And my journey takes a turn…

I started with Weight Watchers in 2014.   I had initially lost about 10 pounds.  I will be honest.  I was never completely gung ho and faithful with it.  Not even a little.  I would do good for a month then go lax for two.  Then in June of 2015 when we lost Charlie, I completely just stopped.  I didn’t care about myself.  I didn’t care what I looked like or felt like because when you are engrossed in that kind of grief, you could care less about everything else.  In all that, the only thing that gave me any sort of solace?

Food.

I was a classic “eating my grief” kinda girl.  If it tasted good, I was there.  The worst it was for me, the better.  I didn’t care about calories or sugars or any of that.  All I cared about was getting Matthew to school then coming home and sitting on my ever growing ass and eating chips or bread or anything I had that I could put in my mouth.

One day in February, I woke up and looked in the mirror.  Really looked.   I was nearly 270 pounds.  I looked haggard.  I looked tired.  I looked unhappy.  I looked unhealthy.  I felt awful.  I had never been this big.  Never looked this bad.  I mean I was never a very thin girl.  I’ve always had curves and boobs.  But this, this was out of control.  I was out of control.   I realized I was killing myself.  Slowly but surely.   Suicide by food.

And that was unacceptable.

I was so angry with myself.  How could I let it get this bad?  How could I do this to myself?  I knew the answer though.  The last 15 years I had been wrapped up in raising my boys and taking care of Charlie.   I had put myself and my health on the back burner and left it there.  I used one excuse after another to derail myself.

I was my worst own enemy.

So I started to exercise and change the way I ate. I started back with my Weight Watchers so I would be held accountable for my actions.  It wasn’t easy.  It hurt and that damn stationary bike was the bane of my existence.  I craved real food too dammit and I wanted that second helping and that third helping and that bag of chips and all the bread and pasta…

But I said no.  I started taking vitamins and supplements that I know I needed in my old age.  And continued with the exercise.  And the eating better.  And I hated every single minute.  Then something happened.   The weight slowly started to come off.  Before I knew it, ten pounds were gone.  And I felt a little better. Was sleeping a little better.

Then Joe had to have surgery and his doctor told him he needed to go on a low sugar/low carb diet.  One, to lose weight.  Two, to stave off the diabetes that runs rampant in his family.  So, I started doing my research.  I started cooking better meals following his guidelines.  In teaching him about what I was learning through WW, I was getting motivated.  Determined.

We got Fitbits.  Another tool to hold us accountable.  It’s become a contest.  Did you work out today?  How many steps did you do?  How many calories burned?  We were on this journey together and holding each other up.  And I started to get better at my exercising.  I felt bad when I missed a day.  If I ate something that wasn’t good for me, my body let me know.  I was starting to crave good things.  I didn’t deny myself a treat if I wanted one but I didn’t NEED it.

I gave up caffeine for Lent.  Two days of headaches and I was good.  I don’t even miss it.  And trust me when I say I was LIVING off of coca cola. I’m surprised I have any stomach lining left.  But I gave it up, not just for Lent now, but for good.   And more weight came off.

I had to go buy me some clothes.  I hate shopping.  ABHOR it really.  But I didn’t really have a choice.  My clothes were falling apart and I just needed new stuff.  So off to Cato I went.  Shopping fat girl clothes.  Well, Joe talked me into buy a pair of capris (which function as pants on this short girl) and the only size they had was 24.  (that’s right, I just put that shit out there)  I said what the hell.  I usually were 26-28 but maybe it would give me extra incentive.  I also got some yoga pants (again 24 because it’s what they had but I thought hell they were supposed to be tight anyways) to work out in.  When we got home, I tried on the yoga pants.  They were big.  And loose.  I was stunned.  I showed Joe.  He said try on the other pants.  I did.

They were loose.  Very loose.  Like I kept having to hike them up.

I was stunned.  Back to cato I went.  I bought more yoga pants (the same size cuz I like them loose for now) and 22 size pants.  Guess what?  THEY WERE BIG TOO!  Not as big, but loose and I couldn’t believe it!!!!  I also had picked up a pair of yoga pants that were 18/20 and guess what?  They fit too!!!  A little tighter (more like what yoga pants are supposed to fit like) but they fit!!!  I was stoked.  I stepped on the scale, which I hadn’t done in a couple weeks and you know what?

I was under 250!!!  I don’t know when was the last time I was under 250.  Shock and awe y’all.  Shock and awe.

Right now I sit around 243.  My short term goal is to get to 200 but most importantly it’s to be able to walk into any store and buy clothes. Like a regular person.  I’m getting there.  Slowly.  And more important than the weight loss?

I feel awesome.  I feel so much better.  I have so much energy.  I want to do stuff.  Not just sit on my ass collecting dust.  I’m taking my life back.

Healthy.  Mind, body and soul.  For now, I’m working on the body.  I’m hoping mind and soul will follow along.  Wish me luck.  I’m determined to do this but I need the motivation.  I need the incentive.  I need all the help I can get.

Love and kisses,

Farrah

 

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