I decided to start this blog as a record of my weight-loss journey. As I've made improvements to my health and appearance, people have started asking questions. They want to know if I followed a plan, or hired a trainer, or took some magic pill.
The answer, of course, is that I worked my butt off. I showed up day in and day out, and earned every last ounce of the weight I dropped. But, I did have a lot of help. I intend to credit every person who contributed to my success, because I owe them big time. If you were part of this, be sure to watch for your shout out.
Growing up, I was always active. And I was always heavy. My mom put me in soccer at age 4, to help control my weight. Little did she know that I would fall in love with the sport ("obsessed" may actually be a better word). Getting back out on the soccer field was one of my biggest motivators to get back in shape.
In high school, I was diagnosed with PCOS. At the time, I just thought I would have wacky periods and maybe some trouble getting pregnant. I had no idea that it can cause women to develop insulin resistance and pack on pounds.
When I left for college, my activity level dropped. I started gaining weight, but wasn't too concerned about it. I thought the Rec was for silly girls who wanted to lose weight. Of course, I learned the hard way that you need to move to keep from gaining! By the time it occurred to me to do something about it, I had packed on the Freshman 15, 6 times over (15 pounds for each year that I was in college- OUCH).
I hate most weight loss chronicles, because at some point, the author references late nights with a Super Sized Double Whopper and a milkshake. Not everyone is like that, and it pisses me off when people imply that. The truth is that I made bad choices. I didn't say "no" when I was full, I said "yes" to ice cream entirely too often, and I didn't give any thought to portion sizes. In the midst of gaining, I started a serious relationship, and fell right into the trap of cooking for 2: half on his plate, half on mine; never realizing that a large portion for a man is a SUPER large portion for a woman.
And I hate the weight loss diaries that minimize the effort. The women that say, "Oh, I walked 4 miles, 4 times a week, and dropped 60 pounds in 10 weeks! YIPPEEE for me!!" Great for them. But when you have PCOS, your body messes with you, and holds on to every last iota of fat that it can. I can bust my butt in the gym and drop 3 pounds in a day, and then get stuck there for a month. Then when I think I've got it figured out, and crank up the effort, PCOS laughs in my face and packs 5 pounds right back on. And just when you think you might scream of frustration, so you take it easy for a few days, VOILA 10 pounds gone.
In the time that I've been on this journey, I've learned more about myself than I could have ever imagined. I learned where my limits are, and how to smash them. I've learned to count on my body to carry me harder, stronger, faster, and longer. I'm in the best shape of my life, even if the mirror doesn't reflect it (yet!). I've learned that people will try to bring you down ("Oh, share this dessert with me, it won't kill you"... it may not kill me, but it will certainly stay with me longer than it will stay with you!). I've learned to say no. I've learned to ask, "is it worth it?". And I hope that if I put this all out there, it will inspire someone else to start their journey.
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