Breathe

Me minus 105 pounds equals an easier time doing a lot of things. I can walk long distances without turning red and feeling like my heart is going to explode in my chest. I’ve always been very flexible, but now I can lie down on the floor and lift my feet all the way above my head. I can carry something heavy for a short or long distance and not get out of breath or be sore for days afterward.

Whenever I start to feel lazy or sick and tired of all the exercise and healthy food I think about how much more my body is capable of now. During college my friends lived in dormitories and when I’d go to visit someone, it was difficult to make the trek from the parking garage, across campus, and up winding flights of stairs to their dorm room. So many activities, from a long walk to going up the driveway after getting the mail, would leave me out of breath.

I spend so much time focusing on these last 15 or so pounds I want to lose, how to avoid overeating, the clothes I still don’t feel comfortable wearing… sometimes I don’t think enough about the improvements I’ve made. If I had a Tip of the Day, today’s would be to remind yourself every day of a positive benefit to losing weight. Mine is breathing easier.

Comfort Food

I’m currently reading Tales From the Scale by Erin J. Shea. The contributors all describe the moment/event that really opened their eyes to just how out of control their eating had gotten. I have so many, but there are two that stand out. Everything that happened in between these two moments pushed me toward losing weight.

Leading up to my senior year of college I lost quite a bit of weight. I spent the summer walking for up to two hours a day. I was religious about exercising and only eating foods that had nutritional value. The scale frustrated me because it rarely seemed to budge, yet my clothes were getting smaller and I could see the difference. I was motivated by so much – final year of college, unknown future, a trip to California at the end of the school year, a boy. I felt unstoppable! And then I graduated with a degree in Creative Writing.

I tried and tried to get a good job, but I was stuck in my part-time college job at a craft store. I was practically on campus during work and surrounded by happy, hopeful students with sensible majors like Education or Business. The store’s biggest item was candy – four aisles of chocolate, gummy candies, salty chips. The summer after graduation was dismal and I found comfort in the candy that I sold to little kids and those happy, hopeful college students. Fall rolled around and I had already gone up two pant sizes.

Shortly before the holidays I decided, like so many times before, that I was going to lose weight. I did okay for a couple weeks but Christmas was full of sweet temptations. On the day before Christmas Eve I was determined not to eat very much because I knew the next two days would be all about my Aunt’s gourmet meal, layers of chocolate, and cookies, cookies, cookies. But I was surrounded by candy and cookies, homemade Chex mix, and all of my family’s other staple Christmas treats. I decided to treat myself to a lunch that consisted of my mom’s special slaw, a sandwich on my favorite white bread, chips, and a couple cookies as a treat for dessert. After lunch, though, I wanted more cookies. I couldn’t let my family see me go back for more, so I concealed three large chocolate chip cookies under a magazine. Those weren’t enough either, though, and I found a way to sneak a handful of holiday candy into my room. Then I remembered that we had banana nut muffins and I took a couple of those. Cereal! I missed cereal with cold milk, and so I fixed a bowl of Chex. But I couldn’t carry it back to my room and have everyone see, so I took it to the basement bathroom. Before heading downstairs, though, I took some more cookies. I sat on the cold tiles with the exhaust fan on so that if anyone asked, I was getting ready to take a shower. I sat on the hard bathroom floor and ate the cereal and then the cookies. My stomach ached, my jaw hurt. I sat there ashamed and stuffed. I was sad for myself because I had a crappy job and everything I wrote was crappy and other people were so much happier during the holidays, and all of the food tasted so good. But I couldn’t believe I had resorted to eating for what had to be over an hour straight, using the bathroom floor as a table.

With my empty cereal bowl on the tiles, I wondered if I could make myself throw up and erase it all. I leaned over the toilet and coughed, tried to gag myself. I was never able to and only ended up with a stomach ache and a sore throat.

Fast forward to a few years later. My two best friends have gotten engaged. I’ve been asked to be a bridesmaid. It’s hard to be happy about anything because I have a painful bump under my left arm – what I fear is going to be the return of an infected gland. I had one years before and spent months on antibiotics and undergoing painful treatments. My doctor told me it had to do with hormones and being overweight.

I went to an urgent care facility so I wouldn’t have to be weighed, but the nurse asks for my weight. I have no idea because I’ve avoided a scale since that day in the bathroom when I ate cereal and cookies on the floor. I’m put on antibiotics and given another speech about losing weight. The next morning I swallow my fear and shame and get onto a scale. I’m pleased that when I gave the nurse my weight, I had overestimated by almost 15 pounds. But the number frightens me – at 258, I’m closer to 300 than 200. I probably weigh over 100 pounds more than most of my friends. The idea that you could subtract 100 pounds from my weight and I’d still be above average for my height was frightening.

Those two moments – overeating in the bathroom and facing the numbers on the scale during a potential health crisis – opened my eyes to how serious my problem was. I needed to lose weight not just to feel comfortable in a bridesmaid dress, but for my health, my well being.

Introduction

My New Year’s resolution, like over half the population, is usually to eat better and exercise. In 2006 I started my resolution a couple months late, but it was the first time I ever kept it.

On 12/31/05 my two best friends announced their engagement. A short time later I was asked to be a bridesmaid. The thought of walking down the aisle in a dress at my current weight mortified me. I was also on the verge of a weight related health crisis (infected gland). Without a lot of thought, I set my alarm one night for twenty minutes earlier than usual. I got up in the morning and took a walk. I ate a piece of plain toast and fruit for breakfast instead of cereal or a poptart. For lunch I had salad and fruit, and dinner was chicken and vegetables. Without a lot of thought or planning, I was changing the way I lived my life. I stopped heading toward the Burger King drive-thru after work. I grabbed a banana for an evening snack instead of five handfuls of potato chips. I took a walk whenever I felt my mouth watering for something chocolate. I was not on a diet. I told myself, and everyone around me, that I was not on a diet – I was changing my lifestyle. I was being healthy. I was going to lose weight before my friends wedding.

I had not weighed myself in years. I was astonished by the number I saw when I finally stepped on the scale, but I opened a blank Word document and typed it and the date at the top – 258 pounds. Every few days I weighed myself and recorded the date and number. I counted the months to the wedding, and once I knew how many pounds I could average a week, I set monthly goals for myself.

After one month I had lost 8 pounds. Two months passed and I had lost 16. I managed to maintain an average of 2 pounds a week by walking for 20 minutes a day and sticking to a sensible diet of fruits, vegetables, chicken, fish, whole grains and water. I ate yogurt instead of dessert with my lunch. Raisins and almonds became a delicious, healthy snack. After three months I added 10 minutes to my morning walk. June arrived and I had lost 30 pounds. I was starting to get comments, and I had gone from a size 24/22 to a snug 16.

Every year, I always wanted to be thin for my birthday. I wanted to look and feel good while celebrating another birthday. With November looming, I added fifteen minutes onto my morning walks and started taking a second, shorter walk in the evenings. I lifted weights a few times a week and added other aerobics from time to time. By my 26th birthday I had lost 70 pounds and could wear a size 14.

The holidays were a dreaded time. I had lost close to 80 pounds by Christmas, but I knew it was going to be hard not to overeat. I increased my morning walk to 60 minutes and tried to average 30 minutes in the evening. Between Christmas and the middle of January I only lost a couple pounds, but by the end of February I had lost 90 pounds.

My friends’ wedding date was getting closer. I wanted to have lost 100 pounds by the wedding, and on March 24th, the day of the bridal shower, I had reached my goal. I was wearing size 10 jeans and weighed 158 pounds. It was rough to continue losing with all of the wedding activities and the food/drinking that went with them, but by the day of the wedding I was down to 153 pounds.

Standing on the altar with my friends was a celebration of their relationship and future together, but for me it was also a celebration of 12 months of hard work. I was 100 pounds less of a person than I had been 1 year ago, but so much more whole than sI had ever been. I felt good, confident, and happy. I was overjoyed for my friends, for their new marriage, for their friendship – and for giving me the motivation to be healthier and happier.

Although I can say I’ve lost 100 pounds, every day is a struggle to keep that off and continue toward my ultimate goal.