I have lost 30 pounds in 3 years. It does not sound like a huge
number, especially in a Biggest Loser world where we see people drop a
hundred pounds in a few months on a reality show where they are
completely isolated from their family, their temptations, their
reality...but that's another story, right? I have had many people ask
me how I did it. So, I thought I would share my journey to this
point...but it's a road I will walk for the rest of my life. It's not a
quick fix. It's been about much more than diet and exercise.
So, in this first post, I'll go back to where I was 3 years ago...weighing over 200 pounds and in horrific, debilitating pain from a ruptured disc. Waiting for surgery to "fix" it so I could "fix" myself. But that wasn't really the beginning.
My food issues have existed a lot longer than my weight issues have existed. My weight issues began to happen towards the end of college and only increased in severity as I got older. My food issues boil down to this: I. Love. Food. I do...I love it. I love to eat good food. I love to eat dessert. I love fudge at Christmas time. I love chocolate chip cookies. I love to go to a Mexican restaurant and devour chips and queso. And then devour a chimichanga. And then a sopapilla. I love Chinese buffets and the plethora of deliciousness there. I love Italian restaurants and eating more than my share of bread dipped in olive oil. And then finishing off pasta with some sort of cheesy white sauce. I love food.
It probably sounds crazy to confess this, because who doesn't love delicious food? But seriously, I LOVE food. More than I should. I remember one time, I told Blake "I think I'm a slave to food." He agreed, which of course immediately hurt my feelings. I knew I was in a bad place by the time I turned 30 and was mom of two little bitty boys. But I didn't know what to do about it.
So I just tried harder. I've been on so many diets. In college, I did the South Beach Diet. I lost six pounds in two weeks. It was amazing. And then I gained it back plus more because I was so hungry. I tried Weight Watchers. Nope. I tried the "Don't Eat Until You Are Really Hungry" diet. Fail. I tried counting calories. Cue obnoxious buzzer sound. I couldn't overcome my gluttony. So, I would quit until I moved up a size of pants again. And I'd try something else.
What about exercise? Yes. I did some. I played 3 sports in high school which hid my food problem. I worked out some in college, but not enough to fully hide that Freshman Fifteen. I still played soccer on a rec team, so I burned some calories. But the weight kept adding up in small amounts. I started running and training for a 5K. I'm competitive so I got into it for a while.
In my late 20's, I had a group of other moms who did a points challenge. I finally found something that motivated me and got me to the gym and to control what I ate. I earned points and hopefully money at the end of each challenge so I did what I needed to do and lost a noticeable amount of weight. It was accountability but I depended completely on other people and what they did to be successful. When they dropped out of the challenge, I stopped.
And then I got pregnant. I was super excited and didn't gain a ton because I was sick. I stopped exercising because I was sick and had a two year old. I had a baby and thought "Alright, now I'm going to lose this and be the fit and trim mom I've always wanted to be."
Cue the back pain. And the MRI. The PT. The meetings with the neurosurgeon. The surgery. The recovery. And the limitations. No running. No treadmills on inclines. No bending at the waist. No twisting. No jumping. No high impact workout. Did I mentioned degenerated discs to worry about? And I still loved food.
Thankfully, God did not leave me in a hopeless place. He took me on a journey of learning to be strong and disciplined and a journey of dying to myself. I'll save that for part 2.
So, in this first post, I'll go back to where I was 3 years ago...weighing over 200 pounds and in horrific, debilitating pain from a ruptured disc. Waiting for surgery to "fix" it so I could "fix" myself. But that wasn't really the beginning.
My food issues have existed a lot longer than my weight issues have existed. My weight issues began to happen towards the end of college and only increased in severity as I got older. My food issues boil down to this: I. Love. Food. I do...I love it. I love to eat good food. I love to eat dessert. I love fudge at Christmas time. I love chocolate chip cookies. I love to go to a Mexican restaurant and devour chips and queso. And then devour a chimichanga. And then a sopapilla. I love Chinese buffets and the plethora of deliciousness there. I love Italian restaurants and eating more than my share of bread dipped in olive oil. And then finishing off pasta with some sort of cheesy white sauce. I love food.
It probably sounds crazy to confess this, because who doesn't love delicious food? But seriously, I LOVE food. More than I should. I remember one time, I told Blake "I think I'm a slave to food." He agreed, which of course immediately hurt my feelings. I knew I was in a bad place by the time I turned 30 and was mom of two little bitty boys. But I didn't know what to do about it.
So I just tried harder. I've been on so many diets. In college, I did the South Beach Diet. I lost six pounds in two weeks. It was amazing. And then I gained it back plus more because I was so hungry. I tried Weight Watchers. Nope. I tried the "Don't Eat Until You Are Really Hungry" diet. Fail. I tried counting calories. Cue obnoxious buzzer sound. I couldn't overcome my gluttony. So, I would quit until I moved up a size of pants again. And I'd try something else.
What about exercise? Yes. I did some. I played 3 sports in high school which hid my food problem. I worked out some in college, but not enough to fully hide that Freshman Fifteen. I still played soccer on a rec team, so I burned some calories. But the weight kept adding up in small amounts. I started running and training for a 5K. I'm competitive so I got into it for a while.
In my late 20's, I had a group of other moms who did a points challenge. I finally found something that motivated me and got me to the gym and to control what I ate. I earned points and hopefully money at the end of each challenge so I did what I needed to do and lost a noticeable amount of weight. It was accountability but I depended completely on other people and what they did to be successful. When they dropped out of the challenge, I stopped.
And then I got pregnant. I was super excited and didn't gain a ton because I was sick. I stopped exercising because I was sick and had a two year old. I had a baby and thought "Alright, now I'm going to lose this and be the fit and trim mom I've always wanted to be."
Cue the back pain. And the MRI. The PT. The meetings with the neurosurgeon. The surgery. The recovery. And the limitations. No running. No treadmills on inclines. No bending at the waist. No twisting. No jumping. No high impact workout. Did I mentioned degenerated discs to worry about? And I still loved food.
Thankfully, God did not leave me in a hopeless place. He took me on a journey of learning to be strong and disciplined and a journey of dying to myself. I'll save that for part 2.
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