I joined Bally's in March, and bought a personal training package, but was still too scared to actually go in to the gym and be trained. Gyms intimidate me. At this point I don't know why, because I am in decent physical shape. I can run for an hour on the treadmill and be ok. I can do the elliptical, and the bikes. But for some reason, anytime I stray from the cardio machines I get paralyzed with fear. Fear of people judging me as I struggle to use the weight machines, looking at me as the poor fat girl who must be on her two week crash diet. Also, the giant 'roided out guys who use the weight machines are scary and sweaty. I don't want to get in their way....ever. So when I finally got up the courage to go to the gym months later, I just avoided that section of the gym and ran.
For the past two years I have based my workouts solely around running, and racking up mileage. And it has worked. Running is probably the best cardio you can do. So, after two years of solely relying on myself, it was very hard for me to succumb to the idea that a personal trainer would really be able to help me. But I finally hit the point where I couldn't dedicate the time everyday to the increased mileage I was going to need to continue losing weight. My body had grown accustomed to my running routine, and I was at a plateau. I partly blame this on mono as well.
The FIRST thing my trainer has done is make me use weight machines. He has changed up every aspect of what I did at the gym. No more running on the treadmill. I walk on an incline at a fast clip. No more elliptical. I walk the treadmill sideways on an incline (WAY harder than it sounds). I do Jane Fonda style leg lifts. Squats. Lunges. Side crunches. And I am seeing results. All of these things are excercises I knew about -I own Kim Kardashian's Fit Into Your Jeans By Friday. But they are things I wasn't adding into my workouts because I thought pure sweat was enough.
You know what else is working - changing everything up. That P90X was not joking...muscle confusion really does help when you are trying to lose weight, and build and shape muscle. I was used to the exact same thing, using the exact same muscles, every day.
Not only has my trainer been able to shave a few inches off my thighs, but somehow, in the past month, I have gained the confidence to walk around the gym and use the different equipment, free weights, and mats on my own. I've started telling myself that I am NOT seen as the fat girl fumbling around with things she doesn't understand. I am the girl who has taken the initiative, and is working out just like every other person here. I'm just as good as Mr. Jersey Shore Muscles, and I have just as much of a right to be at this gym using the squat press machine as he does. Until he hovers around pointedly as I struggle to bust out a set of 20 squats - then I will hustle out of his way. What can I say...I have manners and choose carefully when I abide by them. :)
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Why Did I Get Fat?
Well, why does anyone. I love food. And eating. I think that's a big reason why I could never succumb to anorexia when I was a late tween struggling with being overweight. I thought about it. If I could just NOT EAT today, I'm sure I will lose at least two pounds. And then if I keep it up I'll be skinny by ____ (insert appropriate seasonal dance here). But in the end food always won out over the fantasy of having Jock Strap Joe standing under my bedroom window in his letterman jacket with a sign that said "I love you Erin. Make me the happiest popular kid in school and go to the dance with me.", and my newly waifish frame rushing down the stairs, into his waiting arms. (Romantic Comedy fan since 1992).
I don't really know where my love affair with calories began. It might be from the way my parents set up our food lives so seperately from theirs. Growing up we had the kid food and the adult food. Kids got Cheerios for breakfast. Mom and Dad had danish and coffee. I know now that it was just danish. But back then it was a forbidden fruit, and that made me even more curious about what was going into my meals, and theirs.
Which brings up another point - my parents knew nothing about nutrition. As kids we were fed macaroni, chicken nuggets and pizza. We had donuts for breakfast on the weekends, and candy on a fairly regular basis. I understand why - my mother had four of us at one time, and any kind of money/ time saving trick was helpful. Including television, which we were allowed to watch for long periods of time every day.
All of these factors added to why I got fat. I had food curiousity, poor nutritional education, and wasn't pushed to be active. But by the time I hit my 20's I should have been able to take the initiative and educate myself. Except I didn't. Which leads to the real reason why let food and eating take over my life.
It took me some time to work this out on my own. Hours of self analyzation as I laid in bed every night, full but still somehow empty. I was struggling with depression. My freshman year of college, the week before I turned 19 my mother walked away from our family. By then I had 5 siblings, and she put up a nasty custody battle for the youngest two so she could avoid paying child support for the next 13 years (the youngest was 5 at the time). At the end of the custody battle my father won, and I remember sitting in the courtroom as my mother's attorney took the court order from the Judge's clerk that talked about visitation with her "6 children every other weekend" and watched her attorney scratch out the number "6" and write in the names of just the two youngest.
At the time it just seemed like another moment that happened within a series of terrible events, and I pushed it out of my head. Three years later my mom tried to get back in contact with me. I was a senior in college at that time, heavy but no where near my rock bottom weight, and ended up meeting her for dinner a few times, thinking that she was finally realizing what she was missing out on. After six months of dinners, she asked me if I would testify against my father in court, on her behalf. Shocked, I of course said no, and she followed by telling me I would be subpoenaed if I didn't cooperate. I left dinner that night and never spoke with her again.
After that I put on weight very quickly. Within a year I put on almost a hundred pounds, although I maintained my friendships and an active social life. What I realize now is that I was not only eating and seeking comfort in food, but I was also using food as a way to stop a situation before it could even start. I was completely shutting myself down from loving anyone by making myself the most undesirable form of what I could be. I was using my fat as a security blanket so I would never have to feel the hot shooting pains of someone you trust have her lawyer scratch you off an order. Someone who you thought would unconditionally love you, severing all ties because they gew tired of the effort it took to maintain a two sided relationship. And while I was doing it to save myself, I know I was also doing it to save others. In the very back of my mind, constantly nagging me was (and still is) the idea that I could hurt someone too.
My mother's DNA makes up half of who I am. I see her mannerisms in things I do every day. I have the same hands and feet as her, the same ability to make conversation with strangers. My hair is the same color, we have the same shaped face. What if I inherited this same personality trait, and one day, long into the future, I too grew tired of the life I had developed with a husband and kids, and I walk away from them? I can say now that I would never do that, but what if? I think my mother had dreams of living a carefree suburban life, with cocktail parties and monthly vacations. Instead she had six children and a homebody husband whom she had to dedicate herself one hundred percent to. What if my family life becomes humdrum for me, and I feel so overwhelmed I just walk away?
So I did something that I have found I do a lot. I didn't deal directly with the problem. I avoided the issue, and ate myself into a life of solidarity and safety. Until I couldn't stand being alone any longer. I was 25 years old, in the prime of my youth, no boyfriend or prospective boyfriend, putting up a happy front for all my friends, as I drowned in pizza and chocolate. I was throwing away my life because I was too scared to deal with it.
And in a moment of rash bravery, I went out and bought a treadmill and slowly got to the point I am at right now. I am tired of letting a fear of the future keep me from living in the present. The mistakes of my mother shouldn't be defining who I am. They should guide me into being a better version of myself, and most importantly I need to realize that her mistake isn't my own. I don't have to follow in her footsteps even though we have the same feet. And one day, in the future, maybe I will find someone that I love and want to spend the rest of my life with him. And I can tell him about my fears, and if I ever do start to get an itch, we can talk about it and work through any problem together. And maybe I won't meet someone. But whatever the case may be, I am not hiding from the future anymore under layers of fat.
I don't really know where my love affair with calories began. It might be from the way my parents set up our food lives so seperately from theirs. Growing up we had the kid food and the adult food. Kids got Cheerios for breakfast. Mom and Dad had danish and coffee. I know now that it was just danish. But back then it was a forbidden fruit, and that made me even more curious about what was going into my meals, and theirs.
Which brings up another point - my parents knew nothing about nutrition. As kids we were fed macaroni, chicken nuggets and pizza. We had donuts for breakfast on the weekends, and candy on a fairly regular basis. I understand why - my mother had four of us at one time, and any kind of money/ time saving trick was helpful. Including television, which we were allowed to watch for long periods of time every day.
All of these factors added to why I got fat. I had food curiousity, poor nutritional education, and wasn't pushed to be active. But by the time I hit my 20's I should have been able to take the initiative and educate myself. Except I didn't. Which leads to the real reason why let food and eating take over my life.
It took me some time to work this out on my own. Hours of self analyzation as I laid in bed every night, full but still somehow empty. I was struggling with depression. My freshman year of college, the week before I turned 19 my mother walked away from our family. By then I had 5 siblings, and she put up a nasty custody battle for the youngest two so she could avoid paying child support for the next 13 years (the youngest was 5 at the time). At the end of the custody battle my father won, and I remember sitting in the courtroom as my mother's attorney took the court order from the Judge's clerk that talked about visitation with her "6 children every other weekend" and watched her attorney scratch out the number "6" and write in the names of just the two youngest.
At the time it just seemed like another moment that happened within a series of terrible events, and I pushed it out of my head. Three years later my mom tried to get back in contact with me. I was a senior in college at that time, heavy but no where near my rock bottom weight, and ended up meeting her for dinner a few times, thinking that she was finally realizing what she was missing out on. After six months of dinners, she asked me if I would testify against my father in court, on her behalf. Shocked, I of course said no, and she followed by telling me I would be subpoenaed if I didn't cooperate. I left dinner that night and never spoke with her again.
After that I put on weight very quickly. Within a year I put on almost a hundred pounds, although I maintained my friendships and an active social life. What I realize now is that I was not only eating and seeking comfort in food, but I was also using food as a way to stop a situation before it could even start. I was completely shutting myself down from loving anyone by making myself the most undesirable form of what I could be. I was using my fat as a security blanket so I would never have to feel the hot shooting pains of someone you trust have her lawyer scratch you off an order. Someone who you thought would unconditionally love you, severing all ties because they gew tired of the effort it took to maintain a two sided relationship. And while I was doing it to save myself, I know I was also doing it to save others. In the very back of my mind, constantly nagging me was (and still is) the idea that I could hurt someone too.
My mother's DNA makes up half of who I am. I see her mannerisms in things I do every day. I have the same hands and feet as her, the same ability to make conversation with strangers. My hair is the same color, we have the same shaped face. What if I inherited this same personality trait, and one day, long into the future, I too grew tired of the life I had developed with a husband and kids, and I walk away from them? I can say now that I would never do that, but what if? I think my mother had dreams of living a carefree suburban life, with cocktail parties and monthly vacations. Instead she had six children and a homebody husband whom she had to dedicate herself one hundred percent to. What if my family life becomes humdrum for me, and I feel so overwhelmed I just walk away?
So I did something that I have found I do a lot. I didn't deal directly with the problem. I avoided the issue, and ate myself into a life of solidarity and safety. Until I couldn't stand being alone any longer. I was 25 years old, in the prime of my youth, no boyfriend or prospective boyfriend, putting up a happy front for all my friends, as I drowned in pizza and chocolate. I was throwing away my life because I was too scared to deal with it.
And in a moment of rash bravery, I went out and bought a treadmill and slowly got to the point I am at right now. I am tired of letting a fear of the future keep me from living in the present. The mistakes of my mother shouldn't be defining who I am. They should guide me into being a better version of myself, and most importantly I need to realize that her mistake isn't my own. I don't have to follow in her footsteps even though we have the same feet. And one day, in the future, maybe I will find someone that I love and want to spend the rest of my life with him. And I can tell him about my fears, and if I ever do start to get an itch, we can talk about it and work through any problem together. And maybe I won't meet someone. But whatever the case may be, I am not hiding from the future anymore under layers of fat.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The Beginning of the End
I guess this one needs to be the serious post. The post where I tell you my story, and why I've decided to memorialize it in the diet bloggers world. The post where you find out how I've been overweight my entire life, up and down, doing fad diet after fad diet (Ahh, Atkins...Baggie full of bacon for a snack? That's GOT to be good for you), some working but most not, and still always ending up back at square one plus ten, fifteen, or twenty pounds.
I feel like I have been dieting for years. It's on and off, fueled by bursts of motivation coming in the form of weddings, vacations, or (yikes) summer. This past diet has been about two years now. -I wonder if that's actually just called a lifestyle change? - Well, whatever it is technically defined as, I have decided that I am technically fed up with trying to get thin. I want this journey to finally end.
It's not that this has been a horrible two years for me, or two years filled with bean sprouts and Splenda. It's actually been a great period in my life, to be quite honest. Prior to the start of the Light Era (see what I did there?) I was suffocating under my weight and self image. Looking back now, I'm fairly certain I hated myself. I had let myself go, become this giant obese person, who avoided mirrors, shopped only at places like Old Navy ( Where the same trendy clothes came in size chubby as well), and lied to herself every night before going to bed that tomorrow she would start her diet.
I'm not sure what exactly made me go out and get serious. I honestly can't remember if it's because my size 22 jeans were getting to tight to zip, I could barely breath when I had to walk up the stairs to get to the el platform, or because I was sick of being the token fat girl when I went out with my friends. The funny girl that the guys only talked to to show my friends that they were decent human beings. Most likely a combination of all three, and the fact that I couldn't lie to myself anymore and pretend like I was happy with a body that I didn't seem to own any more.
So I went and bought a treadmill....and put it in my tiny, closet sized bedroom, squeezed in behind the door, right next to my bed and nine inch television. Why didn't I run outside? Or join a gym? Because fat people do not like to be seen sweating through the nine layers of tshirts we wear while working out, in the hopes that the excessive amounts of poly-cotton blend will compress our wobbly bits while we bounce around. Personally, I also don't like to be struggling to walk up a treadmill incline of 3, while Abby Rock Hard Abs is cruising along next to me, with her legs going at the speed of Super Sonic, and her hair still perfectly coiffed.
So I bought a treadmill. And even though my 300 pound frame couldn't run for more than two minutes at a time, I used the treadmill every day, for at least thirty minutes a day. I started by walking on an incline for fifteen minutes, running for two, walking for 15, and finishing by running another two. I changed up my diet a little bit. Not a lot. I still went out on the weekends, and I ate pizza and chocolate, but I incorporated more vegetables and lean proteins. And by the end of two weeks I had lost almost twelve pounds.
For anyone who is trying to lose weight, you'll know that when you see the first giant pound drop, it's like a drug after that. You want more, and you want it fast. So I started changing my diet more, eating oatmeal for breakfast, interspersing healthy snacks throughout the day, and not eating anything after 8 at night. I added situps and 5-lb weights to my workouts, and within two months I had lost another twenty five pounds.
My stamina built up, my muscles got stronger, and I began being able to run for longer amounts of time. By January of the following year (almost one full year after I had started), I was able to run about 4 miles, at about a 17 minute pace.
As the year went on, I lost more and more weight. I was down to a size 16 pant, and I felt great about myself. I knew that nothing could stop me from finishing this, and reaching a goal I had set for myself. I wanted to be a size 8. That's all. My actual weight didn't bother me anymore. I just wanted to be able to fit into fun, trendy clothes, and not have to constantly put something back on the rack when it didn't fit, or didn't fit right.
Then I got Mono. Has anyone ever had mono? It's probably the worst virus ever/ coupled with the best side effects. I was tired and lethargic ALL the time....but I didn't eat anything. I was never hungry, and within two months I lost almost 20 pounds. It was amazing. And then I started getting better....and ravenous. But I wasnt able to run like I had before. My doctor told me my liver and spleen could rupture. So I started packing on the pounds that I had lost through my Mono-rexia, and because I had also lost muscle mass, the weight that came back on looked even worse. It was the jiggly fat, the cellulite kind, that's almost impossible to get rid of. Even after I had been cleared by my doctor to resume running, and I started on a workout/ diet regime again, nothing would come off. Something had happened to my metabolism while I had mono, and I honestly had no idea what to do to fix it.
I kept plugging away on the treadmill, racking up miles, losing five pounds one week, and gaining it back when I started my period. It was so frustrating. Which is what finally led me to try something I had scoffed at up until that point. I have a very good, Do It Yourself attitude, and have never understood why someone would need a personal trainer when they can just go out, read up on workout routines, and hit the gym. I had bought P90x, tried it myself, couldnt laugh for almost a week after the ab routine, and decided that I might need a trained professional to help me with my workouts.
Which is where I am at right now. Documenting my final stand against flab. I hired a trainer, I'm watching what I eat, and I'm chronicling all of my failures and successes until I reach what I've been ultimately trying to reach all my life. Thinner thighs, inner peace, and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of. Join me.
I feel like I have been dieting for years. It's on and off, fueled by bursts of motivation coming in the form of weddings, vacations, or (yikes) summer. This past diet has been about two years now. -I wonder if that's actually just called a lifestyle change? - Well, whatever it is technically defined as, I have decided that I am technically fed up with trying to get thin. I want this journey to finally end.
It's not that this has been a horrible two years for me, or two years filled with bean sprouts and Splenda. It's actually been a great period in my life, to be quite honest. Prior to the start of the Light Era (see what I did there?) I was suffocating under my weight and self image. Looking back now, I'm fairly certain I hated myself. I had let myself go, become this giant obese person, who avoided mirrors, shopped only at places like Old Navy ( Where the same trendy clothes came in size chubby as well), and lied to herself every night before going to bed that tomorrow she would start her diet.
I'm not sure what exactly made me go out and get serious. I honestly can't remember if it's because my size 22 jeans were getting to tight to zip, I could barely breath when I had to walk up the stairs to get to the el platform, or because I was sick of being the token fat girl when I went out with my friends. The funny girl that the guys only talked to to show my friends that they were decent human beings. Most likely a combination of all three, and the fact that I couldn't lie to myself anymore and pretend like I was happy with a body that I didn't seem to own any more.
So I went and bought a treadmill....and put it in my tiny, closet sized bedroom, squeezed in behind the door, right next to my bed and nine inch television. Why didn't I run outside? Or join a gym? Because fat people do not like to be seen sweating through the nine layers of tshirts we wear while working out, in the hopes that the excessive amounts of poly-cotton blend will compress our wobbly bits while we bounce around. Personally, I also don't like to be struggling to walk up a treadmill incline of 3, while Abby Rock Hard Abs is cruising along next to me, with her legs going at the speed of Super Sonic, and her hair still perfectly coiffed.
So I bought a treadmill. And even though my 300 pound frame couldn't run for more than two minutes at a time, I used the treadmill every day, for at least thirty minutes a day. I started by walking on an incline for fifteen minutes, running for two, walking for 15, and finishing by running another two. I changed up my diet a little bit. Not a lot. I still went out on the weekends, and I ate pizza and chocolate, but I incorporated more vegetables and lean proteins. And by the end of two weeks I had lost almost twelve pounds.
For anyone who is trying to lose weight, you'll know that when you see the first giant pound drop, it's like a drug after that. You want more, and you want it fast. So I started changing my diet more, eating oatmeal for breakfast, interspersing healthy snacks throughout the day, and not eating anything after 8 at night. I added situps and 5-lb weights to my workouts, and within two months I had lost another twenty five pounds.
My stamina built up, my muscles got stronger, and I began being able to run for longer amounts of time. By January of the following year (almost one full year after I had started), I was able to run about 4 miles, at about a 17 minute pace.
As the year went on, I lost more and more weight. I was down to a size 16 pant, and I felt great about myself. I knew that nothing could stop me from finishing this, and reaching a goal I had set for myself. I wanted to be a size 8. That's all. My actual weight didn't bother me anymore. I just wanted to be able to fit into fun, trendy clothes, and not have to constantly put something back on the rack when it didn't fit, or didn't fit right.
Then I got Mono. Has anyone ever had mono? It's probably the worst virus ever/ coupled with the best side effects. I was tired and lethargic ALL the time....but I didn't eat anything. I was never hungry, and within two months I lost almost 20 pounds. It was amazing. And then I started getting better....and ravenous. But I wasnt able to run like I had before. My doctor told me my liver and spleen could rupture. So I started packing on the pounds that I had lost through my Mono-rexia, and because I had also lost muscle mass, the weight that came back on looked even worse. It was the jiggly fat, the cellulite kind, that's almost impossible to get rid of. Even after I had been cleared by my doctor to resume running, and I started on a workout/ diet regime again, nothing would come off. Something had happened to my metabolism while I had mono, and I honestly had no idea what to do to fix it.
I kept plugging away on the treadmill, racking up miles, losing five pounds one week, and gaining it back when I started my period. It was so frustrating. Which is what finally led me to try something I had scoffed at up until that point. I have a very good, Do It Yourself attitude, and have never understood why someone would need a personal trainer when they can just go out, read up on workout routines, and hit the gym. I had bought P90x, tried it myself, couldnt laugh for almost a week after the ab routine, and decided that I might need a trained professional to help me with my workouts.
Which is where I am at right now. Documenting my final stand against flab. I hired a trainer, I'm watching what I eat, and I'm chronicling all of my failures and successes until I reach what I've been ultimately trying to reach all my life. Thinner thighs, inner peace, and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of. Join me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)