A little over two years ago, at a post baby check up the doctor told me I was in the obese category. I dismissed him. "I am not 600 pounds." "I just had a baby." "I'm breastfeeding and need to eat." "This is not even my heaviest." It was easy for me to shrug it off. Sure, I had some weight to lose. But I had recovered from the Bulimia and I just had another baby and I was not going to let some number throw me back into a dark place. I was going to enjoy being a mom....and all the food that came with it. But I was in the dark place again. I hated how I looked. But more importantly, I hated how I felt about myself. Again.
Oddly enough, that was not my rock bottom. My rock bottom happened on the playground. Aid wanted me to play chase. And I did. Or at least I tried to. I realized I could only chase him for a few minutes before I had to tell him I was too tired. I balled. I had lost myself. Again. And because I had, I was going to be the mom sitting on the side because she was too big to get out there and play with her kid.
And that was unacceptable.
So I joined Weight Watchers. Started counting points and lost 30 pounds. And felt really good about myself. But then I got stuck. Joined the Y and started exercising. Got stuck again. Got the trainer. Lost a little bit more. Got stuck again. Got the heart rate monitor. Now I'm learning more about training in my zone to build up an aerobic base so I can more effectively burn fat. So I get the most out of my workout. I don't have time to waste. Life is too short and too precious to be sitting on the treadmill for 3 hours while my kids are playing with someone else in the play room. I need to get in. Get it done. And get back to my family.
I had yet another assessment today. Since I started this journey I have lost 67 pounds and 10% body fat. You heard me. 10%. I can probably outrun Aid. I may still whimper in the heat of the training session, but the little voice in me is telling me to shut up because I know I can do it.
I didn't just hit it. I hit it out of the park.