Facts

In the interest of full disclosure and honesty, I'm going to do something very, very scary. I can't tell you how much I fear I might regret making this decision, but I think it's important to get it out on the table. I'm terrified to push the "Publish" button. But I need to, because I need to change.

Are you ready? Here I go ...

271.

That's the number that was on the scale the last time I stepped on it. I don't weigh myself very often, and after reading that number, you can probably imagine why not. In fact, I probably weigh even more than that now, because 271 was what the scale said several months before the holidays. I don't think I can summon the courage to step on it again until at least April.

Confronting truths about yourself isn't easy and it isn't fun. Over the years, I've had to come to terms with certain things about myself that I'd rather not admit: I procrastinate. I'm hypocritical. I'm silently judgmental. I feign knowledge of topics I know very little about when I'm around certain people to appear smarter. I give people advice without following it myself.

One of the hardest things I've had to accept about myself, though, is my weight. Even though I've seen the numbers and read the facts and looked at the pictures and tried on the clothes, I've never really viewed myself as overweight. Obesity was for other people. Other people had health problems because they were fat. Other people couldn't control themselves when they ate. Other people didn't have enough motivation to get off their butts and exercise. Not me, surely.

This is the most current picture taken of me (that was posted on Facebook, at least):

I know this picture is mostly boobs, but the amount of boobs you see is

pretty much proportionate to the rest of my body. So, it's a lot.

Even today, it's hard for me to look in the mirror and imagine that I look like a 271-pound person. My driver's license says 225 simply because I refused to let the lady at the DMV in on my dirty secret. But unless the scale I used was severely off balance, 271 is the truth I have to face. And really, it's probably best that I acknowledge that number now than continue to deny it. It's almost empowering to type it out.

However, a huge downside to being honest about how much I weigh is the immediate sense of hopelessness I feel about losing weight at all. Hearing weight loss success stories about someone losing 20, 30, 50, 80 pounds is wonderful, but it also makes my endeavors feel inadequate. Even if I were to lose 50 pounds -- a really awesome achievement -- I would barely be under the lie on my driver's license. I would still have so far to go. That hopelessness is what keeps me in the vicious cycle of overeating and sedentary living that has overshadowed me for years.

It doesn't have to be this way, though. I know that whatever hopelessness and inadequacy I feel is temporary, and I have to take it one day and one pound at a time. It's just the journey that's the hardest part. I'll be okay. I have to keep pushing.