It’s been a while since I’ve had to write about myself…the last time was likely in high school or first year university, but here it goes.
Short Story: I’m a 24-year old with a music degree, who decided to start writing about my weight-loss journey to find a community where I can get advice, or share tips and tricks to make this torturous journey a bit easier.
Long Story: I have been very overweight for the majority of my life…let’s just say I am well-versed in Weight Watchers points, plus size clothing stores, and how to pose in pictures in order to capture the angle that makes everything look a bit slimmer (but for real, the camera really does add 10 pounds). I began Weight Watchers at the ripe age of 9, and although our relationship has been off and on over the years, I can attest that it really did (and does) work, but unfortunately some relationships are just not meant to be. I’m more of a free spirit when it comes to my eating/exercise routines, something I have come to accept over the years. I am not a “diet” girl. I suck at food journals (obviously I didn’t eat those timbits if they’re not written down), counting points, or limiting myself to only leafy greens and meats for 2 weeks.
I reached my goal-weight, the first-time I was on Weight Watchers…in Grade 5. Then our leader left. Perhaps I have some sort of subconscious complex or repressed abandonment issues, but the weight piled on like a freight train running on all cylinders. The train slowed a bit after first year university (the freshman 15 was more like 40), but it wasn’t until after graduation that things got a bit better. I began a chicboxing class with a friend (an extremely active/healthy friend (the ones you love to hate)), then we began walking at least an hour most days, and even began a bootcamp class that began at 6 a.m. three days a week. The first class can only be described as FUCKING HELL…and I was the star of the show, as I was bent over, outside, gagging, fully believing that I was spending the final hour of my life in some alternate hell that, as irony would have it, was in a church auditorium. Since I survived, and my friend would have literally walked over to my house and dragged me with her, I went back. Eventually, I began to really like it, and I was seeing results…but after a year it was just becoming too difficult. 1) It was DAMN expensive 2) It was DAMN early. I quit after a year, and while I do regret it, similar to line 1 of this paragraph, our bootcamp trainer (who I could feel free to call an asshole as he stood over me counting my pushups, yet was the nicest guy who would make the workouts work for me) is no longer running the sessions, so I doubt I would have stuck it out. Call it self-sabotage, it is what it is. After, I joined the YMCA and really loved it for months. I no longer hated working out but I wouldn’t say I pushed myself quite like bootcamp pushed me.
Last May, I slipped into what I can only describe as depression. I don’t think I’ve ever been depressed before, so I don’t know really what to call it, but ultimately I didn’t give two shits what I ate or the weeks going by that I didn’t exercise…I just didn’t care about anything. This continued for a few months, and in July, I began to get my mind back on its feet. After feeling so down for a while, it was difficult to get back into the swing of things, especially when you’ve let yourself go so drastically. From when I left bootcamp (last November) to now, I gained about 50 pounds, a large chunk of it, during those few blue months. Anyways, I spend half the year, working a seasonal job outside where I tell people I do landscaping (they immediately think of manual labour). Don’t kid yourselves, I ride a lawnmower. The upside? Some days I really do want to be lazy and cutting grass can become a game if you’re creative. The Downside? after 7 hours on a machine, not only do you have to be more creative/productive with what to think about whilst riding (iPods are banned) for 7 hours, but at the end of the day, trying to avoid monuments (I work in a cemetery), people, or trees does take a toll on your mind. I go home and immediately sleep most nights. It truly is pathetic.
As this season was winding down, I had been talking to a co-worker who had advised me to actually have a plan for my 6 months of, as I call it, fun-employment. Immediately I brainstormed what I could do, and came up with a challenge to myself to take this 6 months to really work on myself. I gave myself a goal to lose 60 pounds by November 1st, 2014. While I believe that goals that have a number attached do set you up for failure, the number isn’t important. The intent is. I’ve spent the last couple weeks really working to set myself up for success. When I actually land a career in my field, I want to feel confident enough in my first impression…because we all know how important those are. So here we are!
Thanks for reading the most long-winded story about my journey up until now (I really do have the gift for gab (go check my phone bill))…don’t you wish you had stuck with the short story? (I do too).