Did you know it’s been medically proven that people who are depressed tend to gain weight around their middle?  In fact, often beer bellies are actually depression bellies because anyone drinking that much beer is probably also depressed.  Not always, but often.

Well, here is my depression belly in all it’s glory.

This is what I see when I look down.  I look about 6-7 months pregnant.

I’m sharing this with you not because I’m proud, but because this is one of those ugly realities of depression.  Most would look at me and think I’m a lazy glutton.  In reality my depression has actually decreased my appetite and I’m actually exercising more these days than I ever have in my past.  This is pure depression.  A physical manifestation that I carry around my middle.

Mt weight isn’t going up or down.  It’s staying steady.  So I’m choosing to see that glass half full when I can.

But the reality of it is, being sad makes me fat and being fat makes me sad and I’m stuck in the middle of a catch 22.

So… I’m going to continue focusing on portion control even when my appetite eventually comes back.  I’m going to continue on the exercise even when I don’t want to.  These days all I can really put my heart into is walking, but it’s good for me both physically and mentally, so it’s something.  I’m currently trying to walk around the block once a day.  When my joints no longer moan  after that, I’ll up it to twice a day, and so on.  If I have to, I’ll take my damn cane.  But I’m trying.

And that’s the best I can do: try.

I suppose that’s the best anyone can do in any situation.