the dog food.

Today on my lunch break, I had to pick up a bag of dog food for my constantly hungry mutts. I should probably note that picking up dog food is not a task for the weak. Having two dogs whose combined weights are more than my ultimate goal weight means that the largest possible bag of dog food is likely to last us no more than two weeks. So here I am, limping through the pet store in all my plantar fasciitis glory making sure I grab the "mini chunks" bag as not to disappoint Scout, who thinks the large breed dog food just isn't suitable for her palate. I grab the 33 pound bag, trudge to the front with the bag over my shoulder and ignore the several offers I received for the male employees to carry it for me. I check out, bear hug the shit out of my dog food bag and begin the trek to my car (which is oh so conveniently located miles away because the pet store/grocery store parking lot is just an absurd place in general). If I said I wasn't winded by the time I reached my car, I'd be lying.

And that's when it hit me. This bag is 33 pounds. I've lost 52 since my heaviest weight. This bag is a giant pain in the ass to take from the store to my car, let alone when you add 20 more pounds and carry it everywhere you go. Everywhere. To the bar. To the grocery store. To class, the mall, and the office. To every prom, date, argument and wedding. I carried almost two big bags of dog food everywhere I went. And when I was carrying it, I had no idea how much it weighed me down, both metaphorically and physically.

I had no idea that one day, I'd be on the treadmill and really feel my legs moving like a runner - feel my joints, muscles and bones cranking out each step, propelled by sheer determination and the fact that my previous exercise had prepared me for every single mile. There would be a day that I no longer felt like a basset hound shuffling through the streets, that running turned into something that did not emotionally break me down every single time I did it.

Almost two dog food bags ago, I had never done a burpee. Never gone to an exercise class alone and never run a half marathon. 52 pounds of dog food ago, I couldn't shop in any of my favorite stores, and thought the best alternative was to emotionally destroy myself by trudging to a plus size section instead of physically building myself to shop where I wanted. I had no idea that today's "before" pictures were my current reality, or that clothes could actually exist to flatter and accentuate, not just cover.

52 pounds of dog food later, I have run a half marathon. I bought a wedding dress in a size I never thought I'd wear again. I bought a size in pants I haven't worn since high school. I feel restless without a day of activity, feel sick from eating ice cream and love connecting with like-minded people who want to be healthy. I run for fun, dance [like an idiot] and call it a workout, and do things like make my own pesto and eat hamburgers without buns. I shop where I want, and though I'm not where I want to be yet, I take pride in how far I've come and know that energy will propel me into the future as I continue to push myself physically and balance myself mentally. I eat low carb, eat lots of salads and enjoy eating as much bacon as I want. And cheesecake, still. Sorry not sorry.

I'm not at my goal yet. But I'm closer than I've ever been, and though it drives me insane to think about the time I wasted letting my weight control my life, the lessons I've learned throughout this process have 100% changed who I am and who I will be for the rest of my life. I feel so educated on what I put in my body, so aware of what food does to me both mentally and physically and physically stronger than I've ever felt.

Everywhere you look, people are trying to get fit. Fortunately, being overweight no longer has to hide behind the donut counter and remain undiscussed as we all eat salads in front of one another and go home and cram donuts. But I'm so sick of the fad diets. The people who hide behind the latest weight loss trend and show up 50 pounds later without seeming to have struggled in the process at all. I want real, raw people who struggle to say no to fried macaroni and cheese, who wake up the next morning wishing they hadn't had four margaritas because now they have to weigh in, who gained one week because they were on their period and had no self restraint. I want people who bailed on workouts, pulled muscles, worked through their emotional baggage and learned to love themselves. I want to relate to someone, to read their blog and think "Oh my god, YES!" to her latest struggle or milestone.

I'm so damn proud of how far I've come. And though I have incredibly supportive friends and family, I'm so proud to say that my own determination is what's gotten me here. No one dragged me to a salad bar, or tackled me down before I had the chance to order boneless wings (though I wish someone could have). I fell and got up enough times to get here, and the support I've gotten from those around me has been invaluable in the process. I cannot wait to see where the next 30 pounds takes me.

[end soap box speech]