I lost 25 pounds, people!

I lost 25 pounds, people!

25 pounds!

Even though I’m thrilled about 25 pounds in over a year… I’m sure those of you who are wandering around the internet looking at ways to lose weight, aren’t all that impressed.

I started actually losing weight back in June 2016. Before then, I’d had a baby, post-partum, and a new demanding job. I was working 60+ hours a week. I was just getting back into the hang of not being home and eating 100% of the time. I was more focused on learning, and training, and getting back in the swing of things. Around June, after me and a coworker measured ourselves it was like a switch had been flipped.

This itty, bitty, darling of a gal’s measurements. Kind of kicked my butt into gear. But…I feel like that’s a whole separate blog post. So, I’ll get into that ordeal later.

So Losing 25 pounds in a year is a pretty big deal. I’ve been blogging on and off (admittedly, more off than on) for about 4 years. Actual blogging is probably only half that. Real attempted weight loss while blogging… two years. So I went through old blog posts through the years to get a good idea of some things.

I’d like to take a moment cringe at just how many times I said “haha.”

The first thing I did was go deep into the dark archives of my blog and found my “best” year of weight loss. Where I felt really good about my weight loss, my fitness level, eating right and counting calories. All of that fun stuff. We’re looking at March 2012-2013

I brought up posts in March 2012 and I was sitting right around 193 pounds…ish. That was the most solid number I could find, due to my apparently dislike of actual weigh-in days. March 2013, however I was close to the lowest number I’d ever remembered seeing on the scale: 184.8 pounds.

Big picture. 184 pounds is HUGE. I’d lost 80 solid pounds at that point.
Bigger picture. That is freaking amazing. I had reason to be proud. 80 pounds gone from my highest weight of 264.

And that’s what I focused on. The big picture.

Look at the smaller picture.

Over the course of a year I lost 9 pounds.

I went from 193 down to 184.

There was so much yo-yoing. At one point I sat at 185 for close to a month. Another point where I’d gained 8 pounds and lost it again. It was ridiculous.

Those days, I was watching my calories, definitely splurging on my calories here and there, my water intake was amazing, I’d started (and quit, and started) c25k, using resistance bands, using an elliptical, jogging, walking, so on and so forth.

All of that… and I lost 9 pounds.

In this past year, I’ve lost 25. And it was pretty steady. I’m not even going to pretend that I lost a perfect .5 pounds every week. I’d have weeks where I’d lose nothing, and weeks that I’d lose a full pound or more.

But I didn’t gain and lose and gain and lose

Didn’t catch that?

I. Didn’t. Yoyo.

Were there times where I’d step on the scale after a month and see I was up a pound or two? Sure. I’d hardly call that yoyoing though. I’d say that’s pretty normal for most people.

It wasn’t like I was gaining and losing the same 10-15 pounds over and over again.

I tried some exercising a few times, but my newfound 40 pounds made the exercises I’d been doing before practically impossible, but I didn’t stick with it at that level. I went back to basics and was just doing some general walking. I was watching what I was eating, drinking my water. Very basic stuff.

I wasn’t sitting here being anal about how many calories I was eating or not eating and wasn’t tracking everything I was eating or burning. A more conscious and careful me. And I lost 25 pounds.

And considering the amount of stress I was under with my new promotion in this time last year, I’m amazed I didn’t gain! Remember? I’m a stress eater?

That blows my mind.

Now, does that mean that I’m going to just sit back and be content to lose the same 25 pounds next year?

Not a chance in hell, darling.

Otherwise it’ll take me until well after my 30th birthday to have lost the next 60 pounds. I’m too impatient that that.

So, I’m gearing towards losing more weight. I’ve been idly working on it this last year.

There have been some real, sustainable, lifestyle changes in this whole weight loss trip. Just without the pressure of failing.

Now it’s just time to add onto those lifestyle changes because I think I’m in a place where I can handle it.

So we’ll see what happens.
Wish me luck!

80 weeks not pounds – Weigh in Wednesday

December 28, 2015.

The date of my last post back in 2015.

1 year, 6 months, 14 days.
80 weeks

What could have potentially have been at least 150 posts if I actually hit “publish” only twice a week.

Better yet (or worse, depending on how you’re looking at it) I could have lost almost 80 pounds from my last weigh-in. Staying steady at a pound a week, on average…

I could have been sitting at my lowest weight ever. I could have potentially been DONE. I could have been in the 150’s. Which I haven’t been since 9?

I’m going to let that sink in for a second.

Anyway, hindsight is 20/20.

But really, complete honesty here, I wasn’t worried about any of it. I took some time to focus on getting myself better. And they aren’t kidding when they say it’s hard.

But here I am, nonetheless.

Phew. Now, don’t get me wrong. There was so much more that happened in the past year and a half than what I mentioned in my last post.

But I don’t want to go way into depths with all of that. I just want to rip off the proverbial band-aid and tell you my weight. Let’s face it, that’s why you’re here….right?

So, here we go.

Last weigh in: 237.5
This weigh in: 212.3
Lost lost: 25.2 pounds
Total lost from highest: 51.7 pounds

Sure, that boils down to less than half a pound a week. But it’s progress. Progress that I’m flipping excited about.

And as I said Monday, I’m still fat. I didn’t hide away for a year and a half and lose a crazy amount of weight then pop back in all “HEY, I’M SLENDER AND NOT TELLING YOU HOW I DID IT!”

No fan fiction Hermione instabeauty here.

But, I’m happy with it.

And, if we consider that I didn’t actually start losing weight until the last year, that makes me even happier.

But regardless of when I started losing weight, or how much weight I’d lost on average per week, I LOST weight.

I’ve lost 25 pounds, people!

Still fat, everyone!

Well, hello there.

This is a nice little public service announcement.

I’m back after, ohhhh, a year and a half.

Need proof? Here’s my last post. See? I told ya!

But even with being “away” for that long, some things just haven’t changed.

I’m still hopelessly obsessed with Harry Potter.
I’m still at a ridiculous level of stress.
I’m still working.working.working (all.the.time)

And yes. I’m still fat.

There have been some changes though, it’s not like I went a year and a half without any change at all. Insert winky face here.

See, look-

1. I’ve mastered my poker face because my TWO year old has hit terrible twos like a hurricane, and she’s mastered “the punctuating clap” which goes a little something like

“MOMMY” *clap* “MOMMY” *clap* “MINE” *clap* “MINE” *clap* “NOW” *clap* “PLEAAAASSSSEEEEE!!!!”

And for as obnoxious/shrill/frequent it is, it’s still cute as hell and I frequently have to hide my smile behind “Jordin, it’s 3 am and not time for cookies.”

2. My NINE year old has discovered Axe body spray, dabbing, fidget spinners, and the phrase “brah” (thank you public schools). Though, he doesn’t find the irony in me calling him “brah” as much as I do.

And they’re still crazy smart, adventurous, creating, freaking adorable, and the best kids in the entire world (I’m allowed to be biased).

3. I have taken out all of my piercings, except the dermals because I’m simply too lazy to track down a doctor to do it, who accepts my insurance…in my area.

4. I, the queen of stretchy pants, actually tried on leggings for the first time and I am pretty disgruntled at myself for not doing it sooner. WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME HOW COMFORTABLE THEY ARE?

5. I do Yoga! Ok, let’s be fair on this one. I am physically capable of doing a grand total of 3 poses without dying. Technically four if you count corpse pose. But I probably shouldn’t count that because it always ends up as an impromptu nap, though I’ve gotten smart and only do it in bed. At bed time. So, yeah, we’ll stick to three.

6. And I’ve been actively trying (ish) and losing weight.

But, alas, I’m still fat.

Am I mad about it? Nope.
Discouraged? Sometimes.
Hopeful? Most definitely.
Sore af? Always

So, here’s a little welcome back bravado for me!

I’m back! I’m back! I’m back! I’m back!

Confession

My last post was September 29th. We’re looking at two months here, folks. I know I had promised to write more frequently, to be more consistent. But the last several months have been hard.

Ever since I had had Jordin I didn’t feel like myself. I blamed it partially on the stressful year I’d had. It’s practically impossible to feel like yourself when your life is flying off the tracks. So I ignored it. And ignored it some more.

Then, finally one day I was messaging my best friend over good ol’ Facebook, complaining.

I don’t feel like doing anything.
I just want to curl up in a blanket and watch Netflix all day long (which I did, quite often)
I feel like I’m failing at everything
My stupid boobs won’t work. I HATE pumping, pumping hates me. I CAN’T FEED MY BABY WITHOUT FORMULA?!?!
I don’t even have the motivation to shower
I just spend all day pumping, taking care of the kids, and doing nothing much else.

Just a lot of complaints. A ton of tears. And just generally feeling like crap about everything.

Her response “Have you thought to get checked for Postpartum Depression?”

Light bulb.

It made sense. What else could explain these unfamiliar feelings? I don’t have depression. I’m a pretty happy girl. Overly anxious most days, sure, but never depressed. I had damned good reasons to feel sad, confused, scared, and worried with everything that had been going on. But I have never found myself being actually depressed.

But for months I was crying all the time. Feeling like a failure. Feeling bitter and resentful towards everyone and no one at the same time. I would assure myself that Josh could handle everything with work and home if I just wandered off for a few weeks. I would snap at Josh for the smallest, innocuous, comments.

For example: I had just had a breakdown to Josh about not being able to take a shower that day because Jordin was on a roll. All he said was how about I go take one. “I’ve got Jordin. Go take your phone, listen to music, take a shower.” I flew off the handle. Tears, snot, and shrieking followed about how insensitive he was! I can’t, I have to pump! I don’t have time! Are you saying I smell?! Yada yada yada. Bless his heart, he let me have my mental breakdown. He rubbed my back as I mashed my face into his stomach, sobbing and snotting all over his shirt….calling him every name in the book. Once I calmed down he led me into the bathroom, waved away my apology, and made a pot of coffee for when I got out. God, I love that man.

I had absolutely zero motivation to do anything. I got to the point where I didn’t even want to leave the house, which completely clashed with my desire to just pack up and disappear for a while. Forget the nice weather. Forget it all. I just want to sit in my ugly green chair and do nothing.

So after some long heart to heart discussions, I took some steps to get this figured out.

And in the last month or so, I’ve been doing so much better. I’m not 100%, but I’m no longer logging 7 hours every day on Netflix, eating Ramen and Mac and Cheese and chocolate because I have ZERO motivation to actually get off my butt and cook myself a healthy breakfast and lunch. I’m not sitting around with headaches because I can’t force myself to get up and fill my water bottle.

But I am shaving my legs more than twice a month…because I have the motivation to actually do more than just jump in and out of the shower. AND I am wearing more than just pajamas all day too.

Have you ever spent MONTHS taking off the dirty pajamas, showering, and changing into clean pajamas? I have.

I’ve even started writing again. I just hit 68,000 words last week!

Things were definitely heading into “Who is this homeless chick?” territory.

Don’t get me wrong. I still have those days. A few days ago, for example. I blazed through 7 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. Didn’t shower. Didn’t change out of my pjs. Just didn’t do anything productive. But the following day I dragged my sorry butt into the shower. SHAVED. Wore real clothes. And I did some writing, played with the kids, and did the dishes…plus an episode or two of Grey’s. Not the most productive day, but infinitely better.

And look at me today. A blog post.

So that’s my confession. Postpartum depression.

Postpartum

It’s no joke. It’s scary to not recognize yourself during the time that you should be enjoying and embracing change. It’s terrifying to wake up one day and not want to move or do anything. And it’s heartbreaking to realize just how many times I had wondered if Josh would ask his sister or a stranger to watch our kids while he was at work…if I decided to just walk down the street and disappear for a few weeks.

I’m not usually one to admit when something to this degree is wrong. I’ll keep it deep deep inside so I don’t inconvenience anyone. But you know what? I’m going to inconvenience the heck out of people. Because I’m feeling better.

Because I’m proud of the fact that I’m inching towards normalcy. I’m proud of the fact that I’m smiling and laughing and joking more than I’m crying and snotting.

And I’m ecstatic over the fact that I’m proud of myself.

So, please bear with me. I’m trying my best to be me, I’m trying my best to take charge of my life again. I won’t blame you at all if you leave this blog and stop reading because “Holy crap, she posted three times last week, and only once this week. SLACKER” because this time around I can’t promise that I’ll be consistent. Because I just don’t know.

What I do know is that this too shall pass.

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Fall’s got me feeling blue

Good morning and happy Monday!

My last post, I talked about how much I love fall. Which is a ridiculous amount. For sure.

But my least favorite thing about fall. The inevitible bought of sickness. I’m one of those lucky people that as soon as the season changes begin, I’m usually in bed. Moaning, groaning, sniffling, coughing, with bits of tissue strewn all over the place. I guess, fall’s got me feeking more green than blue? It’s like clockwork. And this year was no different.

Sick again

Now that was back on the 15th, TWO WEEKS AGO. What starts off as a little stuffy nose slowly builds into a massive chest cold. Last year I ended up about two steps away from Pneumonia… breathing treatments, and steriod shot in the butt… the whole nine yards. When I get sick, it hits me like a freight train. So during this time, I try to be proactive and drink tons of water, get as much sleep as I can manage, and start dosing up with some good ol vitamin C. Sometimes it works, other times…not so much.

Hopefully there is an end in sight…soon. I’m sick of being sick.

And Jordin doesn’t like it at all. My obnoxious coughing and nose blowing keeps waking her up from her beauty sleep. In which case she’ll roll over and give me this look of pure annoyance. Little lady definitely has a bit of a ‘tude.

So…that’s that.

Here’s to feeling better and being able to actually enjoy fall!

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