I have thought long and hard about whether I should write this blog. I have struggled with its appropriateness as there’s nothing worse than writing something, having it go live, and then worry that it offends someone, or others feel compelled to ‘cheer me up’ as I don’t need cheering, just a frank conversation.

I wanted to write about this for a couple weeks but didn’t–wouldn’t since its personal and maybe annoying for readers who think I don’t have  an issue–but the real me, not the author Jane, is struggling so I’ve decided to write about it anyway.

I’m heavy. And the weight isn’t falling off.

During the last 18 months as I underwent fertility treatments and the first round of IVF, I began gaining weight. By the time I delivered Mac, I’d gained well over 50 lbs, closer to 55 from my starting weight. Not the end of the world as I have a beautiful baby to show for it, but difficult as even now my normal wardrobe doesn’t work and my body doesn’t feel right.

I’ve lost 25 of those 50+ pounds, but easily have another 25 to go. Normally a size 6, I’m at 10-12 now. Again, not the end f the world, but something’s happening to me. Mentally. Emotionally. There’s something happening on the inside and its a deep loathing, almost despair.

I *know* I’ll eventually lose the weight but that day is far off, probably around Christmas and that’s too long from now. I don’t know how to live in this body and look in the mirror or present myself to the public as a chunky girl. I’m angry and disappointed and what scares me is how much I really dislike–yes, loathe–fat Jane.

Why is the loathing so strong? Why does extra weight change me, my value, my mindset?

Yesterday was my one day off this week as I’m working hard to meet my deadline for Shey’s book and I’d promised Ty I’d take Mac down to the beach but after trying on outfit after outfit, and swimsuit cover up after cover up, I gave up. I stayed home with Mac. I sat in a hot house because I hated how I looked in a swim suit, even though I’d covered up. You see, even with a cover up I know what I look like underneath. There’s so much of me. Too much. Jane apparently is only lovable without stomach rolls.  Jane is only valuable if lean and tone.

Is anyone else like this? Does anyone else feel unlikable, or worse, unlovable, if your weight changes?

I know this sounds shallow. Ty Gurney doesn’t understand it. I don’t like it. But I need the old me back. I need the one that felt attractive and successful. Maybe she was an illusion. But it’s an illusion I apparently need.

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