It may come as no surprise that The Biggest Loser is one of my favorite television shows. I've lost a total of 65 pounds, went from a size 14 to a size 2, and most importantly, I've kept it off going on six months. I've accomplished something that I once thought impossible, and I find tremendous joy in others who are willing to do the same thing.
Losing weight is a strange thing. You change, and the way others perceive you also changes. It reminds me of high school in a way—I wasn't the pretty, popular girl, but I sure as hell liked it when she talked to me. People I've barely spoken to approach me now to gush over how great they think I look, and even my husband has people doting over my transformation. Here's the thing that gets me—I didn't do anything that you couldn't do, too.
I was sitting on my living room couch last night in a brand new pair of size 2 Banana Republic skinny jeans, Kleenex to my eye to catch my mascara tears as I marveled over a group of 15 contestants wearing shirts with their weight written on the front and back. Can you imagine being on television with your weight displayed to the world? Could I have done it when I'd started this whole thing? Would I be willing to do it now? If I was standing next to any one of them, there would be an immediate perceivable difference—I am thin, they are not. Well, that's bullshit. On the outside we may be different, yes, but on the inside, our hearts are the same. On the inside, we all want a change. On the inside, we just want to be loved for who we are and not what we look like.
It's honestly harder for me to write about my weight now than it was when I started losing it. Why? Because people don't see who I was before, they see who I am now. And they assume that since I'm thin, I can eat whatever I want and not have to worry about it. I promise you, that's not the case. I'm the size I am because I've learned how to say no to food. I'm the size I am because I've learned that I can't let food compensate for a bad day. Stuffing my face with junk never made me feel any better about myself, but losing weight did.
I think it's important to emphasize that just because I've reached my goal weight doesn't mean my battle is over. It would be oh so easy for me to slip back into those bad habits that led to an unhealthy weight in the first place. It would be oh so easy, which I why I can't let it. I still have to make a choice every single day about what I put in my mouth. So when the "skinny" girl tells you politely that no, she does not want a doughnut, it's for a very good reason.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Starting is the Hardest Part
58 pounds. That's the total amount of weight I've lost since July 2012. I'm sitting here in clothes that I never thought I could fit into, enjoying a cup of coffee and finally feeling okay with the new me. I'm not going to lie—it's been a process getting used to Size 4 Michelle. First, there were the doubts that a weight loss program, any weight loss program, would actually work. You've seen the commercials on TV. The shot flashes to a picture of some bloated housewife with no makeup, wearing a tent for a dress, and then BAM—she's parading around in size 4 couture and heals, the absolute picture of perfection. And you hate her. I know I hated her. Well, not her, but what her success symbolized when time after time I'd failed.
Starting is the hardest part. I still remember thinking that I could do this on my own, even though past failures had proved me wrong. I needed help, and by realizing that, I'd already made it over the biggest hurdle. At the advice of my doctor, I signed up for Weight Watchers online. It took a while to get used to the program because I had to change the entire way I looked at food, but soon the pounds started coming off. It wasn't significant weight loss each week, just one or two pounds, but it was consistent. And before I knew it, I was at Gap once a month shopping for a smaller pair of jeans.
I still look at myself sometimes and do a double take. I'm a different woman then I used to be, and not just on the outside. Weight loss really messes with your mind, and that's an understatement. I'd hoped that losing weight would make me more normal, and thus more invisible. I'd hoped that by looking like everybody else, I'd blend in better and no one would pay attention to me. But that hasn't happened at all.
It's weird how people treat you when they think you're attractive versus when they don't. Really freaking weird. It made me angry at first, but not at the individual. It made me angry at society. Why is our culture so wrapped up in appearance? Why am I so often solely judged by what I look like? Especially when I have so many great qualities aside from what's on the outside. I used to feel that those qualities were ignored because I considered myself unattractive. Now I feel that those qualities are overlooked because I am attractive. And neither one is fair.
Where does that leave me? Ultimately, it leaves me in a world that I can't change. It leaves me in a world where jealous people will make comments about how they think I'm too skinny. It leaves me in a world where people might write me off because they think I'm pretty. It leaves me exactly where I was when I started, except now I'm comfortable in my own skin.
The world's going to judge you no matter who you are or what you look like, so please, don't let them stop you from getting healthy. I've had to endure critical comments throughout this whole process, especially the one that bugs me the most: What if you gain the weight back? I've got a 2-word reply for that, but it's not very nice, so I won't bother with it. A much more appropriate answer is this: I've been maintaining my goal weight for more than a month now, and I couldn't be happier. I still keep track of everything I eat. I still order fat free ranch at restaurants. I still have to think about how much of a hit that second glass of malbec will take on my diet. But I am healthy, and I like myself, and no one can take that away from me.
If you've considered losing weight but haven't been able to get started, I urge you to start today. I highly recommend Weight Watchers, or any program where you keep track of what you eat. When you actually start monitoring your calorie intake and the kinds of foods you're consuming, that alone can be a huge wake-up call. You may not think you have the discipline to do it, but I didn't either, and I'm still amazed at the person I've become. The you that you're looking for is in there. The skinny version of yourself IS possible. It's just up to you to believe that you can find him or her, and decide every single day that you deserve to change.
Starting is the hardest part. I still remember thinking that I could do this on my own, even though past failures had proved me wrong. I needed help, and by realizing that, I'd already made it over the biggest hurdle. At the advice of my doctor, I signed up for Weight Watchers online. It took a while to get used to the program because I had to change the entire way I looked at food, but soon the pounds started coming off. It wasn't significant weight loss each week, just one or two pounds, but it was consistent. And before I knew it, I was at Gap once a month shopping for a smaller pair of jeans.
I still look at myself sometimes and do a double take. I'm a different woman then I used to be, and not just on the outside. Weight loss really messes with your mind, and that's an understatement. I'd hoped that losing weight would make me more normal, and thus more invisible. I'd hoped that by looking like everybody else, I'd blend in better and no one would pay attention to me. But that hasn't happened at all.
It's weird how people treat you when they think you're attractive versus when they don't. Really freaking weird. It made me angry at first, but not at the individual. It made me angry at society. Why is our culture so wrapped up in appearance? Why am I so often solely judged by what I look like? Especially when I have so many great qualities aside from what's on the outside. I used to feel that those qualities were ignored because I considered myself unattractive. Now I feel that those qualities are overlooked because I am attractive. And neither one is fair.
Where does that leave me? Ultimately, it leaves me in a world that I can't change. It leaves me in a world where jealous people will make comments about how they think I'm too skinny. It leaves me in a world where people might write me off because they think I'm pretty. It leaves me exactly where I was when I started, except now I'm comfortable in my own skin.
The world's going to judge you no matter who you are or what you look like, so please, don't let them stop you from getting healthy. I've had to endure critical comments throughout this whole process, especially the one that bugs me the most: What if you gain the weight back? I've got a 2-word reply for that, but it's not very nice, so I won't bother with it. A much more appropriate answer is this: I've been maintaining my goal weight for more than a month now, and I couldn't be happier. I still keep track of everything I eat. I still order fat free ranch at restaurants. I still have to think about how much of a hit that second glass of malbec will take on my diet. But I am healthy, and I like myself, and no one can take that away from me.
If you've considered losing weight but haven't been able to get started, I urge you to start today. I highly recommend Weight Watchers, or any program where you keep track of what you eat. When you actually start monitoring your calorie intake and the kinds of foods you're consuming, that alone can be a huge wake-up call. You may not think you have the discipline to do it, but I didn't either, and I'm still amazed at the person I've become. The you that you're looking for is in there. The skinny version of yourself IS possible. It's just up to you to believe that you can find him or her, and decide every single day that you deserve to change.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
For Now and Always
I wish I had a t-shirt that read: "I said no to a lot of cheeseburgers to get this skinny." At present, I'm 3.8 pounds away from my goal weight. When I started, I didn't have a certain weight or size I was hoping to achieve. In fact, I was shocked when those first 20 pounds actually came off. All I knew was that I wanted to be healthy. I wanted to get on the scale and be presented with a number that didn't make me cringe. And now that I'm pretty much there, at a size 4, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.
Being on the Weight Watchers program and successfully losing weight using the app on my iPhone was, yes, sometimes a challenge—but sometimes it didn't feel like one at all. I have incredible discipline (don't ask me how), and I've been very conscious of every single food and drink that's crossed my lips over the past seven months. Most of the time, I didn't feel like I needed any outside encouragement to keep going. I'll admit that it would have been nice, but even so, I was able to do it on my own. It's only now, that I'm wearing jeans I never thought possible and looking in the mirror at a beautiful woman I've never really known before, that I wish I'd had that support. Victories can be lonely when you feel like you have no one to share them with.
I started blogging about weight loss in attempt to deal with how it's affected me emotionally—the stuff I feel I can't always talk about without sounding like a bitch. Do my friends, who aren't dieting, want to hear about how excited I was when those size 4 jeans finally fit? Probably not. Will people who haven't been on this journey with me understand what it's like to sometimes forget that I'm thin until I look down at my lap and think: Where did my legs go? I've always been sensitive to the feelings of others, maybe too sensitive, and I'm terrified of my success being misconstrued as bragging. I think any reasonable person would be.
What you might see when you look at me is a woman who's fortunate to now be thin, and who's probably forgotten what it was like to be overweight. What I see is that my risk for obesity-related diseases—certain forms of cancer, high blood pressure, pre-diabetes—have all been washed away because of the lifestyle I've chosen to lead. I see thousands of dollars in possible weight-related medical expenses that I'll never have to pay. I see a woman who didn't necessarily like herself for 34 years, but now can finally look in the mirror and think she's beautiful. But I didn't get here without a hell of a lot of hard work, no matter how cavalier I may seem about the process.
If you're with me at a restaurant and I'm eating a salad with fat-free ranch, rest assured that I'd rather be eating a cheeseburger and fries. I don't always like the choices I've had to make to lose weight, but I've made them in spite of myself, and I'm glad that I did. I'm the only one who has to live inside of this body, and it's a hell of a lot easier for me now than it ever has been before.
I'm not sure where I'm really going with this one. I'm sometimes concerned that people will look at me and see a thin girl who has it easy because she's never really known how hard it is to feel ugly. Or that people might think that now that I am thin, conceit has gotten the best of me. Really, the most important thing for me to remember is that it doesn't matter what other people think—it only matters what I think. And for now and always, I'm choosing to love myself.
Being on the Weight Watchers program and successfully losing weight using the app on my iPhone was, yes, sometimes a challenge—but sometimes it didn't feel like one at all. I have incredible discipline (don't ask me how), and I've been very conscious of every single food and drink that's crossed my lips over the past seven months. Most of the time, I didn't feel like I needed any outside encouragement to keep going. I'll admit that it would have been nice, but even so, I was able to do it on my own. It's only now, that I'm wearing jeans I never thought possible and looking in the mirror at a beautiful woman I've never really known before, that I wish I'd had that support. Victories can be lonely when you feel like you have no one to share them with.
I started blogging about weight loss in attempt to deal with how it's affected me emotionally—the stuff I feel I can't always talk about without sounding like a bitch. Do my friends, who aren't dieting, want to hear about how excited I was when those size 4 jeans finally fit? Probably not. Will people who haven't been on this journey with me understand what it's like to sometimes forget that I'm thin until I look down at my lap and think: Where did my legs go? I've always been sensitive to the feelings of others, maybe too sensitive, and I'm terrified of my success being misconstrued as bragging. I think any reasonable person would be.
What you might see when you look at me is a woman who's fortunate to now be thin, and who's probably forgotten what it was like to be overweight. What I see is that my risk for obesity-related diseases—certain forms of cancer, high blood pressure, pre-diabetes—have all been washed away because of the lifestyle I've chosen to lead. I see thousands of dollars in possible weight-related medical expenses that I'll never have to pay. I see a woman who didn't necessarily like herself for 34 years, but now can finally look in the mirror and think she's beautiful. But I didn't get here without a hell of a lot of hard work, no matter how cavalier I may seem about the process.
If you're with me at a restaurant and I'm eating a salad with fat-free ranch, rest assured that I'd rather be eating a cheeseburger and fries. I don't always like the choices I've had to make to lose weight, but I've made them in spite of myself, and I'm glad that I did. I'm the only one who has to live inside of this body, and it's a hell of a lot easier for me now than it ever has been before.
I'm not sure where I'm really going with this one. I'm sometimes concerned that people will look at me and see a thin girl who has it easy because she's never really known how hard it is to feel ugly. Or that people might think that now that I am thin, conceit has gotten the best of me. Really, the most important thing for me to remember is that it doesn't matter what other people think—it only matters what I think. And for now and always, I'm choosing to love myself.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Perspective
I'll be the first to admit that restricting one's food intake—AKA dieting—sucks. I recently returned from a week in Jamaica with my husband, Casey, and during that time gave myself a week off from my diet. We stayed at an all-inclusive resort, and I allowed myself the freedom to eat and drink whatever my heart desired for 8 days. In total, I gained 4 pounds.
I started my diet back up again the Monday after I got home, and that first day was pretty rough. I could tell that the size of my stomach had increased over the course of the week, and I'd grown used to eating much larger portions than I'd previously become accustomed to. So naturally, when I began to restrict my portions once more, my body fought back. I felt like I was starving for the first two days even though I was consuming an adequate amount of food. But it wasn't just my growling tummy that I had to deal with—what my mind did to me was much worse.
There's a reasoning process that your brain goes through when you're on a diet that's difficult to explain, but I'll try to put it in words to the best of my ability. I had fleeting thoughts like: Why can't I just eat this? Is it really a big deal if I don't count out this serving of Baked Doritos? Haven't I come far enough?
Both the great and the unfortunate part of this journey of weight loss is that I've been my biggest cheerleader the entire way. I keep track of what I eat in an app on my phone. I don't attend any kind of weekly or monthly support meetings, nor am I a member of a gym. I've had some really great talks with my husband and best friend/sister-in-law, but other than that, the discipline, the drive, the motivation to keep going has all been on me. Which means if I allow myself to give in to the temptation to give up now, I know that I will give up—and I've come way too far to let that happen.
Perspective isn't always an easy thing when you're hungry, but somehow I've managed to find it. It's been more than a week since I've started keeping track of my food intake again, and I'm happy to report that not only have I lost those 4 pounds, but half a pound in addition to that. Which means I'm back on track. But would I be if I'd given in to my doubts? I think we both know the answer to that.
No matter what your goals are in life, no matter how many wonderful cheerleaders you have along the way, you won't accomplish anything by giving up. There may be easier roads, but that doesn't mean you have to take them. There may be temptations, but that doesn't mean you have to give in to them. Sometimes you will be the only one motivating you to keep going, and that's okay. Because if you really want to accomplish something, you can't do it for anyone else—you have to do it for you. And when you really, truly do it for yourself, that target will get just a little bit closer every single day.
I started my diet back up again the Monday after I got home, and that first day was pretty rough. I could tell that the size of my stomach had increased over the course of the week, and I'd grown used to eating much larger portions than I'd previously become accustomed to. So naturally, when I began to restrict my portions once more, my body fought back. I felt like I was starving for the first two days even though I was consuming an adequate amount of food. But it wasn't just my growling tummy that I had to deal with—what my mind did to me was much worse.
There's a reasoning process that your brain goes through when you're on a diet that's difficult to explain, but I'll try to put it in words to the best of my ability. I had fleeting thoughts like: Why can't I just eat this? Is it really a big deal if I don't count out this serving of Baked Doritos? Haven't I come far enough?
Both the great and the unfortunate part of this journey of weight loss is that I've been my biggest cheerleader the entire way. I keep track of what I eat in an app on my phone. I don't attend any kind of weekly or monthly support meetings, nor am I a member of a gym. I've had some really great talks with my husband and best friend/sister-in-law, but other than that, the discipline, the drive, the motivation to keep going has all been on me. Which means if I allow myself to give in to the temptation to give up now, I know that I will give up—and I've come way too far to let that happen.
Perspective isn't always an easy thing when you're hungry, but somehow I've managed to find it. It's been more than a week since I've started keeping track of my food intake again, and I'm happy to report that not only have I lost those 4 pounds, but half a pound in addition to that. Which means I'm back on track. But would I be if I'd given in to my doubts? I think we both know the answer to that.
No matter what your goals are in life, no matter how many wonderful cheerleaders you have along the way, you won't accomplish anything by giving up. There may be easier roads, but that doesn't mean you have to take them. There may be temptations, but that doesn't mean you have to give in to them. Sometimes you will be the only one motivating you to keep going, and that's okay. Because if you really want to accomplish something, you can't do it for anyone else—you have to do it for you. And when you really, truly do it for yourself, that target will get just a little bit closer every single day.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Words
"Hey, keep an eye on what you say
You think the words just walk away
But they creep into my brain
Sinking deep into my step"
—Lyrics from "Step" by Low
You think the words just walk away
But they creep into my brain
Sinking deep into my step"
—Lyrics from "Step" by Low
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Resolution
I didn't have a New Year's resolution per se. It always annoys me when people make them, don't give themselves the opportunity to succeed, and then proceed to proclaim their failure on January 2. But if I had to make a resolution this year, it would be to love myself more. To accept myself more. To understand that I'm the only me there is, and that's pretty cool.
It's so easy to point out our flaws, and for some reason, always in the context that no one else has them. Tonight I came to terms with the fact that I'm probably always going to have cellulite. But you know what? So are a lot of other people. We all have things about ourselves that we don't like, but we're never alone in them. And we can't let those trivial things outweigh the good stuff.
When I sit back and really think about my life, I love who I am. I love that I have such strange and diverse taste in music. I love that I obsessively write books without worrying whether or not they'll all be published. And I really love the man I married. I have a great life, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. If you're looking for a key to happiness, I'd say that's it—knowing how good you have it. There are some things in life you can't control, but learn to love the rest of it, and to embrace what just might be amazing. Because you never know what might make you happy unless you open your eyes to see it.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
A Permanent Change
You've seen the commercials—an inspiring young woman holds up a giant pair of jeans that used to fit her, only to reveal her stunning new figure beneath. She's thin, and she looks amazing, and you can be just like her. I'm not arguing the logic of these proclamations, but just like everything on television, it's never as easy as they make it seem.
I've been paying closer attention than I used to to all of the weight loss commercials saturating the airwaves. Apparently, watching what you eat and going to the gym is so last century. Now all you have to do is take a pill, and you'll be just as sexy as those anorexic girls in the commercials. To which I have only one reply: if a pill could truly make me thin, it wouldn't have taken me so long to get here.
When I first started Weight Watchers, I found it very inspiring to go through and read the success stories of other members. It was incredible to see how many people's lives had completely changed because of the weight they'd lost. You may be inclined to write that off as vanity, but there's so much more to it than that. When you're overweight, it's not just your jeans size that suffers.
This article from WebMD goes into detail explaining the health risks associated with obesity. It shouldn't be that surprising that your chances of getting heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, or certain types of cancer can be greatly reduced if you're a healthy weight. Sure, when you're young, in your twenties or thirties, those extra pounds might not seem like such a big deal. But what would your sixty-year-old self have to say about it? If you can save your joints, your heart, your health, your life savings from being swallowed up by medical bills, why wouldn't you?
I understand what I must sound like, and why now's a good place to stop reading. I'm just like every other person who loses some weight and somehow thinks she knows everything. But that's not the case at all. If I did know everything, I wouldn't be spending my time writing a blog post that, more than likely, no one will read. I have nothing to benefit from other than hoping that my tiny grains of wisdom can somehow help someone. And I can guarantee that my sixty-year-old self would be okay with that.
I didn't lose weight because I wanted people to tell me how great I look—I lost weight because I was seriously fearful that my health would deteriorate at a young age, and my quality of life would suffer. I'll readily admit that cancer is one of my biggest fears, and finding out that it's in my family was a gigantic wake-up call. I realize that just because I'm thin now doesn't mean that cancer won't come calling, but at least I'm not giving it an invitation with an RSVP.
Getting thin is one thing. Staying thin is another. You can't lose weight and expect your metabolism to work differently. I eat about half of what I used to, but if I started eating those same portions again, I'd gain weight. That's why I had to change the way I look at food, better understand my motivations for consuming, and control my portions. Not just today, but every day for the rest of my life.
Like it or not, your weight is linked to how much you eat and how much activity you have. It's biology, and a stern talking to isn't going to make it change. Just because I look like I do right now doesn't mean I'll always look this way. I don't just want to be healthy—I want to stay healthy. Which is why I didn't set out to diet, I set out to make a permanent change.
I've been paying closer attention than I used to to all of the weight loss commercials saturating the airwaves. Apparently, watching what you eat and going to the gym is so last century. Now all you have to do is take a pill, and you'll be just as sexy as those anorexic girls in the commercials. To which I have only one reply: if a pill could truly make me thin, it wouldn't have taken me so long to get here.
When I first started Weight Watchers, I found it very inspiring to go through and read the success stories of other members. It was incredible to see how many people's lives had completely changed because of the weight they'd lost. You may be inclined to write that off as vanity, but there's so much more to it than that. When you're overweight, it's not just your jeans size that suffers.
This article from WebMD goes into detail explaining the health risks associated with obesity. It shouldn't be that surprising that your chances of getting heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, or certain types of cancer can be greatly reduced if you're a healthy weight. Sure, when you're young, in your twenties or thirties, those extra pounds might not seem like such a big deal. But what would your sixty-year-old self have to say about it? If you can save your joints, your heart, your health, your life savings from being swallowed up by medical bills, why wouldn't you?
I understand what I must sound like, and why now's a good place to stop reading. I'm just like every other person who loses some weight and somehow thinks she knows everything. But that's not the case at all. If I did know everything, I wouldn't be spending my time writing a blog post that, more than likely, no one will read. I have nothing to benefit from other than hoping that my tiny grains of wisdom can somehow help someone. And I can guarantee that my sixty-year-old self would be okay with that.
I didn't lose weight because I wanted people to tell me how great I look—I lost weight because I was seriously fearful that my health would deteriorate at a young age, and my quality of life would suffer. I'll readily admit that cancer is one of my biggest fears, and finding out that it's in my family was a gigantic wake-up call. I realize that just because I'm thin now doesn't mean that cancer won't come calling, but at least I'm not giving it an invitation with an RSVP.
Getting thin is one thing. Staying thin is another. You can't lose weight and expect your metabolism to work differently. I eat about half of what I used to, but if I started eating those same portions again, I'd gain weight. That's why I had to change the way I look at food, better understand my motivations for consuming, and control my portions. Not just today, but every day for the rest of my life.
Like it or not, your weight is linked to how much you eat and how much activity you have. It's biology, and a stern talking to isn't going to make it change. Just because I look like I do right now doesn't mean I'll always look this way. I don't just want to be healthy—I want to stay healthy. Which is why I didn't set out to diet, I set out to make a permanent change.
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