Roll your eyes if you must, but it's true. Over the past 4 years, Ryan & I (emphasis on the I) have gotten fat. Definitely me, more so than Ryan. Ryan is a big guy by nature. He was a scrawny kid, and then filled out through middle school, got scary skinny at the end of high school, then filled out again, sitting at about the same weight (give or take 5 lbs) for the past few years. Not me, faithful friends and readers. I was a normal kid, thin but not too skinny, until middle school. Then I got scary skinny, then through high school maintained a very healthy weight. I gained the "freshman 15" a year later, then 20 more. I maintained that until Ryan & I moved in together. He love to cook, and he's darn good at it. Delicious creations that I wolfed down without consequence...or so I thought. By the time we got engaged, I realized I'd packed on even more weight, and I worked hard to get as much of it off as possible before the wedding...and I did a pretty good job, dropping almost two sizes. (For the record Ryan also worked hard and dropped almost twice as much weight like it was nothing. Jerk.) After the wedding, we both "relaxed" and lost control again. Aaaand again, Ryan hit his "weight wall" which no matter how much he eats, he never seems to exceed. Jerk. Not me, folks. Nope, I kept expanding. Stopped paying attention. Stopped exercising. In turn, stopped shopping for cute clothes. Stopped being in pictures, if I could help it, or started hiding behind people in the shots.
I feel like "the boy who cried wolf" because I've been here before. I wrote about not wanting to be the fat girl who talks about getting skinny. Yet, here I am. Still fat. Still talking about "getting skinny". I looked in the mirror Tuesday and didn't recognize the person looking back at me. I've completely lost myself in this fat suit. My face doesn't look like my face anymore. My body doesn't look remotely like the body I was used to seeing. I. AM. FAT. When I fell off the wagon, I don't know. Why, I don't know that either. But I did, hard. I've gained every pound back, plus some, which is how it happens for me. So, I am starting over again, again. GAH it pisses me off to just type this. I want to shake myself and scream WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! I am NOT happy with myself. I have become this never ending cycle of self-loathing, then eating to fill the whole, then feeling worse, then eating more...its a vicious, never-ending cycle of terrible. Ryan loves me, I know, but I can't tell you last time he told me I looked pretty without being provoked; "Does this look OK?" He used to tell me daily.
This time, I am approaching this differently. I am not going to set crazy goals that seems light years away. When you have as much to lose as I do, the "goal weight" is terrifying and I become easily discouraged because I feel its unattainable. Like I'm setting myself up for failure. And I'm going to start small and work my way up. I will start by eating 1600-1800 calories per day, then cut from there as I lose. For fitness, I am going to start with a walking program called "Walk Away The Pounds". I feel like this will ease me into the world of work-outs and I'll be more likely to stick with it this time...when I throw myself in and find I am not physically capable of what I think I "should" be, I tend to want to quit. From there, I will start the Couch To 5K program. I've never been a runner, but I want to give it a try. It may not be the right program for me, but this time around I won't persecute myself for not being a cookie cutter "exerciser".
At the end of the day, my true goal is to look in the mirror and see the person I FEEL like I am looking back at me. I know I've asked for support before...more than once, and have not succeeded yet, but I will.