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.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
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.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
The Psychology of Weight Loss
When you really need to lose weight, you know you need to lose weight. And forgetting is impossible, because everything around you is a reminder—those jeans that used to fit, but for some reason don't anymore, skinny friends who can seemingly eat whatever they want and not gain a pound, and the big one: the mirror. Everywhere you turn, everywhere I turn, there's another subtle reminder that I'm just not good enough. Or at least, that's what it can feel like.
I know what it's like to live that struggle every day. And even after several months of intense dedication to my weight loss program, even after successfully losing 50 pounds, that "fat" girl is still inside of me. Which really makes sense, doesn't it? With our society's emphasis on looks, we've turned the notion of fat into a physical characteristic. But what about the psychological implications? Because when I was squeezing into my roomiest size 14 jeans this summer, it wasn't just my body that was unforgiving—it was also my mind. I honestly don't know how a number can determine my entire self esteem (whether it's my jeans size, or my weight), but it can, and it does. Perhaps determine isn't the proper word. Rule seems better. Yes, I've allowed numbers to rule my self-esteem since I was in junior high school. But now that the numbers are finally going down, now that I truly feel in control of my body for the first time ever, I'm doing everything I can to shatter that mindset. Because it's not just unhealthy, it's detrimental.
I've struggled with my weight for my entire life. Like most women, I've had my ups and downs, my skinny and fat moments. But there was a never a time that I could seem to get the two to balance. There was never a time when I felt like I had control of the problem. Hell, I had moments last winter when I'd look in the mirror and think: You'll be this way forever, so you'd better get used to it. But I couldn't get used to it. Day after day I'd try to dress the body I had, and love it. But day after day, I just felt fat. What I didn't see then that I see now is that "fat" really doesn't have anything to do with my thighs (which I used to hate, but am learning to love)—"fat" is a mindset. It doesn't matter what size I am if I don't love myself. And it also doesn't matter what size I am if I do.
That being said, how did I get here—50 pounds lighter with a new perspective on life? This summer, I had an immediate family member who was diagnosed with uterine cancer. This kind of cancer is both genetic and linked to obesity. The thought of inheriting something like that scared the sh*t out of me—and still does. I was destined for high blood pressure and pre-diabetes and a lifetime of not being happy with myself, and I got to the point where I just wasn't okay with that anymore.
I scheduled a physical with a doctor I'd never seen before and explained my fears. I also confessed, to this total stranger, my struggle with being overweight and that, no matter what I did, I couldn't seem to get the scale to budge. I didn't know if there was something she could do, some pill or exercise regiment she could suggest, but whatever it was, I was finally willing to do it. What surprised me was her own confession that she'd struggled to lose a few pounds, and couldn't—until she signed up for Weight Watchers. She said that by tracking her food intake, she was able to slowly and healthily lose the weight. I thought, great—if it worked for her, it'll work for me.
Even so, I didn't sign up that day. It was the following day when I went to the site and read the success stories of the members. The program was actually working for real people, so maybe it could work for me, too. Still, I sat there, my fingers ready at the keyboard, contemplating why I couldn't just do this on my own without signing up for some kind of plan. It wouldn't be that hard, would it, to keep a food diary? To work out more? To see results? But if so, why hadn't I before? I swallowed down a stomach full of pride that day, and registered. And even though I didn't know it at the time, that one simple, humble decision changed my entire life.
Wow, I just took a moment to process that—what my thoughts were at the time. How I'd become so hardened that I was convinced I couldn't change. And on my own, I couldn't. But now that I have the correct tools and the proper motivation and friends to share my thoughts with, I'm a new woman.
But getting here, in new jeans with a new perspective on life, was just as arduous at the 33 years leading up to it. I'd never dieted before, not like this, and the first few days really sucked. Not because it was hard, but because I had to shift the entire way I looked at food. It was, simply put, culture shock. It was a complete life overhaul—changing what I ate, how much, when, and why.
It's important to note that while Weight Watchers has helped me lose over 50 pounds and 28.5" total inches, it was merely a tool. I didn't go to meetings, but instead used the app on my iPhone. I learned the right kinds of foods to eat in the proper portions. I was still the one making the decisions. I was still the one saying yes or no to food. I was still exercising willpower at every twist and turn.
If you're looking to lose weight, or change your life in any other way, I firmly and completely believe it's possible. But it starts with admitting that you've been making the wrong choices, and realizing that it's you—not the rest of the world—that needs to change. Once you're comfortable with that, real change will be possible.
I know what it's like to live that struggle every day. And even after several months of intense dedication to my weight loss program, even after successfully losing 50 pounds, that "fat" girl is still inside of me. Which really makes sense, doesn't it? With our society's emphasis on looks, we've turned the notion of fat into a physical characteristic. But what about the psychological implications? Because when I was squeezing into my roomiest size 14 jeans this summer, it wasn't just my body that was unforgiving—it was also my mind. I honestly don't know how a number can determine my entire self esteem (whether it's my jeans size, or my weight), but it can, and it does. Perhaps determine isn't the proper word. Rule seems better. Yes, I've allowed numbers to rule my self-esteem since I was in junior high school. But now that the numbers are finally going down, now that I truly feel in control of my body for the first time ever, I'm doing everything I can to shatter that mindset. Because it's not just unhealthy, it's detrimental.
I've struggled with my weight for my entire life. Like most women, I've had my ups and downs, my skinny and fat moments. But there was a never a time that I could seem to get the two to balance. There was never a time when I felt like I had control of the problem. Hell, I had moments last winter when I'd look in the mirror and think: You'll be this way forever, so you'd better get used to it. But I couldn't get used to it. Day after day I'd try to dress the body I had, and love it. But day after day, I just felt fat. What I didn't see then that I see now is that "fat" really doesn't have anything to do with my thighs (which I used to hate, but am learning to love)—"fat" is a mindset. It doesn't matter what size I am if I don't love myself. And it also doesn't matter what size I am if I do.
That being said, how did I get here—50 pounds lighter with a new perspective on life? This summer, I had an immediate family member who was diagnosed with uterine cancer. This kind of cancer is both genetic and linked to obesity. The thought of inheriting something like that scared the sh*t out of me—and still does. I was destined for high blood pressure and pre-diabetes and a lifetime of not being happy with myself, and I got to the point where I just wasn't okay with that anymore.
I scheduled a physical with a doctor I'd never seen before and explained my fears. I also confessed, to this total stranger, my struggle with being overweight and that, no matter what I did, I couldn't seem to get the scale to budge. I didn't know if there was something she could do, some pill or exercise regiment she could suggest, but whatever it was, I was finally willing to do it. What surprised me was her own confession that she'd struggled to lose a few pounds, and couldn't—until she signed up for Weight Watchers. She said that by tracking her food intake, she was able to slowly and healthily lose the weight. I thought, great—if it worked for her, it'll work for me.
Even so, I didn't sign up that day. It was the following day when I went to the site and read the success stories of the members. The program was actually working for real people, so maybe it could work for me, too. Still, I sat there, my fingers ready at the keyboard, contemplating why I couldn't just do this on my own without signing up for some kind of plan. It wouldn't be that hard, would it, to keep a food diary? To work out more? To see results? But if so, why hadn't I before? I swallowed down a stomach full of pride that day, and registered. And even though I didn't know it at the time, that one simple, humble decision changed my entire life.
Wow, I just took a moment to process that—what my thoughts were at the time. How I'd become so hardened that I was convinced I couldn't change. And on my own, I couldn't. But now that I have the correct tools and the proper motivation and friends to share my thoughts with, I'm a new woman.
But getting here, in new jeans with a new perspective on life, was just as arduous at the 33 years leading up to it. I'd never dieted before, not like this, and the first few days really sucked. Not because it was hard, but because I had to shift the entire way I looked at food. It was, simply put, culture shock. It was a complete life overhaul—changing what I ate, how much, when, and why.
It's important to note that while Weight Watchers has helped me lose over 50 pounds and 28.5" total inches, it was merely a tool. I didn't go to meetings, but instead used the app on my iPhone. I learned the right kinds of foods to eat in the proper portions. I was still the one making the decisions. I was still the one saying yes or no to food. I was still exercising willpower at every twist and turn.
If you're looking to lose weight, or change your life in any other way, I firmly and completely believe it's possible. But it starts with admitting that you've been making the wrong choices, and realizing that it's you—not the rest of the world—that needs to change. Once you're comfortable with that, real change will be possible.
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