I’m going to hope that writing ugly truths is less painful if you do it quickly, kind of like ripping off a bandage. Here goes:
Weight on March 6: 169.6
Weight on May 1: 175.2
GAIN of 5.6 pounds
I want to cry just looking at those numbers. And I wanted to cry even more when I happened to glance over at the sidebar where I have kept a log of my weigh-ins for various months since I had Charlotte. If you’ll notice, last May 1, I weighed 174.2. One pound LESS than what I weigh right now. That means that over the course of a year I did not lose any weight but instead gained a pound.
You know what’s really sad? On Monday when I got on the scale, it said 177.6. That is so close to 180, and I haven’t seen the 180s since last January. I don’t want to go back there again. I didn’t even want to go back to the 170s, yet here I am, firmly entrenched. It is ridiculous how much my weight has crept up since I got sick. I realize that the drastic weight loss I experienced back in November was due to being sick and I honestly didn’t think I would keep all of it off, but I really and truly believed I could at least stay in the 160s, preferably the lower 160s. Now I’m just a few cheeseburgers away from 180 pounds, and I feel sick. I know I have been through a lot recently, and I know that this is not the end of the world, but I am having a hard time finding the balance between being kind to myself and being too lenient. I guess that sums me up in a nutshell: I’m either a drill sergeant or a lazy bum. There is no middle ground with me.
Part of me is really ashamed of all of this. Part of me wishes I could just crawl into a hole somewhere and never come out. But I know that I can’t let the shame win. Shame doesn’t face problems; it buries its head and pretends they’re not there. Shame doesn’t overcome; shame surrenders in defeat. Shame doesn’t lead to victory; it only leads to captivity. I will not bury my head in the sand, and I will not surrender. I will not be held captive. I have to keep fighting. Even if it takes me the rest of my LIFE to figure this whole weight loss thing out, I have to figure it out.
Lord, help me.
Erin Mount 
Erin, everything you've written in this post sounds like something I could've written myself. So many times I've heard encouragement about giving yourself grace and thought it was a cop-out for a lack of discipline but, you know what, I don't think that anymore. I totally respect the fact that you're so open with your imperfections – but at the same time you are so much more than them. You are beautiful, you are strong, and so what – you gained a couple of pounds. I am so there with you – I beat myself up over this. And I am tired of it. I am tired of crying after doctor's appointments and I am tired of fluctuating between the “I don't care!” emotional eating and the drill sergeant “Don't even look at a bag of sugar or you're a worthless pile of scum” routine I give myself.
You are such an awesome woman and I hope you don't spend a single second more beating yourself up over this. God sees us as so much more than we see ourselves. He doesn't see fat and worthlessness. He sees a sensitive, beloved woman that He longs for – He longs for us to crawl into His lap like a child, like Charlotte, and just wrap our arms around His neck. Not to offer excuses, not to offer gifts or promises. But to just be – fearfully and wonderfully made by His design. To look to Him for security instead of a number on the scale. The truth is, no one would think of us what we think of ourselves. We, as women especially, are so ridiculously hard on ourselves. We can never work hard enough or be pretty enough or thin enough or a hands-on enough mom or a sexy enough wife or a good enough friend and we spend great chunks of time in tears over these things.
Let's not waste one more second! Let's eat healthily and not beat ourselves up when we go out for pancakes or make cookies and the scale reflects that on occasion. Our bodies have birthed precious children, go through the hardships and challenges of sickness, sedentary work environments, exhaustion, and sometimes physical pain – yet we expect these bodies to look like breakable twigs when we don't have the luxury of being breakable.
I know this comment is long, but I've had to preach to myself this message all day after a particularly hard morning dealing with this subject myself – along with some other things – and I hate to see someone else going through it. You are loved, you are beautiful, and you are wonderfully made by God, Erin!
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You can leave long comments like that one any day, Heather. Thank you so much. Your words were such a comfort.
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I'm struggling too, with the pregnancy weight. I am going to blow the recommended 25 pound weight gain with 2 months to go, and I'm pretty depressed about not really being able to do anything about it right now. The good news for you is that it's getting warm and you and baby C can go out walking together! You are still a rock star in my book – no matter what that stupid scale says. 🙂 XOXO
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Diana, you are a rock star, too! And I honestly don't know ANYONE who stayed within the 25 pound weight gain for pregnancy. I am sure you are doing great. You're growing a baby, so give yourself some grace!
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