I never wanted to be skinny. The idea never turned me on. In fact, growing up, I associated skinny people with people who were unkind. I never wanted to be unkind. I never wanted to be that. I don’t really remember my peers ever being unkind. It was adults. Skinny women to be exact. I remember hearing comments about the volume I ate. I remember disapproving looks. I remember feeling discomfort radiate off of them when I got too close. I never really understood what that was about. I never felt any of those negative unkind vibes from larger people. I always felt acceptance from larger people, and eventually I became one of them.
In 2011 I was the largest I had ever been. My size had never really kept me from doing the things I wanted to do, but tipping the scales at 425lbs made life harder. My body gave me plenty of signals that it was time to address my weight. I never had any “fat people diseases” like diabetes, high blood pressure, or things of that nature. I was just fat. Just fat. My knees and feet were aching way too much, and I began to find it difficult to engage life the way I wanted to. A perfect example was in July of 2011. I went to a Joel Osteeen event in my area with my mom. We had our tickets, got there early, and found our seats. Uh, oh. I didn’t fit. The tight arena stadium seating just did not accommodate a 425 pound Hope. I refused to let this setback keep me from enjoying the event. I looked around and saw a nearby was a section that had roomier seating. So, my mom and I went to the ticket counter, explained that I could not fit in the regular seats, and asked if we could swap our tickets to the seating area where there was more room. Imagine my dismay when I found out it was the handicapped seating area!!!! I swallowed hard, fought back tears, and formed the words that identified myself as handicapped.
Yes, I was physically more comfortable in the handicapped section, but my spirit was troubled. I could no longer deny that my size had become an issue. It was taking away my freedom. It was confining me to limited life experiences. It was relegating me to the fringes where people are pitied. I could not ignore or rationalize it away anymore. My tears had caught up with me by now, but before I could descend into depression, I felt the Lord speaking to me. I felt the distinct impression of a particular number. It was as if the Lord was telling me the exact amount that he wanted me to lose. When I heard the number, I said to myself, “how on earth am I supposed to do that?” I had tried all different ways to lose weight in the past. I had tried diets, exercise programs, personal trainers, and even pills. I never experienced lasting success. But the Lord was telling me that He wanted me to shed 250lbs and to get out of the handicapped section. Where He gives the vision, he makes provision.
As of the writing of this post, I have lost 110lbs. To God be the glory.
I was relaxing at home with my husband a few weeks ago and I noticed my elbow. I could feel the bones. I told him to feel it. He felt my arm and said, “you are getting bony!” This is not a compliment for me. As I mentioned above, being skinny is not one of my life goals. As I continue to lose weight I am having to battle old beliefs about smaller people as I become smaller myself. I still have a ways to go, but the smaller woman is coming out and I’m not sure I like her. I am seeing angles in my face where there was once roundness. I feel my hip bones, knees and elbows for the first time. It is disturbing to feel their sharpness. Will this new woman I am becoming be kind, or will she be sharp and unforgiving like a bony elbow?