Growing up my mother didn’t buy junk at the grocery to keep in the house. There wasn’t a “clean your plate rule” before we left the dinner table either; however, if we didn’t eat any of our veggies then there we sat. Cannot forget the glass of milk either. I was healthy and in shape just by way of being a kid, and active, until I hit 7th grade. At that time I had already gone through puberty two years earlier, had curves, boobs and hit my adult-height of 5’4 1/2″.
I weighed 131 pounds and thought I was fat.
In all actuality I looked fantastic and was in shape! At the time I didn’t think I was fat because someone said I was. Instead I was in the 7th grade with so many girls who weren’t anywhere near puberty and still weighed around 95 pounds dripping wet. I was on a dance team both years of middle school and it was difficult being the only one wearing the largest top available for the uniform because of my chest. That year I was also in a girl’s weight lifting class because I didn’t want to take gym and try to climb the rope, which was never going to happen and so embarrassing. Because of that class I had legs any Hollywood actress would have died for and looking back my body was fantastic, but again, I thought I was fat.
Over the course of middle school I went through a rough patch. My good friends I had from over the years moved to the popular girls group (I didn’t fit in) and I was alone for the most part. Thus the beginning of eating my feelings. I would put on 30 pounds by the end of my 8th grade year. I also can’t forget the relentless teasing bullying I received because I had a larger chest than most girls, my weight issue, very short curly hair and a long German last name people easily made fun of. I was a walking billboard for boys and some girls to just pick at and I think that also led to my weight gain because I didn’t know how to handle it. Once I went to the recreation center with my mom to workout on the treadmill and a guy I went to school with saw me. The next day he made fun of me for working out because I was fat and told everyone I was trying to workout because I was “so fat”. I spent the lunch hour crying in the bathroom.
Throughout high school I maintained around 180 pounds, which for my height that is of course too much. I knew it but I didn’t do anything about it. My little effort to workout were a session here and there of step aerobics at the local community center or a kickboxing class. Basically I knew nothing about living healthy and working out with a good balance in life.
In college I lived at home and again gained more weight, hovering near 200 pounds, and worked as a carhop for a while at a fast food restaurant. Fast food, of all places to work, but all the speed walking I did improved my endurance and I soon found out I could run for 20-30 minutes at a time on a treadmill and not feel winded. I was shocked! When I graduated and moved to Colorado the running stopped because any physical effort felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. The lack of oxygen at 6,000 feet really makes a difference. Even then, at the age of 22 or so, I still didn’t know what I was doing with my health and exercise.
Not long after moving to Colorado Springs I started working in retail and with all the walking, squatting, lifting, moving displays and pulling a couch from the stack in the back stockroom, well, I started to shed weight. I dropped 25 pounds in about three months. Because of the physical nature of my job I was stronger and leaner than I had been in a long time.
A few years later I took a desk job, where I still work, and I believe every year my butt started to fill up the seat more and more. The weight has crept on and at times I somehow didn’t notice. Well, not until I woke up one day and my pants basically didn’t fit. How does that seem to happen overnight?!
I’m so sorry this is long. I promise it’ll end soon!
Since moving to Colorado in 2004 I have joined three gyms at various points throughout that time and never once attended the gym on a regular basis. Ever. I had good intentions. We all do. But I couldn’t/didn’t keep with it. When I was single I didn’t cook because I hated so many leftovers, plus I wasn’t all that knowledgeable in the kitchen. I joined Weight Watchers in early June 2009 and by the end of July I had lost 15 pounds! I was eating less and making better choices. I weighed 207 then, so before I lost the weight I was at my high of 222. My husband (fiancé at the time) was so helpful, encouraging and supportive because he too knew what it felt like to struggle with weight and several years earlier had lost 60+ pounds himself just moving more and eating less; however, three months after joining WW I lost motivation, I’m not sure where it went but it took a trip, and I stopped going to WW every week and following the plan.
I gained back the 15 pounds plus five more.
Then the year came to plan our wedding. People, I have never in my life been so stressed for such an extended period. I didn’t put on weight during that year and “maintained” but I also didn’t try to do anything about it. I didn’t think I could stick with it, like history had proved. The week of my wedding I lost five pounds and checked in at 227. While my dress was flattering for a woman my size and it was the only one I found that made me happy….I still felt like a whale on my wedding day. I should have felt amazing and beautiful. Instead I felt self-conscious.
Over the next year after our wedding I gained more weight settling into married life, comfort foods abound and eating out too much. Sometimes I was eating out for lunch during the work week every single day. Fast food is expensive. Fresh, healthy food is expensive. Food is just freakin’ expensive! I believe it was around August of 2011, right after I had finished another two month round with Weight Watchers and just didn’t stick with it, that I realized I was addicted to sugar and fast food. Exactly like an addict can be dependent on their drug of choice. My issue throughout my life has never been alcohol – I think most of it tastes horrible, or drugs – never tried a single one…but my issue was food. The problem with food is you need it to live. Well we need water more than food but you know what I mean. Every emotion I can experience I would attach food to celebrate, mourn, comfort, you name it. It’s a sickness.
By late October 2011 I finally met with my nurse practitioner and the rest is history on where I’m at now. Metabolic syndrome/PCOS, bad blood chemistry levels, lack of exercise, horrible diet and I was on the road to a questionable future. Plus I was so unhappy with myself it caused mild depression. I also worried I’d never have children because of my choices. Could I have possibly got pregnant at this weight? Yes. Would I have had issues? Yes. Did I want that to happen? No. I might be pushing it to wait to have a child because I turn 30 soon, but my husband and I both want me in a healthy place before we even start to think about kids until I’m ready.
And I’m on my way.
