proud of myself [long, boring]
So, yeah, the title says it all. I'm a bit proud of myself tonight.
Here's the embarrassing truth: I'm fat. Yep. Big ole heifer... Fatty McFatso is me. I can say that because, well, it's the truth. There's no way to hem and haw around it. No point in denying it. It doesn't particularly bother me. It's who I am. It's who I've always been. For the most part I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin. Not comfortable enough to wear a bikini (because no one wants to see that except, apparently, my husband who constantly tries to convince me to buy one... and, yeah, they make them in my size *gag*) but enough that I really don't care what people think of me or if they make comments.
So, that's me. I'm 34 years old and I weigh about 260lbs. That's the most I've ever weighed and I'm a bit disgusted with myself over it. See, I've always been overweight. As a baby I was a bit on the pudgy side. As a kid my school uniforms were sized as "husky". As a teen I really started to pack on the pounds (as us girls tend to do). But I kind of plateaued at 195lbs when I started college. For me that was about 50lbs above the weight I should be. But I could still shop in the regular misses department since I wore an 18 or an XL shirt.
I know my weight is my own fault but also thanks in part to my parents. Genes and the bad eating habits passed down from my father didn't mix well. My dad... I don't even know where to start with that issue. Let's just say his Marine uniform from when he was 19 was so small it didn't even fit my brother at 16 and he was always on the small side. But my dad (for my entire life) was overweight. The only reasons I know he wasn't always fat was because I have photographic proof. I'm not sure why my dad got so big. Why he turned to overeating. But he passed those habits down to me. Clear your plate (which is heaped full with at least two times the recommended adult portion) was a mantra when I was a kid. I was allowed all the pop and chips I could eat. Basically my diet was crap and my parents never said anything about it. Couple that with crappy genes and lack of exercise (mostly due to lack of energy that stemmed from uncontrolled and very severe depression) and I just gained and gained.
And old habits are hard to break. In college I maintained my 195lb weight by walking. Everywhere. I had no choice since I didn't have a car and none of my friends had cars and there was no bus service in town and the cabs were unreliable. I walked to class when I lived 2 blocks off campus. I walked to work (on campus). I walked to the laundromat (2 blocks away carrying my full bag of laundry). I walked to the Hy-vee (1/2 mile away). And I walked to Wal-mart (2 miles away). Eventually I got a job at Wal-mart and walked there every day. Two miles there, two miles back. Rain or shine. I got the walk down to 40 minutes. I also walked for fun. I'd walk all over town just to walk. I once walked six miles outside of town and then walked back--in total walking 16 miles that day. Just for the heck of it. I love to walk.
I ate like crap all day long (lots of chips and high fat foods) but I walked every where and it balanced out. I knew even back then that if I actually watched what I ate I'd be losing the weight. But I didn't care.
And then I met my husband and he had a car. And I stopped walking. I gained five pounds in the first 5 months we were together. Then I started having kids and it just snowballed after that.
What is disgusting me right now is that when I got pregnant with Jack in October (I think it was) 2009 I was about 250lbs, give or take. By the time I had him in July 2010 I had only gained 3lbs in total. I always lose weight while I'm pregnant even while eating whatever crap I can get my hands on. But with him I didn't have crap to eat. I had turkey sandwiches. That's about all I had a taste for. And since my husband was gone with the car during my 3rd trimester I walked everywhere. Every other day I walked to the store 2 blocks away for groceries. And I had to walk to the school to pick the kids up. I had to walk to the bus station to get the bus to my doctor or the hospital for tests. Walk, walk, walk. Not really a lot of fun when you're 8-9 months pregnant and it's 90F outside.
So, yeah, I had Jack at 253lbs. A few weeks after he was born I weighed in at 240lbs. Woohoo. Except since then I've obviously gained 20lbs. WTF!
And that is why I'm disgusted with myself. That is just pathetic and gross and makes me angry.
On to why I'm proud (if you're even still reading).
Not that I'm making a real effort [yet] but today I had this to eat:
The real WIN was that I refused seconds even though they sounded really good. And I refused ice cream later on. YAY! If only I could do that more often instead of just giving in to temptation. When I'm stressed and/or depressed (and being stressed leads to more depression for me) I eat. It's the only thing that feels good so that's what I do. Sigh.
What I really want to do is start walking again. I occasionally run to the Safeway by our house. It's a mile away but I have to take my youngest 2 kids and my 5yo just never shuts up. When I walk I like to go alone so I can let my mind wander. I can't take someone talking at me the entire time.
I've been thinking about getting up early to walk every day this summer. I'd have to get some rain gear since we do get rain and I hate carrying an umbrella. The biggest obstacle is getting my ass out of bed at 0600 hours. I used to enjoy mornings but the last few years I haven't wanted to get up before 9am and only do so if forced. Even my kids know not to wake me on the weekends and offer to "babysit" Jack until I'm awake at 9am (he gets up at 7am). I have to go that early so I can be back by 8am so my husband can leave for work.
I think I could do it but it would be a major adjustment to my whole day from when I go to sleep to what I eat and when. I really need a kick in the pants over this. But then I remind myself that I don't do good with obligations. The more I feel obligated to do something the less I want to. I get really depressed and then I start to eat. I hate having to do stuff I don't want to do (even if I wanted to do them a few days/weeks/months ago). If it becomes a chore then it's not worth it to me. Sigh.
Maybe, now that the weather's nice, I'll convince myself to give it a try. Maybe if I start to enjoy my early mornings I'll not want to give it up. No?
Here's the embarrassing truth: I'm fat. Yep. Big ole heifer... Fatty McFatso is me. I can say that because, well, it's the truth. There's no way to hem and haw around it. No point in denying it. It doesn't particularly bother me. It's who I am. It's who I've always been. For the most part I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin. Not comfortable enough to wear a bikini (because no one wants to see that except, apparently, my husband who constantly tries to convince me to buy one... and, yeah, they make them in my size *gag*) but enough that I really don't care what people think of me or if they make comments.
So, that's me. I'm 34 years old and I weigh about 260lbs. That's the most I've ever weighed and I'm a bit disgusted with myself over it. See, I've always been overweight. As a baby I was a bit on the pudgy side. As a kid my school uniforms were sized as "husky". As a teen I really started to pack on the pounds (as us girls tend to do). But I kind of plateaued at 195lbs when I started college. For me that was about 50lbs above the weight I should be. But I could still shop in the regular misses department since I wore an 18 or an XL shirt.
I know my weight is my own fault but also thanks in part to my parents. Genes and the bad eating habits passed down from my father didn't mix well. My dad... I don't even know where to start with that issue. Let's just say his Marine uniform from when he was 19 was so small it didn't even fit my brother at 16 and he was always on the small side. But my dad (for my entire life) was overweight. The only reasons I know he wasn't always fat was because I have photographic proof. I'm not sure why my dad got so big. Why he turned to overeating. But he passed those habits down to me. Clear your plate (which is heaped full with at least two times the recommended adult portion) was a mantra when I was a kid. I was allowed all the pop and chips I could eat. Basically my diet was crap and my parents never said anything about it. Couple that with crappy genes and lack of exercise (mostly due to lack of energy that stemmed from uncontrolled and very severe depression) and I just gained and gained.
And old habits are hard to break. In college I maintained my 195lb weight by walking. Everywhere. I had no choice since I didn't have a car and none of my friends had cars and there was no bus service in town and the cabs were unreliable. I walked to class when I lived 2 blocks off campus. I walked to work (on campus). I walked to the laundromat (2 blocks away carrying my full bag of laundry). I walked to the Hy-vee (1/2 mile away). And I walked to Wal-mart (2 miles away). Eventually I got a job at Wal-mart and walked there every day. Two miles there, two miles back. Rain or shine. I got the walk down to 40 minutes. I also walked for fun. I'd walk all over town just to walk. I once walked six miles outside of town and then walked back--in total walking 16 miles that day. Just for the heck of it. I love to walk.
I ate like crap all day long (lots of chips and high fat foods) but I walked every where and it balanced out. I knew even back then that if I actually watched what I ate I'd be losing the weight. But I didn't care.
And then I met my husband and he had a car. And I stopped walking. I gained five pounds in the first 5 months we were together. Then I started having kids and it just snowballed after that.
What is disgusting me right now is that when I got pregnant with Jack in October (I think it was) 2009 I was about 250lbs, give or take. By the time I had him in July 2010 I had only gained 3lbs in total. I always lose weight while I'm pregnant even while eating whatever crap I can get my hands on. But with him I didn't have crap to eat. I had turkey sandwiches. That's about all I had a taste for. And since my husband was gone with the car during my 3rd trimester I walked everywhere. Every other day I walked to the store 2 blocks away for groceries. And I had to walk to the school to pick the kids up. I had to walk to the bus station to get the bus to my doctor or the hospital for tests. Walk, walk, walk. Not really a lot of fun when you're 8-9 months pregnant and it's 90F outside.
So, yeah, I had Jack at 253lbs. A few weeks after he was born I weighed in at 240lbs. Woohoo. Except since then I've obviously gained 20lbs. WTF!
And that is why I'm disgusted with myself. That is just pathetic and gross and makes me angry.
On to why I'm proud (if you're even still reading).
Not that I'm making a real effort [yet] but today I had this to eat:
- donut for breakfast (fortunately there was only one so that's all I had, unfortunately it was filled with Bavarian cream)... FAIL
- turkey and cheddar on Rye (toasted on the Foreman) with tomatoes and light mayo... maybe a little too much mayo... going with WIN on this one
- and for dinner I had a piece of grilled lemon pepper chicken, a scoop of instant sour cream and chive mashed potatoes, a scoop of cheesy rice and a whole lot of broccoli, peas and a little corn/green beans (those were left over and all mixed together)...mostly WIN
The real WIN was that I refused seconds even though they sounded really good. And I refused ice cream later on. YAY! If only I could do that more often instead of just giving in to temptation. When I'm stressed and/or depressed (and being stressed leads to more depression for me) I eat. It's the only thing that feels good so that's what I do. Sigh.
What I really want to do is start walking again. I occasionally run to the Safeway by our house. It's a mile away but I have to take my youngest 2 kids and my 5yo just never shuts up. When I walk I like to go alone so I can let my mind wander. I can't take someone talking at me the entire time.
I've been thinking about getting up early to walk every day this summer. I'd have to get some rain gear since we do get rain and I hate carrying an umbrella. The biggest obstacle is getting my ass out of bed at 0600 hours. I used to enjoy mornings but the last few years I haven't wanted to get up before 9am and only do so if forced. Even my kids know not to wake me on the weekends and offer to "babysit" Jack until I'm awake at 9am (he gets up at 7am). I have to go that early so I can be back by 8am so my husband can leave for work.
I think I could do it but it would be a major adjustment to my whole day from when I go to sleep to what I eat and when. I really need a kick in the pants over this. But then I remind myself that I don't do good with obligations. The more I feel obligated to do something the less I want to. I get really depressed and then I start to eat. I hate having to do stuff I don't want to do (even if I wanted to do them a few days/weeks/months ago). If it becomes a chore then it's not worth it to me. Sigh.
Maybe, now that the weather's nice, I'll convince myself to give it a try. Maybe if I start to enjoy my early mornings I'll not want to give it up. No?