I guess I will just dive in. Of course with any introduction, there is a backstory. My backstory for weight loss, or issues, rather, began in Junior High and High School. I’ll be honest, I’m not the skinniest person out there, nor do I aim to be. I’ve always just wanted to be healthy. I’m not one for athletics. I’m just not a runner, weightlifter, or whatever other thought you might have for an “athlete.”
I’ll give you some background. I’m not embarrassed by my numbers like some women can be. The day of I got married (October 3, 2009) I tipped the scale at 242 lbs. My dress was a size 22. When I met my husband in 2006, I only tipped the scales at around 200 lbs.; enough to be obese, but I was fine with it. I didn’t care what I ate, as I didn’t have anyone to impress any more. I’d already met who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. But, sadly, I gained weight after that until I reached 250 lbs. in the blink of an eye by the dreaded “love chub.”
I had always been overweight, even in junior high and high school. I’ve had comments made by family and friends saying that, “maybe you should eat a little better.” In typical teenager fashion, I took that as, “you’re fat.” But my weight was always somewhat controlled by dance and Winter/Color guard, and I truly didn’t think it was that bad. My seasons went from summer color guard to winter guard in no time flat. We practiced at least twice a week, if not more. We had plenty of minicamps during the hot August Indiana summers, and during the winter, practices 2-3 times a week, with contests every Saturday. I ate what I wanted, drank what I wanted, and didn’t even give a single look to what I was putting into my body.
I never in my right mind thought I’d ever hit 200 lbs, let alone 250. Of course I had struggles finding clothes I liked, in my style, and often times found myself bawling my eyes out in the parking lot of a store or the mall, leaving with nothing. I’ll be honest; I couldn’t find any clothes that fit. I hated Plus Size fashion, or lack thereof, and it just didn’t feel right being 23 having to shop in (sorry for lack of better words) what I call the “Old Lady” section. I don’t mean that meanly, so please don’t take that the wrong way. There are some great clothing styles for older women, but at 23, I wasn’t ready for stretchy elastic pants.
I was also finding many tasks weren’t easy anymore. One flight of stairs took my breath away. As much as I hate to admit it, I found tying my shoes difficult. And my work pants had stretched so far out, that when I went to the store to buy more, I had a hard time putting them on, befuddled as to why they weren’t what I had at home. “They just didn’t fit like they used to,” I remember telling myself, just trying to make sense of it.
One word: Denial.
But the major wakeup call was when my Opa (German for Grandfather), had his 4 th heart-attack last year (March or April of 2010). That’s what did it for me.
Opa had gone in for hip replacement surgery, only after being cleared by his heart doc in Bloomington. (You’ll see more on why below.) His hip replacement surgery was a success, at least for a few hours, and they had him up and walking in no time! I got to see him shortly after his surgery and he looked great, and even said he felt like new, in his way of humor. (I get it honestly.) The next day I had a phone call from my Oma (German for Grandmother) that he had a minor heart attack, and that everything was fine, but they transferred him to another hospital in Indianapolis that specialized in heart issues. Seeing him in the hospital absolutely killed me. He wasn’t fine. My Opa is a warrior, a fighter, a World War 2 vet from the Pacific theater, stationed in Guam. A hard-nosed, take no crap motorsports fanatic who worked at Indianapolis Motor Speedway in the Andretti, Foyt, and Unser days. The best days. But I am the lucky one. I see the grandfather side of him. The best side of him. Teaching me to fish, giving me crap about not baiting my own hook (I have a thing about bugs and worms), giving me lifelong advice whether from job searching and where I want to be in life, to just living life and never worrying about tomorrow. Bottom line: He’s the one I call when life hands me more than just lemons.
I’ll never forget his 3 rd heart attack. We had planned on having a surprise birthday party for him, his 80 th . We had booked a hotel room, and I was extremely ecstatic to surprise him! My Oma had gone out of her way to make sure he wouldn’t be home when we arrived, so that we’d decorate the house and give him the shock of his life. Family had flown in from Texas and California; my dad drove up from Tennessee. This was huge, and I wasn’t about to miss it for the world, especially for my Opa.
The day before we were to leave, he was rushed to Bloomington Hospital for the attack. During his heart surgery, he coded on the table. It was a rough one. We didn’t know if he’d make it. We spent the time we would have spent at his home celebrating, in our true family fashion, celebrating with him at the hospital.
Those days were tough, and I still get worried whenever he goes to the doctor. He’s not the type to talk about it, just like any grandparent who was raised in the Depression Era. He still doesn’t open up much about his health issues, but some days I’m okay with that, as I don’t want to worry about him. I know my Oma takes great care of him.
Heart issues aren’t just limited to my Opa, though. I have lost my Maternal Grandfather (my Papaw King) to a heart attack in 1996, when I was 9. As with Opa, I was extremely close with my Papaw. He and my grandmother took care of us quite a bit when we were kids, shuttling my twin brother and I back and forth to karate or gymnastics, or just taking us on train trips, to the zoo, or the children’s museum. That was my first taste of heart issues. I have also lost my Uncle Carl (my Opa’s son) to a stress induced heart attack at 46. That was rough as well, as Carl taught me how to throw a football, properly, among other things Uncles teach their nieces. I loved seeing him at family functions and that death took a lot out of me. He passed away shortly after I graduated high school. I still have the card he and my aunt gave my brother and I for graduation. As the song goes, “Only the Good Die Young.” That was Carl.
But that was me in later years. I know I’m young and I shouldn’t worry, but that’s how I saw myself. Dead. Of a heart attack at 46. I don’t want that. I want to live.
I know heart issues aren’t just linked to obesity, and that heredity plays a big role, but for me, I want to be able to stave off as much issues as I can with that, and the weight loss was my first step.
I started in April of 2010 with a national program while they were having a join for free event. My mom had mentioned that a couple of coworkers had recently started the program and was having quite a bit of success with it. I figured what the heck, I don’t have anything to lose, except weight, and I’m unhappy with that as it was. I can’t begin to describe how much I have to thank this program. Not only did it teach me I have a horrible “portion distortion” problem (that’s a future blog), but that I was eating crap! I’m a horrible fast food junkie with a soda problem, for starters.
Currently I’ve been on the program, off the program, back on again, and so on. At my peak, I lost 75 lbs. to weigh in at 175. Currently, I’ve gained back about 8 lbs. to weigh in at 182.8 this week, and as of a year and 8 months into my “life change,” I am a size 12/14, depending on the pants. (Total Female B.S.) So you could say I’ve lost 10 sizes, which is huge. But I get hung up on numbers, horribly.
To meet my healthy weight range, I still need to lose about 30 more lbs. plus, even though many friends and family members have commented that I don’t need to. Again, numbers. That’s another blog for another day…
But this blog isn’t about flaws. I’m not one to judge anyone. I’m hoping to inspire. So I hope you enjoy this journey while I try to keep myself accountable and share my achievements. Trust me when I say this, “You can do it.” I have faith in anyone and everyone. I never thought I could do this, and trust me, I am not an athlete. You don’t have to be. You just have to know you can do it, and have a little faith in yourself. You’ll be amazed at what you can do. It’s worth it. It’s a wonderful ride. :)
