About 3 months ago I got tired of looking at myself in the mirror and hating what I see. I mean, I was tired of it about 8 months ago, but mid-June I decided to do something about it.
Since starting at the center, I've packed on a lot of weight. Sitting for 8-12 hours, living alone, being busy, and not liking to cook all results in fast food, watching movies, and using the puppy as an excuse for not working out. (Since I can't take him on a run, and I don't want to leave him home alone, I just can't go.) I would avoid mirrors at all costs, and scales repulsed me. When I was driving I could feel my sides and stomach jiggling when I went over bumpy roads and the seatbelt developed an uncomfortable snug-ness across my waist. I would change my outfit 3 or 4 times before leaving the house, looking for the one that didn't make me look heavy. Pictures were always taken from a certain angle so you couldn't see my double chin. But you could see it anyway. People talked about setting me up on dates with their friends, but that thought made me queasy because who would look twice at a girl like me?
So when summer hit and my excuse of "everyone weighs more during the winter because your body is saving weight in case you need to hibernate" disappeared, I decided to make the change. To figure out how much I'm supposed to eat, actually eat fresh food, and not eat out unless necessary. I found an app that takes into account your height/weight, activity level, and age and gives you a calorie amount per day. Then you log everything you eat and it magically tells you if you're over-eating or not. I have it set at a number of calories that should mean I lose a pound per week.
In addition to that, I've been doing my very best to be active. Walk the dog, go hike, run on the treadmill, heck--do pushups and situps! Just. do.SOMETHING. This week I started the Piyo workout program. It's been kicking my butt. I haven't been able to walk all week.
But the long and short of it is that I've lost 12 pounds since I started caring. When I started I was 202 pounds. It's hard to even write that. Granted, I'm nowhere near happy at 190, but it's progress. Painful, slow, exhausting progress.