What are these? Numbers...(thank you Captain Obvious)
These three numbers are the bane of my existence...
These are my measurements.
Why are these numbers the bane of my existence...because I remember my old ones...42 (not much has changed there, don't suspect it will) 31- 42
I never thought I'd be one of THOSE women...the ones that mourn the loss of their pre-pregnancy body... I had waited so long to find Mr. Right (well, long in Idaho/Utah Mormon years) and to start my family I figured I would be so grateful that I wouldn't care when it came to changes with my body...
Oh I was so wrong.
I could tell we were going to have issues at the beginning of my second trimester. I was gaining weight, and nobody, I mean NOBODY, was asking that vital question "When are you due?" I started to fear that I looked fat and not pregnant...I became obsessed with looking pregnant because in the back of my head I started to wonder if this weight gain was all worth it if no one even noticed that I was pregnant...and then the fear started...I was gaining all this weight...would I be able to lose it?
I have had major struggles with my weight. I was a healthy 120 pounds at the beginning of my Freshman year (but still felt fat because my older, much more perfect modelesque sister was smaller than me) and then all of a sudden, I ballooned in one year to 160 pounds. It was seriously like I woke up one morning and my pants wouldn't fit.
I heard about Insulin Resistance from a friend who'd been diagnosed with it our Junior year, but getting my diagnosis took some time. I found out about my Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and had surgery to remove 4 very large cysts from my ovaries, I had 2 knee surgeries...it always seemed I was recovering from something which made exercise difficult to say the least. I ate like a rabbit. My mom tried to be supportive. She herself exclaimed that she didn't understand how I could be so overweight.
I will be honest, I had no self confidence. I let people walk all over me because I was desperate to be liked and I didn't have a date until the end of my senior year when a friend asked me to Commencement. The only escape I had was music and theater.
Finally college started. I was attending exercise classes for free at the gym, but still ended the first semester of my Freshman year at almost 200 pounds. I finally went to my mom and begged for help. She made an appointment to take me to the doctor.
The doctor was a #$%^&*@ to say the very least. He suggested that I'd just gained the Freshman 15 and needed to work out. I was insistent about the fact that I had been working out. He made me cry...my mom went into lioness mode. "My daughter doesn't lie, and I know her habits. She barely eats, she works out and she can't lose weight. Either you're going to help her or I will continue to take her to doctors until I find someone who isn't too stupid to try." The doctor bedrudgingly wrote a scrip for me to see a specialist in metabolic problems and was eating his words when my tests came back positive.
I had my struggles still from there. The medication they put me on made it possible for me to lose weight, but I had to completely cut certain carbohydrates out of my diet. I gladly did it...but it took me 4 years to get down to my Freshman in high school size ( well 5 pounds bigger-125) but it took me working out 4-5 hours a day and eating only chicken and spinach to maintain that weight...I decided I liked having other food groups in my diet and that I liked having a life (I literally spent every spare minute in the gym).
I gained again when I went to work on my masters. I was at 155 (ish) and started feeling sick all the time...I had been off the metabolic drugs for about 4 years and my insulin resistance had flared up with a vengeance. After getting drugs again (and being told that I should never go off them again) I was able to even out at about 145. Would I have liked to lose more? Yes, but I was sick of worrying about my weight. I was just happy to be where I was and staying there. I even continued to lose pant sizes, but no weight (muscle weighs more than fat, right?)
When Jeff met me I was at the smallest I'd ever been in my life, a size 4. I was so proud of myself. It had been a long journey...
I guess I share this journey because I feel that in some way I should qualify my fears in a way. It took me many, many years to lose the weight and get to the maintenance phase. For starters, I don't even really remember how to lose weight in a way...and my other fear is that where I am almost as big as I was back at the beginning of my journey with insulin resistance (tipping the scales at 175/180) I am afraid I will never be healthy again...If I felt healthy it would be one thing, but I know my blood pressure is up again and I've already been advised that if I don't lose 15 pounds before March it will likely still be up and I will need to go back on blood pressure meds...I DON'T want to have to do that.
So...why divulge all this? It isn't to have a pity party! Its because I am trying to change my attitude. Its because I don't want to use the "I just had a baby" excuse anymore, because I have found that it just isn't working for me. I'm still worried about my health and I don't think you should use any excuses when it comes to your health. I'm sick of being down on myself! I am a pretty awesome person (at least my husband seems to think so) and I should be as kind to myself as I am to others. I read an interesting blog post recently where the following concept was introduced to me:
Fat is not a feeling...there is something else that you're fighting and you instantly dwell on your insecurities to avoid that. It could seriously be as simple as you're bored and you have nothing to do, so you decide to start beating yourself up to find something to do because in a sick, twisted way to you its a worthwhile way to spend your time...
I am also working on another concept I learned from this blog...I am eliminating the F-A-T word and all its derivatives from my vocabulary when it comes to referencing myself.
I'm starting a new journey. I want you to start it with me.
You- my friends and readers- will be my faithful companions. I will be accountable to you.
I vow that from here on out, I will post at least once a week about my journey. I will update you all on my status. As we don't own a scale, I choose to use my aforementioned numbers. They will not be the bane of my existence anymore! I am going to use them as motivation.
I know I will likely never be my size 4 pre-baby self again, but I would like to get to the point where I can finish a whole work out video (not just make it through 20-25 minutes and then stop because I'm on the verge of an asthma attack.) I want to be able to just love me for me. I want to learn ways to start liking what I see in the mirror again, because quite frankly, I have been throwing a pity party for myself for the last almost 3 months, and I want it to be over.
This is the point where I urge those of you that are joining to evaluate yourselves. If you believe that you are struggling in a similar way, if you don't like yourself- take the challenge!
I challenge you to stop being negative. I challenge you to be proactive and I challenge you to accentuate the things that you love about yourself!
I started my challenge this week. I had a rocky start. I did about 20 minutes of a Zumba video and had to stop because I was going to have an asthma attack if I didn't. I was seriously disappointed. I remembered a time when the 45 minute Zumba video would have barely phased me. I vowed to myself that I would make it! I thought that maybe the time of day had something to do with it (I may be a morning person, but that doesn't mean that I'm graceful...I probably almost twisted/broke my ankle 3 or 4 times.) I decided to try to work out in the afternoon or evening the next day and see which worked better...well it was an EPIC fail. I did run stairs 3 or 4 times yesterday, but I never had time to pop in a work out video and go to town. I went back to a morning schedule today, but this time I did it a little later in the morning and put Faith in her bouncer to watch. She was good , and I was good until about 25 minutes into my Cardio Go-Go Dancing video...I started to hack and cough and that prompted disgruntled coos from my cheering section that said, "Mom, I would like you to be functional today. Thanks."
However, small victory- I made it through 25 minutes...5 minutes more than Monday! W00t w00t for progress!
I think I've decided that morning sometime is best, even if it means putting Faith in her bouncer to cheer me on...she seemed quite content.
Hopefully, even if I don't have measurement changes to report next week, I can report more progress when it comes to doing a cardio video and making it all the way through.
So I have this to say...thank you Zumba and Cardio Go Go Dancing for kicking my butt now...but someday soon, I will defeat you!
Hugs and Health until next time darlings!