i'm still me

Another holiday season is upon us, and with it comes all the delights (and desserts) that make it so enjoyable. However, this year I Megan Holdaway, the life of the party, am dreading the upcoming festivities...

I'm usually the first girl on the scene, and the last to leave after midnight. I always want to be the one who jumps out of the cake and yells, "Surprise!". I'm a delight. I'm a wonder. I am the life of the party! I'm in the middle of the action. I am the action, baby. I have the loudest laugh, the best homemade cheese ball, and the biggest...well this year let's just say I'm that girl who will be showing up with the biggest "ass"-ets on the block.

Please...Don't pity me. I don't want your pity. I just want to be thought of as, well, normal.

Now, to be fair here, my health hasn't been so great for the past few years. Most of you know I have blood sugar problems and a family history of diabetes. However, I'm sure it's commonly known among friends and family that I love food. Good food, bad food, healthy food, junk food. You name it, it has probably touched these lips. I like to cook. I love to go out to eat with friends. Socialize. Try new things. Experiment. I love that food brings people together. I love to feed my friends. I love traditions. I like to use my husband as my own personal guinea pig. And most of all, I love to satisfy my own cravings.

But in the late night, under a cloak of darkness, when I'm all alone at this computer, and inside my head, my thoughts turn to the guilt and pain that is my love/need/obsession with food.

Eating is something that we all must do. For some people it is a pleasure. For others, it is simply pain. I would categorize myself as somewhere in-between. I take pleasure in eating a peanut butter M&M (which happen to be my Achilles' heel), and pain at the realization that the entire bag is going straight to my hips. So therefore I am constantly asking myself, where is the balance between the need and the want?

Since the baby was born, my weight has fluctuated significantly. From the early rapid weight loss (which I call the "breast feeding diet"), to the dark days of postpartum, little exercise, little sleep and lots of take-out food. There have been attempted diets, lots of self-loathing, biting frustration, and ultimately tears of heartache. Two years later, and I weigh the most I have ever weighed in my life.

The doctors tell me something has to happen. I am considered "obese." Just typing the word makes me cringe with embarrasment. The doctor says it's the reason why I have too much testosterone in my body. If I were to get pregnant again, it would be considered very "high risk." There might be complications with carrying the baby full-term. I already have horrible back problems, and the weight of a baby would more than likely cripple me in the process. It's these things, coupled with the scary thought of heart disease, that sometimes make it hard for me to sleep at night.

So I think you can understand why I no longer want to be the life of the party. I simply want to blend in to the background. I don't want to overhear whispers of, "My gosh, look how fat she is." I don't want to run into ex-boyfriends or former classmates. I don't want to take pictures or look in the mirror. I just want to hide, which makes it all the worse for this former self-proclaimed "It" girl.

Throughout it all I really am trying to stay positive. I am trying to overcome my demons and be a good example to my child. I want to be healthy. And above all, I am simply trying to love myself. Truly love who I am, what I am, and what I hope to become. This body is merely a shallow surface of the real me. It's got nothing on the real-life-personality-that-is-Megan-Holdaway. Underneath this flesh and bone, are the tectonic plates that form the core of my being. I am a wife, a daughter, sister, friend and neighbor. I'm still me.

If it is true (especially since the election of our newest president) that we will be judged by the content of our hearts, and not the color of our skin - then I'm guessing I would probably look something like Gisele Bundchen.

Please don't mistake me. I'm not asking for your praise, or your compliments, and certainly not your pity. All I ask is that you see beyond this fickle, fleshy surface, to the goddess underneath. I want to be loved and admired for who I truly am. By my thoughts, my words, and my deeds.

Because after all, I'm still me.