Happy Mommy?

I'm not completely sure where to start with this one. I have been going over everything I want to say in my head, but forgot to think about how to start this. So I guess I'll start back in middle school. That's when I started getting sick. I was pretty athletic. I was playing all the sports I could (on the top teams) and even AAU basketball after school. Then in 8th grade things seemed to change somehow. At 5'8" I was about 4" taller than most of my friends and that in turn also seem to make them think I was fat, Well that and I was a but larger up top. It even got to the point where girls that I thought were my friends, stopped hanging out with me. All of a sudden I wasn't as popular anymore and spent most my time at the doctor.


I didn't get depressed, I was just confused. Girls that I thought were my friends, were starting to bully me somewhat. Then right before my freshman year of high school I found out I had some stomach problems. The doctor said that the best way to treat that was with an anti-depressant. Then I started gaining weight. That's when I really noticed that my "friends" weren't such good friends. They would tease me and talk about me, not only behind my back, but to my face. That did hurt, but I still don't think I was depressed. I stopped playing sports in high school to help with my grades and health. I was stopped in the hallway more than once and literally (yes I do mean literally) yelled at by the varsity basketball coach for not even trying out. Honestly though, the biggest reason for not playing basketball was because I was scared to death of running stairs in the main gym. My fear of hieghts was a lot stronger than my love of the game.


A few weeks before my junior year started, we moved to California. I got to start over with new friends, new school and new doctors. I had stopped taking the anti-depressant, but was still a little chubby. That didn't mean I didn't get to do anything. I was asked to prom and even went to some parties. About 9 months after moving there though, a modeling company called my house. No clue how they got my name, much less my home phone number. My mom didn't want me doing that though since I was still having some health issues that the cause was still unknown about. But it did feel pretty nice to know that a modeling company wanted me to work for them.


Fast forward to after high school. By this time all the weight was gone, a couple more modeling companies had called (I turned them down because by this time I knew I had MS) and I turned them down because of everything my doctors had told me about depression and MS. I was skinny (ish) and even thought I was pretty. I was working out at the college I was attending and even getting some really good muscle tone. Then I started to notice my triceps had really good tone. My dad even pointed it out once. I just brushed it off and thought it was from working out. But then I started to notice that my thighs were looking a little bruised when  they were wet and my hips kind of caught my pants at on odd angle.


Fast forward yet again to age 21. By this time I was even smaller and noticing that my thighs were lumpy, my hips had dents, my arms were odd looking and I had a small pouch like thing of fat around my belly button. All the areas I did my shot. I got into a car accident that year and that pretty much threw everything off. I stopped working out as much. By age 23 I got married and moved to the state I live in now. I was feeling fat, out of place and like I couldn't even try to make friends. My husband was really good at making sure I did my shot (for MS) and staying healthy, but I wasn't doing too good at making sure I wasn't getting depressed. So I started on an anti-anxiety pill. Enter even more weight gain like the pill I was on in high school did. We ended up moving near a college town where I really started to feel fat and everyone I was meeting, was meeting me as this fat lady. That went a little too far into my head.


Long story short and 2 and a half kids later, I'm still not where I want to be weight wise, but my oldest son come up to me every morning and asks, "Happy Mommy?" I usually reply with a, "Sure." and then he asks, "Cute?" I say, "You tell me buddy." "Yup, cute."
That really should stick in my head a lot more than it does, but I'm pregnant and my clothes aren't fitting as well as they could, so its hard. But with my oldest always asking me that and the other one being such a big mama's boy that he doesn't like to be more than 25 feet from me, and a very loving husband, its not too hard to keep myself from being depressed.