I was thin growing up and right up until my late 30s, with just a few brief blips. It wasn’t until I had my second child that I got myself into a place I could not seem to find my way back out of. All of the previous times, I’d been overweight for less than a year, and each time, took a slightly more active approach than the previous time. Getting the weight off took a little longer each time, but never more than a few weeks to months.

This time was different, and I began to experience despair and hopelessness. I remember waking up and with eyes still closed, thinking it was all a bad dream and that I actually was still living in the thin body I’d always had. And then I’d feel my belly and realize, nope, not true any more.

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