Motivation, weight loss, crying on the bathroom floor…

Lets get real honest about weight loss and motivation. It is a struggle. You not only have to want it, you have to crave it, chase it, fight for it and above all else, refuse to give up. This is my health and fitness journey and bare with me, I’ll surely need some grace along the way.

You would think being heavy would be motivation enough to lose weight. The constant struggles physically or the difficulty finding cute clothes. The growing insecurities and embarrassment I felt in public. Why couldn’t I make the change? Why did I continue to propel into the deep end of obesity, when would it be enough?

I have started and stopped working out too many times to count. I have tried all of the fad workouts, diets, meal plans, fitness groups, etc. for over ten years. When I start, I feel so motivated to find success but par for the course, I always end up quitting. Sometimes I’ve managed to go several months, others I barely make it a few weeks. Its not that my want or need for a healthier life has left its just a lack of motivation and actual follow through. Its depressing to write this but the truth is, this is me, this is where I am and all I can do now is start over again, God and self motivation willing, for the last time.

During the summer of 2017 I thought I had reignited my motivation. My husband Kellan and I were in town visiting friends and family, after the tragic death of a dear friend, we extended our stay to spend time with our loved ones. Several events on this trip really shook me up about my weight.

You know the look on someones face when they are trying to size you up without being noticed? There was no hiding the horror on the faces of our loved ones, in the five years since we had moved away, Kellan and I had each put on significant weight. Around 100lbs. EACH. That was the first time I couldn’t hide from myself.

I was a master at avoiding pictures or controlling the angle so I could get the best picture of myself and crop any unflattering parts out. I had learned my ‘good side’ and how to hide my double chin. I never let anyone keep a photo of me without my approval. While we were home some candids were taken of a group of us, clearly I wasn’t able to give my typical coaching or ask for approval of the photos before they hit social media. I remember getting the notification on my phone and looking through the pictures in total disbelief. I couldn’t even recognize the woman in these photos. She was HUGE. Her clothes seemed to be too small and it was like she was blissfully unaware. She had clearly let herself go and it was pretty sad to see. Despite all my bargaining, I couldn’t deny that this woman was me. This was my second revelation that I needed to make a change.

While we were home, Kellan and I, along with some family, went to the state fair. It was a beautiful day in the pacific north west and we decided to take full advantage of it. We were going to ride all the rides and play all the games we could. There was only one problem with this…I was literally too big to ride rides, even the most unsuspecting ones, not just too big for a harness on a rollercoaster- actual seated rides with no lap bar or straps. Seriously, how could I not fit in a trolly car? I was struck with the pains of embarrassment and completely mortified, I decided this was the LAST time I let my weight be an issue. I was committed to making a change and being healthy but after the ride debacle I was so upset I made a deal with myself, nothing would cheer me up quite like some famous scones and pierogis, my new weight loss journey would have to start tomorrow.

There it was, my own personal kryptonite…emotional eating. It is a twisted cycle that has plagued me my entire life. Ok, ok, so it has not literally been my entire life, I wasn’t some morbidly obese infant or a tubby toddler-which by the way would have been precious because as I’m sure we can all agree, chubby babies are freaking adorable. Anyways, my weight actually wasn’t an issue for many years. Growing up I was a skinny kid, in fact my mom tells me that at my check ups the doctors would tell her to add fat into my diet, ice cream, butter, sauces, etc. to help me gain weight. I was consistently under weight and they wanted to fatten me up, so to speak. Ironic isn’t it? Fast forward to puberty and I was carrying “baby weight” that was considered prepubescent and would drop after a good growth spurt. This is where I now know PCOS started to affect my life. I struggle with Insulin Resistant PCOS and according to my doctor it has been the obesity monkey on my back since puberty. I would like to clarify-I am not claiming that PCOS is the sole responsible party for my obesity, but it has damn sure hindered my success of losing weight over the years. I would actually say my emotional eating was the second, possibly more guilty, culprit that lead me to where I am now.

In the words of Ron White, ‘I tell you that story to tell you this story.’

Of course last year gave me motivation, I changed my diet and I even spent months on end in the gym working my ass off. I worked so hard and lost a measly 15lbs. I had hit a plateau and couldn’t break this number. Then I caught a bad case of pneumonia and that mixed with the weight loss plateau was enough to lose all motivation. I wasn’t officially diagnosed with PCOS-IR yet so at this time I didn’t know that my body was completely working against me and without the right medication and specified diet I wasn’t going to lose the weight.

This also sent my insecurities into overdrive. I was consumed with the idea that because I was so large, everywhere I went people were staring and judging me.

I had a boss one time tell me that my anxiety is partially self induced because I was so in my own head, he said, “I think you think other people think about you way more than they actually do.” He had a point. Why did I think people had nothing better to do than sit around talking about my weight? I am not that self centered. Im sure it has happened a time or two but the reality is, it wasn’t the main topic of conversation or focus of others lives the way my anxiety and insecurities wanted me to believe it was. Ive tried to remind myself of this little talk when I feel myself growing insecure.

Here I am, more than a year later. I finally hit rock bottom (like broken down crying on the bathroom floor rock bottom) and have decided to claw my way out. I have gained an additional 50lbs since last summer and with this last batch of weight I have gained some interesting consequences. Did you know its hard to complete basic tasks when you’re fat? You get winded from doing household chores like loading and unloading the dishwasher or transferring laundry – don’t even get me started on trying to clean the floors- walking up stairs-FORGETABOUTIT- and even simple things like wiping after going to the bathroom or shaving is a new challenge. I guess it should make sense, pregnant woman face these challenges towards the end of their pregnancy and I have the belly of a mom expecting quintuplets!

That is another cute side effect of my weight gain, I have become Fat Amy, from Pitch Perfect, the self deprecation queen. I used to describe myself in the worst ways because if I say it first, it will hurt less if/when someone else says it. My token phrase was to describe my size as a two story single family home with a three car garage. This is an obvious exaggeration but it was comical none the less.

Cutting the pain with comedy and addressing the elephant in the room on my own self deprecating terms was my way of controlling the dialogue around my weight. I think handling things with humor is beneficial, you cant take yourself or life too seriously, but negative self talk can hinder your own mental health, you can start to convince yourself that what you’re saying is actually true. I was doing this. I had taken my own words too far and at some point it stopped being a defense mechanism and started being my self talk. I would spend so much time in front of the mirror picking myself apart. I would constantly focus on how disgusting I thought I was and it really took a toll on me. I let my words become fact and they started to define my self imagine. As I’m writing this, Sex and the City is on in the background and Carrie Bradshaw just said, “I had become my own worst frenemy”. I think this is one of those serendipitous moments in life, Carrie Bradshaw just helped me describe what was happening. I allowed my self deprecation to be a frenemy to my mental health. In life you have to be your own biggest cheerleader. If you’re not rooting for you, why would anyone else? You have to take care of all aspects of your health and give yourself positive reinforcements and words of affirmation. Self talk is so important, it sets the tone for how we allow others to speak to and about us. This is my come to Jesus moment, I am so ready to make a change and at 28 years old I have finally decided to hang up the frenemy hat and pick up the pom poms.