33 F, 202 lbs (down from 220), 5'5, one kid 3 years ago. I weighed about 150-160 when I met my husband 7 years ago, and between adopting his eating habits (he works a physically demanding job and eats whatever and brings sweets home most days), my depression, and a pregnancy: here we are. I have tried to get the weight off the last few years but it has been a struggle. I started at 220 back in January and have lost about 18 lbs with CICO. Yay, right? Until 2 weeks ago, when I discovered my husband has been following and messaging a bunch of sexy Instagram models and we had a pretty bad fight about it. During this he admitted he isn't as attracted to me because of the weight, and also because I'm older than him (but he loves me). Great. So now my self esteem is in shambles and ironically this has made it even harder to keep losing weight. I just want to eat my feelings, and what does it matter anyway? I'll never get younger. The stretch marks will stay and the loose skin and I will never be a perfect photoshopped model. I can't compete, and even at my goal weight, I never will. We are working through it and he said it in the nicest way possible, but I can't help but feel I will never be ok with my body and it makes me want to quit trying. Even once I lose the weight and get nipped and tucked and lasered, the scars will remain and I'll never be "perfect" because I am competing with something that isn't real, but somehow still exists. I don't know why I'm typing this, other than I suppose it is better than eating all the ice cream in the freezer.
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source https://www.reddit.com/r/loseit/comments/m4kphl/barley_holding_onto_the_side_of_the_wagon/
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