It's been a joke between my friends and I for years that I was raised on a diet of beige food. White toast, pasta, chicken, french fries, etc. I was never forced to eat a vegetable. I eschewed even tomato sauce on my spaghetti. I first ate a peach at the age of 21.

Over time, I have slowly incorporated things like spinach and squash into my diet. So adventurous! But when these things are absent from your life for two decades, even romaine lettuce begins to look exotic. (No, really. My mom only eats iceberg.)

But beyond the Comfort-orientated/Bland American style of cooking that I grew up with, is the terror of the sweets. Oh my god, the sweets. This morning, in my mother's fridge and cabinets, are the following:

1 package of Ring-Dings
1 package Hostess Cupcakes
2 packages of Oreos
2 boxes of Girl Scout Cookies
Chocolate Chip Mini-Muffins
3 packages of Toll-House Cookie Dough
2 King-Size bars of Hershey Special Dark Chocolate
4 half-gallons of Chocolate Chip ice cream
1 pack of Jello Pudding Cups
2 packages of sugar cookies

This lasts one week for three adults.

Living with my family has caused some of my old habits to come back, certainly. But at least I don't eat ice cream for breakfast.

Weight is such a personal struggle. I know so many people who have obsessed with the number on the scale, but they could never be in my shoes, and I could never be in theirs. They gained weight as a teenager, or after a death in the family, or after having a baby. Their family and friends were supportive, or indifferent, or mean. They ate out of depression, loneliness, or boredom. Add a hundred other factors, pick at random, and you have an endless supply of similar but different stories.

The first time was uncharted territory, and challenges were at least new challenges. At this point, I've seen it all before, know all of my tricks and excuses. I feel like a boxer going back for round two when I'm already punch drunk.

The statistics for keeping weight off are about as depressing as statistics come. This study found that after 2 years, only 20% of people were still at their goal weight. I should not be surprised that I am in the vast majority.

And yet, I had hoped I would be different. Since I did everything the "right" way, I wanted to believe that those statistics would not apply to me.

Three years ago, I thought that I would only use this blog for a short time. Because, you see, it was all about the goal. Getting to my magic number, and then never looking back. Rereading a few entries, I am shocked to see how...unsatisfied I am. I got to my goal, and my opinion of myself didn't change. So why maintain the goal? The habits that I worked so hard to break are back, and I am ashamed.

I was fat for more than 20 years. This is a struggle that will continue for the rest of my life.