The long truth.

This one is going to be painfully honest.    

I have been unhappy with my body for several years.   I know that I am not alone here; so many women face this issue.  It's something we regularly discuss with our closest friends, our partners, our mothers and sisters.   When someone compliments us on our appearance, we combat the niceness with statements pointing out what is wrong with us instead.   We listen to celebrity endorsements and stare at airbrushed magazine covers that tell us WE can have those rock-hard abs in just 5 minutes a day.  We hear models swear that "they don't diet" and although we are all too intelligent to actually believe it, we still do.  

Growing up, I never worried about diet and exercise.  I have ALWAYS been a terrible eater.  I hate fruits/veggies and I love all things bread and sugar.  I have never been athletic, and have spent most of my life thinking of "working out" as a form of punishment.   I was naturally thin all the way through my early 20s and didn't start thinking about how my lifestyle affected my waistline until about 7 years ago, when it actually started affecting my waistline.  

Seven years ago, I was a senior in college and dating someone who was extremely health-conscious.  He was also very blunt, and pointed out to me that I needed to take better care of myself.  (It wasn't as mean as it sounds, I swear...)  I was starting to feel sluggish and was noticing that clothes weren't fitting me like they'd used to.   I complained about it, and he offered the most sensible solution:  do something about it.  This began years of working out/giving up/dieting/binge eating.  I'd get on a health kick and then quickly give up.  My weight would yo-yo. So would my self-worth and my confidence.   Before you think "but your self-worth has nothing to do with your appearance...." just hear me out:  not succeeding, not reaching a goal and giving up is what bothered me more than anything.  Of course, I wanted to like the way I looked, but more than that I wanted to feel like I could DO anything.  And these years of being a habitual quitter proved that I couldn't.

I will admit that I am blessed with a little height and a large frame, which means I hide and that 'on-again, off-again' extra weight pretty well.  While this is sometimes a great attribute, it can also be a curse- often people don't believe me when I express the desire/need to lose.  (Inner voice is saying:  "So?  Why is it anyone else's business, anyhow?")  But it is.  I seek confirmation.  I seek sympathy.   I seek understanding- and while people think it is kind to say "No, you look great!" and "There's NO WAY you weight that much!" it really doesn't help.  It causes me to second-guess what I know my body needs, and it causes me to think, even momentarily, that I can get by with keeping those extra pounds.  I'm not shunning anyone for being polite- I'm just as guilty.  That's just the way it is.

When I met my husband, I was at my all-time heaviest.   During our first year of dating we became engaged, had some emergency plumbing work done on my house, bought a new house, moved and planned a wedding. Throw in that it was also the most stressful time of year for my job and it's easy to see that diet and exercise were not at the top of my priority list.  I made mediocre attempts to work out, but I wasn't really paying attention to my lifestyle.  My all-time heaviest weight began to get higher and higher on the scale, before I found myself- on my wedding day, no less- just 14 pounds shy of hitting 200lbs.   I cringe at my wedding photos, because I see that weight I was carrying and it makes me sad.  From day one of our courtship, Neil has never gone a day without telling me how beautiful he thinks I am.  The weight didn't matter to him, and I love him for that.  

After the wedding I became a little more focused on my health, and lost 25 pounds by our first anniversary.  To be 100% honest, this weight loss all came within about 4 months time, and I did it by watching my portions.  I stopped keeping sweets in the house.  I began counting calories like a crazy woman, and eventually the weight fell off.  It was almost too easy.  I kept if off through the holidays and was back into jeans that I hadn't worn in 5 years.  I still wasn't exercising, but I was only 5 pounds away from my college-weight.... and then life happened.  I hit the heavy-travel season for work.  I quit watching my portions.  I started baking again.  Since January, I have put back on about 15 of those 25 pounds that I lost.  All of the new pants that I had bought myself started getting snug.  It seemed like I was right back into my on-again, off-again cycle.

Then, on the afternoon of August 11, something in me just snapped.  I was just home from a work trip and spending the day unpacking, doing laundry and cleaning around the house.  And it just hit me:  I wanted to be strong.  I wanted to be fit and healthy, and I wanted to be proud of myself.  So, I dug out and dusted off my sneakers, updated the "Couch to 5K" app that had been dormant on my iPod for way too long, threw on a sports bra and went outside.  I got through that first day and decided I was going to do it again the next day. I text my friend Marianne, who has turned herself into quite the runner over the last few years, and told her what I had just done.  I needed encouragement from someone who has been  "at the beginning" before.   I also needed someone that would keep me accountable.  Since Monday the 11th, I have stuck with it.  I sprained my knee, but kept going as much as I could.  When I struggled with a particular week of the program, I just kept at it rather than giving up (I am still on that same "week"- but I intend to push on to the next one this week.)  I am in the middle of a 30-day workout challenge and plan to do another one once this one is complete.  I am back to using weight resistance training.  I WANT to work out everyday.  I feel the need to do something active every.single.day.   If I don't get to run/workout before work I do it once I come home from a long day.  I don't make excuses, because I want it.  This is new to me.  This is huge.  This is the change I have been craving over the last 7 years.  

I haven't seen the scale change much over the past three weeks.  (Did I mention I weigh myself every day?  It's probably very unhealthy, but it's just a part of my morning routine.  Has been since I was in jr. high.  Even in the days when I didn't obsess/worry about weight, I still checked in with my scale every morning.)

It's okay that the scale hasn't changed drastically yet, because everything else has.  My clothes are already fitting a little bit better.  My muscles are blissfully sore.  My body is craving water and protein.  I am reaching goals and pushing myself just a little further everyday.   I'm not going fast, and I'm only doing intervals at this point.  But I'm doing them.  

All of that is so much better than just feeling hungry and seeing the number on the scale drop. 

I'm being candid and public and probably annoying with all of this running/exercise stuff because I want to record it.  I want to be able to look back at when it was new and I want every milestone noted.  I also want to prove to anyone who is doubting herself that if CAN be done.  If I can change my lifestyle, anyone can.  

Ok, I'm done.  I will do my best to keep these running posts to a minimum from here on out... maybe.  ;)

Do you have a "get-healthy" story?   Have you been here?  Or are you here now?  Share with me!

xoxo