Thick to Thin

I'm feeling a bit melancholy today. My ex boyfriend (who was a legitimate con artist that I realize was doing more and more horrible things as each day post-breakup passes) is reaching out from "beyond the breakup" to mess with me the only way he can. I wish he'd just leave me alone or give up or something, but he won't. I've done my best to erase any memory of him (locks are changed, phones are deactivated and phone numbers blocked, all his belongings have been returned, I'm in a legal dispute for the return of the last of MY property and I even engaged in a little casual fling to get the physical remnants of him out of my body), but he does his best to stay current in my life. Needling me. If you're curious about that story, I'm not sure if I'll ever fully share what went down during that dark time. We'll see....

After a hard run and a hard sleep yesterday, I woke up especially receptive to all the "relationship truths" and "universal truths" that are out there, and I've been deep and introspective. If you're ever having a day like mine, I recommend a song made specifically for these occasions: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sR13ECD71xU

I also woke up, however, not really wanting to talk about all those "truths" and wanting to change the subject entirely. So I thought I'd discuss my major weight loss journey, and where I am today.

My first major weight loss happened when I was 15. When I was 14, after hanging out with friends who had the metabolisms of hummingbirds and eating socially with them, and when my self-esteem was my lowest and I was eating emotionally ALONE, I saw a stretch mark on my stomach. On my arms, sure. My legs, ok. But my stomach? In terms of addiction, that was my rock bottom. I could not, at 14, deal with stretch marks on my stomach. So, after a little urging from my mother (for which I initially hated her, as even though I didn't like myself, I wanted EVERYONE ELSE to love me as I was), I ended up at Camp Shane for six weeks of the summer following my freshman year in high school. Camp Shane was the basis for one of my favorite movies, "Heavyweights", and also the setting for MTV's True Life special, "I Went to Fat Camp".

I arrived at camp a miserable 240 pounds. 240 pounds at 15 is not good. I had reached a size 22 and I won't even mention my bra size, as my "assets" were so big they could've spoken for themselves. I acted in a musical for the first time, swam without a cover up for the first time, and got real attention from a boy for the first time while I was there. I also developed a new respect for skim milk and a love for diet drinks. Six weeks later, I'd lost 23 pounds. TWENTY-THREE POUNDS! I was ecstatic. I returned on a mission to not only lose more, but keep the weight off.

Upon my return, I joined a gym. I joined Curves, which is a smaller gym for women only. I still wasn't ready to work out around men, but I'd discovered a new side of myself that actually LOVED being active. Instead of the pit in the marching band (the group that stands at the front of the field and plays auxillary percussion like xylophone, tempani and chimes), I joined the color guard. A small group of my female marching band friends decided to join the wrestling team and I joined with them. I even did Curves' version of the Atkins diet. Before long, I'd come all the way down to 167 pounds (still my lowest post-adolescent weight) and I wore a size 12 at Old Navy. I was so happy to have said goodbye to stores like Lane Bryant, Fashion Bug and Avenue, although I'm glad places like that exist to offer fashionable clothes to plus-size women.

But then senior year post-prom happened. I was busy getting ready for college and finishing high school and marching season was over. A broken collar bone (and a stern talking-to from my parents) had ended my wrestling career. There were parties and banquets and ceremonies and not a lot of time to maintain the active lifestyle that'd gotten me to my smallest. So slowly but surely the weight started creeping back. Then I left for college with its all-you-can-eat buffet-style meals at EVERY meal, all-night butteries for late night study break feasts, ordering in with the roomies and being so busy adjusting to college that the weight had ballooned back to 200 by my annual checkup.

I was furious, to say the least. All that hard work and I wasn't maintaining my progress. Thankfully, sophomore year my new dorm room was right above the gym and a new iPod made the gym a pleasant experience. I worked out like crazy (although I didn't really change my diet much) and hovered around 185-190 for the remainder of my time in college. It wasn't real victory over my body, but it was better than letting myself go.

But then I moved to NYC after graduation. Once the NYU dorms (with access to their gym) I stayed in for my internship ended and it was time to be in the real world, I suppose I did let myself go. Working at a talent agency that meant waking up at 7:30am and getting home at 10:30pm didn't help things, and neither did being too broke to buy nutritious food. Honestly, unless government addresses the paradox that unhealthy food is cheaper, they will NEVER fully tackle America's obesity problem. Add to that that my depression and the constant stress of my job had me drinking all the time, and working at the agency involved a lot of high-society parties (with high-calorie food), and my weight went back to 215.

Enough was enough. I couldn't afford a gym membership, nor did I have time to work out if I could have. I got exercise DVDs but I got home too beat to do them and spent the weekend catching up on the sleep of which my job was depriving me. I drank, worked, ate, and slept and I didn't have time for myself or to explore the great city in which I lived. That is NOT why I moved to New York. I moved here for a new life of excitement, love, adventure, and to become the sophisticated, worldly, accomplished woman I'd always hoped to be.

So, after finding a better, higher-paying job that afforded me time to pursue my creative endeavors, a more stable work schedule, health insurance, vacation time, and a GYM MEMBERSHIP, I gave my two weeks' notice at the agency. I began working out every week day at the gym on my lunch breaks. I felt like a real New Yorker running to the gym on my lunch break with the rushing masses. But a crazy thing happened.

Nothing. After almost a year of what I THOUGHT was intense exercise, I'd lost maybe ten pounds. I felt better--more energetic, more cardiovascularly fit--but I wasn't SEEING the results I wanted. I rebelled and thought, "So what? I'm fit. Men will see how great a person I am, how talented I am, how accomplished I am, and they'll want to be with me regardless of the extra weight." First, let me say there ARE men like this. There are men who are attracted to larger women. BUT, as long as this is America, which glorifies a more slender body type, and as long as you're talking about MEN, who are very VISUAL creatures, then you will be SEVERELY limiting your pool of potential suitors by not addressing your physique. It sucks (no one knows how much this sucks more than I do), but it's the truth and it's not changing any time soon.

And I'd had it with fighting the truth. My rebellion was doing nothing but making me tired. It wasn't helping me find potential mates. The "it's what's on the inside that counts" movement wasn't gaining any more ground. I was banging my head against the wall. If I was honest, I was also LYING TO MYSELF. I cared about my "outside" just as much as the men I was upset with for doing the same thing. I wanted to be firm and fit and foxy. I wanted the physique I believed went with my idea of a "funky urban girl" (see previous posts for elaboration), and the worldly, sophisticated woman that men went crazy over.

So I went to a nutritionist. I relearned all the things I'd learned at fat camp, but how to apply those rules to the REAL WORLD. I worked out hard. When I hit a plateau, I worked out harder. When I hit another plateau, I changed my workout. When I hit another plateau I got stricter about my diet. I never stopped (and never will) until I reached my goal weight. And even then, it will be all about maintaining and not letting the weight creep back on. Just like an addict, no one could help me until I helped myself, and I was serious this time.

I'm happy to report my weight is hovering around 171-175, almost the smallest I've ever been. My current workout regimen involves running for 45min at least 5x a week. I'm looking good, I'm feeling good, and I'm buying a few too many new outfits to show off all my hard work. It's been a long hard road (and there's still more to go), but it's worth it. I'll definitely keep you posted as my progress continues.