me again as I was leaving work yesterday. As I pulled out of my parking space and turned to drive down the alley toward the street, a young gal I work with called out to me and walked up to my car as I slowed to a stop. She then proceeded to tell me that one of the younger guys at work had asked her earlier in the day if it was true that I used to be "big." I chuckled as she told me about their conversation, wondering what in the world had prompted the young man to ask such an unusual question. I truly love both of them, the young woman and the young man, by the way, and so this morning when I got to the office, I emailed the guy some pictures of Fat Terrie along with a note that said, "I heard you were wondering what the old Terrie looked like." I'm still smiling this evening because of the words in his reply, "Wow. That's infomercial worthy. Good for you, buddy."
So I know you're wondering what the big lesson is, eh? I'm still the same person on the inside now that I wear a size 6 as I was when I wore a size 22. My outward appearance changed drastically, but where it matters most ... inside my heart ... I'm the same Terrie as I was when I was fat, maybe with a little more self-confidence when it comes to wearing shorts, but my heart is still the same. That's what God wants me to understand, to learn, to believe ... I'm still the same person on the inside as I was before I wrote the January 1st post. I have the same heart I had one day before ... one month before ... one year before ... one decade before ... one lifetime before I clicked the "Publish" button that day. I'm the same Terrie, friends ... in God's eyes, I'm not Fat Terrie or Skinny Terrie or Straight Terrie or Gay Terrie or any other Terrie ... I'm just Terrie. I'm the Terrie He loved even before He knit me together in my mother's womb ... I'm the Terrie He has loved for the last 53 plus years ... and ... and ... and ... I'm the Terrie He will always love.
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