It’s no secret to those who have grown up with me that I’ve always struggled with my weight. Both my parents have weight problems and the apple does not fall far from that tree in this house. I was never the skinny cheerleader—my soccer thighs precluded me from splits and handsprings. In my adult years, back to back to back pregnancies took their toll as three little ones entered my life. After my youngest was born, I was bound and determined to lose the baby weight once and for all and found great success with Drs. Chris and Kara Mohr with their nutrition wisdom and kickass fitness bootcamps. I shed my baby weight and then some and weighed less than I did in 8th grade. And then my divorce happened. And after that a mental breakdown. Six years later, multiple medication changes for meds that are known to pack on the pounds, and here I am 100, yes that’s triple digits, 100 pounds heavier than I weighed when I was boot camping and crossfitting and paleo-ing my life away.
I am no longer ashamed. In fact, I am happier than I have ever been. I am in a relationship with a man who loves me no matter what, kids who tell me they prefer me soft and cushy, and I have personal goals that I am meeting on a daily basis. But I peaked out at 230 pounds and my doctor said, “enough.” 118 lbs in six years is not a rate I can keep up with, nor should I. So I caved into my doctor’s demands and joined Weight Watchers on February 18.
To say I was terrified of my first meeting is a gross understatement. I dreaded the scale, but I needed a starting point. The cynic in me didn’t want to hear the rah-rah cheerleading that I expected at the meeting. I also didn’t want to see someone who weighed 125 trying to lose that last 5 lbs. I was relieved to see the gamut of people at the meeting. Women (and men) larger than me, smaller than me, and looking the same as me, I was just another face in the crowd, though I was greeted as an individual. I have found a home in these meetings these past 3 weeks and as I am slowly taking off weight (down 6.4 lbs at an average of 2 lbs a week), I am finding myself reinvigorated. Going to the gym is still a chore for me—but time will make that habit stronger, and this recent delivery of Girl Scout cookies is tremendous temptation, but meeting and beating my weekly weight loss goal is enough to overcome any propensity for me to mindlessly snack.
I won’t pretend that I am the only one on a weight loss journey. I won’t even pretend to have a unique angle. I just know that I hit my breaking point and as I shed, I want to have a record of why I started and why I’m not going back to that place where my doctor put her foot down and I listened. Because enough was enough and when everything else in my life is going up, this part deserves to go down.