The Backstory – My Health Journey

So let’s talk about health and fitness.

Yes, two days before Christmas. I’m not going to lie, I have hesitated to write about my story because it’s very raw, personal, and I have to get pretty vulnerable. So what the heck, why not share it with the world, right?

My hope is that it will give encouragement and hope to at least one person, and I can maybe encourage myself even more in the process.

So, make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened, and let’s start this ride.

Let’s set the stage, shall we?

I grew up in an environment where noticing and commenting on other people and their appearance was fairly commonplace. Comments ranged from, “Wow, she’s really lost a lot of weight,” to “Wow, she has really put on a few pounds,” or “She really shouldn’t wear that style; it doesn’t look good on her.” Comments on people’s hair, hygiene, clothing style, etc. were the norm, and I was taught that relationships and their satisfaction were largely dependent on the involved people’s appearance and keeping up that appearance. I didn’t really think much about it or see the problems with this kind of judgmental lifestyle until I was much, much older and found myself in the middle of the story, on the side I didn’t want to be on.

My story starts when I was eight years old.

I was getting ready for my school program, that particular program being a Hawaiian luau. I had to wear a swim suit and a grass skirt, and I was standing in front of the mirror, taking in the effect. As I surveyed my figure with a super critical eye, I felt a growing discontent. I didn’t like what I saw, and it was the first time in my life I told myself I was fat. Yes, I used those words. “I’m fat.” Looking back, I wasn’t fat at all; I looked like a normal, healthy kid, but I didn’t see it that way. In my minds eye I was fat, and that set the stage for how I viewed myself from then on.

My body developed very early. I was the second tallest kid in my class (after an almost six-foot-tall boy) for most of elementary school, and my womanly figure developed a few years earlier than most of my female classmates. I was regularly mistaken for a teenager (which I actually kind of enjoyed) and it wasn’t until junior high that I stopped growing and everyone else caught up and lots of people surpassed me in height. My guess is that being so large compared with other peers may have started the process of me thinking I was too big.

I was extremely self-conscious as a kid and very mindful of how much bigger in height I was compared to other people my age.

I regularly was asked if I played basketball and owing to an inability to coordinate my movements correctly to do a layup, I didn’t play basketball and had to answer with a negative.

I tried to play volleyball starting in 5^th grade, and my team actually won the championship that year. I could do an overhand serve and return the ball quite well, but due to my height and being very strong, I had a hard time coordinating spikes and aiming my serves, and would often serve the ball out of bounds, much to the chagrin of my teammates. I remember too many times to count a couple of girls on my team rolling their eyes and making disparaging comments about my serve and how much it hurt the team. After a miserable 6^th grade year playing on the same team, I dropped out of volleyball altogether, even though I loved playing.

When I had to get on stage with my classmates for church or school programs, I was always in the back row, and a good head taller than anyone else. I hated every minute of it, and it contributed to a huge case of stage fright which I didn’t get over until my sophomore year of high school, when I literally found my voice and my passion – singing.

I remember a very loved, trusted family member telling me once as a pre-teen, “You really need to watch your weight, because someday, your husband won’t like it if you get bigger.” The person really meant well, I know this for a fact. They just looked at life and weight in a different way. But the comment and the hurt from that comment has stayed in my mind the rest of my life up until now.

When I went to my pediatrician in middle school, he told me that it was okay if I grew in height a little more, but I really needed to not grow in weight any more than what I was at that time.

As a kid I was a perfectly normal size and was pretty healthy. I rode my bike around the neighborhood, engaged in friendly games of whiffle ball and kickball and stayed outside playing for hours. I was constantly active, albeit I ate a lot of sweets, as that was what we did in my family. That’s my Achilles heel. But I could eat and drink whatever I wanted and my weight never changed.

I didn’t fit into normal junior clothing, which weren’t roomy enough in the bust and bum areas. I remember shopping in the “misses” section most of the time, as those clothes allowed for my ample figure development and due to my conservative upbringing, modesty was very important, so I never wore clothes that enhanced my figure. My clothes were usually at least a size too big to allow for the proper flow of the material. At the time, I felt like a misfit who wasn’t like everyone else.

Since I was a kid, I have had an ongoing internal dialogue about myself that goes something like this:

“You’re too big. You’re too fat. Nobody will accept you as you are. You need to lose weight for people to notice you and not think less of you. People won’t want to get to know you since you look like this. People will think you don’t have any self-control,” and on and on.

I didn’t have trouble with my weight until I started college, and each year the “freshman 15” turned into the “freshman 25 or 30.” Thankfully, each summer I would run and work out and was usually able to lose most of the extra weight I brought home from school.

Then I got married.

I went into marriage weighing about 20 pounds more than I wanted to, but I was extremely active and healthy, ate mostly healthy and worked out a lot and was probably in the best shape of my life up to that point. I was lean, strong, fit, and happy. It wasn’t exactly how I wanted to look, but it was better than what I had been all through college, so I was mostly okay with it. And I had run out of time to lose any more weight!

Over the next few years, I slowly (or quickly, depending on how you look at it) gained at least 85 pounds, and was the heaviest I had been in my life. I was so large I couldn’t fit into any of my clothes, and I wasn’t sleeping well, and felt awful. I had a triple chin, and my skin took on a flushed tone, especially in my face. I went into a kind of depression and was so embarrassed that I wouldn’t even step on a scale. I remember walking through a shopping mall around Christmas time and a teenage girl walked past me and said, “Moo.” That was probably one of the lowest points in my life. That was when I was about 24 years old.

I finally decided that I needed to work on my weight. My mom talked to me about how concerned she was about my health, and I took her love and her words to heart and started walking, then working out in the gym. Over the next several years, I lost a lot of weight, and by the time I was unexpectedly pregnant with our first child, I had lost about 75 pounds. I was only 10 pounds away from what was then my goal weight – my wedding weight – and was frustrated about having to hit the pause button on my weight loss for pregnancy, but it was worth it.

After having our beautiful baby, I started the process of losing weight again. Once you have children, the amount of time and energy you have to concentrate on yourself and your health goes down dramatically. I wasn’t prepared for that and it took a lot longer to lose weight than I anticipated. I had let myself eat whatever I wanted during pregnancy and had gained much more weight than I wanted to and much more than was healthy for me. At that point I stalled out about 20 pounds more than when I had gotten pregnant.

Over the next few years, I gained and lost weight as we moved around the country and I tried different exercise routines. By the time I was pregnant again with our second child, I weighed about 30 pounds more than at the beginning of my first pregnancy.

I gained much less weight during my second pregnancy than in my first, due to being very aware of what I ate and how much I moved my body. I kept track of the food I ate on an app on my phone, which replaced the clunky spiral-bound books I had used in previous diet attempts. When our second child was four months old, we moved yet again and over the next couple of years, I gained another 38 pounds, and here I am now.

Being healthy is the most important thing.

I know I need to get serious about my health and lose weight so I can be healthier for my children and myself, but it’s not an easy process. Having two children means even less time for me and self-care, and I usually feel the obligation to put everyone else first, and I usually come last. Plus, here’s the ugly truth – it’s easier to focus on everyone else and not commit to the discipline that is necessary to reach my health goals. I have a thyroid issue and a very low metabolism, so it’s a lot harder for me to make progress than some people, and sometimes I just want to give up.

Having gained and lost weight so many times, I know what is necessary for the process, but it has been hard to pull the trigger and get serious about it. It’s hard to defeat the cycle of self-shame and embarrassment. I’m regularly surprised when people actually tell me they enjoy talking to me or being around me, as if I don’t deserve that because of my weight. It sounds silly, but it’s a very real part of this.

After the death of my grandma a few weeks ago, I really started to get serious about my health and weight. It was right after Thanksgiving, but I decided not to wait until after the new year to start on my health goals. I did great for a couple weeks, keeping track of my eating and exercise and water consumption in my phone app and had started seeing visible progress in terms of inches lost, and then I went out of town for my grandma’s funeral and ate out and with family most of the time. I let myself indulge in the rich food, which I don’t apologize for, but that made reentry that much harder. Now it’s Christmas and I have decided to let myself enjoy a few goodies, but not go crazy, and I will start keeping track of my food and exercise again on Wednesday, the day after Christmas.

I recently learned about a heart condition I have which is for all practical purposes benign, but could lead to more problems in the future, and I have a family history of heart issues and diabetes. It’s time to get serious so I can live the quality of life that I want to.

I was talking with my brother a while back and mentioning my struggle and my upcoming health journey, and he told me, “ I think you’re fine, just the way you are.” That is honestly the first time I remember hearing that from anyone, and it gave me the courage and strength to look forward and plan the future for my health goals. I have to remind myself that I am worthy and I am beautiful and I am loved, just as I am.

So where does that leave me? I’m an imperfect person who wants to do better. It will be a long process and it won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. I won’t even pretend that I will follow my plan perfectly, but I will keep doing it. And I will be honest about my struggles and my wins and losses. This will be an ongoing “series,” if you will, as my health journey is an ongoing process. My goal is to lose 100 pounds.

So what’s my plan, you ask?

I will be doing intentional movement/exercise for at least six days out of the week for at least 30 minutes. I will be keeping track of my food and water intake on the phone app, and following the recommendations for the amount of weight I desire to lose on a weekly and monthly basis. I’m going to get at least eight glasses of water daily. I’m going to work on going to bed earlier and rising earlier in the morning.

I’m not following any particular “diet” like I have in the past, as I have found this method to actually achieve more results for me. I’m not giving up any food type or food in particular and I still plan to enjoy my treats, just every once in a while, instead of all the time.

I know this will be a long journey, but that’s the best part about it. I’m doing it the healthy way and making it a lifestyle change. And by publishing my story and making it public, I’m placing an avenue for accountability on myself, because I am finding that is the most important part of this journey.

I will say that I have largely come to terms with my story, and it has lost most of its power over me, but it is a continuing process and I still struggle with it on a daily basis.

I wish self-esteem didn’t have so much to do with outward appearance, but it does. That’s the long and short of it. I’ll be delving into self-esteem and self-image and self-love later on in this “series.”

Have you started making any resolutions or goals for the new year, or are you waiting until January 1, after you have gorged yourself on Christmas and Holiday goodies? Either way, do you have somewhere you want to be and don’t know how you’re going to get there? Do you have a good plan? You’re not alone. Set small goals that you can reach sooner. I have a huge weight loss goal, but I’m breaking it up into smaller bits so I can rejoice with continued progress. And every pound lost is progress toward better health. So cheers to the future, a great 2019, and to working toward our goals!