I have rewritten this post a million times in my head. A million. I am back to ground zero, square one, the begining, the bottom, however you want to look at it. I have gained back all but 13 pounds of what I lost during Wealth For My Health. I was sick when I finally got the courage to step on the scale. SICK. I knew in the back of my mind it was happening, but denial is an emotion that I do best. That, and anger. I am moving from denial to anger. Anger that I ever have allowed this to happen to my body. Anger that I am going to have to fight this stupid battle for the rest of my life. Anger that I don't have the fight to stick with anything. I could go on and on about everything that I am angry about, but what good would it do?
I have been exercising once a week and no more. I keep telling myself that I am going to go other days and times to work out, but then I am able to come up with excuses as to why I can't go. The one day that I do go, it is humbling and humiliating. I can't keep up with my work out buddy, I am reverting back to old ways like walking instead of running and not finishing exercises. Not to mention when I see my reflection in the mirror, I get nauseated at the site. I am also back to wearing a few select clothes because of how they fit and how I feel. My thighs rub together and my chin rests on my neck. It is disgusting in how it feels, and I can only imagine how it looks.
I went to a women's expo this past weekend. There were 100's of vendors. It was quite obvious that the skinny bitches that were there with their blingy ass jeans were fearful I might stop. They would look at me and then look down. One lady quickly pointed out the "plus sizes", how sweet. The ONLY people that would make eye contact or speak to me were the people that were there with their guaranteed weight loss products. Pills, drinks, shakes, patches. You name it, I could have purchased it all and been T-H-I-N in no time at all, for a low, low fee. This is not to mention I was looking at everyone else who was there and thinking "I wonder how much she weighs? I wonder what size she is, I wonder wonder wonder". I am envious, ok, probably jealous of others that I know who are losing weight, exercising, sticking to a plan. What the hell is wrong with me that I am fat, with no near hope of ever not being fat? I just want to fit in. . . fit in the world and fit in my clothes.
So, I don't know where to go from here. It sickens me, depresses me, and nauseates me to think of the mountain I have to climb to even begin to dig myself out of this mess. I hate the way I look, I hate the way I feel, and I hate the way this consumes me. How do I keep on keepin' on?

2012

Happy New Year! I was wondering what I wrote about last year at this time, and the ironic thing is, it is much the same as this year. Hmmm.

2011 ended kind of rough. I took about 6 weeks off from all exercise, and consequently, not so swell on the nutrition front either. Because of surgery, I had to take 3 weeks off, but I can't remember the reason(s) for taking the other 3 weeks off. I'm sure at the time it was justified. . . probably.

I haven't been on the scale, no desire. I know the number is up. My spare tire has grown from that of a mid-size car to more of the front tire on an 18 wheeler. My clothes aren't as comfortable either. I went to bootcamp twice this week. It felt good to sweat and work hard, but it has not felt good to change positions, especially climbing stairs. Every muscle below my neck has reminded me of my 6 week sabbatical. My goal is to attend 3 classes/week. I hear others talk about their weight loss, exercise success, or other goals being achieved related to fitness and health, and I get pissed off. I'm pretty sure I'm pissed off totally because I am jealous. I recognize it and don't like it. I also continue to pray for strength (physical and emotional) to be successful on my quest to be healthy and fit forever, not just for a few months. I'm certain my prayers are being addressed in some way, but I just haven't figured out how yet.

Next week, I am tackling my nutrition more seriously. I have ordered some books that are about hormones, nutrition, and weight. I'm anxious to read them. I know they are NOT a magic fix, but the reviews seem to show that there is a definite correlation between the three. If there are additional things I can do besides what I know works (exercise, eat right), then I'm all for it.



I really wish that I had some fabulous new photo to post of my progress, or a story of achieving my goals. However, I think I have not set attainable goals that I can meet and maintain. That is something I really need to look at. I need to quit making excuses and start being more accountable for everything. In short, I need to keep on keepin' on. . . .

No blogging since June.  I have made many posts in my mind, but never put them in print.  I find my thoughts a whole lot more exciting than my writing.  Perhaps there are not any new entries because there is not any new information.  I continue to go to boot camp 2-3 (mostly 2) times a week and think about eating right, but not doing a very good job at making it consistently happen.  I haven't been on the scale in months, but that doesn't really bother me.  I know I've gained, my clothes are snug and my spare tire has grown from a small car tire to an 18 wheeler.  I have met  with dieticians, journaled, prayed, and paid for meal plans and at the end of the day I still eat like shit and eat too much.  It is really sick and I keep telling myself how much better I would feel if I would get it together.  I have heartburn, I've NEVER had heartburn.  It is clearly because of my choices in diet.  I am not sure what the next step is, except to keep on keepin' on. . . .

is boredom bad?

Wow, no post in a month. That is a bold and honest statement about the level of excitement in my life. That is OK though because sometime excitement is unwanted and I certainly am OK with low key and boring.

Fitness and health. I am doing a fitness challenge at work and a partner fitness challenge at the place I work out at. With all of these fitness challenge commitments, one would think I would be ripped with amazing strength, speed and endurance. Nope, not at all. I still am the last of the pack with any kind of running, and my form of "cement shoe steps" has wreaked havoc on my knees. I still sweat like a hooker in church for the entire duration of boot camps, and I still look frumpy in my fat lady clothes. BUT, I am regularly attending boot camp and have walked a couple of mornings with other chics in my neighborhood. I haven't gotten on a scale because I don't want to know the number. However, for the partner challenge this week, we have to run a 1/2 mile carrying a backpack that contains 15% of our current body weight. Can't freakin' wait for that. . . . nothing like cement shoeing it for a 1/2 mile while supporting the weight of a grown child on my back. Damn, sounds like so much fun I can hardly wait. It is a good thing that a fire station is a mere 4 blocks from the gym. They should be able to resuscitate me before I have lost too much oxygen to my brain and caused permanent damage.

Food remains my enemy, although I have been doing a bit better recently. I have a constant craving for cookie dough, so I am certain that I am lacking some essential nutrient in my body. I've never really been a sweets kind of girl, so this is especially odd for me. So far I have fought the urge, but I don't know how long it will last before me and a bowl of oatmeal chocolate chip cookie dough have a come to Jesus meeting, or at least a come to my mouth meeting.

I tried to change the background on my blog. don't know what he hell I am doing and that is why it looks all messed up. I don't care to mess with it anymore, so it will just stay like it is.

So, not much excitement, not much change, just a whole lot of keep on keepin' on. . . . . .

When I started this blog, I fully expected that I would either have quit blogging by now, OR, I would weigh far less than I did when I started this journey. It turns out that I was wrong on both accounts. I am still blogging, and I am still incredibly overweight. I have not gotten on a scale in a VERY long time. I used the excuse that it caused anxiety. In all reality, it caused me to realize that I am fat and that caused the anxiety.
I have joined yet another fitness challenge. This time it is at work with a group of coworkers. It officially starts Monday, the 23rd, but we had to weigh in today. OMG freakin' scale tipping numbers. I about shit my pants when I saw the number. It was NOT shitting my pants in a good way either. (I don't know when it is good to shit your pants) It was an all out, get your poop in a group and get the eating under control kind of shit my pants. I about died. It was bad. Really bad. I had foolishly convinced myself that by exercising I would prevent myself from gaining weight. It is just a damn good thing I have been exercising, or else I would have had to go to the freight elevator scale to weigh in.
I am my own worst enemy. I can convince myself of about anything bad related to food is OK. I will tell myself that it is OK to eat crappy for a day or two and then I will get back on track. The sad reality is that I have not gotten back on track. I am lying on the track and repeatedly getting run over by the carbohydrate, cheese train!
I met with a dietitian last week and talked about a plan to get back on the wagon. I should have started today, but due to my lack of planning, I had no groceries and made some crappy choices. I also convinced myself that since I will be gone every night this week that perhaps I should wait until next week to start. GRRR.
I am in a mild panic about the month of June and exercise. I have clinical 3 mornings a week and the kids have ball Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday evenings. I don't want to lose anything I may have gained from boot camp, and that is a huge fear.
SO, back on the good food choice wagon, I hope. Finding a plan for regular exercise despite the chaos of everyday life, and keepin' on keepin' on. . . .

May Day

May Day. Not the May Day of delivering baskets of candy. (Although my 5 year old was PISSED that we didn't deliver May baskets this year!) May Day in the regard of "rescue me", "help", "trouble in paradise" etc. That is what I was thinking for 3 hours and 19 minutes this morning. OK, maybe not the entire 3 hours and 19 minutes, but a good portion of it.

It was the Half Marathon here today. It was the 5th year in a row that my mom and I have done. I was dreading this day LESS than I have anytime over the past 5 years. I have been exercising regularly for 9 months and have completed 2 5K races over the past 6 weeks. It would be ok.

How FREAKING wrong I was. This was the worst I have ever felt in all 5 years. This was the only year I have ever considered quitting. It sucked. I have made several excuses for why it sucked. It sucked because the shoes I bought about 6 weeks ago were SHIT and I think I would have had less pain if I would have worn no shoes for 13.1 miles. My legs still hurt like a bitch and I don't know if I will ever walk normally again, or if I will make it through personal training on Tuesday. I just don't know anything except I don't ever think I felt this crappy after doing the half in the past.

To make the event even better, my contacts were a mess, to the point I could see nothing and eventually one fell out and I pulled the second one out and could see BETTER without them. I was still blind, but thank heavens I had a friend with me who served as my seeing eyed guide from mile 8 to the end. What a comedy of errors. . . .

I am also a bit pissed at the people who were leisurely walking the 1/2 marathon as if they were out for an afternoon stroll. No sweating, no struggle, no bad shoes, no near blindness, and they STILL finished ahead of me. They probably don't even exercise regularly and they still kicked my ass. They looked GOOD in their workout gear and they were having fun. Bitches.

I should be proud that I cut A LOT of time off from past years, so that is a testament to regular exercise. I should be proud that I jogged pretty much all of the first 5 miles. I should be proud that I have a body that is able to exercise. Shit on the shoulds.

I AM proud of my mom and sister in law for kicking that 1/2 marathon's bootie. They worked their butts off and their times showed it. I am proud that my husband and kids were at the finish line, along with my brother, niece, nephew, and dad to offer words of encouragement. I am proud that God has given me a body that can work hard and feel the pain of pushing myself as hard as I can. I do wish that God would consider giving me a little less body but that is another post. . . . .

I've also decided that the economy has hit the 1/2 and full marathon. The shirts we received were paper thin and not sized correctly at all. The crowds that are usually out to cheer us on weren't there. . . .I'm guessing they were snuggled in their warm homes (it was COLD), working their second job to cover the bills, or at church (praying for people like me, I hope). The house on South 20th street that usually always has a ginormous bowl of jelly bellies out was cleaning up when I got there. . .no jelly bellies for me. The economy must have caused them to cut back on the number of jelly bellies, or there were a lot of J-B pigs ahead of me. A lot of the water stations (except for my employer's station!!) were closing up shop by the time I got there. UMMM hell-O, walkers need support AND hydration also.

As of right now, I have done my last half marathon. My talents would be better served as a volunteer. The shirts are better and I think I would be good at motivating the walkers and the people who are at the end of the pack. I could also wear my glasses and comfy shoes and not have to make a nasty, negative post about how miserable I am.

I am not giving up, quitting, or throwing in the towel. I am going to keep on keepin' on. . .

Funkity Funk

I'm in a funk. A freakin' funkity funk. I am not sure how I got here, or how to get out, I just know I am here. It really hit me last night at boot camp. We we jogging with medicine balls that we were supposed to hold above our heads for the jog. Everyone did a great job at complying, except for me. I jogged, and I held the medicine ball. However, not for one damn step did I hold it above my head, but rather held it at my chest the entire fricking time. I didn't even try. I kept thinking of how disappointed I was in myself the entire time, but did I raise the ball even for 2 or 3 steps? Hell no. I was still dead last when running back and forth to the bridge, and felt as if I was going to die during all of the exercises. I am not ready to throw in the towel and go back to my obese way of living, but I am also no happy to have not lost any weight since December and still be working out on a regular basis. I know a lot of it is my diet. I have about as much will power with that as I did carrying the medicine ball above my head. It is my own fault, but I am sick of it. I am mad that I went for a jog this week and had to walk a few times just trying to do 2 miles. . . . did I NOT just jog an entire 3 miles? Back pedaling, damn it. So, when I think about not carrying the ball, not losing weight, not eating right, and not feeling like I have made any progress in the past 8 months, I realize where the freaking funkity funk comes from. I mentioned it to my trainer and she said that she thinks I am stronger than I think and asked if it was all mental. It probably is mental. . . mental illness! So, I know to get out of this freaking funkity funk I should keep on keepin' on. . .we'll see.