I don't expect anyone to remember me after a whole two-year absence. Of course, I say 'anyone' in a way that leads you as the reader to believe that at one point it may have been more than just me reading these entries. Unlikely as that reality is, I'm not back in the blogosphere to complain about the lack of followers on my poorly executed weight-loss blog. I'm back in the blogosphere (and I promise that's the last time I refer to it as such) to try again. If anything, the previous entries are a perfect example of how easy it is to lose sight of your goals when life gets in the way. Well, my life is changing and this time, my body is going to change with it.
A few months ago, my mom told me about a gym that opened very close to where we live. A membership discount was available through her employer and one of her co-workers and her husband seemed to love it, so we figured we'd give it a shot too. Turns out, it's a great place; small and not too crowded, and with all the best equipment (treadmills with televisions attached to them?! count me in!) and lots of big windows—in other words, plenty to keep you distracted while you work your butt off, which I'm a huge fan of. I love distractions, quite obviously...I won't bother to tell you how many times I've stopped writing this entry to play with the dogs or check my face in the mirror for Christmas tree bulb glitter or watch a news report on TV or check the food in the oven or unload the dishwasher or...um, yeah. You get the picture. Long story short, this gym was perfect for me.
I began a very dedicated regimen alternating between low carbs and low calories, and went to the gym daily after work. I was even so adventurous to take a crack at Zumba, which my muscles and my back gave me hell for after the fact. A few of those sessions and I came to the realization that if I wanted my back to continue healing properly (a couple of herniated discs due to a car accident earlier in the year), I needed to try something a little less grueling.
[cue the elliptical]
This is when I fell in love. Our relationship started off slow, you know, a 15-30 minute date every evening...but as my infatuation with Mr. E L. Liptical grew, so did the time I wanted to spend with him. I got to the point where I was doing at least an hour on the elliptical every time I went to the gym, and once or twice I even managed to make it 85-90 minutes. And guys—for me? That's ah-mazing. I was so proud of myself. My diet combined with my exercising helped me lose almost 30 pounds, and I was ecstatic about it. Clothes I hadn't worn in years were finally starting to fit me, and it was like shopping in my closet every morning when I'd check in there for something to wear to work.
But then... (dun dun dunnnnn)
Life happened. Vacation happened. Work happened. Overtime happened. Actually, a LOT of overtime happened, and not enough vacation happened. Regardless, I started working late nights pretty frequently, and after a long day all I wanted to do was go home and relax. I figured that once the mad rush at work slowed down I'd get right back into the swing of things. Guess what? I didn't. Now—a whole two months later—I'm frustrated with myself when I think about how far along I could have been at this point. It's time to climb back up on the horse.
I've seen/met some pretty darn inspiring people with great stories lately (check out From Fat to Fit: Don's Journey), and who's to say I couldn't join that elite club of awesome weight-losers too? I'm already awesome, so at least I'm halfway there! Now, to work on the other half...
I can't believe how badly I've failed myself. I set off with this amazing goal and I really believed I could do it. Instead, once again, I just gave up. It wasn't that I couldn't do it. I know I was more than capable. I guess I just lacked the willpower, and I let life get in the way. I let work be my excuse. I had to work long hours so I worked through lunch... skipped the gym because I was so tired from working the long hours... and ate a terribly unhealthy dinner.
Usually I try to find the humor in things, but I can't even find a sliver of haha in this. I'm so disappointed in myself. I don't want to go on this way, and it's so hard without having someone to do it with me. I can't let that be my reason for not following through. I'm so close to that breaking point, I'm ready to throw my hands in the air and say, "Jesus, take the wheel". Ok, I couldn't resist that one. In all seriousness though, I'm ashamed. I feel like I'll never be good enough. I want to be. I have to start again.
Tomorrow it is. I'm going to get to where I want to be so I can have the life that I know I deserve. Please believe in me and have faith in me. I need all the believing and faith I can get... I don't know if mine alone is enough.
Made it through day one! I was off to a rough start when I hopped into my car and it didn't start. Battery was dead, so I had to track down my brother to come give me a jumpstart. Soo I was an hour late to work, BUT that left me an extra 35 minutes to read more of Midnight Sun. I'm an addict, and it's pathetic.
I think it's hilarious that the one day I'm ready and rarin' to go, we have an office lunch meeting and they order like 300 pizzas. So everyone ate pizza, but I was strong! Grilled chicken and cottage cheese... haha. Sounds gross, but I know it was better for me. I resisted tons of temptation today. I went grocery shopping after work and bought all sorts of good-for-me foods. I'm proud of myself, even though it's only been one day.
Sidenote: I had to skip the gym tonight, which I'm totally bummed about. At the end of the day, I went out to my car to leave work and once again, my battery was completely dead. So, had to track down a jump and then wait around at friggin' AutoZone for someone to replace my battery. This dude who replaced it was sweating bullets all over my engine, and then as he was screwing the stuff in, it sprayed sparks all over him. I tried not to laugh, but damn, it was funny.
I'm such a bitch sometimes. Oh well. At least I have my battery now. :)
Well, I had planned to get started on my routine today. I was going to hit up the gym bright and early and feel all energized and refreshed for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, my body had other plans for me. I feel like there is a marching band in my head, and any slight sudden movement sends waves of nausea crashing over me. That's my punishment for overdoing the 'last hurrah' before getting back on track.
My best friend, her husband and I went to see my brother's band play at a bar, and apparently there was some huge 'Fireman Bar Crawl', ending at the bar we were at. Needless to say, it was jam-packed with firemen and their drunken buddies and significant others. We were seated at a table front and center, so we got a front-row view of all those classy ladies in their high-high heels and their short-short dresses dancing the night away (and sloshing their drinks all over the place in the process) while desperately trying to convince the band that HEY! OMG! They know the words to this song too, so can they get up there and sing it with them? Of course the response is a resounding 'hell no' (in a nicer way, but not much nicer - keep in mind that everyone was drunk). Anyway, all that oh so classy business aside, it was a fun night. There were bagpipes. Lots of bagpipes. Yeah, I don't know either. But it was interesting, nonetheless.
To make a long story short (too late for that, sorry), I'm far more hungover than I planned on being, therefore making my trip to the gym today a baaad idea, unless I get struck with the urge to hear gym attendants calling out 'Cleanup on Aisle Arc-Trainer!' as I slink out the front door in quiet embarassment.
Anyway, tomorrow is the day. I'm starting on a strict low carb diet (less than 20 per day) and hitting the gym after work. Wish me luck!
All things considered, I am a relatively happy person. See that picture over there? That's me. Happy. I recently turned twenty-five years old and I have a good job, amazing friends, and a loving and supportive family. I consider myself fairly intelligent, I have a great (yet slightly warped) sense of humor, and I’m probably one of the nicest people you’ll meet. One thing I didn’t mention – I’ve been struggling with a weight problem for most of my life. Not a small weight problem, mind you. I’m definitely not one of those girls having an off-week where her size eight jeans are a little too snug. In fact, I’d KILL to be one of those girls… because that would mean I could actually fit into a pair of size eight jeans in the first place. I’m pretty sure I haven’t worn anything even remotely close to a size eight since I was about eight years old! Okay, perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration – but not by much.
Basically, I have been some form of overweight since I was about seven years old. I was pretty well-accepted throughout elementary school. I had a good number of friends and never really had to deal with any teasing - with the exception of a boy named Tom. One day while we were lined up to go outside for recess, he thought it would be funny to announce to the class that I looked like I was carrying a basketball under my shirt. To this day, I remember the embarrassment I felt as he said it – my face getting heated, cheeks turning red as a few of his friends turned to look and laugh. Kids can be cruel, even in first grade. All things aside, that stuff didn’t happen very frequently… if they did, I’ve done a hell of a good job of mentally blocking them out.
Once I hit middle school I started realizing a bit more seriously that I wasn’t like the others, at least not appearance-wise. I was always well-dressed, but I wasn’t wearing the super cute fashions that the other girls my age would wear. On ‘buddy picture’ day, I had to wear a horrible lime-green patterned t-shirt when my two other buddies wore blue tank tops, because I never wore tank tops since my arms were too fat. While the other girls started getting boyfriends, I just had countless unrequited crushes who a) didn’t realize I existed, or b) just considered me one of the boys. This continued over the next three years. I made up for my insecurities by throwing myself into as many clubs and groups as I could. I was a proud member of the NJHS, Student Council (I was always an honorary representative since I was never ‘cool’ enough to be elected an officer), Advanced Chorus, Drama, and so on. Thanks to Chorus I became friends with a handful of kids that ended up becoming pretty popular later on in our school careers, which earned me a slight boost on the ladder, just by association. I also got all of the solos in Advanced Chorus, which got me a decent amount of recognition. My voice became what I was known for. I’ll admit, that was pretty cool… but I wanted so much more.
Once I hit ninth grade it got worse. I was frustrated with the fact that I couldn’t fit into the pretty and stylish and trendy clothes that all the girls were starting to wear. I turned into a total tomboy. I wore wide-legged jeans and button-up shirts that were purchased in the guys’ department at JCPenneys. I actually had a brown sweater vest I was crazy about; I liked to wear it over this blue and white checkered button-up short sleeved shirt. Imagine my embarrassment when one day, a boy got onto my bus wearing the exact same thing. Yeah - not something you want to go through - especially on a bus full of mean and spiteful high school kids. After that, I started trying to dress a bit more feminine, but it was so hard to find anything stylish for a girl my age and size. I was forced on various different diets and tried all sorts of diet pills, none of which ever worked. Once again, in my attempts to try to fit in, I was heavily involved in Chorus and Drama. I made tons of friends through these groups, and I felt a lot more accepted than I ever did before… but I was still struggling daily with my quickly declining self-esteem. I continued being invisible to the opposite sex and I am ashamed to admit that by the end of my senior year, while most girls had already gone through multiple boyfriends, I had never been on a single date. That was depressing. I continued to gain.
I will fast-forward from my high school graduation to now. Brief overview: I dieted, I saw very little/no results, and I gave up. Dieted, saw very little/no results, and gave up. This continued for the next seven years, and here I am today – a good 150 pounds more than I’d like to be. After a failed attempt at getting approval for laparoscopic gastric bypass surgery last year (damn you, United Healthcare), I really tried to crack down and go at it hard. Once again, I dieted, no results, gave up. It’s obviously very frustrating when you aren’t losing as much as you feel you should be, and that makes it easy to think ‘Why even bother?’, and fall back into the same bad habits.
Now that you’ve got the back-story, that brings me to today – June 13, 2009. As of this date, I have decided to GO FOR IT. There is no sense in continuing to live an unhealthy and unhappy lifestyle when I can create a new one for myself with hard work and determination. It will be hard, I know that and I won’t deny it for a second. But I am going to focus on the end-result. I want to be able to work my way through this and start my life over once I’ve reached my goal.
I am using this blog as motivation and inspiration, not only for me, but hopefully for others as well. I want to share my journey. I’m going to maintain this blog and keep it updated with my routines, my goals, and my experiences as I take on this challenge. I welcome any suggestions, any questions, and certainly any topics for discussion. I want to make this as much for the readers as I am making it for myself. If you have goals, share them. Let’s do this together.
I’m finally ready, and I’m in it for the long haul. Care to join me?
