I maybe repeating myself here but I have the need to talk about my weight and my inherited pear-shaped body. I wish I took more after my dad’s side of the family. Anyhow, I can’t change my DNA so I have to make do. For as long as I can remember I was a size 8/10 and always had a complex about my thighs and bum but weight was never an issue. Whenever I got weighed at the doctors I was always underweight. Then I got older and gradually I became a normal weight for my height (according to the doctors). All was well until my anxiety hit. Increasingly, I stopped going out, stopped doing things outside the house, stopped being active and then I started to comfort eat. More like I became obsessed with eating food to stop the fear of fainting, which is all part of the anxiety (of course, I only know that now). The end result is that I’ve got a much larger arse and many lovely clothes that I can’t get in to anymore.
The anxiety made me not think about the weight, it made me not think about anything else except the anxiety. Now that I’m on the road to recovery I’m trying to do something about my weight, which is damn hard especially as I still have bad days. Though at least now I can take the dog for a walk over the park everyday without feeling anxious and I’m increasing the length I’m walking. I’ve been keeping an eye on what I eat but I’m not a fan of diets and much more prefer healthy eating. To coin the phrase that I’ve heard in the past “Eat less, move more”. On the good days I do just that but on the bad days I eat more and move less (especially on hot humid days like today). I’ve learnt that losing the weight takes time (just like recovering from anxiety) so I just need to learn to love my pear-shaped body and hope I can get back in to my size 10 or size 12 TopShop jeans one day.