I don’t want to be that woman they bury in a piano box

I was sitting in a restaurant with a friend catching up and I watched a morbidly obese older man shuffling towards the door. It was evident that he was in a lot of pain as he made his way to the door. He huffed and he puffed and I worried he was not going to make it.

I don’t want to be him.

I’m participating in a really hard-core way of eating because my blood sugar was out of control and it’s kind of a keto/Paleo way of eating and my carb count every day is under 50 and oh my God it’s hard. But while I’m not seeing a huge victory on the scales my blood sugar is near normal and I will take that first and trust that the weight will come off because I am not deviating.

Something in my brain has switched and I’m just not going to go backwards I just can’t. I don’t want to be remembered in the family as the fat woman who just couldn’t get it together and they buried her in a piano box.

I want to be remembered for being a good person, a wonderful mother and wife a wonderful grandmother sister daughter friend but not that pathetic fat woman who couldn’t get it together and they buried her in a piano box.

I don’t want to die in excruciating pain for scary death. I want to die as an old old woman in my sleep like I’m supposed to knowing that my son and his family are happy and healthy. But I don’t want to be that pathetic fat woman who couldn’t get it together and they buried her in a piano box.

I want to keep all my fingers and toes. I want to keep my eyesight. I want to have a healthy heart and no kidney problems and I want this diabetes to go away. I don’t want cancer. I don’t want anything ugly I just want to be healthy. And most importantly I don’t want to be that woman that big fat woman that they bury in a piano box.

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