(First thing to report: E is all better. Dan is home. Things have calmed down... a bit. Thanks for your prayers!)
Let's get down to this.
I hate my weight.
(Holy crap, did I just say that outloud for all of you to hear?)
No one should be shocked by this... it is not a secret that I am not a "fit" person. This isn't something I can easily hide. True, I can dress to enhance my current size rather than trying to squeeze into clothes that don't fit. I can have a cute hair cut, cute clothes, cute purses... but it won't mask that I'm (as the sweet seamstress said while fitting me in my wedding dress) "heavy".
Don't get me wrong- I've tried do do something about it before. Many times before, actually.
My childhood was a roller coaster of feeling good/ feeling bad about how I looked and how much I weighed. Part of it was that I was stupid enough to surround myself with teeny tiny cheerleaders (oh, wait, I still do... I really should get new friends) who I couldn't help but compare myself to. I don't remember a time (other than the days of 6X clothing!) where my size was something lower than something with a "1" as the first number. I've always been a double digit kind of girl. (And, let's talk about 6X clothing... why put an "X" on it? Give a girl a complex while she's still in Garanimals, why dontcha?)
Compound this with my ever frustrating, ever present asthma... between rounds of Prednisone and times of having to "rest" to get better, I never developed a healthy exercise routine.
College came along and between Bud Lights (hi, Mom!), Pokey Sticks, the schmorgasboard of Lenoir and Franklin Street... well, I'll just say those weren't my healthiest years. And it's not like I'm a huge over eater! I just enjoy food... and don't always make good choices.
Along came my sweet Dan. At the time we started dating, he was going to the gym twice a day. But let's be honest... cooking and eating is way more fun than the gym, so that habit died quickly. And along came our love of entertaining together... the joke around our house when people compliment our food is "well, we're not your skinny friends." It's true: we both have a huge love of cooking... and we're both pretty good at it. (Our first fight was actually over who was the better cook. Seriously.)
We moved to Winston-Salem in 2002 and I quickly joined Weight Watchers. Part of it was triggered from my Going Away slideshow at HillSong. I saw myself in a picture like this:
Weight Watchers, Round One was a great success! I lost about 20-25 pounds. Then I found them.
I have rejoined WW probably (no joke) about 8 times since then... never having that kind of success again. I think that since I know the program, it's not "magical" like it was before. I kind of "half-step" it, and don't do well. Then I get ticked off at myself and quit. (This most recent time? I went 2 weeks. Then the card that I was paying for my membership on got hacked and it cancelled my account. I took that as a sign from the Lord that I didn't need to be going to Weight Watchers. I kill me.)
Now, I was never "That Girl" who did it 100% right anyway. I didn't count every single chip at the Mexican restaurant, and the fact that I was even still at the Mexican restaurant says something. I cared about losing weight and being healthy... but I also vowed not to live my life miserable (or making others miserable with all my Point counting) and give up some of the things that make me happy.
Fast forward to 2 years ago. My 4 girlfriends and I trained for a 5K together. It was great. It was hell. It was all of it. One of our friends wrote a training program for us and we followed it... and cursed him the whole time. (Hi, John!) Things were going along great... I was fighting the battle of my mind (I had rehearsed over and over that I couldn't run, so therefore I couldn't... but I conquered it!) and winning. I was able to walk/run a bit on a regular basis. I was healthier than I'd ever been. Pounds weren't falling off like rain, but I was feeling so much better, it didn't matter.
Then it hit: pneumonia.
Just weeks before the race (and the week of my birthday, dern it!) I got pneumonia. Horrible for the otherwise healthy, debilitating to the asthmatic. I never got to complete my 5K. I started the battle of my mind again... and this time I lost. (I did end up running a "Fun Run" in March, but that was the first and only time I was able to do a race.)
Just like WW, I tried to restart my exercise routine over and over again to ultimately do nothing but stop it.
Which leads us to now. I'm ready. I need something, but I don't even know what it is. Well, I kinda do, but I'm not sure how to get there on my own. Dan and I had a "Come to Jesus" Meeting last night which resulted in both of us up on the treadmill this morning. (Not at the same time, but that would be fun, huh?) I'm journaling what I eat. I'm drinking water. And I need your help.
Who wants to do this with me? Y'all know I work better in community. I know I need help and support. I've had conversations with at least 5 of you I can think of right now who have said "I'll do something with you" or "we'll walk together" or "I need this too"... but now I'm putting the ball back in your court. Let's make this online community really work. Comment/message/FB me, whatever. We'll figure out what works for us. Want to rejoin WW together? I'll do it. Want to exercise with me? I'm game. Want to have an online message board where we do it all virtually? You name it, I'm in.
I'm headed back toward the "Getting Healthy Wagon" with or without you... I'd just rather it be with you.