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.