Progress report: before and after (so far).

This was me two years ago at my highest weight (with my always-lovely friend Leah)…obviously at an 80s dance party.

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And this was me last week at the joyful wedding of my beautiful sister-at-heart, Jenn.

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Still have about 20lbs to go but I’m getting there. 96lbs total lost so far.

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Monday Memes: Animal Edition

1. Don’t mess with Gangster Hamster (or is that a gerbil? or perhaps a guinea pig? I don’t know. Either way, he’s a badass).

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2. This bird doesn’t give a crap about your rules.

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3. Life lesson: don’t mess with alpacas.

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4. The damned kids left their Legos on the ocean floor again.

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5. I can’t even with this one. Dying.

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Have a great Monday!

Memes on Monday

This Monday’s 5 memes are dedicated to…Monday. We meet again, my old foe.

1. Because…Mondays.

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2. Even Bert and Ernie don’t like Mondays.

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3. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

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4. Coffee helps any situation, especially Monday morning.

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5. Awww, poor Monday. I guess it’s not so bad.

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But seriously, remember that old saying, “The days are long; the years are short.” While I sit here and complain about Mondays, it somehow is mid-October 2017. Wasn’t it just the year 2000 and we were all worried about Y2K?

My point being…don’t worry, the weekend will be here again soon. 🙂

The Ups and Downs of Losing 90 Pounds

You guys, I have lost 90 pounds, and that is pretty amazing. I am really proud of myself most of the time, but here’s a story of something that happened the other day:

“Something’s wrong with the mirror,” I said.

“Nope,” Drew replied. “That’s really what you look like now.” I remained skeptical. I thought I couldn’t possibly look like this…like someone who is not a fat person.

End of Story.

So I shouldn’t be having thoughts like these in my little story, right? They defy logic. I have objectively lost 90 pounds, and I recognize this, rationally.

The scale tells me so.

The fact that I am going through pants sizes faster than Trump offends people on Twitter tells me so.

The compliments I get all the time tell me so, and much of the time, I believe it.

But sometimes, on occasion, I don’t quite believe it. Even when I look in the mirror and see the progress, I think it’s lying.

You guys, losing weight is hard for me. I mean, you know it’s hard; everyone knows that. It’s easy to gain and hard to lose, especially the older you get. Sticking to a healthy eating and exercise routine is hard.

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But losing weight isn’t just hard for those reasons. I mean losing weight is hard for my brain to accept. Sometimes my brain just can’t seem to catch up with my body and be excited about it all the time.

Here’s the thing…for nearly 15 years I have considered myself a fat person. At my heaviest (last December), I’m pretty sure anyone would have considered me a fat person. I believe the medical term is “morbidly obese.”

Like, you’re going to die of a fat-related disease if you don’t get your act together, Nash.

Today when I step on the scale, I see a number I haven’t seen in a very long time. I am wearing a pants size I haven’t worn in a very long time (and they still keep falling down, dammit!)

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Many days, I look in the mirror and feel really good about what I see.

I can see my feet when I look down and a year ago, I couldn’t.

I don’t worry if the seat belt is going to fit me on an airplane anymore. Once, it didn’t, and it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

 

So, anyway, it’s not like I look in the mirror and still see myself the way I looked last year. I don’t have a warped image of what I look like.

It’s just that when I look in the mirror, sometimes I really can’t believe it’s me. It’s so hard to rectify my perception of myself as a fat person with the person I see in the mirror now.

I wore my fat like armor, and now that most of it has been stripped away, I am out there in the open. It’s a little disconcerting.

When I was bigger, I felt so small. Invisible sometimes, and that was what I wanted at the time.

Now that I’m smaller, I’ve decided not to play small anymore. My personality is starting to shine again and I’m me, REALLY me. Not someone hiding behind a wall of extra weight. My armor is gone and, while sometimes that is confusing to my brain, I know deep down I’m doing it. I’m coming out of that comfort zone and letting myself be awesome again.

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Coming out of that comfort zone is a challenge…but there’s so much to be gained from it (even as I continue to lose). Because I am awesome, and I am accomplishing amazing things and I intend to continue.

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Oh, and one last thing. You guys, even my bras are too big.

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#thestruggleisreal

Time to Rise.

A year ago today I wrote this.

What a difference a year makes.

Since early on in my healing process, I created a mantra: “First the letting go, then the rising up.”

I knew I would have to let go of anger and sadness and hurt and self-pity before I could become the person I was truly meant to be.

At the time I had no idea how long this would take.

Last fall, I felt like I had let go of so much, and it was time to rise. To give myself a daily reminder of this, I decided to get some ink:

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The juxtaposition of these two tattoos is what I love most.

The let go tattoo is softer and more soothing to me. Sometimes, when I feel like I am holding on to something I shouldn’t, I actually blow on my arm, picturing dandelion fluff dancing in the breeze, reminding myself to let it go, just let it float away.

In contrast, the phoenix is bold and fiery, reminding me to bring the badass and become all I was meant to be. Every time I look at it I feel a surge of strength and power.

When I got these tattoos, I felt like I was ready to rise. But that process turned out to be almost as slow as the letting go. I’ve found that I’m often going back and forth between the two. Sometimes I have felt like I am not strong enough to rise, and I have wondered if I ever would be.

But lately…lately I know that I am strong enough. I am on fire and rising from the ashes, my friends.

I have lost 80lbs since January and I feel fantastic.

I went back to the gym in early 2017, and at first I knew that just showing up was enough. I didn’t work as hard as I could; I needed to be easier on myself and take one thing at a time, one workout at a time.

These last few weeks, though, I felt a difference deep down in my gut–the old fire in the belly–and I knew that it was time to get my ass moving and stop jerking around.

I talked to my coach and friend and asked her not to go easy on me, to call me out if I was dogging it. I wanted to start pushing myself again.

It was time to rise.

Today, I’m not as physically strong as I used to be, but I will be soon. I’ve started working so hard again and I know I’ll get there. I’m already increasing my pushups, lifting heavier, moving faster, and generally feeling awesome.

I’ve been more present for my family and friends, even if I’m feeling down in the dumps.

I’m killing it at work in a new role that I love.

I’m funny again (sometimes).

Don’t get me wrong, I still have my moments. We all do. But I have finally gotten to that point where I know I am strong and I know what I’ve overcome, and the daily challenges I might face now are nothing compared to that.

Someday, I may have to face even bigger challenges. That is just how life goes. If and when that day comes, I will get through it as I’ve gotten through this.

But for now, on this day, at this moment, I feel myself rising up. Rising far beyond the past that I’ve let go of. The past that will no longer drag me down.

I’m excited about what’s next, and excited to maybe soon write about something besides what I’ve gone through. Because I’ve gone THROUGH it and I’m on the other side.

Maybe I’ll write again tomorrow or maybe it will be another few months. Who knows?

Maybe I’ll write about how big my kids are and how I feel like the time is slipping away from me so quickly (my son is a sophomore in high school…how the hell did that happen?!?).

Maybe I’ll write about some crazy embarrassing thing that I did (again).

Maybe I’ll write about love or joy or kindness. Or all of these things.

So many possibilities now that I’ve let go.

First the letting go, then the rising up.

Time to rise.