Measurement realization – Weigh in Wednesday

You know those “aha” moments people have? I had them when I was 264, and I had them again and again. The last time I had that moment, that kick started my year long trek of getting on board. Was actually a girl at work.

One on my friends/coworkers was measuring herself, yes… water bottle talk at it’s finest. She was all shocked what her numbers were. Now, she’s thin. She’s this cute little ball of yoga and energy. I even told her “Are you kidding me? I’d love to have your figure!” before she started measuring herself.

What shocked me was as she measured herself, in a very scientific method of string and a measuring tape… you know, the straight metal ones that you’d pull out of a tool box…the numbers sounded very familiar.

I pulled up my blog on my phone to my last measurements post and I was blown away.

Her measurements were only about 1-1.5 inches smaller than mine were at my smallest point. Excluding those damn lovehandles of mine.

Nothing like perspective, right?

So that’s what motivated me to get moving. That was the pinnacle moment back in 2016 that kicked my butt into gear.

Now, admittedly my measurements hadn’t changed all that much from 2015-2016. But here’s a little snippet if you don’t feel like going back to that.

And I actually haven’t measured myself since that moment.

So… here goes nothing. Let’s see what 25 pounds looks like!!!

Bust – 42.5″    -1.5
Waist – 36.5″   -2
Hips – 46″      –1.5
Lovehandles – 44″   -6
R thigh – 27″    -1
L thigh – 26.5       –1.5
R arm – 14″     –.5
L arm – 14.5″     -0
Neck – 14.5″      -0

YAY! I’d really like to do some backflips to that -6 for my lovehandles. Those were getting out of control.

And since this is supposed to be my weigh-in day, I suppose I’ll post that too.
Harrumph

Last weigh in: 212.3
This weigh in: 210.0
Lost lost: 2.3 pounds
Total lost from highest: 60 pounds

And a secondary YAY!

Thank you water weight? Weight weight? Fat weight? Who know? But I’m pretty darned pleased.

Til next time

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!

Getting started is the hardest part

It’s been a full week since I’ve been writing. Tomorrow marks my first official weigh in being “back on the wagon.” I’d like to think it’s understandable that I’m nervous. What to expect, because I know that getting started is the hardest part of any challenge!

I’m certainly not expecting some incredibly decrease in weight. I know my body, and I know how it works. It usually takes a few weeks for me to actually see some weight loss. And even when I finally do see the numbers go down, they’re HUGE ridiculous numbers. Like 5 pounds in a week.

I’ve been doing this stop again/start again thing for quite some time, and I already know that those big number drops are more than likely nothing more than water weight. I had actually considered not weighing in for the first few weeks, just because I know this.

I don’t want to get all excited for some significant loss of however many pounds. I’m looking to lose fat, not just numbers. But, of course, I’m going to. I already know I’m going to hop on that scale and see how I’m doing. Curiosity? Sure.

But, considering being sick, I’ve been trying to bust by butt. I’ve been drinking more water, attempting to exercise as much as I can handle, and I’ve been logging my calorie intake as well.

So I’m optimisitic that this is a good start. Jumping in with both feet is the way to go.

But wow, I’ve went so long with not caring what I’m eating, that watching what I’m eating is almost as hard as attempting to be active. Eating whatever I want, whenever I want, is a really hard habit to break. Even harder than not biting my nails! I want to go back to when I stopped and demand I keep going.

Hindsight is 20/20. Right?

But at least this time I’ll remember what it felt like to lose a considerable amount of weight. I suppose it’ll be like a reminder that I did it once, and I can do it again. Plus, when I get back to those numbers it’ll be motivation not to stop. I know how it feels to gain back a good portion of what I worked so hard to lose, and I don’t ever want to be in this position again.

I can fully understand why so many people gain back the weight they’ve lost! Sure, a good 40 pounds of that was while I was pregnant. Insatiable cravings for anything covered in BBQ sauce and caramel corn will do a small part of that. The larger part was when my “only in moderation” switch was set firmly in the “off” position. That part was all me. Can’t blame pregnancy for that little tidbit.

Stupid little switch.

I always used to talk about “this is a lifestyle change” which is it. I still agree 100% with that statement. But when I was writing that I had thought I’d gotten to that point where my lifestyle changes were something I was going to be able to continue for the rest of my life.

When I “stopped” the first time around, I can easily attribute it to boredom. I got bored making the same things over and over again. I got bored working out the same way. I got too complacent.

Yeah, I don’t do well with change. But I also don’t do too well with complacency. I’m a complicated person (read: My life makes absolutely no sense). And combating that, is something I’ve got to figure out.

I don’t want to lose weight just to look back and get all angry at myself because “I lost 100 pounds and then screwed up.” I’ve only gained back 40, I couldn’t imagine gaining back 100 pounds that I worked my tailfeathers off for.

So, I need to be determined. And resiliant. And constantly thinking of new ways to stay interested in being healthy. And not just throwing my hands up in the air when things get too boring.

Variety is the spice of life. Right?

name

Bad Blogger! Bad! Part 2

So, yesterday I left you at a cliff hanger. Am I really narcissitic enough to think that you out there are clinging on my every word, waiting desperately for another post from your favorite blogger like it’s crack (or swiss cake rolls, in my experience)? Anyone? Anyone?

Beuller?

Beuller?

No? Ok, maybe that’s just me.

Ahem, anyways. I said yesterday that something amazing, scary, life changing, (yada yada yada) happened. And I wasn’t being super overly dramatic, at least not this time. If you haven’t already guessed… here you go.

One month smiles

See that cute face right there?

We had a baby! Cue the fan fare!

Her name is Jordin, and she’s a firecracker! Her big brother loves her to the moon and back. And we’re super lucky. Super, super, lucky.

Whew.

So, now things are getting back on track, we’re feeling less stressed on the day to day. What isn’t getting back on track is my weight. Ohhhh, the weight.

I am a stress eater who was pregnant. So can you guess what happened? Yeah, I gained a crapton of weight.

Seriously.

Crapton.

Definition: Craptop. (crap-ton) Noun: Equal to four shitloads

When we found out I was pregnant I weighed 198. Considering I last left you at 194, gaining only 4 pounds in 6 months through all the stress we were under was remarkable for me.

What wasn’t remarkable how much I gained and how quickly. By the time I had Jordin I was 248. Yeah, I gained 50 pounds exactly. Before anyone starts screaming about how much a pregnant woman should gain…I know. My doctors advised me on it. And yes, I was 15 pounds over what a average weight pregnant lady should gain, let alone someone who is already overweight, But I got big!

Last day pregnant

See? And from the front, I looked even bigger. Yay!

But don’t be too alarmed, I’ve lost a little bit (with a catch). It hasn’t been my priority, but I did.

So for my new, official (practically starting over) weigh in.

In true Plumpville tradition…

Last Weigh-In (April 2014): 194.3
This Weigh-In: 232.3
Total gained: 38 lbs

And… quadruple ouch.

Now, going into the OR at 248 and now, nearly three months later sitting at 16 pounds lighter would be an awesome claim. But, alas, I’m not even going to pretend that I’ve lost 16 pounds. I’ve definitely lost something but let’s not get too excited.

Figure at least 8 of those pounds were all baby, and at LEAST 5 of that was all the stuff that comes along with giving birth, I won’t give details…all you moms and dads out there who know what exactly is entailed will know. Those of you who don’t, throw up a quick Google search, ask your parents, or think back to middle school health class.

So that really only leaves about 5 pounds. 3 pounds lost in 2 months. Can’t complain!

Wait.

Yes, I can.

Now lets consider retaining water, and boobs the size of Texas.

Yeah. So of all the fat I’ve lost (because let’s face it, the goal here is to lose fat… not non-fat weight)… nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

There is a reason why doctors advise only gaining a certain amount of weight… those are all health reasons. Safety for yourself and the baby being numbers one and two (not necessarily in that order).

For me, I’m glad I had a perfectly healthy, beautiful baby girl… but I realize now vanity is defintiely one of those.

I gained WEIGHT not baby and belly. My lovehandles expanded to respemble something akin to floating noodles, and my old favorite pair of pink skinny jeans barely button (and the seams…those poor, poor seams).

Let’t not even get started on my knees, back, and ankles. Quintuple ouch. Although that ouch is actual physical pain. Yeah. Not fun.

So here I am. Back, back, back on the wagon. I was cleared for exercise six weeks after my c-section, then some minor complications with BC (I’ll get on that at a later time) made the thoughts of situps or anything that would remotely force me to stretch and flex my lower stomach basically nauseating.

But I’m feeling better, physically ready and mentally sooooo ready. Whereas a few weeks ago, I wasn’t. Especially not physically.

So, this time around, I’m starting heavier than I was the first time I started this blog. I’m only 34 pounds down from my heaviest weight, and 50 pounds up from my lightest.

I’ve got a long way to go, and in the last couple days I’ve realized how difficult this is going to be again. But I’m determined.

So here goes nothing.

name

Back on track.

Perspective. Deeeep Perspective.

I’ve been thinking a lot of how I “used” to be. I am saying “used” very loosely. That part of Nicole is still in there…I doubt she’ll ever completely go away… but I’ve been thinking quite a bit of the 264lbs Nicole. The things I used to do…especially with my relationship to food.

I’ve done that hiding in the bathroom…stressing out while scarfing down leftover Taco Bell so that no one would see or know what I was doing. Or eating mounds of food and using the excuse of “I haven’t eaten anything today, I’m starving.” Or those times where I would seriously contemplate which junk food is cheapest so I can get more of it. Little Debbie/Hostess snacks were great for that. Five bucks would give me over 2500 calories worth of Swiss Cake Rolls.

It was something that I didn’t even really think about. Embarrassing really. I still have moments, where I just want to throw my hands up and say screw it. Who really cares if I get fat again? Does it really matter? It’s so hard, maybe I should give up.

They’re almost poisoned thoughts. They are those thoughts that make the urge to sit there and eat a pan of brownies to myself. Or make me want to hit up Wendy’s and get the Double Baconator…fries…shake…and while I’m at it might as well grab a Chicken Sandwhich too.

It takes a lot to get out of that funk…there are some days I don’t even know where I get the “strength” not to do something like that…and honestly, some days I fail.

And really, it’s the days I fail that show me how far I have gotten. Yeah, I still get the self loathing that I did before. But instead of the “You’re fat and disgusting” kind of self loathing, it’s the “why would you have done that, you’ve done so good and look what you’ve done.”

My self loathing is more positive…if that makes any shred of sense. Instead of bashing on my body self esteem issues…I bash on how I strayed away from progress. It’s a nice change. It’s like constructive criticism from myself.

Not only that, but days that I fail puts the past into perspective. When I’m sitting there and I eat myself to overly stuffed, you know that “Ugh, if I take one more bite I’m going to puke” overly stuffed. It’s heartbreaking, I don’t like feeling like that. Where I know that I have eaten too much, and I can feel it. It’s not a good feeling.

It is one of those bittersweet moments. I hate the fact that I have eaten so much, it doesn’t feel good physically or emotionally. But it does make me feel good in comparison to four years ago when I would have to eat twice as much food to get to that point.

Don’t get me wrong, I can still put away some food. Definitely. I’m not trying to claim that my stomach has magically shrunk or anything. I don’t even know if that is physically possible. But I can now tell myself to stop. Four years ago, I couldn’t. Perhaps “wouldn’t” is more appropriate.

I hate talking about it. I would much rather just pretend that it never happened. The thought of how I was four years ago seriously makes me want to hide. I am, shall I say, ashamed of where I was.

Sitting down to eat and plowing through seconds, thirds, and fourths of food… still being hungry but pretending I’m not. Then just getting up in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep hoping there were leftovers in the fridge that I could gulp down. Or perhaps, more embarrassing moments of hiding food in my purse, or hoping no one can somehow look at my stomach and see exactly the amount of food I shoved down my throat. Or using “I’m on my period” as an excuse to eat my weight in chocolate and cake.

I know I’ve learned. Very seldom do I actually want seconds. I don’t remember the last time I had “thirds.” I don’t remember the last time I used the “I haven’t eaten anything all day” excuse. I can tell myself when I have eaten enough, and I it’s pretty rare that I get to that “I’m going to puke” moment. Yeah, it still happens…but not that often. And that is a good feeling. Food hasn’t seen the inside of purse in YEARS. Which is amazing.

I’m doing better. It’s always a good thing to reflect on where you were at one point before continuing on. It’s a nice motivator. When I’m sitting there in front of 2,000 calories of food…palms itching to dive in… and that thought passes “No, you haven’t lost 80 pounds to eat like this.” It actually feels good to be able to get up and throw it away. Yeah, waste of food…definitely. But I would rather waste food in the garbage than waste food down my throat. Or after I’ve already eaten enough and I’m standing over the stove picking at the leftovers (before Josh has a chance to throw it away) it’s a strange (but great) feeling to be able to tell myself “You’ve eaten enough, you’re full and content…no need to keep going.

Is it a lack of modesty to be proud of myself? Honestly, don’t answer that because I don’t really care. I want to be proud of myself. I want to be able to look back and tell myself that I have done awesome and things are changing. I love being able to sit there and look at my plate and be proud of what I am eating…rather than wanting to hide away to eat. I’m getting there…and sure, sometimes I definitely lag behind, but I’m improving. I’m not a super woman, I don’t have superhuman self control. I’m just me. Silly little Nicole, who still fights with junk food, still wants to sit down for Thanksgiving dinner and not consider what I am eating. I still stand in front of the fridge at 3:00am when I get up to use the bathroom…9/10 I close the fridge empty handed (and empty stomach for that matter.)

Perhaps the point is that I’m still “Nicole.” I still have hard times, I still have those moments of weakness…but I’ve come to realize that I haven’t referred to myself as “Fat, disgusting Nicole” in a long-long-long time. And it feels incredible.