“In the last 9 years, what has been your lowest weight?”
“I don’t know.”
“At what weight did you first think you were overweight or had a weight problem?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always felt bigger, chunkier, even as a kid. But I think there was a point in college I was 220 and didn’t feel good. Can we go with that?”
This is a very real conversation that I had with the doctor I recently saw at a weight loss clinic. The weight loss clinic that my therapist suggested I go to. But honestly, a lot of this started before my therapist was part of the picture.
Like I told my doctor, I’ve always felt like I was a bigger/chunkier person. Even when I was a kid playing soccer (and probably at my most active and healthiest), I wasn’t really comfortable with my size. Even now, I look back at pictures when I was in middle school and remember how uncomfortable I was. I couldn’t wear the “cool” clothes, I had bigger boobs than everyone else, a pudgy tummy, and a flat butt. Granted, I was still a child and I was still growing but I vividly remember being uncomfortable in my own skin. To be honest, I don’t really know what prompted being uncomfortable. I don’t remember really being teased or bullied (well, not about my size anyway…that’s a different story for a different day, though). I didn’t really hang out with friends who sat there and nit-picked their appearances.
As time passed, I got used to it. I got used to being uncomfortable, got used to shopping in the plus size department, and got used to not totally loving what I saw in the mirror. That lasted through college and into adulthood – though now when I look at pictures of myself in college I wish I still looked like that. “I wish I were as fat as I was the first time I thought I was fat.”
It wasn’t until July of 2017 that I had my “wake up call,” so to speak. I was going through pictures from a work event and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this:
I hated it. The first thing I saw was my lack of a jaw line and how round my face looked. I saw how big I appeared overall and it was then that I decided, for the umpteenth time, that I was going to be healthier, eat better, and workout more.
Shock of all shocks…I fell off the wagon somewhere after making that decision. I tend to eat my emotions (hence the weight gain, I think) so one bad day would knock me off track. That day would turn into a weekend which then turned into a week…you get the picture.
After several go arounds with the wagon in 2017, I finally found a gym that I was comfortable going to in 2018…but I didn’t know what to do or how to do any of it. So I flirted with the gym in 2018 while not making many “real” changes to my diet or anything else. Then I had blood work done at my physical this year. My doctor basically said that if things didn’t start changing in the right direction I was going to end up on cholesterol medications. Coupled with family history of diabetes and heart issues, I knew something had to change and it had to start now. I wound up at a weight loss clinic to test my metabolism, go over nutrition basics, and set up an appointment with a nutritionist (that’s soon) and I met with one of the trainers at the gym to learn how to work what muscle groups and how to use the various machines.
All that to say, I’m nowhere near where I want to be, but that’s ok. I’m finding my routine. I can see and FEEL the change, physically and mentally, and that’s what’s important. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and I’m far from the finish line.