Finally Getting Fit

I conquered the breakroom treat temptation.

I ate a healthy dinner of whole grain pasta, maranara sauce, and whole wheat bread.

And when I desperately wanted to drive to the store for ice cream (then caramel corn… then Double Stuffed Oreos…) I resisted. Even when my hubby said, “Yeah, if you go to the store, I could use something to drink.” That would have been the perfect excuse for me. Well, he needs some Gatorade. I have to go. Since I’m going, a little snack won’t hurt…

But I didn’t go. It may sound absolutely ridiculous that I’m writing about this. But I’m pretty darn proud of myself. I went to bed a little hungry. And you know what? That’s a good thing.

Well, the flu is almost out of my system. Good news: I don’t feel like shit. Bad news: my appetite is coming back.

But so far I’ve made good choices today. Not fries at lunch– a side salad. No cinamon roll from the breakroom. No Hershey’s kisses wrapped in red and green from the receptionist’s desk.

And we’ve already planned for dinner tonight. Spagetti. That’s pretty good for a vegetarian, since the noodles and sauce don’t really contain a ton of calories and fat. Garlic bread? That will be the test.

As far as working out goes, I will give it a try when I go home. I couldn’t get my lazy butt out of bed this morning to work out, of course, but the day is not over. Besides, I made my sweet hubby move a bunch of crap around. The least I can do it use the darn bike.

Just as I’m writing this and email came out to the whole office about special treats in the breakroom. Lord, give me strength…

PS– if you’re interested in vegetarian stuff, check out this blog: www.livingwithoutmeat.com

Thanksgiving wasn’t as bad as it could have bee, food-wise, but right after that I got the stomach flu. Nasty. I’m still feeling really weak. I had to sit down while brushing my teeth this morning. Uck. So, that’s one way to lose weight. A horrible way.

Working out may not happen for me today, although my hubby did rearrange our spare room so that I could use our stationary bike. It had been sort of shoved into a corner and surrounded with boxes. So there is nothing stopping me now! Except that I feel terrible.

I’ll have to think of something clever to write about later, as my brain is still mushy from illness.

Well, yesterday wasn’t horrible. But I still didn’t work out like I had planned all day. Maybe because my hubby worked a late shift and I had some alone time. So watching TV and taking a nap on the couch won out. But I had a semi-healthy breakfast, a pretty healthy lunch, and a semi-healthy dinner.

Today is going even better, food wise. I was just aching for a mid-afternoon snack and remembered I had some baked tortilla chips in my desk, so I avoided the black hole of the vending machine in the break room. It’s too easy to press G7 for M&Ms instead of A4 for pretzels. Not that pretzels are all that great. Anyway.

I can see that working out is going to be a challenge, but I am convinced that it will be absolutely crucial to my success. I think I’m going to have to commit to the unthinkable: early-morning workouts.

I love sleeping. I love my cozy bed and blankets. And I already have to wake up fairly early because of my long commute. These are my roadblocks.

The positive aspects of working out in the morning is that I’ll feel good about it all day, I’ll only have to shower once (which my skin will appreciate), and I won’t have other things popping up in that time period like friends wanting to go to happy hour, choir (yes, I’m in a choir and I know I’m a dork), shopping with my mom, or just really wanting to relax after work.

Now I just have to wake the hell up. We’ll give it a shot tomorrow and see if Workout Heather wins or Sleepy Heather. Cross your fingers– Sleepy Heather can be a real bitch!

PS– if you find yourself sleeping all the time and missing out on life, you may want to check out this blog: www.depressiontalkonline.com. Sleeping is my number one reaction to feeling depressed.

Well, my self-sabotaging won out. I am weak. The weekend was a disaster.

But today is a new day.

I think I need a little inner-motivation and inspiration, so I’m going to list all the reasons I have for wanting to lose weight. Here it is (in no particular order):

- I want to be able to shop in any store and find a normal size– not plus. This way, I can go shopping with my skinny friends and not feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.

- I want to wear cute clothes, too. Not that I don’t think Lane Bryant and Torrid have some great clothes– they totally do. But I’m too self-conscious to wear anything wild or super trendy. My clothing philosophy now is blend-in-with-the-woodwork and don’t-look-at-me. I feel like I’m dressing for a different personality, just to hide my body.

- I want my husband to think I’m hot. And, as I’ve said before, my husband is incredibly sweet and always tells me that I’m beautiful. And maybe he does think that on some level. But when I lose weight, I’ll have more confidence. And that might lead me to undressing in front of him with the lights on, maybe jumping in the shower with him, wearing cute lingerie, and basically feeling good about myself. Confidence is sexy.

- I want more energy. Right now, if I could, I’d take a nap everyday. I feel sluggish when I wake up. I don’t want to go out and do anything even remotely athletic. But if I shed some of this extra weight I’m lugging around, perhaps I’d be up for a bike ride, a hike, dancing, or whatever. Even running up a flight of stairs would be great if it didn’t result in huffing and puffing.

- I want to feel comfortable in all situations. (Physically, anyway. I am aware that my inner-crazy won’t let me feel mentally comfortable all the time.) This means sitting in a roller coaster seat, wearing a bridesmaid dress, being in photos, looking at said photos, squeezing into a booth at a restaurant, going to the beach (including wearing swim wear in public– eek!), going for seconds in a buffet line, and every other moment where I immediately focus on my own weight and not much else.

I think of all the life I’m missing out on because I’m constantly worried about what other people think of me and how I feel about myself. Having this all written out makes me think that perhaps I should start working on some other issues along with my body.

Last night I had sort of a “last hurrah.” Spinach and cheese pizza (three slices) and a piece of Oreo cheesecake. As delicious as it was, I actually felt a little sick afterwards. Maybe the grease combined with the guilt made my stomach churn a bit. But, today’s a new day, right?

Well, the new day isn’t that great, either. While I haven’t eaten any actual food yet, I’m already thinking about what a disaster today will be.

I haven’t gone grocery shopping to stock my kitchen full of healthy snacks (Here’s a good tip for those of your shopping for healthy treats: www.nutritionfrenzy.com). And when I’m hungry, I know I’ll just go for whatever is already there. And what’s there is mac and cheese, Eggos, and leftover spinach and cheese pizza. Not good.

And it’s Friday. You’re thinking, what does that have to do with anything? Well, in my twisted mind, I’m already coming up with excuses not to exercise and begin today. Diets and exercise programs should always start on Mondays. I should just go shopping this weekend and start fresh Monday. Even as I type this, I’m thinking I probably won’t work out today. I suck.

So, today’s ultimate challenge will be to work out for 30 minutes. Either a walk or on my dusty stationary bike. I’ll probably forage for food around my kitchen, but will try not to go crazy. Tomorrow– the grocery store.

I’m fat.

There, I said it. I’m fat.

I don’t know why it’s so difficult for me to admit this. I mean, I own mirrors. I buy clothing. I know I am on some level; I’d be insane to not know.

But on some other level, I guess I don’t really consider myself to be a “fat person.” Maybe it’s because I’ve always viewed it as a temporary situation. And yet I’ve been fat for about six years now.

Six years… I’ve never actually calculated the time I’ve spent fat until just now. Yikes.

I feel like I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

I’ve been chubby my whole life. And I’ve always been hyper-aware of that fact. Constantly comparing myself to others. Always worried how my body looks in clothing. One of my first weight-related memories was watching my mom stand on a bathroom scale. I don’t even remember how old I was– second grade? Third grade? I stepped on the scale after her and I asked her if I should loose weight. She said it wouldn’t hurt for me to lose a few pounds. I immediately ran outside and rode my little purple-unicorn-seat bike hard until my face was red hot and I panted like a dog. Then I ran upstairs and jumped on the scale, only to see that the needle remained on the same number.

High school was pretty normal for me; even kind of fun. I had friends. I participated in stuff. I had a boyfriend whom I ended up marrying. But I was chubby the whole time. And the self-consciousness took away a lot of joy. Same with college. I was around a size 12.

The ironic thing is, is that I’d kill to be that weight now. I think I’d look damn good. Just goes to show you that everything is relative.

Once I got out of college and started sitting on my ass everyday in a cubical, I started slowly gaining weight. Between potlucks, birthday cakes, eating out for lunch every day, and general laziness, I slowly crept up to a size 20.

My turning point came on a Saturday night. I was with a group of friends and we were bar-hopping downtown. We were walking into one of the “cooler” clubs single-file, making our way to the back, when I heard someone shout, “Hey, Fatty!” And I knew it was meant for me.

I was the last in line, so my friends kept walking, not knowing I had stopped in my tracks. I turned around and through some kind of unusual confidence (probably alcohol-induced), I asked him what the @#$% he had said. He just looked at me with complete contempt and said, “Keep walking.”

I spent some time in the bathroom crying after that, and then felt thankful that the club was dark and my friends wouldn’t be able to tell I that I had been crying. Not because I was proud, but because I was humiliated and didn’t want to explain what had happened.

That memory is forever burned into my psyche.

After that, I did end up losing 27 pounds, and was down to a size 16. I used Weight Watchers online, and it was great. I got compliments at work all the time, my family seemed proud of me, and I just felt better about myself. My husband has always professed that I was sexier than Julia Roberts (I know– isn’t he fantastic?), so he just continued to praise me. I bought new clothes and began to see myself going all the way.

Then I got lazy again.

So here I am. (Image from myvirtualmodel.com) It is November 15, 2007. I am 29 years old. I weigh 205 lbs. I am 5′ 5″. I wear a size 18. And I am frickin’ sick of this.

So today is day one. I’ll write in this blog every week, five days a week, and talk about what I’m doing to get on track, what I’m feeling, the challenges I’m facing, and the successes (hopefully) along the way.

Wish me luck.

And, PS: If you have “issues” like me, check out this blog: www.mental-emotionalhealth.com