So, here goes my first entry. I thought, for a short moment, that creating this blog was a bad idea. Displaying my weaknesses, my struggles for all to see didn't sound very appealing. Then I realized that this may be what it takes to push me to the point that I need to be. I come from a big, loving family. No, not big as in F, but big as in, I have 5 brothers, 3 sisters and two incredible parents. I am currently engaged to my best friend, my anchor and the love of my life. I grew up in Colorado and will never leave. This place is gorgeous!
When I was in elementary and middle school, my friends always told me I was big boned.....but I knew that they really meant the F word. The worst word in the world. I hated hearing it then and I hate hearing it now. Fat. FAT. FAT. FAT. It's a disgusting word, a loaded bullet that tears into you when someone says it. The first time I remember someone implying that I was fat, I was in 4th grade. Luckily, he didn't leave me so wounded that I remember his name, thankfully. He told me that when I walked, there was an earthquake. I'm sure he ripped it off from a "Yo Momma's So Fat" joke, but it didn't matter. It hurt my feelings. I cried, and got over it later that week I am sure. One year, in middle school, we all went to a water park, and I remember being horrified at the idea. I was the girl that brought the t-shirt. It was my armor. I figured that it would protect me somehow. I tried to get out of it (not the t-shirt, the field trip), but I couldn't. Thankfully, I survived with only small scratches. The name calling continued through school. I let it bother me, being the sensitive soul that I am, but not for too long. I remember trying to lose weight in high school. I would work out, usually on the treadmill, and then go weigh myself immediately after, hoping I would see results that fast. Silly girl.
Things got harder, as they do, when I got older. I was always the one to try the weight loss pills, which never, ever worked. I had a personal trainer, several times, but couldn't always afford it and would fall off the wagon. That wagon is the hardest damn wagon I have ever had to stay on. Finally, in 2008, I worked with a personal trainer twice a week and worked out on my own 4 days a week. I wrote down everything I ate and cut my calories to 1500 per day. I was hungry all the time. It wasn't fun, but the results were amazing. I lost 40 lbs. over 6 months. I went from 238 lbs. to 198 lbs. Getting below the 200 mark was the most amazing feeling in the world. I was so proud! I reached 198 lbs. in November of 2008. I met my love, Justin, in April of 2009...then made the move to Chicago to be with him. I was happy and in love. I severely neglected my efforts to keep my weight below 200 lbs. In July of 2009, the weight started creeping back on, slowly but surely. My workouts went down to 3 weekly, if I was feeling ambitious, and I started eating more than my daily allowance of calories. I also stopped writing down what I ate, which was detrimental to my success.
From 2009 to the Fall of 2011, I let myself gain all the weight I had worked SO hard to take off. Getting on the scale was miserable. I tried to hide it for a while, but finally dusted it off and took it out again when Justin proposed. We were engaged in October of 2011, which is when my struggle began again to take off the weight I had lost, and gained back again. Only, I wanted to do it bigger, better, stronger and faster than I ever had before. I had a wedding to look fabulous for, the ultimate motivation!!! Well, yea, that's what I thought. Only a month went by, and I had only lost a pound. Another month, a few more pounds. Here we are, two months from my August wedding, and I have only taken 22 pounds off of my 5'9", 240lb. frame. Yikes! Yes, I've got some work to do. I won't discount the fact that I have worked hard to take off those 22 lbs., but c'mon, I can do better than that. I KNOW I can. Although, the big 3-0 is coming up at the end of this month, maybe things are getting harder as I approach my 30's?
My goal, for the next two months, is to make (almost) every meal healthy, with the exception of my birthday and bachelorette party. Nobody should be deprived on either of those days. I want to walk down that aisle and feel as beautiful as Justin thinks I am. I want to go try on clothes and know that I look great in something. No muffin top, no back fat (yes, gross), and no speedbag arms. I want to leave the fitting room with something to buy other than a purse, or an accessory that I KNOW will fit without trying on. I know that all I need to do, is burn more calories then I eat. It's not magic. There is no secret. Just pure willpower and motivation, which I know will come hard many days, but I'm willing to fight tooth and nail for it.
Here we go!