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These words haunt me like the ghost of Christmas yet-to-come.

 Yo mama is so fat that when she wears a yellow raincoat, people yell “taxi!”

Yo mama is so fat she threw on a sheet for Halloween and went as Antarctica.

Yo mama is so fat she can’t even jump to conclusions.

 

When you’re trying to lose weight, one of the things that you are supposed to do is come-up with “the big Why”. Why do you want to lose weight? Why are you willing to make sacrifices? Why are you going to get up and exercise when you really don’t want to? Why are you going to choose a side salad instead of fries?

The big Why.

I have really struggled with a clear answer to this. But, one thing that can bring some motivation to me to move beyond myself, put down that french fry and pick-up the salad fork, is my son.

I hate the thought that I will be a weapon that other children will use to hurt him. Especially since the taunts will have so much truth to them if I stay as I am now.

I don’t want to think that he will, at any time, be embarrassed of me because of how I look. I know he will be embarrassed about how “uncool” I am at some point (that is inevitable with teenagers), and I will take great delight in purposefully finding ways to make him groan “Moooom” at some point, like singing in public or trying to get a kiss from him in front of his mates.

But, I don’t want him to be embarrassed because I’m fat. In the very least, if the kids are taunting him because of how I look, I want him to know that his momma has worked really hard to be fit and healthy and that it is nothing of which to be ashamed or embarrassed.

 “Yo momma’s so fat…she wasn’t able to play with you much as you grew up and you both missed-out on a lifetime of fun, happy, memories and you weren’t able to do a lot of things you should have been able to do because no one was fit enough to take you…”

Ok, it doesn’t roll-off the tongue like the other things, but it is a tape that plays over-and-over in my head every day. I don’t want this to be our future together.

I want to lose weight for my son so that I can do things with him as he grows up:  Amusement park rides, spelunking, rock climbing, cycling, swimming, go-karts, running, playing sports, kayaking, scuba diving…whatever it is that he wants to do, I want to be able to do it with him.

He’ll need someone to go on rides with him at amusement parks, but there’s no way they will let me go because they won’t be able to secure the bar for him because of how big I am.

“I’m sorry, buddy, we can’t go on that ride because Mommy’s too fat.”

“I’m sorry, dude, I don’t fit in go-karts. I’m too fat.”

“We can’t do that cave, sweetie. I’m too fat to fit through the tunnel.”

I’m sorry, love. Mommy’s too fat to climb that wall with you.”

The ghost of things to come is not a pleasant one.

So, like Scrooge McDuck (what? you know…from The Muppet Christmas Carol…that well-loved movie that uses a well-crafted story line, delightful characters and upbeat music to teach a valuable lesson?), I’m wanting to learn from what I see in my future and make the necessary changes to avoid such a miserable state from actually coming to pass.

It’s not my only big “why” (and so some would argue, that it’s not a “real” big why because some people feel like the big “why” has to be just ONE, sole, reason—I totally disagree, by the way), but it’s a pretty good one.

I have already made some headway in this big “why”: Although I’m not totally comfortable, I have more confidence to put on a swimsuit and take him to the pool–something I have been too nervous or self-conscious to do for most of his 2 1/2 years. When I take him to soccer, I’m happy to be out on the field kicking-around a ball with him instead of hiding behind his stroller where no one can see me. When we go to the park, I climb the structures and even go down the slides with him. I’m not the most comfortable doing it, but I’ve already gained some confidence and abilities back that had been lost for awhile and I’m just looking-forward to increasing this list so that there is nothing that is holding me back.

“Yo Momma’s so fat…ugh…um…hmph. I don’t know. What can’t your momma do?”

Now, that’s more like it.

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