Weigh In, week two

My new official weight is......195!

After all my unhealthy eating this week (and believe me, it has been unhealthy), I still managed to lose a pound. I'm pretty proud of myself.

But I wouldn't be surprised if it's not my amazing ability to turn down deliciously fatty foods in exchange for mediocre side salads at fast food restaurants that's lost me the weight. This past week has been stressful, and I'm fairly sure I've been eating less because of it. We also have not properly gone grocery shopping in the five and a half days since my dad's paycheck has come in, so food has been a little scarce.

It's completely understandable, though. My parents have been worried sick over Corey for an entire week now, and haven't been able to focus their attention on much else. So I've taken over in some areas, creating menus for the week filled with healthy food items that are easy to make ahead, making shopping lists, taking over the cleaning, organizing, laundry....all the home stuff to make it easier on them. It's made me pretty freaking tired, but I'm happy to do it for them. All that's really left is to actually buy the groceries needed. We can't follow the menu if we have no food in the house.

On a much lighter note, though, I had a terrific day yesterday!

When I graduated massage school in October, my best friend, Ryan, was going to buy me my first tattoo. We were going to make a day out of it. Stuff got in the way since then, but yesterday we finally were able to go!

Mine is a lotus flower with the om symbol, which is the visual representation of the mantra 'Om Mani Padme Hum', or the mantra of compassion. It has a great personal meaning to me, so it's fitting for my first tattoo.

I don't know how to limit myself.

For the past several days, I've been able to get myself to the gym despite all that's going on at home, which is great. But I have discovered two things.

One, I suck at lunges. It's not that I can't do it, just that I nearly fall over every time I do.

And two, I have really poor self control. It's not bad when we have fruits and vegetables around, because I don't feel bad eating lots of them. Plus, eating lots of them is very filling. But we're out of healthy food, and so I've been snacking on crackers, and cookies, and all sorts of carbalicious foods. I probably had 14 cookies in just under a half hour tonight. One right after another. Did I even enjoy eating all those cookies? Was it a very pleasurable experience? I don't think so.
Now I just feel sick from all the sugar, and dissapointed in my self control.

But that's how it's always been for me, for my family. Why have one cookie when I can have the whole package? If one scoop of ice cream is good, isn't six better? I don't know how to stop myself. All I know how to do is divert my attention from cookies to strawberries. Or from ice cream to yogurt. Or from Mountain Dew to a water bottle of Crystal Light. Beyond that, I just don't know how to stop myself from eating when I'm not hungry. Or, at the very least, eating only one or two cookies at a time, and leaving the rest to a later date.

*sigh*
I have to work on that.

Drama.

Today was absolutely surreal.

This morning my mom, my best friend, and I were supposed to drive down to a local book store. But before we could even get dressed and out the door, my mom heard my 16 year old brother in hysterics in his room.

God this story sounds bizzare even to me.

He is absolutely convinced of a reality that has never occured. A reality that involves killing two people. He believes he killed two people (one of whom is a celebrity) in October, went on trial, and was proved innocent.

Needless to say, we were all very disturbed by his delusions. My parents took him to a hospital around noon, and finally came home eleven hours later. He's been taken to behavioral center for a full psychiatric evaluation over the next 72 hours.

I'm not terribly worried, because I've been saying he needs professional help for his depression for a while, and now he'll be able to get it. It's just pretty unfortunate that it happened this way. Psychotic episodes and delusions.

In fact, I've mostly been worried about my parents, who are understandably worried about their son, not to mention the burden of financial strain these ambulances and hospital visits will cause on our already overburdened budget.


But, bless my best friend's heart, he's been worried about me all day. He picked me up from my house while he and his mom were out shopping, because he figured I'd want to get out for a while. They bought me some Starbucks hot chocolate and crumb cake, and he keeps telling me if I need to talk I can call him. Even in the middle of the night. Even though he has finals the next two days. Now that's love. He's a fantastic friend. I mean, I'm not emotionally distressed or anything, but it's nice to know he's there anyway.

Well, needless to say, my "try to eat healthily" eating habits have been disrupted for the day. But I can't say I'm too dissapointed in myself by this point. I wasn't very focused on getting all my veggies in or anything.


I just can't begin to describe how weird this day was.

Personal goals.

I'm sitting here tonight, watching the Biggest Loser Season 8 Finale. Seeing their transformations has always made me cry. I admire their hard work and determination in their journey to health, detemination that until recently, I didn't possess.

Today, I am 197 pounds.
Today, I can't use a elliptical machine for more than 30 minutes without stopping.
Today, I can't lift a 20 pound dumbell for a bicep curl.
But today, I'm also going to the gym three times a week.
Today, I'm eating fruits and vegetables for snacks, instead of cookies and chocolate.
And today, I'm a different person, because of the choices I continue to make.

I don't know how long it may take to achieve my health goals, but I'm in it for the long haul. Because this isn't just about weight loss, it's about overall health. If I became healthy without losing another pound....if I stayed 197 pounds for the rest of my life, I would be okay with that. But I didn't reach this weight by being healthy...so naturally I'll get thinner as time goes on.

Eventually, I want to weigh 150 pounds. That's a 50 pound weight loss. That's 25% of my starting weight.
I want to climb as many of Colorado's 14ers as I possibly can.
I want to stop using food as a crutch for difficult emotional issues.
I want to feel good, healthy, and energized.

I want it all, and so I won't stop until I get it, no matter how many days, weeks, months, or years it takes.

No excuse.

When I weighed myself on Thanksgiving morning for my starting weight, I weighed exactly 200 pounds. I was kind of astonished. I mean, I've known I've been siting in the 190's for a while...but that 200 mark was something else.

I've since lost three pounds, but I feel ashamed for letting myself get to this point. I've even been in possession of a gym membership for four years to a gym that is two blocks away from my house. I'm not a busy single mom, or a professional who works 50 hours a week; I have no excuse for my laziness.

But I can't just wallow in self-pity. Self-pity won't get me anywhere, especially when I've made the committment to not feel bad about myself, because I am beautiful and deserving no matter what. I must, instead, own up to my losses, and vow to do better.


And I will do better. I've already started with a conscious effort to make healthier eating choices, turning down bowls of ice cream and frappucinos. I also go to the gym on Monday, Thursday, and Friday to do a half hour of cardio (I'm working my way to an hour) and as much time as I need to do weights, which is usually about 45 minutes.

It will be difficult, I know. I let myself go for a long time, and it will take a long time to get back to being healthy. But if I'm lucky, it won't take me as long to lose the weight as I spent putting it on.

Accepting yourself is harder.

I've given a lot of thought recently to my own self image. In fact, if I'm perfectly honest, it's only been in the past few weeks that I have become comfortable with my own appearance, fat rolls and all. There used to be weeks at a time in which I'd avoid looking at my (what I thought was) my hideous face in the mirror. And that saddens me. It makes me upset I've never been comfortable with my own body.

I think we've probably all been there in our lives. It usually starts in childhood. You compare yourself to other people, determine you're not as thin/pretty/cute/"sexy" (as if children can be sexy...oh the things I'd think in elementary school) as the other kids around you, and you live your next five years thinking you're a hideous monster.

Fast forward to the beginning of highschool. You look back to pictures taken of you way back when, and are horrified to think you ever thought yourself unattractive. I mean, look at those legs! That face! Your youthful, acne-free skin! But now you know better. Now you ACTUALLY know that the teens around yo are way more pretty/sexy/cute/gorgeous than you ever could be. Now, it's okay to wallow in self pity, because you realize you can't even look as pretty as you did a few years back. It's all downhill from here.

And, fast forward again. Now here you are, nearly two decades old (which, I realize, isn't old at all. But boy, that still fees like a lot since it's been, like, my whole life), and you look back at those pictures of you five years back....and holy crap! You were so cute, definately NOT fat, and you wasted all those years having poor self esteem, feeling bad about yourself. You weren't fat then- you're fat NOW. And you could probably easily go another five years, feeling sorry for yourself, eating anything you like because "it doesn't matter, you're just an unattractive cow anyway".

But I don't WANT to go another five years feeling sorry for myself, feeling ugly, and using it as a great excuse to not take care of my health. What a waste of life. What a stupid, vicious cycle. It ends here. I realize I have let myself get to a point I never intended, but that won't stop me from attaining the health I deserve.

So I'll post here pictures of me, in chronological order, as a reminder to myself that, though I felt I was fat and unattractive when each and every photo was taken, I was not and am not ugly, and I refuse to spend the rest of my life wishing I had appreciated myself in the past.

<- Sixth grade. And the ridiculous notion I had huge, fat thighs.

Tenth grade. By this time, I was positive I was too fat, and that nobody could ever be attracted to me ->

<-Senior year. I look awesome, but I didn't think so then. I thought those size 14 slacks were "fat pants". Now I don't come close to buttoning them.

Me. Now. Hey, not so bad, eh? ->