Sucky

I weighed in and I GAINED a pound.  281.8 pounds.

Sucky.

Goals

In order to lose weight, I find I need to set goals.  Small ones, big ones, all ones.

So here are my goals:

1. Lose 5 pounds (275.8)
2. Lose 10 pounds (270.8)
3. Lose 20 pounds (260.8)
4. Lose 10.8 pounds (250)
5. Fit into my pre-pregnancy pants (size 22)

This last goal I am putting as last because my body really moved around a lot while pregnant, so it will be more difficult than the others.

In order for my goals to be met, I also have to have a reward for each step.

1. New bottle of nail polish/self-manicure
2. A night alone--go to the movies without anyone (being always attached to a baby or husband can get difficult, so a night away would be such a nice break)
3. Full Body Professional Massage
4. Color and cut for my hair (I never color it, but wouldn't mind doing something new).
5. New pair of Flattering Pants, Skirt, and top!

I figure after these 5 goals, I will start a new set of goals.  I think smaller goals along with the long-term goal of 100.8 pounds to get me to 180, then 40 more to get me to 140, a weight I have never been in my post-adolescent days.

Well, I weigh-in in the morning, so let's hope I at least didn't gain!

The Weightless Heart

My journey with weight is long, difficult, and full of emotional roller coasters.

I have always had extra weight to lose, even when I was really young. My mom took me to the doctor in grade school because I was eating well, but still obese. The doctor said to eat fruits and veggies. Thanks, doc. We hadn't tried that yet. *rolling eyes*

Later, when I decided to take "control" of my body, I took too much control and over-exercised and under-ate. The result? I was still considered "overweight" by height and weight standards, so in one breath my family would be able to say, "Wow, you're looking great, but you still have at least 5 more pounds to lose before you're really healthy." Let me tell you, those doing the talking didn't really have much room to speak, either--but it didn't stop them. At the time, I felt like I was doing everything in my power to be as healthy as possible, but my weight was still a little high at 165 for my 5'6" frame. Never mind I had a DDDD chest and the most muscular calves around. I was still overweight by some stupid scale and therefore unworthy of full praise for my efforts.

Then it was off to college, where some unresolved traumas from my past threw me into a 4-year battle with depression, self-loathing, and extraordinary weight gain. I put on the freshman 15, sophomore 15, drop-out 15, and then some. I weighed in at about 250 lbs by the time I was 22 years old.

Although I have overcome a lot of the emotional trauma, you don't get to be that size without some terrible eating habits. Habits are hard to break. So, despite my efforts over the past 4 years, I have not lost weight and kept it off--I have put on more. I now weigh in at 280 pounds. I hate what I see in the mirror most days. My ankles hurt and my chest is easily the size of a small watermelon (per side). My back has a perma-knot from holding up so much weight over the years. I long for the days of being 165 lbs. 

To add salt to the wound, my mom has always been health-food conscious and she raised her 4 daughters (I am the youngest) to know of all these good foods and how to eat healthy. Some genetic default in my DNA led me to get the "store fat forever" genes and my sisters to get the "eat whatever and my body burns it off" genes. They all had the perfect proportions and I got stuck with the huge everything, making it difficult to exercise because the weight of my chest makes running or bouncing difficult without a series of at least 3 bras to strap the puppies down. So, I have had to take advice from my skinny mother and sisters who have never had to deal with difficult-to-exercise bodies on how to be active and eat better.

I now get comments from my in-law-family about how I should be counting calories and doing this or that while they eat more calories with less nutrition than I do without realizing it.  Their comments hurt.  I feel alienated and alone.  I am hurt by what they say and how blatantly they judge me.

Recently, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. During the pregnancy, I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes (it is like Type 2 diabetes, but only for pregnant women). It can be very dangerous for the mother, but worse for the child, so I was put on a strict diet, eating 6 times per day, 2 hours apart, and had to prick my finger 4 times per day to make sure my blood sugars were stable. I knew I could do it because it wasn't for me, it was for my child.

A good side effect was that I actually LOST weight during my third trimester, while he was still gaining weight. The outcome was that as soon as I gave birth, I was at my pre-pregnancy weight--something some women spend 6-8 months trying to achieve with heavy effort.

Now I am an at-home mother that can eat whatever I want. I haven't really lost any weight. I don't get out much because it is such a hassle working around my son's eating and sleeping patterns. Because I had GD, my risk for type 2 diabetes is extremely high. I have seen the effects of this disease on those close to me, and I refuse to lay down and just go with it. I CAN take control of my health.

Here is where this blog comes in:

I am going to attempt to lose 100 lbs in the next year. I have already begun a slow work-out routine with The Biggest Loser 30 Day Jump Start, and I feel so much better. I have become involve with something called Bountiful Baskets, where you get a giant basket of fruits and veggies for a fraction of the cost.

I will be posting my successes and failures on this blog, as well as photos, goals, yummy recipes (with nutrition info), and anything else I find relevant to share.

Maybe nobody will read this. Maybe I won't make my goal. But, I figure I have to try. My husband and son need me.