Celebrating Success

I was so proud of myself last year when I had lost 95 pounds. I just knew 100 pounds was only a week away, and my next Weight Watchers goal weight was 199, which was totally achievable with fewer than 10 pounds to go.

I don't know if I've ever been more proud of myself.

But now...well, now I'm struggling just to stay under 220 pounds. I'm ashamed. I've been riding that awful roller coaster since September. A few pounds up, a few pounds down, more pounds up, more pounds down. I weighed in at 214 last week, which would be exciting if I hadn't gotten down lower than that MONTHS ago. 

And now my doctor put me on Zoloft, which is notorious for weight gain. I fully expect to gain 15 or more pounds, which will be devastating to me. I feel like that will make me more depressed and anxious...so, like, what's the point of the Zoloft then?

But I'm still going. I'm still eating right and weighing in. And more amazingly (to me), I'm going on long walks and hikes every chance I get. It's hard to remember my life before my heart surgery in August. I can't believe that less than a year ago, I struggled to walk to the mailbox. Now I'm going on 4 mile hikes and feeling absolutely awesome afterwards. 

So maybe I'm not losing weight. Yeah, if fucking sucks. But I am STILL PROUD of myself. Maybe not for losing weight, but because I am living an active life for the first time in so long. 

That's still something to celebrate. 

Playtime

It feels so good to be able to play again.

I mean, really play.

To chase after my dogs and dash around the yard with their toys. To burst into activity and wind up giggling and flushed and breathless. To race my nephew to the playground at the drive-in without being embarrassed that everyone will be watching the fat girl flounder.

These are things I've missed without even realizing it. As my world begins its slow thaw after a desperately long and hard winter, I'm getting out more and testing the limits of my new heart valve.

On Friday after work, the temperature actually reached 60 so we took the convertible (with the top down!) to the park and hiked around places that I've only ever seen from inside a car. We hiked for 4 miles, passed through a bird sanctuary where the songs of dozens of species joined together in a rich cacophony, walked around the rim of a still-frozen lake where the ice was so thin you could see water rippling below the surface, and at one point broke through the trees to find an unexpected merry-go-round rusting at the edge of a picnic area.

I had thought merry-go-rounds were banned from playgrounds years ago, so I was excited enough to see it that I didn't care who saw ME. I sprinted to the contraption, threw myself in the middle, and held on as my girlfriend grabbed the bars and started spinning. A year or so ago, this wouldn't have happened. First, I wouldn't have even seen the merry-go-round because there's no way I would have been hiking. With 95 extra pounds and a heart valve that was almost completely grown shut, I wouldn't have even been at the park. I would have been home on the couch, enjoying the warmer weather through the window. And if I somehow was near a merry-go-round, there's just no way I would have gotten on. I would have been afraid of breaking it, afraid my girlfriend would be unable to spin it because of my size, and terrified that people would see me and whisper among themselves at the spectacle the fat girl was making of herself.

Being able to run to the playground and play without fear or shame was an experience I really can't describe to most people because they wouldn't understand. I felt joy. That's hard to put into words, but I felt free and happy and normal.

Normal.

Amazing.

100 Mile March…Or My Own Version

My workplace is always trying to be healthier (we have a great fitness center and trainer, free Weight Watchers,  quarterly gift cards for healthy habits, only diet sodas in the vending machines, etc.). It's pretty awesome actually. So this year they're promoting the 100 Mile March again. The idea is just to commit to walking 100 miles over the course of the month of March.

Last year, since I had lost a good amount of weight (like 55 pounds) by March and I felt pretty good, I decided to try it.

It was a dismal failure.

I walked every day for the first week. Seven days. My total distance walked? 1.5 miles. That's over a period of seven days COMBINED.

I was so disappointed.

I really did try, but I could only walk two minutes at a time before having an asthma attack and feeling like I was going to vomit.

I had no idea at the time that I was actually suffering from severe cardiac asthma and that my heart valve had grown shut and I was basically a walking heart failure bomb. I didn't find that out until June, and then had heart surgery in August to fix it. But in March, all I knew was that I sucked. That I couldn't even walk, even after losing so much weight.

It was seriously depressing.

So this year, to ramp up slowly and avoid such devastating failure, I'm making my own March. I'm doing a 30 Mile March.

30 Mile March?

Totally doable.

It's the 13th and I've logged right around 12 miles, so I'm perfectly on track. Between my Jawbone UP and my Map My Workout app, I'm doing a good job of getting extra steps in, along with taking short but trackable walks, like trekking a couple blocks with my employees for lunch, or walking around a cemetery while I wait for my girlfriend to get off work.

Even though the weather still sucks, we managed to take a great hike every day Friday through Monday last weekend. Sure, the trails were basically bogs and we had to slog and slide through six inches or more of mud in some places, but it was awesome to be outside DOING something.

I can't recall ever being in the woods before spring or summer. It's been cool to see the green moss peeking out from beneath the melting snow, and to see the trails without the curtains of leaves. The woods feel so open and bare without leaves. I kind of like it.

So I may not be confident enough for a 100 Mile March yet, but I'll do 30 miles. I'm ready for that at least. And I walked farther the first day this year than I did the entire first week last year.

That's progress!

100 Posts, Not Quite 100 Pounds

I'm getting pretty fucking frustrated with myself right now. I KNOW I'm sabotaging myself, but somehow I just can't stop eating. It's like the story of my fucking life. I KNOW I'm getting fatter, but I can't stop.

So right now, instead of focusing on what I'm doing wrong, I thought I would take a moment to recognize a few things I've done right.

This is my 100th post on My Weird Luck, which is pretty weird in itself. When I first started back in 2012, I was high on my Weight Watchers success and I needed an outlet to share my successes and my failures.

I never expected to still be writing more than a year later, but I also truly didn't expect to still be losing weight. I mean, okay, I'm not exactly losing weight at the moment, but I'm still on the right road. It's better than it could be. I definitely didn't expect to still be on Weight Watchers. I figured that I would do what I always do...give up, give in, and keep eating. I figured I'd be back over 300 pounds, whining about my weight, wondering why I couldn't do anything.

I wanted to get my thoughts out there, but I didn't really expect anyone to listen. I'm glad some people relate, though. While I know a very small percentage of people actually comment, I do see that quite a number of you are looking. Hopefully reading. Maybe even finding a bit of yourself here.

The post that has gotten the most attention is my pilonidal cyst story, which is really fucking gross BUT I'm glad it's maybe spreading some info that's otherwise hard to get. I know how embarrassing it is, so it's nice to be able to help spare other people from some of the confusion I had.

Anyway, so here's a sort of rundown of where I am, versus where I've been.

I weighed in this morning at 215.4 pounds. That's a gain of 2 pounds since last week (as expected).

I've lost a total of 88.6 pounds, having started at 304 pounds in August of 2012.

When I started writing this blog, I had already lost 26.8 pounds, which brought me down to 277.2 from 304. Since I started writing, I've lost another 61.8 pounds. I also had heart surgery, which was pretty traumatic but also really awesome.

I had really, really, REALLY hoped to lose 100 pounds before I got to 100 posts. I also really wanted to lose 100 pounds before I turn 32 next week. That obviously isn't going to happen, but I'm turning 32 weighing close to 200 pounds instead of close to 300 pounds.

It could always be worse. Hopefully before I get to 200 posts, I'll FINALLY be under 200 pounds. Otherwise...I mean, I'll totally lose it. I'll lose the weight, or I'll lose my fucking mind! Ha!

Happy 100th post!

Inch by Inch

Losing weight takes sooooooooooooo loooooooooooooooooong.

I feel like 9-year-old me on a long road trip, whining, "Are we there yet?" over and over. My sister and I made a song of it to the tune of Frere Jacques..."Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Please say yes! Please say yes! We're so very bored now, we just want to be there, are we there? Are we there?" It annoyed the hell out our parents, and now I'm annoying myself by singing it in my head.

Seriously, though...are we there yet?!

I've been on Weight Watchers since August of 2012. I've lost 94 pounds now, but I've been hovering around 94 pounds lost for what seems like forever. It doesn't feel like I've made any progress in months, and this journey is taking longer than Lord of the Rings (The books! not even the movies!).

It's been 17, almost 18 months of tracking every bite of food I eat, of weighing out my grated cheese and measuring my glasses of milk. I still, even after nearly 18 months, don't trust myself to pour an accurate 8 ounce drink, or eat one real ounce of potato chips.

That's exhausting.

And from one day to the next, I very rarely feel like I've made any difference. For every unexpected and awesome moment when I pass the mirror and think, "Wow, nice cheekbones!", there's another moment where I put my hand on my hip and think, "Oh man, I thought I had less pudge yesterday..."

Two steps forward, one step back, right?

But still, I keep reminding myself that I HAVE made progress. 94 pounds is still 94 pounds. Just taking a look back through photos from the past 18 months is enough to satisfy me that I am making myself healthier, one day at a time, even if it doesn't always feel like it.

Back On Track

After several weeks of exceeding my Weight Watchers Points (like, by 50 Points! That's like just eating an entire pie, with toppings!) I finally managed to stay mostly within my allotment for the week. Okay, to be honest, I counted two hours of walking yesterday just so I wouldn't go over, even though my 'walking' was really taking an extremely slow shuffling tour of a Masonic temple with some elderly people, one of whom was wearing a prosthetic leg, so I probably shouldn't have counted this as exercise. But anyway, I stayed close to my Points and it paid off.

Down 3.2 pounds this week! That brings me to 208.8 pounds, down 95.2 from 304 pounds. Slowly but surely, right? I'm getting pretty close to losing 100 pounds, which is pretty awesome for me. Also, while I was at weigh-in, I saw someone who I haven't seen in a year or so and she was amazed at how much I've lost. It's so incredible to have people tell me how great I look! That's something you just don't hear much when you're over 300 pounds.

So even though I'm sitting here with a half-eaten plate of Christmas cookies on my desk, I still feel like I'm back on track. I'm trimming back, counting the Points of everything I eat, and trying to stick to my daily Weight Watchers goals. It's not easy with so much holiday cheer being passed around in the form of calorie-laden treats, but I'm getting much better at saying NO. "No, thanks! That looks great but I'm on Weight Watchers." It was embarrassing last year. Really, at close to 300 pounds (I was making some progress by Christmas last year) I felt like people were laughing at me when I said I was on a diet. I could almost hear them thinking "Sure, this bitch is dieting! I bet she steals cookies when our backs are turned and eats them in the bathroom." But now that I can see so much progress, I feel a little proud to tell people I'm sticking with Weight Watchers and passing on the treats.

I still eat what I want, but my Planned Indulgences list is working wonders for me. I still plan to splurge on some eggnog, one of those Hershey Kiss cookies, a Christmas Snickers when I get my stocking, and the full meal on Christmas Day. But knowing that I'm going to eat that delicious shit soon makes it SO much easier to say "No, thanks!" to the sugar cookies, chocolate covered pretzels, and candied nuts I see every day now.

I'm still hoping to lose a few more pounds before the end of the year, mostly because my work gives us gift cards if we work out enough or lose enough weight to earn one. I'm close but not quite there, and I could really use a $50 Target shopping spree!

As long as Christmas doesn't derail my Weight Watchers train, I should be down a few pounds by New Year's!

Keep On Keepin' On

I am now officially smaller than I have been in my entire adult life.

I weighed in at my Weight Watchers At Work meeting today and was down 5 pounds for the week...which brings me down to 209.2 pounds. UNDER 210 POUNDS!

Total lost? 94.8 pounds.

That's, like...unimaginable. I weighed 304 pounds last August. Now, I'm literally smaller than I was in high school. I'm sitting here in size 17 skinny jeans, knee high boots, and a size 14 vest. WHAT?!

I'm still having trouble feeling like I'm that much smaller, though. I mean, I feel amazing, but I think that's like 75% having a heart valve that actually works and 25% being smaller.

But it doesn't matter. I AM losing weight, and everyone around me is commenting on it, and it's awesome.

When I entered my new weight into my Weight Watchers app, it let me know that I actually hit the last goal I set. I've been resetting my goal by 10 or 15 pounds at a time because, seriously, having a goal of losing 100+ pounds at the beginning would have just overwhelmed me and I would have quit this shit a year ago. So my latest goal was 210 pounds, which was a big deal for me because I can't remember ever being under 210 pounds since middle school I think.

Forced to reset my goal, I went with around 10 pounds less than my current weight. I SET MY GOAL AT 199 POUNDS. That's just...I mean, you can't understand if you haven't been there, but that's just fucking mindblowing. Not only am I actually aiming for less than 200 pounds...but it's attainable! Like, within 10 pounds! I couldn't help the tears forming in my eyes. After spending basically a lifetime weighing more than 200 pounds (which is such a shameful, stigmatized thing for a woman), I am now within sight of 199 pounds.

Fucking incredible. 

Lesbian Pants

I had a few nice moments today.

I was on a fun work trip to reward our top performers and saw quite a few colleagues from other departments--many of them haven't seen me in months, so I was delighted (and a little embarrassed) to find myself complimented throughout the day. Everyone was amazed at how healthy I look, both from the weight loss and from the heart surgery. Instead of hanging out at the snack table guiltily devouring cookies and pumpkin pie cheesecake, I talked to people about hiking, camping, bicycling, and basically being a normal adult. It was pretty awesome!

I also was really happy to be able to get on and off of the bus without feeling like I was squeezing down the aisles and hitting people's elbows with my stomach and ass. What a difference.

Plus, when I went on this same trip last year, I could barely walk around. I was so fatigued and winded from the heart and breathing problems that even walking from the bus to my table inside was difficult. This year, I couldn't wait to do more. We played paintball last year and, although it was totally totally fun and I really really love shooting at people, I ended up having an asthma attack merely walking out to the starting line. I spent the entire game last year wheezing and desperately hiding behind a wall while my face mask fogged up with my heavy breathing. I had to sit out the second game, and barely survived the third. This year...totally opposite! I was active, I ran behind targets, and I (along with my assistant manager) ended up winning against three guys! I'm a really good shot, and being able to scamper around the game site this year gave me much better vantage points from which to totally demolish the guys! I did get hit in the face (thank goodness for masks) but it was still awesome.

But one of the greatest things was my pants. I've had this pair of camouflage pants for years and years. I call them my lesbian pants. I wore them in college when I was going through my militant phase, and they always make me feel cool. They're baggy camo cargo pants that hung low on my hips, and they're so worn that the bottom few inches have torn away. They're splattered with paint and starting to get little holes, but I love them and used to wear them all the time. When I finally gained enough weight that I couldn't wear them, I kept them in my closet hoping that one day I could put them on again. Last year, I had only been on Weight Watchers for three months when I went paintballing but I decided to try on the pants...and they fit! They were tight, but I could wear them and felt like a badass again.

I wanted to wear them again this year because, well, I don't exactly have many paintball clothes nowadays and what's better for paintballing than camouflage? So I put them on this morning and they were TOO BIG! They hung down on my hips like they used to, and maybe even a little more. I wore them anyway with a tank top, long sleeved shirt, fleece vest, and hoodie (it was cold and I wanted lots of layers in case I got hit). I ended up having to keep one hand on my waistband the entire time I was paintballing because my pants kept slipping off! Like, my pants are literally FALLING OFF OF ME. That is so amazing. Pants that a year ago I was celebrating fitting into are now too big!

I'm sure I can find some way to repurpose the pants, but I don't think I can wear them again--at least not without a belt! What an awesome feeling.

Abs of Jelly

It's so awesome to be able to dress my age again. I mean, I'm only 31. I felt like a gross old lady every time I went to work wearing yoga pants (knowing very well that I was NOT going to practice any yoga) and Crocs and cardigans. I spent almost two years in tent dresses and flip flops all summer, then "dress" sweats and baggy sweaters all winter.

This is my first real Fall since so long ago. I can wear real jeans again, and cute, form-fitting sweaters, with fitted jackets and knee-high riding boots. It's amazing.

But as much as I'm loving the ability to wear jeans, I am still facing the problem I've had for years: my Gonzo-nose stomach. Even though I'm smaller now, I'm still virtually the same shape. I have the same lumps and flab, and my stomach is still big and soft. It hangs down (the ultra-embarrassing, often unspoken of, dreaded pannus ::shudder::). It bulges out. And, hardest to conceal, it pooches out right above my bellybutton. If I wear jeans that come to my bellybutton or below, it doesn't matter if they fit me or even if they're too big: my stomach roll sticks out over my pants.

My only solution is to wear pants that come above my bellybutton. Like, mom jeans that come up high and act as a girdle, or maternity-type pants that unfold to form a flat surface up my torso. I do have some Spanx but, let's face it, I'm not putting that much effort into beautifying myself for work. And I have those slimming camisoles that keep everything smooth, but they roll up sometimes and they're just not very comfortable pushing down on my healing heart surgery scars.

While I continue to fight my own battle of the bulge using my wardrobe as a weapon, I'm also fighting on another front: from the inside. I saw some people posting challenges on Facebook and decided to try one. Then...I decided to try another. Now I'm doing two different month long ab challenges, and...I'm secretly loving it!

The first one is the 30 Day Plank Challenge:

The 30 Day Plank Challenge will send your core strength through the roof!
Day 1 - 20 seconds
Day 2 - 20 seconds
Day 3 - 30 seconds
Day 4 - 30 seconds
Day 5 - 40 seconds
Day 6 - REST
Day 7 - 45 seconds
Day 8 - 45 seconds
Day 9 - 60 seconds
Day 10 - 60 seconds
Day 11 - 60 seconds
Day 12 - 90 seconds
Day 13 - REST
Day 14 - 90 seconds
Day 15 - 90 seconds
Day 16 - 120 seconds
Day 17 - 120 seconds
Day 18 - 150 seconds
Day 19 - REST
Day 20 - 150 seconds
Day 21 - 150 seconds
Day 22 - 180 seconds
Day 23 - 180 seconds
Day 24 - 210 seconds
Day 25 - 210 seconds
Day 26 - REST
Day 27 - 240 seconds
Day 28 - 240 seconds
Day 29 - 270 seconds
Day 30 - PLANK FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE!!

It was incredibly difficult at first, since I haven't really ever planked before. I mean, I was shaking and gasping and I didn't think I was going to make it. (To be clear, this is not that cheesy Instagram/Twitter planking thing, where I go balance myself, like, on the railing at Niagara Falls while my girlfriend takes a photo and hopes I don't fall off and die.) Now, on day 7, it's still hard. And every few days it's going to get harder. But my abs feel great, and I feel like I'm actually accomplishing something each day!

The second one is the 24 Day Abs-So-Tightly Right Challenge. This one involves crunches, which aren't so bad, along with leg raises, which was apparently completely impossible for me to do. I tried. I swear I did. But I just can't lift both legs at once. They're pretty big legs, but I still feel like I should be able to lift them. When I try, though, my back starts to arch and then my tailbone grinds into the ground (which is probably not good for my temporarily dormant pilonidal cyst) and I just can't get them to raise off the ground no matter how hard I strain. Instead, I'm making up for it by doing single leg raises, one leg at a time, and I've added side leg lifts because that's what my mom always did when I was little and it just seems like something that should be included in a workout. This challenge also asks you to plank, but I figure I have that covered in the first challenge.

I already feel like I can feel a bit of definition when I put my hands on my hips. And when I roll over on my side, I feel like a little less belly settles down in front of me. I gained weight during my last two weigh-ins, but I do feel stronger and my abs are seriously sore. Something must be working. Maybe by the end of the month, I'll be able to wear pants that don't come up to my armpits.

91 Pounds Down!

This is a 91 pound fish. That is a BIG FISH, yo.

I am down 91 pounds as of this week.

Let's just let that sink in.

91 pounds. I really can't believe it. I feel like I've had so many setbacks, like so many weeks I gained instead of lost, but here I am...91 pounds lost. Well, not lost. I didn't 'lose' them, I worked my ass off, tracking every bite and now pushing myself harder and harder at cardiac rehab. So 91 pounds fucking eliminated! Yeah!

At weigh-in on Wednesday, some of my coworkers were complaining about how they felt like they kept gaining just as much as they lost. One girl was saying, "I go down .6 one week, but then up .2 the next week. Then down .4 and then back up .1." I wanted to shake her and say, like, "Do the math, dummy! You may be up and down, but down .6, up .2, down .4, and up .1 is still a total of .7 down! That's progress!" But I didn't say anything. I still feel really awkward acknowledging my weight loss. I probably should have spoken up, though, because I have TOTALLY been there. The weight chart on my Weight Watchers app looks like a saw. It's a jagged line, up and down in tiny increments, but the overall slope is downward.

I've mentioned on here the weeks where I've gained 10 FREAKIN POUNDS in one week. And back at the beginning of this year when I hit that stupid fucking plateau and didn't lose a single pound for two months.

I mean, yeah, I've lost 91 pounds. But that's been since last August. That's definitely less than the 2 pounds per week that people expect. I sometimes do feel like I've gained as much as I've lost. Mathematically that's obviously not the case, but I've had enough tiny gains that I know now not to freak out. Little by little, up and down, I've been making progress. And I didn't let those 10 pound gains stop me (seriously, 10 pounds...that's nuts). And here I am. 91 pounds down. Slowly but surely.

Work, Bitch

Apparently my cardiac rehab is working--I not only feel stronger and healthier, I also lost 3.4 pounds at weigh-in this week. Nice!

I'm now down to 215 pounds even, down 89 pounds from my starting weight of 304 last August. 89 pounds...that's pretty crazy. That's more than my 9 year old nephew. That's more than my old Rottweiler. According to the list, I'm one pound away from having lost a NEWBORN CALF. Whoa.

As much as I hate going to rehab three times a week, I have to admit it's kind of nice. It's strange to have basically a regular gym schedule. And they don't just turn on the machines and let me go--I have to be hooked up to the heart monitors, they come and take my oxygen and heart rate and blood pressure while I'm working out, and every session they try to increase my time, my incline, my resistance, etc. After my heart surgery I was scheduled for 18 sessions, so I think I still have around 4 weeks to go.

Yesterday, though, was TOUGH. I kept bitching about the stationary bike (I'm not used to working the fronts of my legs, so it makes me tired really fast). Well, after they were nice and tried to switch things up for me, I wanted to go back to the stationary bike so badly! They had me on something called an Arc Trainer. I guess they're all the rage but I've never even seen one (obviously I don't exactly frequent a gym). It's basically like a nightmare mashup of a stair climber and an elliptical machine. It's fucking horrible.

The nurse had me start the Arc Trainer and I seemed to get the hang of it. Thinking I would be fine, she set it for 20 minutes and said that I didn't have to do the full 20 but just see what I could get through. Then she went to go make her rounds to the other rehabbers. After about 60 seconds, I was sweating and panting and my butt and hips were screaming in pain. After maybe three minutes, I thought I was going to pass out. I slowed down long enough to turn my playlist to "Work Bitch" (I love Britney, especially when working out now, and ESPECIALLY this song) and I powered through. I got to five minutes and started looking around for the nurse, trying to make eye contact. After about seven minutes, my chest was burning like it hasn't burned since before my surgery. I didn't want to stop and admit defeat so I kept going, but the machine started beeping some kind of heart rate alarm. I kept going, gasping for air, glaring straight ahead, determined and frustrated and possibly dying. Finally the nurse rushed over and told me my heart rate was way too high (duh) and had me stop. That was 11 minutes of pure hell. Seriously, it's like a torture device with fancy foot pads. So they put me on a range limiter for another 10 minutes as a cool-down and then I got to go home. In the car, my lungs and chest were still on fire and I was coughing up phlegm just like before my surgery when I was in a constant state of cardiac asthma.

Anyway, I survived and I told them I am determined to try it again on Monday. Just maybe for five minutes instead. My legs and ass are sore, and I have hip muscles that I've never felt before. Ouch. What am I going to do after my rehab is over? I don't have anyone to push me like that, and I don't know if I can push myself like that. Working out sucks but...well, if I keep seeing results at weigh-in, maybe it will be worth it after all.

The Lovely Bones

Let me tell you, it is SO WEIRD to see my collarbone. I walked past the mirror this morning and stopped in my tracks for a double-take. The rising sun slanting through the blinds in the living room cast shadows in the hollows, and I was stunned to realize they actually were hollows.

I have a real collarbone. One that I can show off. Not just the idea of a clavicle...an actual bone that I can run my fingers along and choose necklaces to lay against.

See, I've been fat forever. My entire life. I remember being chubby in kindergarten and I just kept growing up and out. Then I stopped growing up and kept growing out. Layer after layer of fat softened my body and buried my bones.

When you weigh more than 300 pounds, it's easy to forget you have bones at all. I started to feel like a candle stub that was dipped again and again in melted wax, each dip leaving another layer of soft wax, rounding me out and filling me up. When I was desperate, which was pretty much all of the time before I finally took control and began losing weight, I would imagine myself taking a knife and carving all the fat off my body. In all the times I envisioned this, I never once saw my blade hitting bone. An organ sometimes, yes, but I figured that would be a small price to pay to get rid of the fat. Never bone, though. I felt like my fat was packed into my lumpy suit of skin without bones or anything else besides fat and maybe blood.

I'm fascinated by x-rays of myself--it's so strange to see my skeleton. It seems like a different person almost. It's hard to believe that it's there, packed beneath all of that fat. It feels impossible that I'm made up of such small, fragile things. My bones seemed as mysterious to me as the bottom of the ocean.

But now I can SEE my bones. I can see the bone jutting out at my wrist, and my knuckles moving as I type. I can see the light on my cheekbones and the slight depression beneath them. My jaw is an actual jaw and not just the slope from my face to my chest.

Like I said, it's weird. But good. Definitely good. I'm still 217 pounds so there are still lots of layers to fat to melt away, but I can see that happening. I'm going strong. And this way is definitely preferable to carving my body out of fat--it may take longer, but there will be significantly less blood lost in the process.

Let's Get Physical

I'm feeling pretty confident about tomorrow's weigh-in. I've eaten right all week, cut out those dreaded Fiber One bars, and I'm recovered pretty thoroughly from that plateau. Stupid fucking plateau. I don't want to get my hopes up too much, but today after work I weighed myself (okay, I hadn't had any water all day so maybe I was dehydrated, but still) and the scale said 242.8!

SERIOUSLY!

That's a weight loss of more than 60 pounds from my starting weight of 304! Again, I don't want to get my hopes up...but I'm pretty sure I'll be down at least 3 pounds this week, which is going to put me right around the 60 pound mark. Not quite to my next mini-goal of 240 but pretty damn close!

We'll see what happens at weigh-in tomorrow. But the odds appear to be in my favor!

Plus, I made a pretty remarkable accomplishment this week. I worked out. TWICE. I know, I know, most people do that, like, every day. But I haven't REALLY worked out since..well...probably since before my open heart surgery, which was over 5 years ago now. This wasn't anything strenuous--just this yoga/pilates combo dvd that I used to do all the time in college. I used to love getting stoned and listening to the British chick speak in such calming tones, telling me to keep my abs strong and breathe into my poses.

Turns out that it's still really fun and relaxing!

But I was so incredibly sore afterward. I felt like someone shoved me down a mountain and I hit every rock on the way down. Sitting on the toilet hurts. Coughing hurts. Putting on my shoes hurts. But it's a good pain! I haven't had workout pain for a long time! It's making me feel stronger, which is helping me feel even better about myself. It's like I keep looking in the mirror and seeing the girl I used to be. I don't see the sloppy matron in baggy pants and a cardigan--I see the hot vixen again. I feel like I'm getting my spark back.

I'm basically at the weight that I was all through college--a few more months and I might actually be smaller than I was in college. What a miracle that would be.

Over The Hill! Or Plateau, Whatever

FINALLY! Seriously, FINAL-FUCKING-LY. I got over it. I broke through the plateau. I thought I was going to give up. I really thought about moving to Canada and living as an Inuit under layers of fur and hide. I didn't think it was going to happen. I didn't think I was going to make it.

But I did.

My Wednesday Weight Watchers weigh-in outcome: down 3.8 pounds, for a grand total of 56.8 pounds lost and a current weight of 247.2. This is the smallest I've been in 5 years. That's a big deal for me. But breaking through that fucking plateau feels like an even more remarkable victory.

I was really feeling crazy. Seven weeks without losing weight, when you're really working hard at it, is so devastating. Incredibly discouraging. I for real thought about quitting, but I had some kind friends and strangers (including randoms from the Weight Watchers community board, who somehow saw my surrender flag and rushed in to give me advice and support) who helped me put things into perspective. Like the fact that I had already lost over 50 pounds--did I really want to go back to weighing more than 300 pounds? That answer is a clear NO FUCKING WAY. I don't want to go back. But I just psychologically could not continue following Weight Watchers without losing weight. I couldn't keep passing up second helpings and limiting my delicious cheese intake without seeing some results. I was ready to go fucking crazy.

And the weirdest part is that I think I figured out what was causing my plateau, and completely preventing me from losing weight. The culprit: Fiber One 90 Calorie Bars. Seriously!

After pretty consistently shedding weight from August through mid-February, I abruptly stopped losing weight. Everyone said to stick with it and the plateau would break. I waited a week, two weeks, three weeks...oh my god, every weigh-in was so horrible. I couldn't figure it out. I was weighing and measuring all my food, I was drinking enough water, I was moving more and being active and even doing stuff I don't normally do, like playing on playgrounds with my niece and nephew and hiking down to the creek to take pictures. That scale was not budging. I tried all of the little tips people gave me: switch up my breakfasts, try alternating high- and low-Point days, take a walk, drink more water.

When nothing was working, last Thursday I tried thinking of anything that had changed at the end of February to make me stop losing weight. I had already wracked my brain for changes in activity, medication, whatever. Then it struck me: late February was when my girlfriend discovered Fiber One bars and I LOVED them! I started eating those Fiber One brownie things (they're only 2 Points) and then the Fiber One 90 Calorie Bars (the caramel pretzel is amazing). I was eating them every day, sometimes one of each every day. I was counting the Points and everything, but somehow I guess my body just went nuts. I stopped eating them last Thursday just to see if it made a difference, and I lost a pound overnight. That hasn't happened in months. Then I kept them out of my diet all week until weigh-in just to see, and I was down 3.8 pounds.

Amazing.

Oh, and I'm, uh, having my 'monthly cycle'...which means I will hopefully/probably lose next week too.

It feels really good to be back on track, but even better knowing that I stuck with it even when I was discouraged and really pissed off. I've never stuck with anything that gave me SEVEN WEEKS of failure. The fact that I continued to eat right, continued to track my food, and continued to make good food choices instead of falling completely off the wagon means that maybe something has changed that's more than a scale victory. Maybe my brain is changing. It feels like everything's coming together right now--I'm finally losing weight, which has been my dream and fantasy for so many years without me ever making much progress. I also got promoted at work, so now I'm a department manager overseeing two creative teams. I have my dream job at a magazine, I have an amazing girlfriend who puts up with my tantrums, I feel pretty hot right now, I'm getting compliments from everyone about my weight loss, my skin looks fabulous thanks to all of the cool products I'm trying (blame that one on my serious subscription box addition), my hair is my favorite color of Cotton Candy Pink (a happy accident--apparently bleaching purple hair makes it turn pink and all you can do is add more pink), the birds are singing, flowers are growing, and the weather is turning nice so I can finally put the top down on the convertible.

I think this is going to be a good spring.

Tumbling After

I don't want to jinx myself, but I may have knocked my body off its weight loss plateau.

I'll have to wait until my Wednesday weigh-in to know for sure, but I think I'm actually starting to lose again. WHEW. I was getting really frustrated and depressed over my lack of progress for the past month and a half.

My Weight Watchers meeting leader told me to try eating different breakfasts (apparently if you've been eating Yoplait pretty much every single morning for five years, your body gets used to it...who knew?) so I've been making banana berry smoothies and having a Fiber One bar a little later. Plus, I've been trying to get in my daily recommended healthy oil. I don't know why eating more oil is going to help, but if it works I don't care why.

Even if I don't lose this weight (but I seriously fucking BETTER lose this week) I'm still happy:
I rode in a go-kart today WITH a six year old kid and I didn't crush her! After all of my painful and cringe-worthy moments at the amusement park last summer as a result of my weight, I was really nervous about riding the go-karts. I was there with my niece (technically my girlfriend's niece, but I think since my girlfriend and I have been together longer than she's been alive, I have the right to call her my niece. Besides, she's called me Auntie all her life anyway...which I love :)). Her grandparents asked her who she wanted to drive with her since she's not tall enough to ride alone, and I died a little inside when she picked me. I did the usual watch-everyone-in-line-to-see-if-I'm-the-biggest thing. And I pretty much hyperventilated the whole time waiting to board. When we got in the car, though, I was able to fasten the seat belt comfortably and we sat side-by-side without her being squashed into the corner. And since I fit and I was comfortable, it was FUN! Really fun! And all of the pictures everyone took as we whizzed past turned out fine, without my double chin dangling down like a turkey wattle.

On top of that, I've been getting compliments from people this past week and it's awesome. Seeing my family at Easter started off the good-vibey warm-fuzzies week with everyone telling me I look good. My girlfriend commented several times, one of my best friends who only gives compliments rarely and very begrudgingly told me I've obviously lost a lot of weight, and my girlfriend's family was impressed. And then one of my employees sent me a note telling me I look great and to keep it up. I immediately employed my weird compliment-brush-off by complaining about not making any progress for over a month, and she responded with a bit of wisdom that I REALLY needed to hear. I wish I could remember exactly how she phrased it, but it was something like, "Even people climbing Mount Everest stop at base camp along the way."

So maybe this plateau is just base camp. I'm adjusting to the altitude. Now it's time to pack up my shit and move on!

More Numbers

I wanted to make myself feel better so I took some measurements. I was hoping that I would see some changes to my body, even if the scale isn't showing any progress.

All I found out is that my boobs are shrinking.

Lovely.

New dimensions:

Neck: 15"
Bust: 46"
Chest: 42"
Waist: 41"
Hips: 50"
Thighs: right 28", left 29"
Calves: left and right 20"
Ankles: right 10.5", left 11"
Upper arms: right 14", left 15"
Forearms: right 10.5", left 11"
Wrists: right and left 7"

This shows some progress (I guess) from the last time I measured myself, but it's still a little disheartening.

I bought myself some pretty things on Amazon to keep my mind off of food and my weight and my failures. I may go to Macy's next. Retail therapy is totally underrated.

55 Pounds

Got another five pound star today at Weight Watchers!

I hit 55 pounds lost :) Down 2.4 this week, so I'm at 248.8 pounds now down from 304, for a total loss of 55.2 pounds.

I'm glad I'm back under 250 pounds. When I bounced around 249-252 for the past couple of weeks, I was getting pretty discouraged. I was so elated to get down under 250 pounds that I felt like a big failure when I gained again. Now I'm determined to stay under 250 pounds. I just don't want to go back there again.

I've also been failing at the 100 Mile March, but I don't feel as bad about that because, honestly, my stomach is still all crampy and I just don't feel like walking so even the little bit of walking I do at work feels like agony. I'm going to have to go to the doctor if things don't get back to normal soon.

All of that aside, I've been feeling pretty good this week. I went to the movies with my girlfriend, mom, and nephew on Saturday (To see Oz the Great and Powerful, which was totally fantastic! I'm not a huge James Franco fan, but I AM a HUGE Sam Raimi fan--I honestly think he's one of the most brilliant and underrated men in the movie industry--and I swooned to see Bruce Campbell! Bruce looked, well, disturbing as a Winkie, but to me he'll always be Autolycus from Xena and that makes me immensely happy!!!!!).

 God, I fucking love Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell.

I heard that they started a Kickstarter for a Veronica Mars movie, which I didn't watch and don't care about. But I think someone should start a Kickstarter for Xena! Bring back Xena! That would be the most amazing fucking thing ever. It ended way too soon. I mean, Xena and Gabs didn't even officially hook up (unless you believe in fan fiction, which I DO...)

Anyway, I wore my new black cowboy boots (faux leather, of course) with black tights and a dress, and I felt super hot. We rode there in the convertible with the top down, and I felt like a sassy vixen :) At the movies, I crossed my legs comfortably and kept them crossed for most of the film...for anyone else with legs like giant toy water snakes, you know that's an accomplishment. My mom even told me I looked great, WITHOUT saying anything like "You're going to look as good as your sister soon!". That's a big deal for me.

Then on Tuesday...this is a big one...drumroll please...I wore REAL PANTS! Like, real, non-elastic, fastening and zipping pants! Granted, they're a size 24, but I didn't even try them on for the longest time. Wearing any kind of regular pants cut into my stomach and made so much of my fat roll over the top that I looked like a mushroom and I had to wear like three Spanx just to keep my stomach smooth enough to pull a shirt over so it just wasn't worth it at all. Hence my obsession with stretch pants and leggings. But as it turns out, I probably should have tried on the pants a few months ago because they were a little too big for me! So even my skinny pants are getting big :) That's got to be a good sign, right?

And today, after the success of my pants-wearing on Tuesday, I decided to try on my camouflage pants that I've had for over a decade but haven't been able to comfortably wear for the past six or so years. They fit! They totally fit! I'm wearing them right now :) And they fit so well that I'm wearing a fitted black cashmere sweater and there are no rolls in sight!

Tomorrow is my seven year anniversary, so I hope the good vibes continue. I still haven't lived up to my New Years Resolution to get frisky, but now that I'm starting to feel a little more like myself, maybe it's actually in the cards. Well, the gross yeast infection and stomach issues will more than likely stand in my way. But a girl can dream, can't she?

One Foot In Front Of The Other

It really doesn't look like my 100 Mile March is going to get anywhere close to 100 miles.

I've walked every day so far since March 1...and I just barely made it to 1 mile. One single mile.

That's 1 mile TOTAL.

In four days.

Walking every day.

I SUCK!

Okay, I was really sick all last week and stayed home from work for two days and whatever I had moved into my lungs and now I'm coughing up wicked phlegm and can't breathe.

Plus, I haven't walked in forever. I haven't been on a treadmill since before my open heart surgery, losing an entire functioning valve, and decreasing my lung capacity by around 50%.

And, you know, I'm actually pretty proud that I've walked every day so far. Even though I've felt like shit. And even though the treadmill is set on 2 miles per hour and I can only walk for 2 minutes before stopping to hit my inhaler. And even though the most I've walked at a single time is .25 miles, and even though I have 98.93 miles left to go this month if I actually want to do the 100 Mile March. Because I'm actually trying--sure, it's only a few minutes at a time, but it's more than I was doing before.

(Oh, I've also gained four pounds since my last weigh-in two weeks ago, so I'm nervous about Wednesday. But I'm super bloated and menstruating and I'm basically a walking phlegm factory, so maybe enough bodily fluids will leave my body by Wednesday to at least keep me from gaining weight at my Weight Watcher's meeting. We shall see.)

This is going to be one loooooong March.

Under 250 Pounds...FINALLY!

 

I did it! I am under 250 pounds for the first time in around five years!

This is the best birthday present EVER!!!

I actually took today off for my birthday, but I had my girlfriend bring me to work briefly so I could weigh in at Weight Watchers. I knew I had lost this week (according to my lovely new scale, at least) but I wanted a concrete number before I went out for lunch. I needed to decide if I should have a margarita...well, I'm glad I went because I ordered a large margarita and didn't feel bad about it at all :)

I was down 3.2 for the week, for a grand total of 54.8 pounds lost. That brings me down to 249.2 (from my starting weight of 304 on August 8th, 2012).

I was afraid I would never be under 250 pounds again. For so long, I just assumed that I would always be over the maximum weight limit for everything--lawn chairs, step ladders, inflatable rafts, hammock chairs, ziplines. Now I can officially zipline! I can sit in a lawn chair without feeling like it's going to immediately crumble under my weight! This is AWESOME!

Since my Weight Watcher's goal weight was set at 250, it was time for me to pick a new goal. I thought about 243 because that will be a loss of 20% from my starting weight, but I want to be a little more ambitious (without going too wild!). I set it at 225 pounds. That doesn't feel so far away right now, which is why I think it's a good goal, but it's also a LOT mentally.

I haven't been 225 pounds since the summer I graduated high school. I was at 230 pounds at graduation, started the Atkins diet while I was killing time before college, and I got down to just over 210 pounds. Then college started and, well, the Freshman Fifteen hit me hard. I fluctuated between 220 and 240 for years. If I can get under 225 again, I feel like I can go all the way :)

Oh, and today I saw the girl who inspired me to start Weight Watchers--she hit 125 pounds lost! Hey, I'm almost halfway there!

50 Pounds! Celebrate!

Down 3 pounds! Therefore...

I've officially lost more than 50 pounds!!!!!!!

I'm at 252.3 pounds. I've lost a total of 51.7 pounds. So that means...I got my 50 pound token from Weight Watchers!

50 pounds is a LOT! When we went to Cancun, I brought about 20 outfits and 10 pairs of shoes (yes, seriously, and we were only there for four days) and I was certain that my bag was going to be over the weight limit for checked luggage. It was the biggest suitcase I own, and I had to have my girlfriend help me lift it into the cab and onto the scale at the baggage check desk, but it came in at 43 pounds. I lost MORE than my giant suitcase full of crap!

Or, more than an entire bale of hay! (Yes, the list of equivalents is still getting much use.)

I've been looking back through a lot of old pictures, and I can tell a big difference in my face. My cheekbones were hidden for so long, and my chin just sloped down to my chest like a fanny pack of fat strapped around my neck. It's nice to look down without feeling the resistance of my chins squishing back up.

I ordered a pair of tall boots and, although they didn't go all the way up, they went much further up my leg than they would have six months ago! They're slouch boots so I'm keeping them anyway--and when I wore them to work on Thursday, I actually felt a little sexy. That's a far cry from where I was in August, when I hated even waddling down to the mailbox because I was embarrassed of what our neighbors might think.

Now that I'm so close to 250 pounds, I can't wait to hit that goal. I'm glad I hit my 50 pound loss, but getting down below 250 pounds is even more important to me. I remember being 250 pounds. I can't remember being any of the weights I reached from 250 through 304 (and possibly beyond). 250 pounds was always my "panic weight" where I'd freak out and start taking Trim Spa or snorting Adderall until I was back down to 240 or 230.

Now, I'm trying to get to 250 from the other side (the healthy way)--and I'm almost there!