Skin

I've seen tons of people on various Facebook groups I lurk on, as well as Instagram feeds, blogs, etc, say one of the reasons they're scared to lose weight is because of extra skin.

Well, kids, I'm living it.  So let's talk.

As of today, I'm down 161.6 lbs from my heaviest weight.  I weighed 201.4 lbs this morning.  I'm getting to the point where I like the way my body looks in clothes.  My shoulders are looking really nice.  My ass is bangin.  I wear leggings as pants because I want to catch glimpses of my own booty in mirrors and windows.  It's that good.

But.

BUT.

Nakey...yowza.  My body pretty much looks like a melted ice cream cone.  My belly and boobs have deflated like a week-old circus balloon animal.  Even my thighs and upper arms have some extra skin.  Nobody tells you when you start losing weight...things don't shrink, they deflate.  If I bend over and flex my abs, it looks like I have an extra set of jugs from how much belly skin is there.  I'm not even joking...my husband and I laughed about it for like an hour the other day.  This isn't a slam on myself, it's a straight up fact, and I like to lighten it with humor in an effort to be less ashamed of it.  Extra skin is a fact of weight loss life.  But it's not pretty.

Buffalo Bill would love me right now.  Is that joke not funny?

Am I prepared to show you a photo of my extra skin?  No.
Will I ever be prepared to show you a photo of my extra skin?  Probably no.
If you ask me nicely in person, will I show you?  No, in fact I'll probably cut you.

If you really want to see extra skin that bad, just do a google search.  I guarantee one of the thousands of images looks similar to me.

But anyway...

Imagine that you (literally) work your ass off for weeks, months, years, to get healthy and feel beautiful or get stronger or get off meds or whatever your personal motivations are to lose weight.  And your body can do some amazing stuff that it couldn't do before.  It looks better in clothes than ever before.  It's stronger than it's ever been before.  But that extra skin is still lurking there and reminding you of your former self, the damage you did to your body, and how worthless and unattractive you used to feel.  Nothing will make you feel less sexy and pretty and successful in your efforts than people commenting on it.

I've been asked, repeatedly, by well-meaning friends, if I will ever have skin removal surgery.  At this point, I don't really have enough to necessitate a surgical procedure.  Plus, the extremely few people who see me nakey either don't care and love me anyways and can laugh about it with me (the huzzband) and/or can go fuck themselves if they don't like what they see (random locker room people, I guess?).  Also...I don't have $20,000 extra dollars to spend on an elective surgery, soooooo...I'll reconsider if it ever causes me health problems.

I'm trying to use my saggy belly and newly unfortunate breasts and elephant skin wrinkly legs as motivation and a reminder of how far I've come.  I'm trying to see it as evidence of my accomplishments.  I'm trying to see it as beautiful, but this is one of the biggest mental hurdles I've had to face/cross/jump over/whatever during this process.  It's a challenge and it may never happen.

But.

BUT.

I did a 5k in May.  Yes, I walked like 85% of it.  But two years ago, there is no friggin way I could have even walked a mile without wanting to die, let alone a 5k.

I hiked an average of 25-40 miles a week with friends this summer.  Could or would I ever have done this before?  I would have wanted to, but there's no way I could have.

I discovered a love for yoga.  I never would have even tried a class before, because I was too embarrassed about my body and lack of flexibility.  I hate to sound cliche, but this has put me in tune with my body and what it wants and needs better than anything else I've ever done.  It's taught me to breathe through pain (mental and physical) and that I can tough out uncomfortable things, and the end result is worth the discomfort and work.  It has taught me to take up the space I need and to be present in my body and mind.  Holy crap, am I grateful for yoga.

I PRed an assload of lifts this year.  Are my numbers impressive?  Hahahaha no.  Does it matter?  No, because I lifted heavier shit than I ever have before.  And I can lift way more now than I could when I was heavier (which is counter intuitive to me, but whatevs).

I can shop for clothes in almost any store I want to.  It's hard to get used to this.  I'm used to purchasing whatever garments I can find in my size regardless of whether I liked them or whether they were comfortable or flattering, because my options have been so limited in the past.

Ok, so my body looks weird naked.  Yes, I still feel a lot of body shame and frankly, I feel way sexier with my clothes on than off.  But would I go back to being 363 lbs, not able to do most of the things I want to do, not able to fit in an airplane seat without a seatbelt extender and a prayer, only able to order ugly old ladyish clothes online, get short of breath walking up a flight of stairs, not be able to give my dog the exercise he needs, not be able to hike and see beautiful places, not be able to feel comfortable doing yoga, have to take blood pressure medications, not be brave enough to tell street harassers to fuck off, and be sad?

Would I have spent my entire life being thin, and thus not had to worry about extra skin at all?  Perhaps.  But I know how strong I am because I've had to work for every pound off my body and on the bar.  Every extra rep, every extra second in an uncomfortable yoga asana, every extra jogged step...I know that every single choice I make every single day has the power to bring me closer to or further from my goals.  I feel like others who may have had easier lives physically or been appreciated aesthetically or been considered conventionally attractive for their entire lives don't necessarily appreciate what they have and how easy they have it in some ways.

So what's the moral of the story?

THE EXTRA SKIN IS WORTH IT.

Gratitude

Since it's been almost 6 months since I've documented anything, I think it's safe to say I've fallen off the blogging wagon.  And I'm ok with this.

I started this blog when my gym wife Jen told me to find a way to document my Paying it Forward experience and all the changes that were no doubt going to occur in my life.

My 32nd year was an emotional and physical maelstrom, in the best way possible.  I lost almost 100lbs.  I made some new friends.  I worked my ass off, figuratively and literally.  I cried all over my poor trainer on at least a weekly basis.  I cried all over my husband on at least a weekly basis.  I cried all over my nutritionist pretty regularly, as well.  I came to terms with my habits, my decisions, my mental state, my physical state, and my life in general.  I worked really hard to improve my physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental health.

In my 33rd year, the physical changes came a lot more slowly but the mental, emotional, and spiritual "journey" continued.  I lost about 30 more lbs.  I had surgery.  I gained 20 lbs back.  I re-lost the 20 post-op mashed potato and popsicle pounds.  I made more new friends (awesome ones, in fact).  I started practicing mindfulness, and found a lot of peace in yoga practice (which I used to hate with the fire of 1000 suns) and meditation (which I always used to feel like I was doing "wrong").  Because of this (I think), I cried a lot less.  I finished my BSN and started grad school, which may prove to be my worst idea yet (but will be worth it when I'm finished, I'm sure).

As I'm rapidly approaching 34, I feel like this is a perfect time to reflect on where I've been and the changes that have occurred.  I'm insanely proud of the physical changes that have occurred, but even more proud of the mental changes.  I feel clear, focused, and determined.  I feel confident and strong (most of the time).  I feel at peace with myself and my relationships.

Most importantly, I feel a deep gratitude.  I have even learned to become thankful for the not-so-awesome things that have happened in my life, because they shaped me into the rockstar you know and love today (I'm also thankful that I'm so humble).  I am so, so thankful for my husband, family, and friends.  I'm grateful for my education and career.  I'm grateful that people trust me every day to guide them towards making the best decisions they can for their health.

I'm grateful for the boys (not men) and girls (not women) I've known (and not known) who mocked my body ruthlessly and publicly.  I'm grateful for my exes who cheated on me.  I'm grateful for those assholes on Fair St who made me cry in 2014 and inspired me to apply for Jen's Paying it Forward contest/gift.

Does that sound ridiculous?  It feels a little ridiculous.  How can I be thankful for boyfriends who screw around on me, people who body-shame me, strangers who make me cry?  They taught me how to be resilient, how to persevere, how to keep my head held high, and how not to give a fuck about the opinions of people who, quite frankly, just don't matter.  Those lessons were hard to learn and those skills were hard-earned.  In the wise words of Jinkx Monsoon, "water off a duck's back."

They also, in a roundabout way, contributed to the amazing process of change and transformation that I've gone through and will not doubt continue to go through as I get older.

I'm grateful to Amanda, Kim, and everyone at Nutritional Healing for being amazing sources of knowledge and inspiration.  I'm so grateful for Anytime Fitness A-West, Neenah, Kaukauna, and A-East for being my homes away from home (seriously, I sometimes feel like I should just rent out a tanning room and move all my stuff in) and excellent cheerleaders (and super fun friends).

I hate to say this adventure is done, because it feels like it's just beginning.  I know I still have a long way to go before I'm where I want to be.  I don't believe in "before and after," I think I'll experience a slow but persistent evolution that will perpetuate forever, hopefully in a positive direction.  However, I have a feeling that the public documentation of it is finished.  It feels like a time for introspection and self-reflection.

With that said, thank you for cheering me on, thank you for the inspiring words, thank you for keeping me motivated.  Thank you for being my shoulders to cry on and my cheerleaders to high-five when things have been awesome.

Choices

I actually hate this stock photo.  But I'll get to that in a second...

Choice is a beautiful, terrifying thing.  I'm able to say that it's terrifying because it's something I, as a white, straight, cisgender, American, educated woman, am able to take for granted.  A LOT.  Not to get political on you, but holy shit, I have some serious privilege and associated guilt.  Given the state of the world, I guess I'd rather have the guilt than not have the privilege, and it's crap to have to think that way.

Moving on...

Some of the choices we have to make are easy.  Do I go to work today or stay in my sweatpants watching Netflix?  Well, unless you are ill or have agoraphobia, you will probably make the decision to go to work.  Unless you don't like gainful employment, of course (no judgement).

Some are more difficult.  Where will I go to college?  What do I want to be when I "grow up?"  Do I want children?  If so, how many?  Who will I vote for (this may be easy or difficult depending on who's running)?

Some choices should be easy, but can challenge us (me) sometimes (a lot).

Will I eat this candy or won't I?
Will I work out today, or will I stay in my sweatpants watching Netflix (I like Netflix, ok?)?
Will I have all of the garlic naan ever made when I go out to dinner with my BFF?
Will I have a glass of water, or will I have a third latte?

The struggle is real, y'all.

There is a reason I get annoyed (somewhat secretly, but I'm not THAT good at hiding it) when people say they "slipped up" on their healthy eating and exercise is because it's not a slip up.  It's not an accident.  Nobody hog-tied you and forced you to eat Doritos all day (I hope).  You didn't lose your footing and fall mouth first into a pan of brownies.  The gym didn't secretly pack up and move to a different part of town without telling you.

It's not a slip up.  It's not a mistake.  It's a choice.  You may not even realize it.

I recently read an article (and no, I won't cite it, because I can't even remember where/when exactly I saw it) that said "discipline is prioritizing what you want most of all over what you want right now."  Truer words have never been spoken.  It doesn't just apply to health and fitness, it applies to everything we do.

I couldn't find the original quote, but this is close enough.  You get the idea.  Also, don't tell me what to do, Silhouette Person.  You don't know my life!

I've written about priorities before.  I'll probably write about priorities again, because it's something I constantly have to remind myself of.  I have several priorities in my life that are constantly competing for the top position.  Work, school, my marriage, my friends, my family, Taco, home maintenance, my health.

For the first time in a long time, my health usually wins the top spot.  Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes, for example, I wake up at 5am absolutely frickin exhausted.  The night before, school was my priority and I stayed up studying until midnight.  Today, as much as I would like for my personal health to be the priority and go back to bed to rest, work needs to win because I'm scheduled to be in at 6 and SURPRISE, adulthood is no fun sometimes!

Today, I probably should have worked out, but I prioritized my friends and social relationships and went out to lunch instead.

Do I feel badly about it?  Meh, tomorrow's a new day, the gym will still be there.  And it's a choice I made.  Consciously.  Deliberately.  They did not kidnap me and take me to Basil Cafe (although truthfully, I would LOVE that).  There's no excuse, there's just what happened.  The choice I made.  And it was worth it.

I also don't like to think of it as "good choices" and "bad choices."  Maybe "better choices" and "not as great" choices?  I don't know how to phrase it.  But I feel like calling it a bad choice shames us for what we do.  And I am not hopping on that train.  Are our less than spectacular choices what define us?  NO.  So why do we shame ourselves for them?

You can choose to spend your time excusing your "slip ups" or "cheating" or "mistakes" on your fitness journey.  But I can almost guarantee, you will begin to feel badly about them.

What I've chosen to do is to own my choices, without apologies or excuses.  For me, this is the best (only) way to forward movement, progress, and growth.  It gives me the freedom to do what I want with the pride I feel whenever I make a choice that improves my life.

Trust the Process

I have a confession to make.





I weigh myself every day.

Sometimes multiple times a day.

I know, it's horrible.  My trainer AND my nutritionist both tell me, in the nicest way possible, that I'm a freakin' idiot for doing this.  And yet I can't stop.

I have to do it.  I don't punish myself on "bad" days or reward myself on "good" days, I just have to know what the scale says!

I feel weird when I don't weigh myself.  It's obsessive and I know it's bad, but I do it.  Confession over.


Let's talk about why this may be the crappiest idea ever.

Last month, I went to my nutritionist's office for my body comp appt, like I always do.  She weighs and measures me, sticks the EKG patches to my hand and foot and then we chat about how things went and she answers my 10,000 inevitable questions.

Last month, I weighed in at 255, which for me is pretty damn good.  Friggin amazeballs good, actually.

The next day, and for about 2 weeks afterward, I consistently weighed in at 255.  Sometimes my body likes to hold on to weight for as long as humanly possible and then drop several pounds overnight, so I wasn't too concerned or annoyed at this point.

Then, things took what I thought was a horrible turn.  My weight started to creep upwards.  A few days later, it was 257.  Then 260.  261.  262.  Another week and a half later and I was holding steady at 266.

And I was PISSED.

I was (am) still working out as much as I have been for the past year, 5-6x weekly for an hour.  I had (have) been eating the same healthy, whole foods as I always have been.

Why in the holy hell had I gained 11 pounds in less than a month?  I could understand it if I had avoided the gym all month and taken to eating a steady diet of cupcakes and Cheetos.  In fact, I briefly considered eating cupcakes and Cheetos, because why not?  If I'm going to gain weight anyway, I might as well go down in flames...

About 4 days before my nutritionist appointment, my weight started to trend downwards.  It finally "landed" at 256, one pound above where I'd started the month (although my bathroom is an electromagnetic black hole...every scale that enters it becomes 2-5 lb heavy within 6 weeks, no lie).

I asked my nutritionist about my body's love of holding on to weight and then dumping several pounds instantaneously instead of gradually letting it go.  Apparently, normal.  I also asked her about my rapid weight gain this month and told her how pissed I was.  After telling me (again) to stop weighing myself every damn day, she told me this can be normal, too.  *le sigh*  I don't WANT to gain weight when I'm working my ass off!  Even if it's muscle and water (two things that I actually need to gain).

I hopped on the scale.

253.

Ok, not fantastic, but a loss.  I'll take it.

Then she did my body composition analysis.

And this, my friends, is why you should not weigh yourself every day.


Even though I "only" lost 2 lb on the scale, I lost 12 lb of fat.

I also gained muscle and several pounds of water.  I know a lot of people hear "water weight gain" and think of edema or bloating, but I'm chronically dehydrated despite drinking 3-5 Nalgenes of water a day, so for me, numerous pounds of water weight gain was excellent news.

The moral of the story?

I hate hokey crap.  "Trust the process."  "Find your zen." "Keep calm and carry on." "#blessed" "If you build it, they will come." 

Ugh.  Just give me the info and/or tell me what to do without the crispy new age coating, please.

But in this case, true.  Trust the process, indeed.  "The process" has been serving me well for over a year now, one perceived setback shouldn't derail me.

Especially because it turned out to be AWESOME and not a setback at all.

Jen, Amanda, and Donovan are my dream team

As we're nearing my one year fit-iversary, there are some serious thank yous in order.  Consider this my Oscar speech to the awesome trifecta that keeps me going.

Oh!  This is so unexpected, I don't even have a speech prepared...

JEN, MY QUEEN.

Oh, Jen.  I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I adore your face off.  My life would be so different if I hadn't been fortunate enough to win Pay it Forward last year.  I would still feel like crap and treat my body like crap allllll the time.  I'd be tired and sad and miserable.  I'd be pretending to be happy and feeling anything but.  You are such an amazing role model and friend to me.  I'm SO lucky to know you!

AMANDA.

You, my dear, are amazing.  I look forward to our appointments with you and love when I run into you at the gym!  You've taught me to fuel my body to be my best and to stop treating my body like a garbage disposal and instead, treat it like the amazing, beautiful machine that it is.  Seems simple, but for me, it was a revelation!  I hope everyone who works with you knows how lucky they are.

DONOVAN.

I know you've told me I'm the one doing the work, not you, but that's not entirely true.  Without your guidance, support, and motivation, I wouldn't have come nearly as far this year as I have.  And it's not just about the weight I've lost.  I've overcome so many things by realizing and improving my strength and have uncovered self-confidence that I didn't even know I had.  A million thank you's aren't enough.

EVERYONE ELSE.

If you're reading this, you've also been an integral part of this adventure.  Whether from words of encouragement, high-fives, emotional support, listening to my constant complaining/stories/bragging, whatever. You all rock my socks off.

Transparency

If you haven't, you may want to read the previous entry for some background information. Follow the link below (if it works, otherwise copy and paste it...I'm too lazy to set up the link right now).

 http://iamnotgoodatnamingblogs.blogspot.com/2015/02/barbara-walters.html



Discovery: It's relatively easy for me to be open and honest with you, since most of you are my friends/family/fellow gym-goers/co-workers/neighbors, and through the partial anonymity of the internet, than it is to be transparent in person.

Or, say, on television.

As most of you know, I was asked to film a testimonial for my nutritionist's office.  I was really flattered and honored to be asked.  I thought, if I could go on live television to talk about myself and this process three months and 20lb ago, I can certainly film a testimonial now.

Turns out, I may not know myself quite as well as I thought.

In the previous entry, I talked about the interview experience.  It was painfully awkward but I made it through.  The interviewer and cameraman tried their damndest to put me at ease, and were so welcoming and nice.  I just didn't feel comfortable.  Also, as you may recall, I cried, which is one of my least favorite things to do in front of people, especially strangers.

I waited anxiously to see what the finished product of the commercial would look like.  Thinking about it made me a little (a lot) antsy, so it's a dang good thing I had a busy week (as always).

Thursday night, they sent me a copy.  Everyone involved said they loved it.

It would be fair to say that I was not a fan.

I watched it while sitting on a spinning bike at the gym.  Then I watched it again.  The first time, I sat, mouth agape, as I watched myself.  The second time, I laughed out loud...and not in a good way.

All I could think was "I look awful and I sound awful."

Then I felt awful because I was the only one who had seen it at that point who didn't like it.  I reminded myself that everyone's their own harshest critic.  So I watched it again.

Then I had to get the hell out of the gym to process this.

Which I did as soon as I got home.

Panic set in.

The rapid-fire thoughts going through my head included...
People are going to see this.
I've put my story out there to be played by television stations at will.
People are going to judge me.
Oh my God what was I thinking?
Is that really what my voice sounds like?  How does anybody tolerate listening to me?
Oh my GOD what was I thinking?
Is that really what I look like?  Good Lord.
OH MY GOD what was I THINKING?

And the resounding theme:

I AM NOT READY FOR THIS.

I texted my best friend, and emailed her the video link.  I can always count on her to be honest and give it to me straight.  She and her boyfriend loved it.

I thought: Well, maybe it's not as bad as I think.  I filmed it, maybe I should just live with the consequences of my choice to agree to do this and put myself out there.

And then I started panicking again.

I texted my journey guru, Jen, who talked me down off the ledge.

I realized (through Jen's amazing words) that it's okay to say no.  It's okay not to be ready to share everything with everyone.  It's okay to realize that this made me feel powerless and was really triggering for me.  It's okay to say yes and then change your mind.  And it's okay to ask for what you need to feel safe.

And for me, at this point, what I needed to feel safe was to ask my nutritionist not to use the filmed commercial, at least until I'm ready.  A point which I am not confident will ever occur (though it may).  A request which she happily honored.

This entire chain of events was probably the most surprising thing that's happened to me...well, ever.  I thought I knew myself pretty well but I still have the capability to shock myself.

Surprise!

Barbara Walters

Recently, my nutritionist asked me to film a testimonial to use in their office and/or on commercials.  I was flattered, honored, and, quite frankly, surprised to be asked.

But I'd be lying if I said I had no reservations.

My first thought was, "Uh, are you sure you want a client that has a solid 100lb left to lose to represent your business?"

But then I thought, "Hell, yes, you want me to do it.  Because I'm frickin awesome."

Because if a sedentary lady who was 200lb overweight, works full time, goes to graduate school full time, and volunteers for BBBS every week can make time to make health and fitness a priority, anybody can.

So, I said yes.

I went to the interview today.

It.  Was.  So.  Nervewracking.

Last time I did something similar, it was for live TV.  My palms were sweaty and cold and I was a little nauseated.

I thought...well, this time it's just me and my interviewer and a cameraman.  The interviewer's name was Bill Murray.  So excellent.

Sadly, 'twas not this Bill Murray.  But he was pretty cool nonetheless.

They're going to keep rolling until they get good footage and just use that, so it won't be so bad.

Or so I thought.

Until I cried.

Yes, that's right, I cried.  While being interviewed.  For a frickin commercial.  They were taping the entire time.  I probably had snot bubbles and everything.  Are you surprised?  I cry all the damn time!  Soooooooooo awkward.

But in my defense, it's not my fault.

He totally "Barbara Walters-ed" me.

If her tactics make Oprah cry, what hope did I have of keeping my tears in check?

After talking about the weight I've lost, doing the obligatory "posing" that comes along with it (awkward but hilarious), talking about why I believe in Nutritional Healing, and how amazeballs I feel, he asked how I felt before.

So, I started rattling of info about my sleep apnea, my hypertension and palpitations, and my crappy energy level, he stopped me and said "that's great, but we also need to hear about how you FELT before."

So I thought about it for a second.  And promptly lost my shit.

I started talking about how I didn't feel like a good nurse, a good wife, a good friend, or even a good mom to Taco.  About how I missed out on things and held myself back from doing things because I had no stamina and no energy.  About how my self-worth and pride were about a zero on a 1-10 scale.  While talking about these things, I cried big fat crocodile tears.  I actually wore makeup, and my tears left glamorous tracks riiiiiight through it.

I SAID ALL OF THIS STUFF.  OUT LOUD.  WHILE BEING FILMED.  FOR A TELEVISION COMMERCIAL.

I'm all about honesty and transparency, but DAMMIT ANYWAY, WHY COULDN'T I JUST HOLD MY SHIT TOGETHER??

Le sigh.


And that's what happens when the most awkward, emotional woman in northeast Wisconsin films a video testimonial.

Oh well.  I'll be interested to see the final product of today's ridiculousness. :)

Progress update: 9 months in

Well...not quite 9 months.  It'll be 9 months on February 1.  But close enough.

To recap:  9 months ago, my amazing friend Jen (who was, at that time, a complete stranger to me) gave me the best birthday gift I've ever gotten when she selected me to receive a year of Anytime Fitness membership.  I got her call, and was so shocked I don't even think I thanked her while we were on the phone.  I stayed up late to tell my husband that night.  I was so excited and so scared.

On the day Jen gave me my membership, with some of the most awesome people I know (Clockwise from top left: Kirk, Nate, Beth, Jeffer, My awesome self, Donovan, Jen, Jena, Kate, and Mary).  My gurus and one heck of a support team.  They rule.

I went in for my fitness consultation with my trainer on my birthday, and it was probably the most intimidating experience of my life.  I'm used to people listening to me, but having people watch me is completely different.  Especially when I'm doing something that is completely foreign to me, which they do professionally.  Especially with a strange man that I don't know.  Especially when that man is buff and intimidating looking.  I got home and asked Jeff to pummel me with a meat tenderizing mallet (not kidding).  That first day was brutal, physically and mentally.

I started going to Nutritional Healing about a week later.  My nutritionist's advice and recommendations were a complicated mystery of serving numbers and portion sizes.  It was a lot of information to handle at once.

9 months later.  Training is still brutal, but I'm doing things now that I never would have dreamed I'd be able to do in the past.  It still feels kind of awkward to be watched while I work out, but I'm beyond the point where I care.  I huff and puff and make weird faces and get red-faced and sweaty and have to blow my nose like ten times a session and leave covered in chalk.  Control yourselves, single guys and ladies...I look IRRESISTABLE during training.


My nutritionist's recommendations are now second-nature.  Do I still eat chocolate?  Hell yes, because it's amazing, and I'm willing to do the extra minutes on the elliptical that it takes to burn it off.

One of the most surprising things to me is the atmosphere of trust my trainer and I have cultivated.  It's a strange relationship; trainer and client.  It teeters on the border of fitness, counseling, mentoring, friendship, and teacher-student.  It's weird and excellent.  I honestly wasn't sure, at first, if I'd be able to trust my trainer and really let my guard down enough to give 100% during my sessions.  The verbal attacks I've been subjected to in the past have been predominantly from men, and most of those men were very fit; so as a subgroup of the population, I was intimidated and scared of them.  A male trainer that I don't know?  A screaming drill-sargeant, who I am to let in to see my vulnerable self?  Yikes.

Fortunately, I could not have been more wrong.  My trainer, and the other trainers at the gym (whom I ask questions of on an almost daily basis, thanks dudes) are frickin amazing.  No screaming drill-sargeanting happening.  Will he call me out on my bullshit when I'm stalling because I don't want to run?  Yes.  But will he also patiently wait while I mentally prepare myself for box jumps instead of getting impatient?  Also, yes.

Flippin awesome.

Now, let's talk about my nutritionist.  She rocks my socks off.  Every month, Jeffer and I go in to get weighed, measured, and have our composition analyzed.  I'm at the point now where the nutrition is second-nature, but questions consistently come up.  She gives us all the factual information we need, her opinion when we ask for it, and also, calls us out on our bull.  Bonus: she's fun.

So, the updates.
Let's start from the beginning, and let the photos and captions tell the tale.

This is June, 2014.  I was about 6 weeks into my training and had lost 13lbs from my start weight of 350.

August, 2014.

This is October, 2014.  I think I had lost about 60lb at this point.

And this is from today.  Down 92lb from the first photo and 79 from my 32nd birthday.  It's kind of blurry, but you get the idea.  Also, my hair looks fantastic today.

In 9 months, I've lost 79lbs.  Overall, I've lost 92lbs from my heaviest weight.
I actually weigh less now than I did when I was full of parasites living overseas.  Bonus: this weight-loss is much healthier than intestinal worms.  The more you know.
I'm down 5 pants sizes and 3 shirt sizes, 11 inches in my waist and 9.5 in my hips.
My wedding dress has room for a second person to jump into it with me.
My energy level is fantastic.
And my confidence is better than it ever has been.

Now, again, I will say this.  MY VIEWS ON BODY POSITIVITY AT ANY SIZE AND BEAUTY AT ANY SIZE HAVE NOT CHANGED.  I am a champion for body positivity and loving yourself.  As long as you are happy and healthy, I honestly don't give a crap whether you weigh 100lb or 400lb.
My increased confidence is the best thing that's come out of this, and I don't know if it's from the weight loss, how much stronger I've gotten, or both.  But it's excellent.

I'm crushing goals, kicking ass, and taking names.

AND I'M 8LB AWAY FROM MY NEXT TATTOO.

Plateaus and deep fried Oreos

It's been a rough couple of weeks.

Work is absolutely crazy.  We've started taking triage calls for different clinics all over the state over the past few months which has increased our workload exponentially, while staffing remains the same.  It's awesome for our organization, and I love my job, but this shit is bananas and it's exhausting.

Pictured above: me, every day.

School is sucking my free time up.  Not surprised...nursing school was hard enough the first time and this is building on that foundation.  Plus, last time I went to nursing school I was working two 12-hour shifts a week, and now I am working full-time.  I also have a dog now that I didn't have before, and that sweet little face needs cuddles and walks every day.

Pictured above: me, every day.

I feel like my progress has stagnated a little, which is annoying.  I am still hitting the gym at least 5 times a week (6 times during a good week) but I need to be honest...

I have eaten like crap for the past 10 days.  

When I say "like crap," I should specify.

I'm still making better choices than I did before I started this.  Like, WAY better choices.  So I am pretty proud of that.  But I didn't eat anywhere NEAR as healthily as I have been, or as my nutritionist, my trainer, and myself expect me to.  

Example:  I went to Oktoberfest on Saturday.  I have a love-hate relationship with these kinds of festivals.  It's always nice to get downtown and see the music, the crafty stuff, and the unbelievably entertaining people watching that come with street festivals.  Plus, my college besties Ali, Dan, and Katie came downtown with me which was amazing!  It's so rare that I get to see them all together.  Even more embarrassing...Katie lives like 3 miles away and I haven't seen her since January.  I'm not great at making plans.  Love you KT!

But anyway, we were at Oktoberfest, which involved a lot of walking.  Score!  But...

Oh Lawd, confession time...

I ate a deep fried Oreo.

It was fucking amazing.  I may have had a tiny foodgasm, it was so good.  I almost cried right in the middle of College Ave, I'm not even kidding.  I made weird noises.  It was unbelievable.  

But it was fried and greasy and everything I should be avoiding.

*insert Homer Simpson drooling noise here*

Guess what though!  I ate ONE deep fried Oreo.  In the past, I would have bought the 3-pack, snarfed through those mofos, and probably followed it up with brats and beer.  Instead we went out for breakfast for dinner later and I had a side salad with my eggs.  And a pitcher of water.  Reasonable choice for an IHOP meal.

Also, after we ate, and swam, and hung out and talked with my lovely friends and their manfriends/husbands for a few hours, Jeffer and I went to the gym.  

Not going to lie, I kind of half-assed it.  But the point is: we went to the gym at 11pm.  On a Saturday.  Voluntarily.  And I did squats and deadlifts and burpees without my trainer telling me to.

Here's the point: Everyone might stagnate from time to time in their fitness journey.  Maybe you're not making the gains you want to.  Maybe you gained 3 lbs.  Maybe, like me, you've been stuck at the exact same weight for 2 weeks, when previously you were losing about 2 lb a week.

Think back on your choices and, again, like me, you might realize why.  If not, maybe it's time to crank it up a notch.  If not, maybe you need to keep doing what you're doing and push through it.  I don't know, I'm not a trainer or nutritionist (obvi) and I have no idea what I'm doing...I just listen to my "bosses" and do what they say.

Except for the deep fried Oreo.  They didn't say to eat that.  But it was worth the running I'm going to try to force myself to do tonight.

Progress Update

Honestly, I don't think I look very different than when I started this process of attempting to become the incredible shrinking woman.  Apparently, other people think I do.  The compliments I'm getting from friends, family, and co-workers are so rewarding.  Even more so, perhaps, are the comments I get from randos at the gym (and staff, too!)...it's extremely validating to have your hard work noticed.

So, let's start from the very beginning.

This is me and hubs at Yellowstone in August, 2013.  Note: the lump above my boob is chapstick, I didn't have any pockets.  Also, it was seriously like 105 degrees that day.  It was sweaty and hot and miserable and BEAUTIFUL.  Give me a home where the buffalo roam, indeed.

Shortly after this photo was taken, hubs and my bestie (hi, Ali!) wanted to take a hike.  I decided to sit it out, blaming my photosensitizing meds (I had been having excruciating headaches earlier that summer and was on a buttload of neuro meds that made me prone to sunburns).

Truth: I just didn't want to slow them down or (embarrassing horror of horrors) have to turn back before them).

This is me in June, about 1 month into my workouts and nutritional overhaul.  I had lost 13 lbs when this picture was taken...slightly more than the weight of baby Taco.

I had started feeling REALLY good for the first time in a loooong time.













This is what I looked like today, after a day of work, an awesome workout, and a delicious Chipotle burrito:

Under the amazing guidance of Donovan (my trainer), Amanda (my nutritionist), and Jen (my mentor and rockstar workout buddy):

I have lost 40 lbs since 4/28/14.  

I'm down 53 pounds total from my heaviest weight ever (in 2013).  

I've increased my percentage of muscle by 0.3% (which, to be honest, doesn't sound like much, and I'm actually down a couple pounds of muscle overall, which pisses me off to no end.  However I'm so happy that I've been able to maintain enough to increase my percentage as I lose weight).  

I've lost 5 inches around my waist and 5.5 around my hips. 

Last week, I had to throw away ALL my underoos and buy an entirely new drawer full.  

My bras are too big (all but one sports bra, truth be told) and that needs to be my next investment.  

My favorite jeans slide down over my butt when I try to put them on.  

When I have time to sleep (ha), I am sleeping like a damn corpse (and I mean that in the best way possible).  

I am energized and happy and feeling awesome.  

Even though the visual progress is slow (at least to me), it's really awesome to see my numbers change...to see my hydration increase, my muscle maintain, and my fat plummet.  

One more thing I need to address...body positivity.  I have always been a big believer in beauty at every shape and size, dressing in whatever makes you feel happy and confident, and fat acceptance.  I've been asked if, now that I'm trying to lose weight, my beliefs have changed.

NO they most certainly have not.

My reasons for weight loss are as follows:

1) Health, first and foremost.  A lot of fat people are healthy, I was (am?) not.  I have sleep apnea and take beta blockers, and the day I can bash the shit out of my c-pap machine with a baseball bat like the copier in Office Space will be the best day of my life.  I'll have a party to celebrate; you're all invited.

2) Happiness.  I know a lot of fat people who are happy and beautiful.  In fact, two of my girl crushes (we're facebook friends...you both do amazing makeup...one of you I met through my sista and one of you I met through WAIT...but I will keep your identities secret like Clark Kent) are voluptuous ladies, and they are unbelievably sexy.  Like, ferociously sexy.  Their spouses are two lucky, lucky dudes.  Whoa...tangent.  Anyway: I did not genuinely feel either of those things on a regular basis.  It's important to know: my coping mechanisms were (and are) extremely flawed: food was my drug and I numbed myself with it.  I needed to learn to deal with my feelings and stress in a more positive way, without turning into an alcoholic or a heroin addict (not kidding, not mocking, it's a genuine concern of mine).  I struggle daily with actually addressing my stresses and problems instead of just burying them under a mountain of junk food.  This process is raw and painful and ugly and amazing and I have cried more in my life over the past 4 months than I have ever before in my life, because I let myself feel every emotion that comes into my brain.

So could I be fat and happy?  No, because of my issues with food and my inability to cope with things.  Can you be fat and happy?  Hell yeah, and if you are, more power to you.  If you're not, do something to make yourself more happy, less fat, or both.  But know this: losing weight is not a magic ticket to happiness. 

:)