My Weight Loss Journey.

As I nibble on my cookie and think about where I want to begin telling my weight loss journey (it's an oatmeal cookie, in case you were wondering), I wanted to first brag about how well Julia is doing at being dropped off in the kid area when we go to the Y. You may recall previous posts about the guilt I felt for dropping off Julia and having her cry when she realized I was leaving her to play and frolic with millions of toys and other abandoned children. Well, that is no more! Julia now proudly walks into the kid area and patiently waits for me to sign her in and slap her name sticker on her back, tries to help me open the door to the land of toys, and watches me walk away while...SMILING!!! Yes, people, she smiles and even sometimes waves at me as I leave. It makes working out even better then before because I know she's become comfortable there and I no longer am walking the treadmill with an extra 20 pounds of guilt weighing me down!

Ah...weight loss. How I loathe thee. It's hard. It's hard choosing an apple over an oatmeal cookie (obviously...especially now that I finished my cookie and am thinking of eating another). It's hard eating smaller portions. It's hard making it to the gym 4-5 days a week and sweating for an hour. But, do you know what's harder? Not fitting into your jeans anymore. Having small children ask you when you're going to have the baby in your belly (jerks). Being winded going up and down the stairs. That's essentially what got me back to the gym. Oh, and the number on the scale, of course.

I'd say that I first started thinking about weight in high school--as in, I lost weight my junior year without trying and thought that I wouldn't ever have to worry about losing weight again. I wasn't in sports, but was active in speech and drama, student council and color guard, and hanging out with friends. My junior and senior year, I was literally at school from 7:00AM until 10 or 11 at night. I didn't have time to sit on the couch eating bowls of ice cream and spoonfuls of peanut butter (uh, yeah, I totally used to do that...and they were cereal bowls full of ice cream, thank you). So, naturally, the pounds came off. I will never forget when one of my friend's moms came up to me one day and told me that if I lost any more weight I'd blow away. I was completely shocked by the comment (and flattered). I hadn't really noticed that I'd lost weight. I guess I had gone from a size 12 to a size 8, but I hadn't tried to lose weight.

I can distinctly remember my meals my senior year, though. Breakfast=2 pieces of toast and juice. Lunch=1 slice of pizza, salad and a Slice. Snack=small ice cream cone during 6th hour since I was taking an independent study with my speech coach, Mr. Ewan, and he often had me run errands when my excessive peppiness annoyed him (so daily!). Dinner=if I was staying at school until late, I'd bring a sandwich, chips and maybe an apple. Otherwise, I ate at home with my family. I never snacked because I didn't have time with all the practices and rehearsals and trips to friends homes.

Then I started college. I was no longer running around like a yahoo, and had a lot more down time. Not only did I gain the freshman 15, but I kind of think I gained someone else's freshman 15 too. I was back in a size 12, but not super worried about it. By then, I'd been dating Evan for over a year, and he seemed to like me bunches no matter my pant size. I do remember a conversation with Evan where I declared that I hated to sweat and would never work out, so if I got fat, I got fat. (And, yet, he still loved me. Ahh...youth) When I got pregnant my junior year of college with Elisabeth, I was at least 25 pounds heavier then my senior year of high school.

Being pregnant, I didn't really take into consideration how much exercise would benefit me after the baby was born. As I mentioned, I did not like to sweat. So, when I gained 65 pounds with Ebeth (Oh, yes. That's right. Sixty five freaking pounds), I wasn't too worried. I figured it would all just naturally fall off after the baby was born. (Hahahahahahahaha) In case you were wondering, it did not.

And this is where my true weight loss journey begins. After my beautiful 7 pound baby girl was born, I realized that gaining so much weight wasn't just her. It was mainly me. Quite discouraging. Everyone said to give it time and the pounds would fall off. That was a little bit true when, at my 6 week after birth appointment, I had lost 20 pounds. Most of it was water weight, since I'd had slight toxemia and was sooooo uncomfortably bloated my last month and a half of pregnancy. When no other weight was "falling" off after Elisabeth was nearing a year, and Evan had asked me to marry him (which meant wedding dress! wedding photos! aaagh!), I decided that I might actually have to sweat. God forbid.

I talked to my mom about it and we decided to join Weight Watchers. After the first meeting, seeing the atrocious number on the scale (I weighed almost the same as the day I had Elisabeth...when had I gained the weight back?), and hearing all the inspiring stories of people who'd lost weight using the plan, I was as high as a kite. I could do this! I would be in a decent size for my wedding! I would have the support of my mom and the fabulous leader! I went home and diligently wrote down everything I ate. I joined the local gym and started planning times to work out. The first week I lost 5 pounds. The second week 2 more. I was on a weight loss high. I could not get over how simple it seemed to be. After 2 months I was down 10 pounds. At almost 3 months, I was down 15. I began picturing myself in a size 10 wedding dress! I imagined being able to buy shirts in mediums again! I would throw out all those plus size jeans I had been wearing because that was all that had fit after Elisabeth was born!

Then I went to weigh in again. I was up three pounds. Very discouraging. I talked to the WW leader and we talked about making sure I was logging everything (I was) and getting my exercising in (I kind of was). I made an effort the next week to really stick to the plan. I was nervous about getting on the scale. I tried telling myself that the number didn't mean everything. I was making healthy choices, setting an example for Elisabeth, feeling better. When the lady at the scale told me I was up 2 more pounds I could have vomited those two pounds up right then and there. What the hell? Seriously? I'd gained again. Now I was just super frustrated. Instead of losing 15 pounds, I had only lost 10.

I redoubled my efforts. I added in exercise, ate more green things (and not green laffy taffy, but actually green veggies). My mom and Evan would watch Elisabeth for me so I could go work out. My mother-in-law started asking me to go on walks with her so that I could have some more support. My sister-in-law even said she'd help me learn to jog (Hahahaha....omg, that was such a disaster). Kyle was getting married two months after me and had been trying to lose weight and tone down too. I can not even begin to tell you how deflated I felt watching both my mom and sister-in-law lose weight effortlessly, or at least that's what it seemed like to me. One night at a Christmas party at a family friend's house, three different people were oohing and ahhing at how awesome Kyle looked and how she'd be so beautiful in her wedding dress. They were absolutely right--Kyle had a gun show that would make a gun store embarrassed--and I knew that she was going to be a beautiful bride. But, that didn't stop me from wanting to eat the entire buffet spread in the kitchen that night.

And I think that was one of my big problems. I am a total emotional eater. When I'm bored, worried, upset, I could eat an entire package of Oreos without even blinking. I've always been that way. Not too helpful when you're trying to lose weight however.

So, for the next year, I yo-yo-ed between losing and gaining 5-10 pounds. I never went beyond that 10 pound loss and I was slowly starting to become defeated. I'd bought my wedding dress (for a fantastic $300, but that is a different story) and it was a size that I was embarrassed to wear. And, as the wedding drew closer, I was finding that it was snugger then I'd thought. My seamstress was talking about letting it out. I could have died when she said that. Instead, I just cried in my car. How had I let myself get to this? How do I explain why, instead of getting it taken in, I was needing it let out? I quit WW. I quit caring. I focused on wedding details, on our need to make life altering decisions about Evan's career path that would lead us in two very different directions, on raising my beautiful little girl. I quit looking in mirrors and didn't shop for clothes. The seamstress let my dress out. My self esteem and morale were lower then they'd ever been.

That's when I noticed something. It was after the wedding and I was starting to pack up our things for our move to DeKalb. I was going through my WW materials, when I saw my weight loss chart. I was staring at the numbers and noticed a pattern. Every three months I was shooting up 3-5 pounds. Then i would slowly lose maybe up to 2-3 pounds over the next couple months and then I was back up 3-5 again that third month. I could not figure it out. What was happening that third month? That's when it dawned on me. It was my birth control. I was taking depo provera--a birth control you get in a shot form. I knew I'd never, ever remember to take a pill, so I'd decided to get a shot EVERY THREE MONTHS. The weight gain took effect basically two weeks after getting the shot. I looked online and, sure enough, weight gain and bloating were big side effects of the shot. And, since I was getting so much in the shot (which was to last me three months), my body wasn't adjusting to the side effects. They were hitting me as if they were new every time I got a shot. I felt so many things with this realization--anger, relief, irritation--but decided right then and there to get off the shot and find a new method of birth control.

More tomorrow, friends...