Putting on a freshly washed pair of skinny jeans is the best way to ruin your day.

Seriously.  Like, I swear they were loose yesterday.  Ugh.

Sometimes I put them on without buttoning them up and do lunges around my room to stretch them out.  Sometimes I just dig through the laundry and find the least gross pair that's already been stretched out.

My muffin top plans its escape as soon as the zipper gores up.

So to cheer myself up let me tell you this: there has been PROGRESS.  How exciting.  I weighed myself a few weeks ago and was down to 170lbs.  So 4lbs isn't a whole lot, but I've noticed my body feels different.  My jeans fit a little better around the waist even though I might have only lost an eighth of an inch, tops.  My tummy also looks different.  Instead of looking like a half a hard boiled egg stuck to my gut, it looks like half a hard boiled egg with the sides pinched in.  I can also see my ribs and parts of my hip bones.  Hurrah!  

The best part is the increase my fitness ability.  I've been running/jogging intervals of 4-6km a day on my treadmill with 2lb hand weights.  When I started I could only go for 30 seconds, now I can sustain a jog for almost 9 minutes.  I'm also getting muscles where I never knew there were muscles in my legs and my arms.  WEIRD.

Like this one.

Aaaaand this one.

I'm trying really hard to focus on this particular stuff.  Looking at the measurements and the scale, there isn't really much change at all; there definitely isn't the kind of body melting off progress I saw when I was on a ketosis diet.  So instead I need to pay attention to the other cues: muscles, fitness, feeling better, feeling stronger.  A lot of the time its so easy to focus on the numbers that its hard to realize all the other stuff that's happening.  Instead of honing in on end goals like size and looks, I need to make sure I keep focusing on having being fit, being healthy, and just feeling better as my main priorities.  This is what is important, these are the good things to strive for.  It really doesn't matter what size I am, it just matters that I feel good and have the physical ability to do all the things I want to do.

I am getting better.  For realsies.  This means I definitely can't give up.

Inspiration.

Allie Brosh is posting again.

Holy shit.  I cannot begin to express how exciting this is.

If you've never heard of Allie and Hyperbole and a Half its a blog about Allie's life and experiences.  

Yep, this is Allie.  I bet you've heard of this.

She's honest, blunt, and funny; she tells it how it is and makes you realize that you're not alone.  Have you ever felt like everyone but you has their shit together?  Like being a grown up is easy for everyone and you can't seem to muster up the strength to buy groceries?  Have you ever started crying for no reason in particular because it just seemed like the only thing you could do at the time?  As cliche as it sounds knowing that someone else feels like I do somehow makes it easier.  Peppered in with cute stories about her derpy dogs and childhood memories, her battles with adulthood and depression have hit home for me.  When I start feeling like every day is a struggle, I just read some Hyperbole and a Half and I feel just a little bit better.  Sometimes that little bit is all I need to make it until bed time.

So what does this have to do with weight loss?  Not much.  The better question is what does it have to do with inspiration?  A whole lot.

Since I've started this blog only 6 posts ago I've had an unimaginable and incredible response from so many people.  Some close friends, some acquaintances, some random people from the interwebs.

Thank you.  Really.

Sometimes I find it difficult to express sincerity without religion or archaic sayings that don't make any sense.  However, a long, long time ago someone told me that if I really mean it don't just say thanks, always take the time to say thank you.  So thank you, and know that I really, really mean it.

Even though this blog doesn't have the kind of cult following that Allie has amassed, I had no idea so many people would read it and be genuinely inspired and immensely supportive.  You are all so amazing.

My first motivation for this blog was to keep myself accountable.  As I've said before, if I put it all out there and say things out loud I can't hide behind my own excuses.  I'm fat.  I out of shape.  I gained weight.  I have a very unhealthy relationship with food.  My binging behaviour is embarrassing.  The excuses I've made for the shape I'm in are even more embarrassing.  I can't take these things back, I can't rationalize them anymore, and I can't magic them away into the land of make believe inside my head.

Once things are on the internet, they're out there forever.  FOREVER.

If even one person read this, I'd be elated, so this unexpected side effect of my shitty experiences helping people...well, wow.  Just wow.  I'm excited for everyone who has decided to to something to make themselves better.  Even teeny tiny little things.  Every victory is still a victory, no matter how small.

I think I have mentioned how I couldn't have made it this far without support, and for me this blog is part of that support.  Everyone who tries, who struggles, who picks themselves back up again, that takes it one day at a time, you are all my inspirations.  Thank you.

Ugh.

This post is going to be short and sweet, but necessary.

So how bad did it get, really?

I recently had the (mis)fortune of stepping on a scale.  I'm just going to throw it right out there: 174lbs.  That's 11lbs over where I was last summer.  Ok ok, I expected some of that.  The ketosis diet I was on makes you lose most of your water weight, and when you start eating carbs again you gain it all back.  If I remember correctly that can be anywhere from 3-7lbs.

So what excuses can I dig up for the remaining 4-8lbs?  Ummm let's see, I have built a lot more muscle in the last couple of weeks, I was wearing clothes when I weighed myself, I just finished a big meal.  If I try hard enough I could rationalize every extra pound and tell myself I didn't gain any weight.  Too bad that's a big fat lie.

This is something I've done a lot.  I would obviously gain weight and lie to myself about it.  Putting on some of the summer clothes I haven't worn since last year they definitely don't fit like they should, even after I started eating carbs again.

Here is where I take a second to be really furious with myself.  Here is where I feel like a failure and think of the people who told me I was just going to gain it all back.  Here is where I feel like it was a terrible idea to get rid of all my fat clothes and I should just accept the fact that I will never be able to get fit.

I think I cycle through the 5 stages of grief every time I gain.  Unfortunately I spend way too much time in the denial and depression stages for my own good.  This time I think I'll just fast forward to acceptance.

I weigh 174lbs.  I am a size bigger than I was last year.  If I say it out loud I can't hide behind my excuses anymore.  Now I keep doing something about it.

The Relapse.

I have a confession to make:  I'm not perfect.  Shocking I know.  Underneath my resolve lies a flawed, fallible, imperfect being capable of making mistakes.  Many, many mistakes.  Someone recently told me something along the lines of the more she got to know me, the more she realized I was just as messed up at the rest of us.  Hooo boy, did she ever hit the nail on the head.  (Thanks, Kait).  So while my posts so far have been stories of triumph over adversity, I think it's time I tell you about the last year of my life since I dropped to 163lbs on the ketosis diet.

In a word: oops.  I fell off the proverbial wagon, and some times, I fell hard.  Here are the fatty fat fat things that happened starting the end of August and the end of my diet:

- A wedding

- 9 day trip eating our way down the eastern seaboard and back

- Boy's graduation weekend

- My birthday party/boy is home for a week before getting posted party

- (Canadian) thanksgiving x2

Oh yeah.  Gimmie that gravy baby.

So with all those food happy events for 2 months, I managed to (mostly) maintain my weight.  I say mostly because all my my new "skinny" clothes still fit.  Luckily living by myself meant that I could keep my house free of junk food and unhealthy things.  I still kept my fridge well stocked with good for you things, and did my best not to eat outside of the house.

However, one thing that I didn't manage to maintain was my resolve.  All of those stuff-you-face-fests lead to me down the road of oh just one more helping won't hurt, and oh I don't always eat desert so its ok this time, and the I'm not on any crazy diet any more so I can totally eat this now.  Before I knew if, I was making exceptions every single time I ate anywhere but my own kitchen.

One piece of cake won't hurt...and of COURSE I'll have ice cream with that!

I think my favourite part about this whole ordeal is that I WASN'T EVEN DONE YET.  Looking down at my body, yes, I had lost a bunch of weight and yes I was more fit than when I started but I was far from throwing in the towel.  I still had the muffin top, the gut, the thunder thighs, the Oprah arms, the cottage cheese ass.  Yes yes they were smaller, and no I'm not trying to diminish the work I put in, but I got way too elated with my success and complacent with continuing to be successful.  Not to mention if I ever wanted to make it through a whole period let alone and entire game in the net I'd have to be a lot more fit than I was.

Unfortunately, instead of getting back to it I found myself smack dab in the middle of the end of a semester.  Dun dun dunnnnnn.  Let the excuses begin!  I was on campus all day, I didn't want to lose my parking spot, I only had an hour to go home and come back so I might as well stay here.  I ate all the shitty food imaginable while I was at school.  Greasy ass pizza, macaroni and cheese, cinnamon rolls covered in glaze, cookies, donuts, muffins (and you don't even want to know how many calories are packed into just one muffin).  I even started regularly drinking those fancy latte's and specialty drinks that are just packed with sugar and things you don't need.  Then the stress began, and before I knew it junk food found its way back into my house.  I fell off the wagon, found myself a shovel, and began digging myself a hole.

Hello, coping mechanism.

Every time I went to the grocery store, I would put something terrible in my cart.  All-dressed Crispers and Ritz Cheese Sandwich Crackers were popular guest stars.  Half a dozen bakery chocolate chip cookies, pints of Ben and Jerry's and kettle cooked potato chips also made special walk on appearances.  I somehow managed to justify this by only buying one bad thing every trip to the grocery story and telling myself I would only have a little bit and make it last.  In reality I went home and was so exhausted from my shit show scholastic life that I would sit down and eat an entire box of crackers in one sitting and call it dinner.  I would do this after eating like crap on campus all day.

I had flashbacks to the days before I hit my bottom where I would run out to the store to buy food as soon as I was left home alone.  I would sometimes get anxious waiting for boy to go to hockey so I could go out and get my fix.  No one could see my shame that way, no one could judge me.  I would buy something like, a bag of chips and a tub of Philly cream cheese dip, and I would inhale what I got within a half an hour.  Then I would bury the evidence in the trash and pretend like it never even happened.  On the outside I was all smiles, on the inside I could taste nothing but shame and regret.  No wonder I ended up being almost 200lbs.

This downward spiral relapse went on for a good 4 weeks from the end of November to the beginning on December.  Then the travelling and airport/airplane food came, and then food enabling with the boy, and only after all this self destructive behaviour came the most dreaded time of year for anyone's will power:  Christmas.

All I want for Christmas is to fit through a door when this is all over.

So, let's fast forward to the end of the winter semester.  You can fill in the blanks of January, February, and the first half of March with more of the same battle I've been describing.  My pants were tight, my belt buckle was uncomfortably digging in to my gut, some of my snugger t-shirts were riding up and unable to contain my spare tire.  I even found myself opting to not wear some pairs of pants because of how they made me feel when I wore them.  I had to admit to myself after all that work I did I started gaining weight again.  Luckily I was still able to cram into my clothes but I was to the point of what the fuck how could I do this to myself AGAIN.

I was angry and sad and disappointed and all sorts of sucky depressing feelings.  I hated myself for giving in to these behaviours I knew were wrong, for making excuses to myself when I knew I was full of shit.  So, I took a stand.  Digging deep for that resolve I once had I started ejecting all the crappy food out of my house.  I ended up bringing it to class or to people's houses and sharing with friends so I didn't feel like I was wasting food and I didn't have to eat it myself.  I started bringing snacks to school and making a real effort to buy good things like fruit and salads when I was famished and stuck on campus with no end in sight.

I'm not sure how much I actually gained, but I managed to shed enough to make my pants a little comfortable just by eating better for a month.  Unfortunately the damage had already been done, or rather undone as I unraveled some of that hard work and determination I found not even a year before.  The food was only half the battle, and exercise is the other half.  I need to keep going, I'm not done yet.

So there's the story of how I fell, and hopefully the rest will be the story of how I pick myself back up again.

Ketosis.

You see, I'm not a patient person.  I've fallen victim to yo yo dieting and half-assed fitness plans.  Always looking for quick fixes, I never looked for any life style changes or ways to incorporate fitness and activity into my every day life.  It was Me vs. Food, and Me vs. Sports.  Clearly, as my mother would describe it, I needed an "attitude adjustment".

Enter my rock bottom, boy leaving, the daily sniveling snot cry, and the wallowing in my own self pity.  I needed to prove to myself that I could eat better and I could be physically active.  I needed to find something  difficult, something that would push my limits that would work.  Enter ketosis.

Many of you have probably heard of the Atkins diet, which is one of the many diets that cut carbs out of your diet and throws your body into a state called ketosis.  This is when your body uses fat stores as fuel to produce glycogen and makes a shit ton of ketones or something like that.  Let me begin by cautioning that if you have liver problems, cholesterol problems, blood pressure problems, or are not a perfectly healthy human being eject any ideas of going on this diet out of your head.  Same goes if you only have 10lbs to lose since you're going to see the same results from regular diet an exercise; its meant to shed extra fat if you're very overweight.  This diet is only for meant as a short term option for weight loss; it is hard on your organs, and isn't for everyone.

That being said, medical reasons are the only acceptable reasons for not being able to do this diet.  If you think about all the things you eat every day that have carbs and sugar in them, and knowing that even artificial sweetners can trick your body and stall the process completely, most people will immediately say: I can't.  However, if you find yourself in this situation, the proper words are: I won't.  If you really want something, you just have to buck up and do it.  Not eating potatoes or bread or bananas won't kill you, it's all a matter of will power.

CAAAAAAARBS.

So this diet is hard.  I heard about it from a few friends who had seen some amazing results, so I figured it was worth a shot. There are a lot of different versions of low carb diets but I decided to keep it simple and do what they did: 25 grams of carbs or less a day.  I didn't realize how many good for you things had carbs in them.  I basically subsisted on meat, cheese, and a handful of greens.

Even these carbs are a no no.

A couple of weeks in, I realized how much I needed this.  I needed something really difficult and really strict to prove to myself that I could do something to really change how I eat; if you slip up it takes you 3-5 days to get back into ketosis.  Even though I stumbled into it with my same quick fix impatient mind set, I was finally in control of food and it wasn't in control of me.  No more binge eating, I started paying attention to labels and what I was ingesting, and most importantly I gained the ability to say no to things I thought I couldn't live without.

It's not you, it's me.  Actually no, it's totally you.

I also start exercising more.  The determination and resolve I found in this diet spilled over into the rest of my life: I started walking with hand and leg weights and doing fitness exercises.  Since the boy was also training and learning super cool stuff on the other side of the country,  he was able to give me fitness activities and tips to help me on my way.  I did burpees, supermans, squats, planks, etc., etc.  You name it, I tried it.

Planks never stop sucking, by the way.

This kind of support system was invaluable.  Really.  I can't tell you how amazing it was to talk to him every week, discuss our progress, and be excited about it!  It was never a competition, it was simply us reveling in our awesomeness.  I was feeling stronger, my cardio was getting better, and I was just all around stoked.  While I certainly didn't feel super fit, I finally felt like I was at a stage where I could start trying to do the things average people could do.  I no longer felt held back by my weight and my fitness level.

I ended up doing this for 3 months.  Aside from the 2 planned weekend long breaks when I went to visit the boy, I stuck to it every day.  My weight at the end was 163lbs (from somewhere close to 200lbs) and I went from a size 15/16 to a size 9/10.  One of the best after effects is that after not being able to eat them for so long, things like bananas, oranges, yogurt, and other healthy things became a huge treat!  No more turning to chocolate and potato chips, a little vanilla yogurt was decadent enough.  Needless to say, I finally proved to myself I could finally do something about my weight and my lifestyle.

So dearest food, you no longer control me, and I have only one thing left to say to you:

Why I'm Doing This.

Today I'm having a rough day.  After 12 days of calorie cutting and 8 days of cardio my measurements haven't budged.  Not even a little.  So I feel like this is an appropriate time to list out all of the reasons, big and small, noble and shallow, why I'm finally getting off my ample ass.



1. I don't hate sports, I just hate being unfit.  This one is a long story I will try to make short.  Ever since I first gained weight in grade 5, gym class was a nightmare: I was last picked and picked on.  For the last 8 years of public school I hated every second of every mandatory phys. ed. course I ever had to take.  In high school it was made worse by the fact that I grew too tall too fast, and my heart hadn't grown enough to catch up to the size of my circulatory system.  Cue passing out every time I did any cardio for all of grade 10.  It took 6 months for people telling me I was just lazy and avoiding school for a doctor to finally tell me that I actually had a medical condition.  Fun times.

Needless to say the shaming and anguish I experienced continued to haunt me into my 20's.  Instead of working on cardio to make my heart stronger, I fine tuned the art of avoidance.  I couldn't, I didn't like it, it wasn't for me, I just wasn't into sports.  Any time my friends encouraged me to participate convincing me that anyone could do things like, throw a Frisbee, I would just get even more frustrated because I still couldn't keep up.  Cue temper tantrums and running home to have a snotty cry (I wish I was kidding).

Then, 2 years ago, I discovered hockey.  I've always been a fan, but I never played.  Growing up in the 80's I was put into figure skating because that's what girls did, but I honestly just wanted to play hockey.  Then the boy got new hockey gear, and I got hand me downs.  Cue going to the outdoor rink down the road, falling on my ass, but having a ton of fun trying.  I think having someone that actual supported me when I failed and wanted me to do better made all of the difference.

So. Much. Fun.

Since then I've picked myself up out of the almost rehabilitative state my cardio and strength was in.  I'm still a really shitty goalie, I can still barely run for 2 minutes on a good day, I'm still not very strong BUT I don't avoid flights of stairs, I don't avoid social events that involved physical activities, I don't say that I can't do things anymore.  I've still got a long way to go but I'm excited that I will be able to run with the boy and keep up, play a whole hockey game without puking, and maybe even get back into biking.  Holy crap!

2. I want to buy things from stores for average size people.  Ok I've accepted that I'll still have to order a lot of my shoes, and I'll always be on the hunt for long inseams and long length arms, but hot damn it would be so nice to go into a store and be able to fit into something without going "oh they don't carry my size".  I would hover between a 13 and a 15 so most of the time the largest size regular stores carry is just too small for me.  Luckily, after my first foray into size loss last year I managed to squeak in at a size 9/10, which is often the largest size most places carry.

However, now I want to push things a little further.  I want to be able to go into a store and not just find something my size, but not feel limited by my size.  There are still some things I won't wear because you can see the cottage cheese on the back of my thighs, or that little roll in my armpit, or it doesn't contain my muffin top.  I know I won't look good in everything, but I want to try something out and hate it because it doesn't fit my shape, not because my shape doesn't fit it.

3. I want my tattoos to look better.  Ok this one is a little on the shallow side, but I will admit that the reason I never got any upper arm tattoos isn't because I didn't want them but because I feel like my arms are too gross and flabby.  There are other spots but the general consensus is that if the canvas doesn't look good it reflects how good the art looks.  I'm getting a thigh piece next month so I really want to shed some of the thunder thighs before that happens.  There also the horrifying possibility that my tattoos will stretch out and be ruined if I continue to gain any weight.  That would just break my heart.

4. I want to feel comfortable in my own skin.  This is the obvious one.  I don't want to feel like I have to hide myself or be embarrassed by my body.  I have a tendency to be a very over confident almost abrasive person, so I want to exude this part of my personality without my rolls getting in the way.  I'm not a butter face, I'm a butter butt, so any reasons why I'm not that smokin' hot chick are things I've done to myself.  I'm so over feeling like the fattest girl in the room, and feeling like everyone knows it.

5. I want to be healthier.  After I started working out and eating well I cannot begin to describe how much better I felt.  I've had a lot of back problems, knee problems, shoulder injuries and stomach issues and working on my fitness and diet helped every single one of these.  I'm getting stronger, and I'm realizing a lot of my back/knee issues were related to muscles being too weak.  My shoulder is feeling better because using it increases blood flow and circulation which reduces the swelling I usually experience.  Obviously my stomach is much happier now that I've reduced the amount of processed, greasy, bad for you crap I'm stuffing into it and eating on a more regular basis.  I'm sick of being sick, and running is my cure.

6. This dress.

Totally the most shallow reason.

I graduate from my second bachelor's degree at the end of next month.  Naturally, I used this as an excuse to buy myself a pretty dress.  I found this little gem half price online and had to have it.  Typically I'm a medium, so I bought a medium.  I really should have read the description that read "fits small, no stretch", but I was too elated with the price and adorableness I didn't even notice.  Do you think there was even a glimmer of hope of getting this thing on?  It's not as if I just couldn't zipper it, but I couldn't even pull it up over my hips.  After measuring the dress and comparing it to my measurements I come to find it's just a little bit under 2 inches too small.  Well shit.

Luckily, I have at least 2 inches to lose, so I hung this little beauty on my closet door to serve as a daily motivator.  Ok, maybe 2 inches in a month is a lofty goal, but I have another dress I can wear so it's not the end of the world if it doesn't happen.  The point is that this dress could fit me, and if I work as hard as I can it will fit me.

I'm sure I'm missing some, but this post will serve as a reminder for me on days like this when I'm feeling like I can't do it, when I'm feeling like I'm not good enough, and when I feel like just throwing my hands up and saying "fuck it!".  It'll help me stay honest with myself, and sometimes laugh at myself, because this shit is hard and we all need a little comedic relief (even at our own expense).  I will hate myself, I will cry, I will feel like I've reached the end of my rope, but I'll do this.  Fuck yeah, I will do this.

And now comes the part where I run until I want to throw up.

The Bottom.

At the time I’m writing this, I’m 28 years old, 5’7”ish and somewhere between 160lbs and 170lbs (I give you an estimate because I don’t own a scale, and I refuse to buy one).  I have two bachelor degrees and am beginning a master’s program in September, I have no kids and no plans to have kids, and I’m fortunate enough to have had an incredibly wonderful and eternally supportive other for the last half dozen years. 

Unfortunately, student life and a comfortable relationship lead me to find myself the biggest I have ever been last year.  I came home from a down south study break vacation in Feb ’12 and when I saw the pictures being posted on Facebook it knocked me on my ass: why did no one tell me I was so big???  Since my early 20’s I had fluctuated somewhere between 160lb and 180lbs, but I stepped on a scale at a friend’s house and saw the needle reach almost 200lbs.  Yikes.

Seriously, what the fuck.

So, of course, instead of doing something about it I wallowed in my own self-pity.  I binged, I fasted, I cried.  I continued to give into my very unhealthy and abusive relationship with food.  Life was also not being kind: the end of a stressful semester was fast approaching (along with the onslaught of papers and exams) and the boy was leaving.  Since he wanted to be a police officer, he was going to the other side of the country for 6 months of training, and then being posted who knows where.  Either way, he wasn’t coming back.  Since I still had this degree to finish we would be spending *at least* a year apart, with neither of us knowing where either of us would end up and if we could make it work.  He left the week I started exams.

Needless to say, I wasn’t coping.  The weekend he left even my immune system gave out and I found myself with a lovely combination of laryngitis and bronchitis.  You should have seen the shit I hacked up.  Gross.  As a side effect of this I had no appetite and no will to leave the house; my kitchen and tummy were empty.  When I finally mustered the strength to leave I stumbled to the drug store bought one thing: mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Didn't even use a bowl, I’m lucky I managed to grab a spoon.

Halfway through this bucket of shame, it hit me: what the fuck am I even thinking?  This was rock bottom, something had to give.  I had two options: continue this sadness-fatness death spiral, or buck up and do something about it.  Thankfully, I opted for the later.

About.

So, it begins.  If you’ve stumbled across this blog maybe you’re looking for support, maybe you’re looking for options, or maybe you’re just looking.  Whatever the reason, here you will find the chronology of my journey to lose all this extra baggage I’ve been carrying around (emotionally and physically) and finally become that fit healthy person I never thought I could be.

I have spent my life trying to overcome chub rub, thunder thighs, muffin tops, Oprah arms, stomach pooch, bubble butt, cottage cheese ass and legs, chubby cheeks, and double chin.  As a child I was scrawny until I hit 10, and ever since then I have always been at least a little bit overweight.  After nearly 2 decades of not feeling comfortable in my own skin, I’m so over it.  First I got fat, and then I got angry.