New Blog

I'm not a fan of blogger. Or blogging about my weight any longer (since I lost the 40 pounds I wished to lose). If you want to find me and my crafty, creative endeavors, head to www.twiggiemakes.com and say hello!

Ready? Or not.

I wish I had the motivation to do what it takes to lose this weight. The good thing is I am not disgusted at myself or the way I look. I see myself in the mirror and I think, "Not my best, but not my worst and I'm okay with that." However, it's how I feel - sluggish, tired, and some-what depressed when it's time to get dressed since my clothes just don't fit right and I'm not comfortable in them. The hubby says I just need to decide to take charge, decide to exercise and just do it already, but I'm so used to having some motivation.

It's friggin' cold here but I think I'm going to go for a run this morning. I love running and I miss it so much. And I have a new fear of not losing the weight - getting pregnant before I do. That really terrifies me. Both of my pregnancies started with me fit, healthy, and not only did not I gain much during them, but my body snapped right back. To get pregnant where I am right now would make me so upset and to not be able to do anything about it for nine months? Yuck.

I hate doing "diets" and try to aspire to the mentality of healthy eating, but I think to get me jump started I am going to do South Beach. I've done that twice in my life with great results that I could stick with (until I got pregnant) and I love the way I feel on it. Not to mention those first two weeks you can pound out some serious water weight. All I know is I have zero excuses anymore. My baby is sleeping great at night (so I'm not as exhausted during the day), my husband is super supportive in making time in his schedule to watch the kids, I have a Y membership where there is also childcare, and I'm ready to make some physical changes. I've gone through a lot of healing over the last year and I'm ready for the outside to match the inside.

So in an hour when day breaks, I will put my running shoes on and hit the pavement. And pretend to not notice that it's 28 degrees outside.

200

So Oprah wasn't the only person to hit 200 pounds last year. I did it as well. Doesn't sound so bad? It isn't, especially for someone who is 5'8" and wears a size 14. I can pull off 200 pounds pretty gracefully. The problem? Not six months ago I was thirty pounds lighter and here's the kicker: I had just had a baby. I was one of those people you love to hate - pregnant, all belly and wore my skinny jeans home from the hospital. No it wasn't my first baby, but my second, but I did the same exact thing with my first as well. So how the hell do you gain thirty pounds in four months (yes, four - I hit 200 around Thanksgiving and have hovered there ever since)? By eating. A lot. Oh, and not exercising very much. Still not convinced I have a real problem? Let me back up a few years.

Ten years ago I started college. I wasn't skinny, I wasn't chunky, but I was very athletic. My brother had me terrified I would gain "the freshman fifteen" so I took up running. I had no intention of losing weight, I just didn't want to gain. But I was amused and delighted when I saw other girls gaining the dreaded weight while I was actually losing weight. Ten pounds, to be exact. Over Christmas break I worked a ton, ran more, barely ate and dropped another fifteen.

Cue the obsession.

I had never been that thin in my entire life and it felt awesome! For the first time ever I felt feminine...like a girl, not just a tomboy. Boys started to notice me - a lot of them, in fact - and my self-confidence soared. I started dating a guy and was over the moon for him, and knew snagging him was a direct result of my taking charge of my appearance.

Then my grandmother passed away. It was sudden, and yet not, but it made me so incredibly sad. I spiraled into a deep depression and for whatever retarded reason, took up an eating disorder so I could feel like I had some kind of control in my life. I wasted away another ten pounds - I weighed 140 lbs, 20 pounds underweight for my build - and even tho I was so teeny tiny, I still thought I was too fat and kept depriving myself of food, yet making myself exercise a ton.

School started again and I went deeper into my depression, however I began to eat as a way to make myself feel better. I self-medicated myself with food and before I knew it, I had gained fourty pounds in four months. Yes, fourty pounds in four months. You can image how awful it felt to be around the same people who saw you at your thinnest less than a year before, who would say things like, "You look so amazing!" And now see me fourty pounds heavier, barely squeezing into a size 14. It was devastating and to say I was humiliated would be an understatement.

That was my low-point. Since then, I have gained and lost the same damn thirty pounds at least six times over. The real breaking point for me happened recently when I realized why I do this to myself is because I am an emotional eater. I recently finished counseling for some other wounds I had sustained growing up and realized my eating emotionally was because of all the other crap I was pushing down. I really feel in my heart that this time it will be different. I have dealt with the root causes and am ready to once and for all be the woman I was made to be. And even if my body won't let me be the size and weight it needs to, I will respect it and not push so hard. I just know that at 200 pounds, this is not healthy. And it's time to change.