I am struggling with how to start this blog- so, I figured that I would begin at the very beginning- before I got into fitness and feeding myself better. Back when I was a version of myself I didn’t like to look at, and frankly- I didn’t recognize. I was fat.
As a teen and collegiate, I rarely struggled with my weight and was “normal” on any doctors chart. I ate horribly, but was very active, and young. If I didn’t like the scale- I would jog for a week and was back to a happy place. I played basketball, and ran cross country and track (varsity in high school and on my sorority intramural basketball team in college).
Fast forward to 4 years of marriage and a newborn and I was 35 pounds heavier than ever at 24. I instantly joined the Y and participated in aerobics classes 5-6 times a week for my full year of membership. I essentially maintained my weight. (Notice no mention of dietary changes… Because there were none). I did not continue my membership- because I didn’t see the point. I had *maybe* lost 5 pounds over the year. Big whoop.
Over the next 5 years I dabbled in every diet and exercise plan known. I ran C25K, I did the Insanity and P90x. I did Atkins, cleanses, and juicing. I beat myself (physically and mentally) into a sweaty pulp. I never realized any real weight loss, no more than 10 or so pounds- which were always gained back with some extra poundage for good measure.
Then my husband and I decided to have another baby. After that pregnancy, I was just shy of 200 pounds (!). (I am 5’9, non-curvy… So I was easily 50 pounds overweight). Determined, I joined another gym- and again began my regimen of 1-2 hour aerobic classes, 5 days a week. This time I stopped after 6 months of little to no change on the scale.
For the following 4 years I dabbled in all the diets and exercises I had tried before. Feeling like a big, fat, huge failure after every attempt. And when I say failure – I mean it. I would look at myself and say things I would never EVER let anyone else say to me. It was bad. Lets just leave it at that- because if you’ve read this far- you’ve likely done it too, and know just how nasty we women can be to ourselves.
After that- I gave up. I bought the “big girls” sizes, went through the “dress” phase of essentially hiding myself in skirts. I just figured I would be a big girl forever. “Just accept it and move on” I would tell myself- on the good days, that is.
So, that brings us to November 2011. When I began my journey that has led me to where I am now. My weight at that point? 218.
Next post: how I got started on the journey that I am currently on- and what did work. 🙂