When I looked at the scale I never thought that would be the number looking back at me. Yet, there it was. PCOS didn't phase me. Pregnancy didn't kill me. Twenty-nine hours of labor didn't stop me. Twin newborns didn't destroy me. Postpartum depression didn't beat me.
But 245 pounds. Two hundred forty five pounds. I saw that number and my heart seemed to stop for a moment. How did it get this bad? What in the world am I doing to myself? How can I change?
And then I decided it didn't matter. That number will not define me; fat will not define me. My twins deserve more than a mom who has to huff and puff after them as they play. My husband deserves more of a wife, or should I rather say less of one?
So this is the very beginning. The lowest point (and the highest number!) I am going to allow myself to reach.
I am going to loose 100 pounds this year, and I hope that you will join me on my journey to be half the mom I am today.