My Birthday Wish

This is it. The big 4-0.

I would like to give myself one thing for my birthday - the ability to love myself, the way I am, flaws and all. And it is mainly flaws.
It is hard to be a mom and a wife and not feel all your flaws, every day, like irritating, biting gnats swarming around your self-consciousness every hour of every day.

4-0.

It is kind of ironic, really. I am 40, fat, frumpy. All those things I never wanted to be. (Well, I would rather be 40 than never get there. But the other two things I could do without.)

I have never been a skinny girl. I have hated my body since I was 11 years old. I matured faster than all my friends. I hated being the only 5th grader with boobs! I hated the way my body looked and felt and moved. I have always thought I was fat.

Of course, now I realize I was not, and I would give anything to go back and be that size again.

About seven or eight years ago, I started gaining weight. Slowly. Every year some more. I had the Monkey in that time period and that added more pounds I have not been able to lose.And still I add the weight, a little at a time.
I had everything checked. My thyroid is good, my blood work is excellent. I know my hormones are off, and that is being treated for over a year, but it has not made a difference in my weight,.
And we are not talking 10 or 20 or even 30 pounds. 60 pounds in 8 years. It is a number that blows my mind. 
Since this weight gain started, say 8 years ago, I have:

• run
• walked
• been a member of a gym and attended regularly
• done Weight Watchers
• done South Beach
• done My Fitness Pal
• regular use of a stationary bike
• regular use of small hand weights (5 lb each)
• 30 Day Shred
• Insanity

Nothing helps. Sometimes I can get 10-15 pounds off, but it is only a matter of time before it creeps back on.  The worst was last year, when I did 30DS for 3 months along with very careful accounting with My Fitness Pal. At the end of the 3 months, I had lost 1, maybe 2, pounds.
That is it. All that work, for nothing. And no, my clothes did not fit better, my measurements were not any different.

I can understand the weight coming off slowly, but not . . . nothing.

I hate the way I look. I feel it in my body. I hate the way clothes fit me. I hate seeing my arms, my legs, and - oh my gosh - the belly that won't die since the Monkey came along.

My weight is with me all day, every day. Every morning when I dress, every evening when I put on pjs, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. When I -shudder - see a picture of myself.

It is torture, every day.

I will not give up. My eating habits have vastly changed. I exercise, regardless of weight loss, because I know it can only be doing me good. I try to ride 6-10 miles on my stationary bike, 6 days a week, while doing my hand weights. Some weeks I may only make it 4 days, some weeks 5, some 6.

I will not give up.

But still.

I know I need to come to some kind of peace with myself. I need to learn to love myself, regardless of how I look. I know this. I crave
it.
I am just not sure how to get there.

It is my birthday wish for myself. To learn to love who I am, now, here, as I am.

Happy birthday to me!