And here we go again

Tonight I had to drive Lucia around Sun Prairie until she fell asleep. It was the icing on the cake. Actually it wasn't that bad, but my intentions were to go to sleep after she went to sleep... at 7:30. Work has been extremely stressful these past couple of weeks. And in my moments of possible bliss, things get piled on. I am going to dedicate my chub to some of this extra stress. But I also have to blame myself.
During my drive around town, after my failed attempt to try on 3 new items purchased online, my mind replayed my single days of being so busy I didn't have time to eat or sleep. I was skinny, I was busy, and I was adventurous. Becoming a mom has many wonderful things, but as far as being adventurous or hell, even creative, comes few and far between. Then I rewound back even further. Thinking about how focused I was on looks and image. On weight and size alone, I would pester myself into oblivion until I fit into a dress that I got to wear for only a few months. I said goodbye to that said dress just a couple of days ago. It isn't a permanent goodbye, but a fair-well just the same. I'm down and out. I feel like my constant struggle with weight and size is making me go insane. It's not fair that after almost 28 years of my life, I still have to struggle with it. When is it my turn to say "tada!" and not have to work so damn hard to get something that I want. About 20ish years ago was when I first started with the excuses. I remember it like it was yesterday, telling a friend at school that I wasn't fat, it was just that my sweater was extra thick that day. It went on and on and on until my torturous days in middle school and high school of constantly being picked on about my style, my weight, my size. Sure people will say that it was school and people were just being mean to be popular, and we have all outgrown that phase. But those constant ridicules have effected every single day of my life and it will not stop. At the age of 24 I surrounded myself around a so called "man" who told me every day how fat he thought I was and that there was always room for improvement. And that I shouldn't let a complement go to my head (even though I got them few and far between) because not everybody has the same opinion of me. I can't just wipe that history away. I can't even take the compliments of my own husband, who has seen me at my worst and my best and always told me I was beautiful, or my own family because of the constant hounding of my past. At the age of 27,  I have grown to become even more unhappy with myself that I ever thought could happen. I don't want to raise my child thinking that she has some sort of unrealistic image to live up to. I don't want my child to come home in tears and lock herself in her room until the next day worrying about the way she looks just to make a friend or two. I hated school. I never want to relive it. Bullies are my biggest concern for Lucia. She doesn't deserve to go through everything that I went through growing up.
Today is just a very unhappy day. The stress, the weight, the constant trying has gotten me down. Maybe tomorrow I can hide it again, but we'll see. I can't make that promise.

I guess this is my anti-bully campaign. In hopes that mothers and fathers and friends and family will read this and raise their children to not be as brutal to others as they had been to me in my past. Kids will be kids, but sometimes comments heard every single day for 20 years will stick with you. No pity please, just know the facts.