So, I started this blog, and then I disappeared. I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't, but I did. Honestly, I started living (and loving) my life here in Florida. To sum up (briefly) my life in the past two years...
I've made the best friends (literally), who are essentially my family; we finally moved into our home (just passed the 2 year mark...and there's still SO much to do!); I've become more involved in my school; my kids are now in school; my parents moved here full time; my husband has been traveling less...my life is just busy. My free time (what little of it there is) is spent catching up on housework, spending time with the people I love, catching up on reading, TV, or knitting. So, as much as I love writing, this blog has fallen off my radar. However, my cousin Melissa encouraged me to start again. And, I've been thinking about some reality checks that I want to share with the world (and get off my chest). So, here I am.
Now to get to the heavier stuff...
For a while now, I've been unhappy with my reflection in the mirror. I look at myself and all I see is the spare tire around my middle. I feel like I look like a bag of jello (yes, that's the literal term I use when I describe myself). And I hate it. I feel so unattractive. I feel like everyone in the world is staring at me and thinking how fat I've gotten. I hate the fact that I really should probably be buying a bigger size pants, but that number on the waistband bothers me. I am genuinely jealous of my friends who are fit and trim and look amazing (and the reality is, they probably have these conversations in their heads as well). I have a closet full of clothes, yet refuse to wear most of the things I love because I feel like they highlight my jiggly parts. I will try on several outfits before settling on one that I feel hides my midsection best. I suck my stomach in when I think about it because I feel like, otherwise, everyone is staring.
Now, rationally, I know that I don't look all that bad. Honestly, I still wear a size 2 or an XS. (Maybe an S if the clothing runs small.) I also know that I'm 40, and while the number of my age doesn't bother me, I know that it comes with bodily changes (metabolism slows, harder to lose weight, etc.). I had twins (yes, they're almost 6, but with that kind of stretching, your body will never be the same again). I am a full time mom, a full time wife, a full time daughter, a full time friend, and a full time teacher. I should probably be kinder to myself. I should realize that I probably don't look as bad as I do in my head. But, despite being rationally aware of all of this, I can't shut down my inner dialogue that says, "You're fat."
It's hard because, growing up, I was always that kid who could eat what I wanted, never exercise, and still be skinny with a flat stomach, and look great in everything. I would wear a size 24 jeans, size 0 or 00 everything, and always look fit and trim--even well into my 20s. But, 30 hit, and my metabolism changed. I noticed it in my first year of marriage. I had the beginnings of that spare tire around my middle and didn't like it. But, the fix was fairly quick and easy. When I was in Europe on vacation, my husband and I walked everywhere and didn't eat as much junk. I came back several pounds lighter, and much less round around the middle. So, I figured I'd keep this up by not eating so much candy and other junk during the day, and voila, I looked like myself again. But, I still ate what I wanted at meals, and I still ate junk food; it just wasn't the bulk of my diet.
At 33 (almost 34), I got pregnant with twins. Throughout my pregnancy, I told myself (and others...and believed it) that I had no idea what my body would look like after pregnancy, and I was ok with whatever. I was growing two miracles--it was worth what I looked like on the other side. I had my kids, and was the skinniest I've been since I was in my early 20s. Having two infants, barely eating or drinking, and trying to breast feed will do that to you. And, so I thought that this was what my body would look like--skinny again, and I was very OK with that (even though my belly wasn't quite as firm as it had once been...which I lamented over. But, I was wearing size 24 jeans again. so it was a small lament.) After I was done breast feeding, and I started sleeping and eating again...well, here's where it all went downhill.
The number on my scale reached heights I hadn't seen since I was halfway through my pregnancy. My clothes were all too tight. I felt like I always looked three months pregnant. Plus, I carry all of my extra weight around my middle (I look great from the chest up and from the knees down...), so I feel like my fat is out there on display for the whole world to see. I didn't walk into a room--my stomach did. (In fact, when we were working on the finishing touches for our house before it was built, a person I had literally just met looked at me and said, "Congrats! I didn't know you were pregnant!" I wasn't. Hadn't been for almost two years. That felt just awesome. Except not at all.
On top of that, my world was changing. We were selling our home, moving into temporary housing (first with my parents, and then into a small rental), and then literally moving across the country with no support system in place (you know...that whole Jersey Girl, Florida World thing). So, I learned that where I used to be someone who had no appetite when I was stressed, I was now a stress eater. Give me all the candy. All the pretzels. All the ice cream. All the cheese. And I hated what I saw in the mirror.
So, I did something about it. I started 21 Day Fix. It was hard--the meal planning, the exercising after the kids went to bed, the going to bed late every night (because of the exercising and meal planning)--but it worked. Did I look like the 26 year old me in my head? No. Did I lose all the weight I wanted to? No. But I felt good and I was fitting into clothes that I hadn't fit into in ages. I also felt like I looked good. I was happy.
However, it wasn't sustainable for me long term. By exercising every night, I had literally no time to do the other things I loved. The meal planning took so much more time and mental energy than I could afford on most days. So, while I intended to do a second round to lose those last pounds, I gave up. Also, here's the other thing about me...I can only do it if I'm super diligent and cut out all bad foods. I have no willpower when it comes to the candy or junk. I can't eat just one cookie and be satisfied. I can't just eat one chocolate kiss and feel sated. I can't just eat one bite of cake, or one bite of pizza, or mac & cheese, and feel like my craving has been met. Instead, I have that one bite, which leads to wanting more. Rationally, I know I should stop. But, I give into the craving. And, once I've let it back in, I want more. And so, the spiral begins.
So, here's my roller coaster. I get to this point (like I'm at right now) where I feel so disgusted with myself. My inner mean girl can't look in the mirror and see the things that make me beautiful. Instead, I see the things that I can't stand to look at. I look in the mirror and I see all of that cottage cheese around my middle. I see the fat belly and the love handles. The butt that looks just too big in the mirror. The marks from where my pants have been digging in all day, because I still squeeze into the ones that are just a smidgen too small. And I berate myself. Over, and over, and over again. (And, yes, I know I shouldn't. In fact, I read this article and it reinforces everything I rationally know, but I just can't seem to get my head around implementing it.) And so, cue the shame spiral. Eventually I hit a point where I am now--I feel ready to do something about it. Usually at this point, I start making better food choices, I find ways to fit exercise back into my life, and I cut out all of the junk food (because, if I let it in, even in moderation, it never ends well...actually--I do nothing in moderation. Just look at my closet, or my yarn stash, or my jewelry...hmm. Maybe I should talk to a therapist about this...). But, nothing I have done is sustainable long term. Even when I start seeing results, and I'm happy with myself, something happens and I'm too tired to exercise for a night or two, so it falls out of my routine, and I give it up completely. Or, I just want one piece of candy, and then the next night I want two, and then it's back in my life. Or I'm just too exhausted to do it all. And, so, I gain back all the weight...and probably more (at least that's how it feels and looks in my head). Cue the roller coaster.
At this point in my life, I need to find something sustainable. (Honestly, I keep fantasizing about liposuction, but I know that's not a real, viable solution.) But, I just don't know how to do it, because (and I know this sounds like an excuse) I just don't have the time.
Let me walk you through my day.
Honestly, I can't carry the mental load of meal planning and prepping--it's too much on my already over full plate. I do, however, want to try to eat better--so I want to sign up for a meal delivery program (like Catered Fit) that delivers food to you for breakfast and lunch (so I can still eat dinner with my family). Which, will take the meal issue out of it, but it's expensive. And, don't even get me started on exercise. I can wake up earlier, but I'm exhausted as is. I can try to go to the gym after I bring the kids home from school, but I'm spent after a long day at work (I've found that when I work out after work, I just don't get as much out of it because I don't have the energy to put as much into it) and it means less time with my kids, who I already barely get to spend time with. I can exercise at home after the kids go to bed, but that means no time for the things I enjoy. And, ultimately, I know that any of these choices are just not going to work for me in the long term. If I'm spread too thin, and too mentally and physically exhausted to keep up with it, it's not sustainable.
And so, the roller coaster continues. I honestly don't know how to get off. I know that there are only two choices...I need to take control of my fitness and my body, or I need to accept myself the way I am. (And, after writing all of this and rereading it, I probably need to go see a therapist to work through my body and moderation issues.) Any advice out there? I'll happily take it.
I've made the best friends (literally), who are essentially my family; we finally moved into our home (just passed the 2 year mark...and there's still SO much to do!); I've become more involved in my school; my kids are now in school; my parents moved here full time; my husband has been traveling less...my life is just busy. My free time (what little of it there is) is spent catching up on housework, spending time with the people I love, catching up on reading, TV, or knitting. So, as much as I love writing, this blog has fallen off my radar. However, my cousin Melissa encouraged me to start again. And, I've been thinking about some reality checks that I want to share with the world (and get off my chest). So, here I am.
Now to get to the heavier stuff...
For a while now, I've been unhappy with my reflection in the mirror. I look at myself and all I see is the spare tire around my middle. I feel like I look like a bag of jello (yes, that's the literal term I use when I describe myself). And I hate it. I feel so unattractive. I feel like everyone in the world is staring at me and thinking how fat I've gotten. I hate the fact that I really should probably be buying a bigger size pants, but that number on the waistband bothers me. I am genuinely jealous of my friends who are fit and trim and look amazing (and the reality is, they probably have these conversations in their heads as well). I have a closet full of clothes, yet refuse to wear most of the things I love because I feel like they highlight my jiggly parts. I will try on several outfits before settling on one that I feel hides my midsection best. I suck my stomach in when I think about it because I feel like, otherwise, everyone is staring.
Now, rationally, I know that I don't look all that bad. Honestly, I still wear a size 2 or an XS. (Maybe an S if the clothing runs small.) I also know that I'm 40, and while the number of my age doesn't bother me, I know that it comes with bodily changes (metabolism slows, harder to lose weight, etc.). I had twins (yes, they're almost 6, but with that kind of stretching, your body will never be the same again). I am a full time mom, a full time wife, a full time daughter, a full time friend, and a full time teacher. I should probably be kinder to myself. I should realize that I probably don't look as bad as I do in my head. But, despite being rationally aware of all of this, I can't shut down my inner dialogue that says, "You're fat."
It's hard because, growing up, I was always that kid who could eat what I wanted, never exercise, and still be skinny with a flat stomach, and look great in everything. I would wear a size 24 jeans, size 0 or 00 everything, and always look fit and trim--even well into my 20s. But, 30 hit, and my metabolism changed. I noticed it in my first year of marriage. I had the beginnings of that spare tire around my middle and didn't like it. But, the fix was fairly quick and easy. When I was in Europe on vacation, my husband and I walked everywhere and didn't eat as much junk. I came back several pounds lighter, and much less round around the middle. So, I figured I'd keep this up by not eating so much candy and other junk during the day, and voila, I looked like myself again. But, I still ate what I wanted at meals, and I still ate junk food; it just wasn't the bulk of my diet.
At 33 (almost 34), I got pregnant with twins. Throughout my pregnancy, I told myself (and others...and believed it) that I had no idea what my body would look like after pregnancy, and I was ok with whatever. I was growing two miracles--it was worth what I looked like on the other side. I had my kids, and was the skinniest I've been since I was in my early 20s. Having two infants, barely eating or drinking, and trying to breast feed will do that to you. And, so I thought that this was what my body would look like--skinny again, and I was very OK with that (even though my belly wasn't quite as firm as it had once been...which I lamented over. But, I was wearing size 24 jeans again. so it was a small lament.) After I was done breast feeding, and I started sleeping and eating again...well, here's where it all went downhill.
The number on my scale reached heights I hadn't seen since I was halfway through my pregnancy. My clothes were all too tight. I felt like I always looked three months pregnant. Plus, I carry all of my extra weight around my middle (I look great from the chest up and from the knees down...), so I feel like my fat is out there on display for the whole world to see. I didn't walk into a room--my stomach did. (In fact, when we were working on the finishing touches for our house before it was built, a person I had literally just met looked at me and said, "Congrats! I didn't know you were pregnant!" I wasn't. Hadn't been for almost two years. That felt just awesome. Except not at all.
On top of that, my world was changing. We were selling our home, moving into temporary housing (first with my parents, and then into a small rental), and then literally moving across the country with no support system in place (you know...that whole Jersey Girl, Florida World thing). So, I learned that where I used to be someone who had no appetite when I was stressed, I was now a stress eater. Give me all the candy. All the pretzels. All the ice cream. All the cheese. And I hated what I saw in the mirror.
So, I did something about it. I started 21 Day Fix. It was hard--the meal planning, the exercising after the kids went to bed, the going to bed late every night (because of the exercising and meal planning)--but it worked. Did I look like the 26 year old me in my head? No. Did I lose all the weight I wanted to? No. But I felt good and I was fitting into clothes that I hadn't fit into in ages. I also felt like I looked good. I was happy.
However, it wasn't sustainable for me long term. By exercising every night, I had literally no time to do the other things I loved. The meal planning took so much more time and mental energy than I could afford on most days. So, while I intended to do a second round to lose those last pounds, I gave up. Also, here's the other thing about me...I can only do it if I'm super diligent and cut out all bad foods. I have no willpower when it comes to the candy or junk. I can't eat just one cookie and be satisfied. I can't just eat one chocolate kiss and feel sated. I can't just eat one bite of cake, or one bite of pizza, or mac & cheese, and feel like my craving has been met. Instead, I have that one bite, which leads to wanting more. Rationally, I know I should stop. But, I give into the craving. And, once I've let it back in, I want more. And so, the spiral begins.
So, here's my roller coaster. I get to this point (like I'm at right now) where I feel so disgusted with myself. My inner mean girl can't look in the mirror and see the things that make me beautiful. Instead, I see the things that I can't stand to look at. I look in the mirror and I see all of that cottage cheese around my middle. I see the fat belly and the love handles. The butt that looks just too big in the mirror. The marks from where my pants have been digging in all day, because I still squeeze into the ones that are just a smidgen too small. And I berate myself. Over, and over, and over again. (And, yes, I know I shouldn't. In fact, I read this article and it reinforces everything I rationally know, but I just can't seem to get my head around implementing it.) And so, cue the shame spiral. Eventually I hit a point where I am now--I feel ready to do something about it. Usually at this point, I start making better food choices, I find ways to fit exercise back into my life, and I cut out all of the junk food (because, if I let it in, even in moderation, it never ends well...actually--I do nothing in moderation. Just look at my closet, or my yarn stash, or my jewelry...hmm. Maybe I should talk to a therapist about this...). But, nothing I have done is sustainable long term. Even when I start seeing results, and I'm happy with myself, something happens and I'm too tired to exercise for a night or two, so it falls out of my routine, and I give it up completely. Or, I just want one piece of candy, and then the next night I want two, and then it's back in my life. Or I'm just too exhausted to do it all. And, so, I gain back all the weight...and probably more (at least that's how it feels and looks in my head). Cue the roller coaster.
At this point in my life, I need to find something sustainable. (Honestly, I keep fantasizing about liposuction, but I know that's not a real, viable solution.) But, I just don't know how to do it, because (and I know this sounds like an excuse) I just don't have the time.
Let me walk you through my day.
- I wake up at 5:45 in the morning--get myself ready to go to work and am out the door between 6:30 and 6:45 (depending on how slowly I move in the morning).
- I drive 35-45 minutes to work, and usually arrive around 7:10-7:20.
- I quickly eat breakfast in the dining hall (and by quickly, I literally mean within 10 minutes), and head up to my classroom, where I usually have a litany of students waiting for extra help from me by 7:45.
- I teach 6 classes during the day, and I need my free periods to get grading done at work (so while I used to take a period at the end of the day and walk the track for a mile--so at least I was doing something active--I don't even get to do that anymore. It's December and I literally have not done it once this year. I miss it.).
- The school day ends at 3:38 and I always have a bunch of students waiting for me for extra help.
- I leave between 4 and 4:15, drive back a half an hour to wait in car line to pick up my kids.
- I get them around 4:45, typically, and we don't get home until 5-5:15.
- We eat dinner, then I get kids ready for bed, get them to bed, and then I do laundry, or put away dishes, or do whatever little things need to be done around the house.
- I finally get to sit down at 8:30. I get about 1 hour to do things I enjoy (read, knit, TV, whatever), and then I go back upstairs, take a shower, lay out everything I need for the next day, and go to bed by 10-10:30 (some nights 11 by the time everything is done). And, I get up and do it all over again the next day.
Honestly, I can't carry the mental load of meal planning and prepping--it's too much on my already over full plate. I do, however, want to try to eat better--so I want to sign up for a meal delivery program (like Catered Fit) that delivers food to you for breakfast and lunch (so I can still eat dinner with my family). Which, will take the meal issue out of it, but it's expensive. And, don't even get me started on exercise. I can wake up earlier, but I'm exhausted as is. I can try to go to the gym after I bring the kids home from school, but I'm spent after a long day at work (I've found that when I work out after work, I just don't get as much out of it because I don't have the energy to put as much into it) and it means less time with my kids, who I already barely get to spend time with. I can exercise at home after the kids go to bed, but that means no time for the things I enjoy. And, ultimately, I know that any of these choices are just not going to work for me in the long term. If I'm spread too thin, and too mentally and physically exhausted to keep up with it, it's not sustainable.
And so, the roller coaster continues. I honestly don't know how to get off. I know that there are only two choices...I need to take control of my fitness and my body, or I need to accept myself the way I am. (And, after writing all of this and rereading it, I probably need to go see a therapist to work through my body and moderation issues.) Any advice out there? I'll happily take it.
