During my lunch break I drove over to the Chunky Store and I tried on cute dresses. Seriously missing Sarah or The Honeyman, I asked the salesgirl for her opinion. She suggested Spanx. I kid you not. Yeah, as in: Is this a good color on me? You should really invest in some support garments (sucker-inners.)
This week, in a bit of frustration, my coworker proclaimed, "If I stopped eating I could probably finally lose something!" I replied, "Yeah, but the hunger pangs take some getting used to."
This evening I stumbled upon a post I'd written over two and a half years ago. It was two months after I moved to Las Vegas and about six months after I dropped 45 lbs. And that post made me cry. Hard.
Hmmm, maybe I should back up a bit.
Eating crappy food and not moving wasn't helping me slim down (faulty construction of our bodies is my theory) and therefore I had gained quite a bit of weight while I lived in an apartment for the summer of 2004. One day I got on the scale, after many months away from it, and realized I had hit an all-time high. A number higher than I ever thought I would get. In January or February of 2005 I consciously cut my calorie intake down by a lot. A lot. And I decided to work out everyday.
After dropping about 5 lbs in the first week I became a little obsessed. Ok, I never become "a little" of anything, with obsessed at the top of the list. I became incredibly obsessed and dropped my calories even more, and saw more results.
At the height of it all I averaged 30-300 calories a day. (Per the always-true internet, my body needs just over 3,000 calories per day to maintain my weight on the days I work out lightly.) That basically consisted of no breakfast, a diet coke or two, some popsicles, and maybe some of the dinner my mother dutifully made each night. Of course this was not a problem, my pants no longer needed to be unzipped to come off. I was doing just fine, and my shirts no longer fitting was just proof.
I began eating again (and gained pounds back), but continued working out. That lasted through September 2005.
Ok, so obviously I am well aware of how dumb that was. But I also learned a lot of things from it. I enjoy working out, I really do. I luh-uhve the post-workout dripping-with-sweat,-shirt-sticking-to-me feeling. I have very long, strong legs. I learned this through kickboxing. I can kick high and hard. (However, my coordination is lacking. I punch myself in the chin at least once every workout.)
I am an emotional eater, but I have too many emotions! When I screw something up and feel I suck at life I buy ice cream. When I'm excited I buy junk food (chips, poptarts, etc.) When I'm Eh I buy frozen stuff. I have a go-to food for any emotion. And if I don't watch what I'm doing I can finish of a box of cereal in, oh, maybe an hour?
But every once in a while I will slip back into a "well, if I just didn't..." mindset. Yesterday I had two cups of cereal and a piece of hard candy. Today I had a handful of popcorn shrimp and some hashbrowns. (Bow to the CarbQueen.)
Ok, back to where I was...
I'm starting over. I'm trying to not measure by my "starting weight", meaning my 2005 (and again in 2007) weight. It is today, now. Today is my "beginning". With my cute inhaler by my side (so I don't rip my lungs out in an attempt to breathe) I'm going to kick my own booty into gear. I have so very little control over some things that happen to me, but this one I can control.
Deborah & Hyrum, Elizabeth & Luke, and Susannah
One of the first pictures that made me say, "Ok, I've really got to do something about this."