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.

This is basically what happens when my trainer makes me run...

It's funny because it's true.  It's painful because it's true.

Finances

I haven't been able to post much recently because school, while amazing, is sucking up all my free time and brain cells.  I have a love-hate relationship with school, just like I have with working out.  At the time, It can be terrible...it's exhausting and hard and frustrating at times when I can't do something or can't figure something out.  But I know it's making me better and I love how I feel when I accomplish something, so I keep doing it.

So here's the scoop.  I've been working out with my trainer for almost 5 months now.  Which is amazing...sometimes I feel like I just started out (which I know in the grand scheme of things, I did) and at times I feel like I've been doing this forever.  It's become a habit...if I go more than one day between workouts, I feel icky and weird and sluggish and kind of gross.  I've learned some valuable lessons, such as (TMI alert, if you're squeamish about lady problems, move on to the next paragraph) you shouldn't avoid it when you have the worst fucking menstrual cramps of your life, because it will actually make them better.  Maybe days when you feel dizzy aren't the best days to try to do a bunch of burpees.  And for the love of God, EAT SOMETHING BEFORE YOU GO TO THE GYM.

But I'm super scared right now.  I only have one more month with my trainer.  Well, I should say one more sponsored month before I have to figure out how to pay for his services, because I want to keep him.  And when I say I want to keep him, I should be saying I need to...let's be honest, I need the push and the accountability.

As many of you know or may someday find out, getting healthier can be hella expensive.  Don't get me wrong, it's the best money I've ever spent (aside from my nursing degree and my travels).  But nutritionist visits, constant new clothes/alteration of current clothes, future gym membership payments (my gym is free for me for another 6 months, thank GOD for Jen Mott) and training sessions are expensive.  Plus, I'm paying tuition at a private university for the next 3 years.  Also: bills.  You get the picture, and I'm sure you can relate.

I guess what I'm trying to say is...if you want to get healthy, MAKE THE INVESTMENT.  I'm freaking out right now about how my husband and I are going to financially make this work (P.S. he joined the gym and got a trainer this month, too!  So excited!!!  And so freaked!) but it's such a high priority for us right now that we'll find a way to make this work.  Some of you may remember my blog post from this summer about simplification...well, ditching cable and phones and other things was all part of getting us ready for this crazy expensive fall we're having.

Also...not looking for sympathy, just putting it out there.  A lot of people have commented to me "I wish I could afford the gym/nutrtionist/trainer/etc but I can't."  The point is: we can't either, but this is worth the other sacrifices we're making.  Make yourself a priority.  And maybe, you don't even need a gym or a trainer!  You can youtube lots of fitness stuff and workouts for free, which is great if that's your bag!  I, unfortunately, need people to keep me in check and push my lazy ass past what I want to be doing (which is sitting on my duff watching Parenthood reruns).

Happy

I am feeling extraordinarily happy today.

Just wanted to put that out there.

No rhyme or reason to it, I just feel really happy and really good, and I hope you guys do, too!

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. 

:)

Depression

TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, Anxiety, Mental Illness, Suicide

Some of you may be shocked to know that I have depression.  "Major Depressive Disorder with Severe Anxiety," to be exact.

I am REALLY good at putting on a happy face, but since 2006, I've been on Citalopram and Xanax...Citalopram I take every day to stave off depression and keep me more even-keeled, Xanax I take once in awhile for severe anxiety attacks.  Truthfully, I should have been medicated a LOOOOOONG time before 2006.

"But Angie!" you say, "Everyone gets anxious sometimes!"

That they do, dear readers.  My weird brain likes to take it one step beyond normal stress reactions.  

For example, on the morning of my first day at my current job, I was vomiting pretty profusely.  Why oh why didn't I call in sick?  

Because this happens to me.  All.  The.  Time.  I vomit on the reg.  It's actually pretty gross.  It's a miracle my teeth are so nice, to be honest.  

Pro Tip: Do not, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, EVER do a google image search for "gross."  This is NOT the first image that appears.  *shudders*

I also get palpitations so severe it feels like my poor heart is going to explode right out of my chest.  My hands get so cold and stiff I can barely use them.

This happens every single time I have an exam, or do something new.  My first workout?  Bet your ass I had Xanax in my bloodstream.  Flying overseas?  XANAX, BABY.  Statistics test?  BENZOS FOR EVERYONE!

It's a common misconception that antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds make you happy.  They don't.  They just make you feel less like dying.  A little less like bursting into tears constantly.  They take the dirty grey veil off everything so you can almost, ALMOST view it normally.

You may also be thinking, "I get sad sometimes...does that mean I have depression?"  

No.  A thousand times, no.

It's completely normal to feel sad sometimes.

What's not normal is to feel absolutely nothing.  To just not care.  To have amazing parents, wonderful friends, a supportive and loving husband, a sister who you look up to, a steady job, a roof over your head...and just not care about any of it.  And then to feel crushing guilt because you don't care.  The guilt is one of the few feelings you DO have.

The only other feeling you do have is to occasionally think that all of the people mentioned above would be so much better off if they didn't have to deal with how fucked up you are.  Only most of them have no idea how fucked up you are because you retreat into your sad place whenever you start feeling like this.  If there is some place you absolutely have to be, you slap on a happy face and fake it until you can go home, put on the same dirty sweatshirt you've been wearing for a week, and cry.  Some people lose tremendous amounts of weight, because they don't care enough to eat.  Some people (myself included) gain tremendous amounts of weight, because they don't care what they put in their bodies.

The best way I can think of to describe depression to you is it feels like swimming through pudding.  Your brain moves as slowly as your limbs.  Every step you take, every word that comes out of your mouth is a challenge.  Just being alive is EXHAUSTING.  You may or may not become suicidal...but even if you don't, you probably fantasize about your own death a LOT.  Not necessarily because you want to die, because that would require doing something.  Just because being alive means nothing to you except perpetual exhaustion.

I've never attempted suicide.  But I can't even count the number of times I've prayed for something else to kill me.

That's the difference between sadness and depression.

In the wake of Robin Williams' death, I've seen a lot of terrible things said about depression and suicide. 

Suicide is not the "coward's solution."  

Yes, it pisses me off that people take their own lives.  But what pisses me off about it so much is the knowledge that many suicide attempts are desperate pleas for help.  It just makes the "successes" (and I hate to even call it that, but you know what I mean) that much more tragic.  

It also makes me so angry that there is such a stigma on mental illness.  

I have a mental illness.  I'm still awesome.  

Yes, some mental health issues are far more stigmatized than others (schizophrenia comes to mind).  I know some people with schizophrenia who absolutely terrify me.  I also know some people with schizophrenia who are fiercely intelligent, loving, social, caring, amazing beings.  Just like I know people without mental illnesses who absolutely terrify me and others who amaze me in positive ways.   Mental illness should not define anyone any more than their blood pressure reading, hair color, address, favorite meal, or fingernail length.  It's absolutely ridiculous to boil a life down to that one component of their being.

You may also be wondering: what in the holy hell does this have to do with my weight loss journey??

EVERYTHING.

Would you take care of yourself if you didn't care about anything?  Would you work to be healthy if you truly believed your loved ones would be better off without you?

Nope.  And neither did I.

Robin's suicide also absolutely terrified me, as all suicide deaths do.  I do not share his diagnosis of bipolar depression (totally unipolar here) or his history of substance abuse, but I completely identify with his zany persona, his loud and brash nature, his foul-mouthed rants, and finally, his hidden depression that nobody saw. 

If you think you're depressed or are thinking about harming yourself, please, please, PLEASE reach out.  The National Suicide Prevention Hotline is staffed around the clock.  1-800- 273-8255.  

So many people love you.  So many people need you.  They love you and need you more than you love and need yourself right now, but some day, the clouds will part.  They always do, eventually.

Rest peacefully, sweet soul.

Slugsville

I've been feeling super sluggish lately.  Weirdly heavy and slow.  Not sure what the deal is, because I've been sleeping pretty well.  My diet hasn't changed since May.  I'm kind of annoyed.
It came to a boiling point for me when I couldn't finish an entire 300 workout earlier this week.  Not because I didn't have the stamina, but because I had 30 minutes with my trainer and I just couldn't get the whole thing done in that time frame.

Pictured above: Me, apparently

I was fucking PISSED.  Not at him, at myself.  I should be able to get a frickin planned workout done in a half hour.  But for some reason, I have been feeling extra slooooow lately and my energy level has been for crap.
I went through my routine, my diet, my daily schedule, and realized the only change is that I have worked out every day since June 24th.  Most of those days have been at Anytime, a few have been with friends at other gyms, and a few have been "wogs" around my neighborhood with my dog (wog = walk/jog, aka my version of running).  Huzzah, good for me!  Except I think maybe my body needs a rest day.
I'm sure there are a lot of you that are like, "but Angie, I've worked out every day since 1994 and I feel fantastic!"  I'm happy for you, and actually quite jealous.

So.  Tomorrow, no matter how weird I feel skipping the gym, I'm not going.  My first rest day in 6 weeks.  Keep your fingers crossed that this is what I need to re-boot and start feeling amazeballs again!