Sunday, May 09, 2010

The beginning of the end.

(I'm archiving my first diet blogs. So this is one of them. October 1, 2009)


*SPOILER ALERT!*

This blog may contain words of a graphic nature, like "stretchmarks" and "fat". Reader Discretion is advised.

So this is the first entry of my new diary. My new diet diary. Ugh. I have been sitting with insomnia for the last week, and I have been too tired and sleepy (and lazy) to do something constructive, like...oh I don't know...clean my house? Everytime I go up my 15 stairs, my heart is beating and I'm out of breath. My feet hurt the minute I get on them. I can't wrap my towel around me anymore. I won't let my husband see me butt naked anymore. I'm tired. I'm just so tired.

So this is it. I had my 29th birthday at 241 pounds. 241 pounds! I'll share my weight history with you: When I was in high school I weighed between 130 and 140 pounds. Between me and my sister, I was the smaller one (if you know my sister, you're probably thinking, "say whaaaaaa?" I would give my pinky finger for my sister's willpower!). When I first got weighed in when I got pregnant with my son, I was 150 pounds on the dot, and I thought I was such a heffer! I gained 51 pounds when I was pregnant, and other than the stretchmarks, I thought once he was out, my 201 pound body would pop back to my normal size. I mean, Pamela Anderson did it right? Right?!? And all was right with the world: By his first birthday, I was 159 pounds. A little more meat. When I look back at those pictures I would die to be 159 pounds right now! Back then, I thought I was a cow. Fitting in size Large, cmon!!!

Then came "THE BAD RELATIONSHIP". Women, I think we all have one, right? Totally destructive and just not right, but comfortable. I gained about 20 pounds in nine months. Then I met this great guy, who turned out to be not so great when it came to my waistline. I was so happy, I gained weight. Then I was so depressed at the lack of...shall we say...support... that I gained weight. When I left that relationship, I was 221 pounds. I was starting to be able to fit in a size 20/22. I had to box all of my Paul Frank shirts. I have a box of clothes that says "DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 150 POUNDS!". It stares me in the face when I open my garage.

I got lucky, I became great friends (and then lovers) with a great guy with a great body. As terrible as this sounds, I was almost envious that he was diabetic:sugars=death. I feel like such a bastard for saying that, I wouldn't wish diabetes on anyone (*prays that 241 pound me doesn't get stricken with it*). He was awesome. Back then I could punch him for pushing me so hard, saying things like, "You don't NEED that", "That's what a fat girl would eat!", and teaching me how to kickbox, which is just the coolest workout ever. The new motivated me even pushed myself to get my dream job, and I gradually went down to 180 pounds and a size 12. The cool thing about size 12 is you can shop at "normal" stores, like Hot Topic and The Gap and Urban Outfitters. Eventually, my lack of willpower I've had since maybe in the womb (my baby book has my mom saying when I came into this world "I was starving and sucking my thumb") got the best of me, and I hovered between 180-200 pounds for a good 4 years.

Then I met "THE PERFECT GUY". The one that loves every nook and cranny of you, the one that shares the turkey leg with you and drinks the gravy! I was so comfortable and happy that I gained weight. (Uh oh, I know how this ends!) Then, me being me, the chaos of a brand new life-being married, knowing I have to have someone depend on me, a 50-hour workweek IN A RESTAURANT no less, my willpower went the way of Michael Jackson's blackness. It disappeared.

Now I'm writing at 241 pounds. Losing weight won't be easy. Or fun. But you know what's also not fun? Having to wear sweat pants because none of your pants fit. None. Having 3 stores available for all of your clothing choices. A mu-mu is not a good look for a 29-year-old, believe me. It's so embarrassing having a fatty food in public-I just know someone is looking at me, thinking "why is she eating that? Doesn't she know how fat she is?" I was one of those people that could not understand how someone could get to 500 pounds, immobile. Oh, I get it now. It's soooooo easy. If I don't stop eating, that will be me on TLC saying, "I wash myself with a rag on a stick". So this is it, I make a promise, a commitment to be 80 pounds less by my 30th birthday-a year from now. Thats 6 pounds a month for 12 months. I gained a pound a week in 10 months, I can lose it, right? *crosses fingers*. To anyone that reads this, please encourage, support, and pray for me. And slap the donut out of my hand if you see one. :)

*hed

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