losing weight sucks.

Let me preface this by saying that this entire post is inspired by the fact that my fiance is eating a giant bowl of ice cream and butterfinger cake, topped with hot fudge and caramel sauce. YEAH. I know, right?

Losing weight sucks. I mean, I know that's obvious, but it is seriously the hardest, most tedious, difficult thing I think I'll ever do in my entire life (maybe second to tolerating my own potential future children). I've talked about weight loss and getting healthy before, but the fact that I'm still here talking about it is proof that a) I'm not there yet and b) it's the most consuming thing in this entire world.

I'm not really sure how I made it so many years being so blissfully ignorant of what I ate and what activity I did. Trust me, I was acutely aware that I was overweight as a kid and a teenager (thanks, mean kids and boys for pointing that out for all those years), but since I've been overweight my entire life, it never really registered with me that I was causing it on my own. Deep down, I knew I was though. When I got my shit in line in early 2009, I easily dropped a considerable amount of weight using Weight Watchers and simply tracking points - and running. After gaining most of it back during a wonderful drinking stint that lasted a good 1.5 years, I quickly learned that it wasn't going to fall off like it did the first time.

Through extensive experimentation (and frequent Chipotle visits), I eventually learned that cutting carbs was my ticket. This, in combination with tracking on Weight Watchers and some serious strength training, zumba and running, has allowed me to lose about 25 pounds since January. Yes, it's taken me that long. It's a slow process, and honestly, it's grueling. I talk a lot about what a struggle this is with other people also struggling to lose weight - and yeah, it's super fun to post before and after pictures for everyone to see, but deep down - this is the shit that drives me up a wall:

I plan every single dinner out for the week on Sundays. I menu plan, plan certain meals according to when I weigh in, according to points I have for the day/week, according to exercise plans. I break down meals by ingredients, shop only for these things and make sure to stock the house with healthy breakfast and lunch options so I'm not tempted to eat fast food or eat out. Yes, some of this is to help us save money at the grocery store, but a lot of it is because I know that if I don't have a meal readily available, I will 100% use it as an excuse to go eat a giant basket of boneless wings.

I panic if I leave my morning or afternoon snacks at home. What in God's name am I going to do at 10:30 a.m. when it's "banana time"and I've left my trusty banana sitting on the kitchen counter? I've obviously trained myself to eat every 2.5 hours, so the donuts in the office kitchen suddenly become so much more apparent when I've failed to plan. Same with afternoon "apple time," which I appropriately rename "cracker time" when my co-worker has a box of delicious buttery crackers just staring at me when I've left my regular snack at home.

I never stop thinking about food. Ever. I know, spoken like a typical fat kid. Sometimes, it's easy for people to just mentally make the choice to lose weight. They're immune to outside temptations, easily say no to cookies and cakes, and can't imagine not going to their morning spin classes. I am not that person. I know myself, and I know I'm always looking for an out. So I have to constantly think about food - what's for breakfast, lunch, dinner. My struggles, successes and frustrations are something I talk about constantly, because this seriously consumes my entire life. It's damn exhausting.

Errands, housework, cleaning and other things I really ought to be making time for easily get put on the back burner so I can exercise. On one hand, I am really happy that I've found a great exercise plan that I LOVE doing, so I don't really hate dragging myself to the gym or outside to go running. That being said, sometimes I don't get home until 8:30-9 at night, which leaves all of about 2 seconds to eat dinner, walk the dogs, get laundry done, and do all the superwoman things that are apparently expected of females. It's such a fine line, trying to balance it all and still be able to enjoy myself without giving up exercise or giving up a clean house. Rob helps A LOT, but he can't do it all, and neither can I.

Why does it have to be so fucking dark out in the morning now? Seriously, mother nature - do you know how many runs I could get in before work if you'd just lighten the hell up? I partially blame Law & Order SVU for making me scared shitless to run when it's dark out, but still. I really would wake up at 5:30 to go running, and I do in the summer.

I am 26 years old and I live in a boring midwestern city. Yes, I have settled down quite a bit and am happy to spend most of my nights walking my dogs, watching Food Network or running errands, but I'm not dead. And without much going on around here, we usually find ourselves in a bar or going out to eat as our main method of socialization. And every single time, I have to figure out how I'm going to compensate for eating something bad - when will I have time to fit in a run to account for the french fries I ate? Because really, Lord knows I'm not going to order a boring piece of plain grilled chicken at the place that sells my favorite deep fried boneless wings. Every single weekend, I do this. And every single Monday, I am up a couple pounds and spend the next four days busting my ass to get back down before I have to weigh in.

I have lost over 25 pounds, but still have not dropped a full dress size. Do you even KNOW how frustrating that is?

I know. This sounds like I'm this miserable excuse of a human being who is doing something really cool about her health but is going to be negative and bitch about it like a dirty bitch. And honestly, I've gotten myself into some really great habits. But I'm so tired. I'm so sick of thinking about food, thinking about points, carbs, weigh in days, intake vs. output. It's never ending, and it's no different than quitting smoking. I've spent about 23 years being blissfully unaware of what I was eating, lost a lot of weight and then went back to being blissfully ignorant and gained most of it back. It's hard to see the same numbers on the scale you swore you'd never see again, but it's also hard to give up margaritas. Am I on top of my shit 100% of the time? No. I'd say about 80/20, and that's why my weight loss has been a slow and painful process. But I'm happy to say I'm still living my life. And in the name of cheesecake, I'll leave you some before and after pictures of my so-far progress. I should note that my before pictures are mostly from 2008 or before. After pictures are within the past few months. There's a long way to go, but all this bullshit has to pay off somehow.

 
 

Here's to the rest of the journey! :)