It’s really hard for me to write this post. For me to open up, admit to my struggle and finally take the steps to do something about it. It’s been a long time coming, something that I’ve worked on occasionally, only in passing, and then given up and pretended that it didn’t bother me. I’ve ignored it, I’ve avoided it, and I’ve hidden behind various excuses.
This weekend I finally hit my wall…my breaking point.
Yesterday afternoon we were getting ready to take little man to the indoor pool here on base. As I was getting him dressed, I realized that the thought of putting on a swimsuit and going out in front of anyone, my husband included, almost made me sick. I stood in front of the mirror while I was putting on my makeup and gave myself a good long look.
I’m not insanely overweight. In fact, according to that little height/weight chart that’s online, I’m not even outside of the “normal and healthy range” for my height. But, most of you would agree, that it’s really NOT about number. I wouldn’t care if I weighed 200 pounds…as long as that 200 pounds fit me and my size. And let me say, where I am now…doesn’t fit my stature.
And it broke me down yesterday. I stood and stared for a while. Looking at the way my clothes fit, tight and bunched up…pushing different areas up and out in ways that aren’t at all flattering. Leaving me feeling uncomfortable in what I wear; making my clothes and my pants fit tightly and sometimes painfully when I sit down (you all know that feeling…you’re bloated or packing a few extra pounds…and your jeans just won’t stop cutting into you? It’s not fun, but we’ve all been there).
I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be defined by my weight; I don’t want to become so uncomfortable in my size and my weight that I stop going places, stop doing things, and basically just eat my way to depression. I’ve seen it happen, and it’s not pretty.
Obesity and weight control issues run in my family. My mom, my grandmother, my aunts, my dad’s side of the family…big bones and slower metabolisms seem to reign supreme in our genes. But, up until a few months ago, that was never really an issue for me. I made myself workout off and on (never consistently) and somewhat watched what I ate. But, since we’ve moved to Alaska, since we’ve gotten here, gotten in a routine of rain and dreariness all day almost everyday, it’s hard to find the inspiration and motivation to get up and get moving.
Running is always something I’ve wanted to do. Not in a competitive kind of way, but just something that I’ve always wanted to have as an exercise and mental outlet. She’s really been pushing me and scraping away that fear of running these past few weeks. Her Couch to 5K journey is so ridiculously inspiring.
I’ve always been told that I “wasn’t a runner.” When I played softball in high school, I remember my parents and some of the other parents all laughing and making comments about the way that I run and how slow I was. I’m sure they probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it’s haunted me most of my life. Every time the desire to get out, hit the pavement and just run has entered my mind, those words…those laughs…echoed in my head. So I pushed the thoughts back and went on my way.
Well, not anymore.
I’m not going to become that person.
I’m not going to be held back and defined by my weight.
So today, it starts.
Better eating habits, cutting the crap out of my life (food wise) and exercise.
It’s been a long time coming, but sometimes you just have to let life hit you in the face before you are really and truly ready to change.
What was your breaking point? What habits were you forced to change?