The last 4 weeks I have had so much motivation to run.
I have never been a runner. I have always wanted to be a runner.
So, I have purchased an elliptical to start. I was working out 5 days a week, one hour a day. Loving every second of the sweat.
I loved seeing that I had burned up wards of 700 calories during my run. I loved that I lost 5 pounds in 2 weeks. Hardly paying attention to what I was eating. I had been making better choices. But still, not really paying that close attention.
Week 3 rolled around and all of a sudden I was experiencing sore ankles.
Nothing too major. I just assumed it was sore muscles needing to build strength.
After about 3 days of that, It got really bad, I could not walk in the mornings without having taken Motrin.
After a week of that.
I went to the doctor.
The diagnosis...
STRESS FRACTURES.
I have 2 stress fractures. I have them in both ankles. The left is far worse than the right. But both in the same spots. The weight baring bones in my ankles.
It is so painful.
So, now I have to put a hold on my running for 6-8 weeks. After that, I have to cut back to every other day. 10 min to start.
It is no secret that I HATE milk. And I have hated it since I was about 5 years old. So during the most important bone building years of my life, I neglected to drink milk, take a calcium supplement.
The doctor said that if it happened again, I would need to get a bone density test done. WHAT?!? I am not even 30! WAKE UP CALL!! First thing I did, I went to the store and got calcium and vitamin d.
I don't want to be 30 and on Boniva because I failed to listen to my grandma tell me that I was going to get a hump back and brittle bones because I wouldn't drink milk. Just to clarify, I don't have a hump back.
But I really could have brittle bones.
That freaks me out.
Of course that is strictly worst case scenario.
Really the cause was too much too soon.
I was silly to think that I could run about 6 miles just like that and that my non runner body could handle it with no problem.
I was silly to think that it was that easy.
The cure. Rest. No running. No strenuous workouts. So, it looks like Maurie Winsor and I will be getting re acquainted, and that I am really going to have to start tracking my food journal.
I am disappointed. Frustrated. And, a little pissed off.
Wish me luck.
STATS:
Weight to lose 30 pounds. Would love to lose 40.
Total weight loss to date from time started
5 pounds.
PS
I carry my weight even and proportioned.
I wear a smaller size than most people who weight what I weigh
This is not about size. It is about being healthy. Strong. Confident. Happy.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
New Blog. Part 3
Rewind.
Before I got preggers, I was able to maintain my weight loss fairly well. I gained 5 pounds back over the course of a year. I was still feeling great about it, and my clothes still fit the same. I was not upset about the 5 pounds at all.
Then I got pregnant.
When I was pregnant, I was very lucky to only have experienced 1 day where I could keep literally nothing down. Only a few days of morning sickness, and other than that if I got sick to my stomach then I just needed to eat some protein and I was fine.
Sure, I experienced a change of appetite, things that I loved before I no longer could eat. Things I couldn't stand to eat before I began to crave and wanted to eat all the time. Like raw onion. I hate onions. But not when I am preggers. I craved them on salads, sandwiches, and onion rings. So weird.
With that over the course of the 40 weeks, I gained 45 pounds.
A little more than 1 pound a week.
It was the heat of the summer, I was carrying a lot of water weight, I looked like I had elephantitise in my ankles, and my legs. You could push them in and they would stay with a fingerprint for a good 5 seconds. It was so weird.
There are a lot of things about pregnancy that are so weird.
After I gave birth to my beautiful baby boy, all 6 pounds and 6 ounces of him, I was left needing to lose an other 30 pounds.
Back to where I was the first time I tried to lose weight.
After Patrick turned 1 I gained more weight. I was suffering with major baby blues depression and was just depressed about my life in general. The extra weight did not help.
I am the type of person that will suffer with depression my whole life. It runs in my family, and it will be a constant struggle for me if I don't keep it in check.
I joined weight watchers again, and was able to lose another 25 pounds. Still a good 10 pounds from my pre-preggers weight.
Still, I was okay with it. I felt better. Not great. I was not on top of the world. I was just in the world. I am sure that my depression was a factor in the fact that I really did not care that much.
I started working again. And during that time I gained 10 pounds back.
Which makes me at the point of where my weight was been for the last, almost, 3 years.
My child is 3 and I have yet to reach my pre-preggers weight. I have yet to make my goal weight. And I keep playing the up and down game on the scale. Which is so not good for you.
Which brings me to the point of this blog.
I am going to use this blog as a personal journal. How personal? I am not yet sure.
I know I am not ready to write actual numbers down. I am too embarrassed.
I am going to use this blog as a place where I can write down my ups and downs.
My struggle with my body image, my struggle to lose weight, and My struggle with my self esteem.
I am not sure how interesting this blog will be. I am not sure what it will become.
I am not sure what I will become through blogging.
I am not sure what will happen.
But...
I am sure that my struggle will be a lifetime struggle.
I am sure that I will have ups and downs.
I am sure that I will hit road blocks.
I am sure that I will lose weight.
I am sure that it will be hard.
So, here it is. My new blog.
Leave encouraging comments.
Leave me new ideas.
Make my day.
Before I got preggers, I was able to maintain my weight loss fairly well. I gained 5 pounds back over the course of a year. I was still feeling great about it, and my clothes still fit the same. I was not upset about the 5 pounds at all.
Then I got pregnant.
When I was pregnant, I was very lucky to only have experienced 1 day where I could keep literally nothing down. Only a few days of morning sickness, and other than that if I got sick to my stomach then I just needed to eat some protein and I was fine.
Sure, I experienced a change of appetite, things that I loved before I no longer could eat. Things I couldn't stand to eat before I began to crave and wanted to eat all the time. Like raw onion. I hate onions. But not when I am preggers. I craved them on salads, sandwiches, and onion rings. So weird.
With that over the course of the 40 weeks, I gained 45 pounds.
A little more than 1 pound a week.
It was the heat of the summer, I was carrying a lot of water weight, I looked like I had elephantitise in my ankles, and my legs. You could push them in and they would stay with a fingerprint for a good 5 seconds. It was so weird.
There are a lot of things about pregnancy that are so weird.
After I gave birth to my beautiful baby boy, all 6 pounds and 6 ounces of him, I was left needing to lose an other 30 pounds.
Back to where I was the first time I tried to lose weight.
After Patrick turned 1 I gained more weight. I was suffering with major baby blues depression and was just depressed about my life in general. The extra weight did not help.
I am the type of person that will suffer with depression my whole life. It runs in my family, and it will be a constant struggle for me if I don't keep it in check.
I joined weight watchers again, and was able to lose another 25 pounds. Still a good 10 pounds from my pre-preggers weight.
Still, I was okay with it. I felt better. Not great. I was not on top of the world. I was just in the world. I am sure that my depression was a factor in the fact that I really did not care that much.
I started working again. And during that time I gained 10 pounds back.
Which makes me at the point of where my weight was been for the last, almost, 3 years.
My child is 3 and I have yet to reach my pre-preggers weight. I have yet to make my goal weight. And I keep playing the up and down game on the scale. Which is so not good for you.
Which brings me to the point of this blog.
I am going to use this blog as a personal journal. How personal? I am not yet sure.
I know I am not ready to write actual numbers down. I am too embarrassed.
I am going to use this blog as a place where I can write down my ups and downs.
My struggle with my body image, my struggle to lose weight, and My struggle with my self esteem.
I am not sure how interesting this blog will be. I am not sure what it will become.
I am not sure what I will become through blogging.
I am not sure what will happen.
But...
I am sure that my struggle will be a lifetime struggle.
I am sure that I will have ups and downs.
I am sure that I will hit road blocks.
I am sure that I will lose weight.
I am sure that it will be hard.
So, here it is. My new blog.
Leave encouraging comments.
Leave me new ideas.
Make my day.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
New Blog. Part 2
After the FP conversation with Tripp, I felt myself pull away. I am not sure if Tripp felt it or not. But when the conversation of marriage was brought up I was terrified. I loved Tripp but I could not be married to someone who was so worried about my FP. I know that Tripp had the best of intentions and he had no idea of my body image issues, because I never talked to anyone about them. He did not know what having a conversation like that would do to someone like me.
Following the marriage conversation, I ended things with Tripp, He said I broke his heart. But for me. He broke mine first.
I don't doubt that Tripp loved me, I know he did. But he did not know the best way to LOVE ME.
When I was in my last semester in school, I went to a "Tupperware" party that my friend Tab, was hosting. I had known Tab for a few years at that point, I met her while I was working with her sister Aub. Tab asked me if I was dating anyone, I told her no. And then she said that she wanted me to go on a date with her brother-in-law. She said he was really cute and really nice. So I said sure.
A couple of weeks later, I met Justin. Justin and I hit it off really fast.
He was very nice. And really cute. And for the first time, I did not feel self conscious when I was around him. I had never felt so comfortable around anyone in my life.
After a few months of dating we were engaged, and after a few more months we were married.
Enter Birth-Control.
I am not sure if it was solely the birth control or if it was a combination of my habits being abruptly changed with marriage. Or if it was also that I did not adjust to marriage as well as I had hoped or even thought I did.
But I gained some weight. And when I say some. I mean 30. 30 pounds in the first year of marriage. OUCH!!!
I know that birth-control can do that to people, but it did not help that I had stopped working, and stopped working out, and started eating like my 6'5 215 pounds of muscles husband.
I was out of control. I was unhappy. Unhealthy. And I felt horrible.
Justin was really nice about it. He never said anything rude, he never said anything negative. He bought me a gym membership, I went with him maybe 3 times.
I stayed in the house, laying in the dark. Watching Friends, wishing my life was like theirs.
I wanted to be thin, gorgeous, and living a Hollywood written life.
I was so depressed.
I had unrealistic expectations of what my married life should have been.
I had always been super unhappy with my bust, so I decided after I had gained a lot of weight and was bustier than I had ever been, it was time to get a reduction.
A girl I went to high school with, who had similar insecurities, had done it and she loved the results. So I got her surgeons info and booked my appointment.
I was so excited, I was sure that after I got my bust reduced I would feel great about myself. That I would be magically cured of my depression.
After my surgery, and after having 5 pounds removed. I know right. Wowza. I was just that, 5 pounds down.
About 2 weeks after my surgery. I was still feeling horrible.
For my sister Lara's birthday, we went shopping with all the girls. We had gone to the Gateway mall, which was really popular at that time, I had no intention of buying clothes because I really hated shopping and really hated the idea of buying clothes and trying them on.
We went to Forever 21, it was still really new to Utah and we were excited.
Lara was in the dressing room and she came out wearing the cutest sweater dress, with grey leggings. I told her she looked so cute and she needed to get the outfit. She said, "you should get it too!" She was so excited about it, and wanted me to have one too. She was being so nice. I started bawling. Like major. I was mad at her for even suggesting that I could wear what she could wear and that it would look good on me.
It was at that point that I knew I needed to get off my ass and do something about it.
That same week, I was walking down to help in my grandpas store and while I was walking down, my dads cousin, Tim, told me I was looking really chubby. I told him I know, and did what I did best and laughed it off.
Then I told my grandpa about it. BIG mistake. He is TOUGH love kind of person. He told me to do something about it.
End of fight... I told him to go to hell.
I started walking home and my mom saw me.
She came out and asked what had happened. She knew I was supposed to be at work. I told her what had happened and she was so hurt and mad by what had happened.
She told me that she would join Weight Watchers with me.
The next day, we went.
I weighed in at.. (I am not ready to share my weight)
I needed to lose 35 pounds to be at my goal weight.
I was full of piss and vinegar and was ready to do it.
I was so tired of feeling so horrible about myself.
I was tired of being overweight.
I was tired of seeing my sister look amazing in clothes and me look horrible.
I was tired.
That day, I was ready.
I started getting up early and doing 30 min of Pilates, while my water boiled for my 3 point oatmeal breakfast. I would follow that with a walk with my mom everyday.
I was getting sunshine, I was getting exercise, and I was losing weight.
I was able to still enjoy dates with my supportive husband.
After I lost the first 10 pounds I went shopping for a "Goal outfit". I was realistic in the size I chose. And the moment that outfit fit, I was on top of the world.
The first go around with Weight Watchers. I lost 25 pounds.
I did not reach my goal, but I was okay, I fit into the goal outfit, I had definition in my abs, thank you Maurie Winsor, and I felt great.
Enter Pregnancy
Following the marriage conversation, I ended things with Tripp, He said I broke his heart. But for me. He broke mine first.
I don't doubt that Tripp loved me, I know he did. But he did not know the best way to LOVE ME.
When I was in my last semester in school, I went to a "Tupperware" party that my friend Tab, was hosting. I had known Tab for a few years at that point, I met her while I was working with her sister Aub. Tab asked me if I was dating anyone, I told her no. And then she said that she wanted me to go on a date with her brother-in-law. She said he was really cute and really nice. So I said sure.
A couple of weeks later, I met Justin. Justin and I hit it off really fast.
He was very nice. And really cute. And for the first time, I did not feel self conscious when I was around him. I had never felt so comfortable around anyone in my life.
After a few months of dating we were engaged, and after a few more months we were married.
Enter Birth-Control.
I am not sure if it was solely the birth control or if it was a combination of my habits being abruptly changed with marriage. Or if it was also that I did not adjust to marriage as well as I had hoped or even thought I did.
But I gained some weight. And when I say some. I mean 30. 30 pounds in the first year of marriage. OUCH!!!
I know that birth-control can do that to people, but it did not help that I had stopped working, and stopped working out, and started eating like my 6'5 215 pounds of muscles husband.
I was out of control. I was unhappy. Unhealthy. And I felt horrible.
Justin was really nice about it. He never said anything rude, he never said anything negative. He bought me a gym membership, I went with him maybe 3 times.
I stayed in the house, laying in the dark. Watching Friends, wishing my life was like theirs.
I wanted to be thin, gorgeous, and living a Hollywood written life.
I was so depressed.
I had unrealistic expectations of what my married life should have been.
I had always been super unhappy with my bust, so I decided after I had gained a lot of weight and was bustier than I had ever been, it was time to get a reduction.
A girl I went to high school with, who had similar insecurities, had done it and she loved the results. So I got her surgeons info and booked my appointment.
I was so excited, I was sure that after I got my bust reduced I would feel great about myself. That I would be magically cured of my depression.
After my surgery, and after having 5 pounds removed. I know right. Wowza. I was just that, 5 pounds down.
About 2 weeks after my surgery. I was still feeling horrible.
For my sister Lara's birthday, we went shopping with all the girls. We had gone to the Gateway mall, which was really popular at that time, I had no intention of buying clothes because I really hated shopping and really hated the idea of buying clothes and trying them on.
We went to Forever 21, it was still really new to Utah and we were excited.
Lara was in the dressing room and she came out wearing the cutest sweater dress, with grey leggings. I told her she looked so cute and she needed to get the outfit. She said, "you should get it too!" She was so excited about it, and wanted me to have one too. She was being so nice. I started bawling. Like major. I was mad at her for even suggesting that I could wear what she could wear and that it would look good on me.
It was at that point that I knew I needed to get off my ass and do something about it.
That same week, I was walking down to help in my grandpas store and while I was walking down, my dads cousin, Tim, told me I was looking really chubby. I told him I know, and did what I did best and laughed it off.
Then I told my grandpa about it. BIG mistake. He is TOUGH love kind of person. He told me to do something about it.
End of fight... I told him to go to hell.
I started walking home and my mom saw me.
She came out and asked what had happened. She knew I was supposed to be at work. I told her what had happened and she was so hurt and mad by what had happened.
She told me that she would join Weight Watchers with me.
The next day, we went.
I weighed in at.. (I am not ready to share my weight)
I needed to lose 35 pounds to be at my goal weight.
I was full of piss and vinegar and was ready to do it.
I was so tired of feeling so horrible about myself.
I was tired of being overweight.
I was tired of seeing my sister look amazing in clothes and me look horrible.
I was tired.
That day, I was ready.
I started getting up early and doing 30 min of Pilates, while my water boiled for my 3 point oatmeal breakfast. I would follow that with a walk with my mom everyday.
I was getting sunshine, I was getting exercise, and I was losing weight.
I was able to still enjoy dates with my supportive husband.
After I lost the first 10 pounds I went shopping for a "Goal outfit". I was realistic in the size I chose. And the moment that outfit fit, I was on top of the world.
The first go around with Weight Watchers. I lost 25 pounds.
I did not reach my goal, but I was okay, I fit into the goal outfit, I had definition in my abs, thank you Maurie Winsor, and I felt great.
Enter Pregnancy
Monday, February 4, 2013
Preview to the new blog. Part 1
I have decided that while this blog is called the "west family blog" it is not so much of a family blog. So I am going to change the name of the blog and the things that I will be writing about.
As of late, well not so much as of late, but really my whole life I have constantly struggled with body image. I go up and down in weight, and am always feeling bad about myself and what I weigh, how I look, what size I am in and all around my self-confidence has really struggled.
The other day while I was at work, I had a customer telling me that she cant bring her 8 year old daughter shopping with her, because she wears a kids size 12 (which is really normal and average, if you know anything about kids clothes, which I happen to be an expert at). She was telling me that she has to buy the clothes and cut the size tag out of her daughters clothes because it brings her daughter to tears to see that she is not wearing the size 8 that her best friend is wearing. I was so sad for the mom that she was already having to deal with a body-conscious pre-teen. I was sad for the little girl that she would feel so badly at such a young age about her body. That she was really already comparing herself to other kids.
It got me thinking... How old was I when I first starting feeling self-conscious about my body?
I starting.. Developing.. Really young. I was in the 4th grade when I got my "training bra" by the 6th grade, I was wearing an "A" cup when most of the girls in my class were just getting their training bras. One day in class, a girl, who you could call "popular" told me that she had drawn a picture of everyone in the class as an animal, and she chose the elephant for me. She told me that she wanted to let me know that and that she hoped it wouldn't hurt my feelings. Uhm? really? Okay. I told her that it didn't and I didn't care. I cared. A LOT. I went to the office, and called my mom and told her I was sick. She knew I wasn't but came and got me anyway. I told her what had happened and she told me that girls can be mean, there was nothing wrong with my body, and that I wasn't an elephant and we made cookies.
By the 8th grade I had a full on, teenager, body. Sure I was a teenager, but I mean I looked like I was 18, I was wearing a size 7 and was wearing a size 36D in my bra. I got disgusting comments from boys in my class, I was always being teased and always feeling horrible about it. I had no control of what my body was doing. I had no control that my body was changing so fast, and so early. I was so self-conscious about it. I hated my body, I wore large hoodies to try and hide my body, I slouched and carried myself with no esteem at all. I was jealous of every other girl in my class because they were getting to wear little tank tops, and little swim suits, and I couldn't find a swim suit that would fit.
When I got to high school most of the girls had caught up during the summer and I fit in a lot better. Even if the girls my age had not caught up yet, there were hundreds of girls who had. And I started getting attention, in a good way, from the wrong boys, but it made me feel better.
By the time I had graduated I had found my confidence and I felt great about myself. I was working out almost everyday. I had a really cute boyfriend. We worked out together occasionally and he never had time to take me out on a real date, (yeah, not a super great boyfriend), but I never felt better about myself.
After I moved out of my parents house and started living on my own, and going to school and not having time to workout everyday like I had been. I actually lost more weight. Having the control over the cooking and what I was eating, I thrived.
After things had ended with my boyfriend, I was feeling really unsure about things, I was lonely and I had no friends to hang out with besides my friend from high school who I still kept in contact with. So He suggested to one of his friends, we will call Tripp, to take me out.
When I first met Tripp I was still dating my previous boyfriend. But I felt an instant connection to him and wanted to be by him. He was electrifying to me. Full of personality, so different from, I will call him Rob.
So after Tripp and I started dating, I fell in love with him fast. I loved how much fun we had, and how we connected.
One night after we had been dating for a while, Tripp decided to push me with some questions and concerns. He talked to me about how I might be a little high-matience and why wouldn't I use cheap shampoo and why do I wear so much makeup and all these questions...Then he said it.. He talked about my FAT POTENTIAL.
I was so heart broken. Here was this guy, who I loved, who I thought loved me, and he was worried about my FP. I was so devastated. I just wanted someone to love me for me, and take me as I am.
Sure I had gained like 5 or so pounds when we were dating. I had gone from having a boyfriend who had no time for me, never took me out, to having a boyfriend who took me out every night. (I don't care who you are, if you eat out a lot you gain weight).
And so my self-loathing began again.
As of late, well not so much as of late, but really my whole life I have constantly struggled with body image. I go up and down in weight, and am always feeling bad about myself and what I weigh, how I look, what size I am in and all around my self-confidence has really struggled.
The other day while I was at work, I had a customer telling me that she cant bring her 8 year old daughter shopping with her, because she wears a kids size 12 (which is really normal and average, if you know anything about kids clothes, which I happen to be an expert at). She was telling me that she has to buy the clothes and cut the size tag out of her daughters clothes because it brings her daughter to tears to see that she is not wearing the size 8 that her best friend is wearing. I was so sad for the mom that she was already having to deal with a body-conscious pre-teen. I was sad for the little girl that she would feel so badly at such a young age about her body. That she was really already comparing herself to other kids.
It got me thinking... How old was I when I first starting feeling self-conscious about my body?
I starting.. Developing.. Really young. I was in the 4th grade when I got my "training bra" by the 6th grade, I was wearing an "A" cup when most of the girls in my class were just getting their training bras. One day in class, a girl, who you could call "popular" told me that she had drawn a picture of everyone in the class as an animal, and she chose the elephant for me. She told me that she wanted to let me know that and that she hoped it wouldn't hurt my feelings. Uhm? really? Okay. I told her that it didn't and I didn't care. I cared. A LOT. I went to the office, and called my mom and told her I was sick. She knew I wasn't but came and got me anyway. I told her what had happened and she told me that girls can be mean, there was nothing wrong with my body, and that I wasn't an elephant and we made cookies.
By the 8th grade I had a full on, teenager, body. Sure I was a teenager, but I mean I looked like I was 18, I was wearing a size 7 and was wearing a size 36D in my bra. I got disgusting comments from boys in my class, I was always being teased and always feeling horrible about it. I had no control of what my body was doing. I had no control that my body was changing so fast, and so early. I was so self-conscious about it. I hated my body, I wore large hoodies to try and hide my body, I slouched and carried myself with no esteem at all. I was jealous of every other girl in my class because they were getting to wear little tank tops, and little swim suits, and I couldn't find a swim suit that would fit.
When I got to high school most of the girls had caught up during the summer and I fit in a lot better. Even if the girls my age had not caught up yet, there were hundreds of girls who had. And I started getting attention, in a good way, from the wrong boys, but it made me feel better.
By the time I had graduated I had found my confidence and I felt great about myself. I was working out almost everyday. I had a really cute boyfriend. We worked out together occasionally and he never had time to take me out on a real date, (yeah, not a super great boyfriend), but I never felt better about myself.
After I moved out of my parents house and started living on my own, and going to school and not having time to workout everyday like I had been. I actually lost more weight. Having the control over the cooking and what I was eating, I thrived.
After things had ended with my boyfriend, I was feeling really unsure about things, I was lonely and I had no friends to hang out with besides my friend from high school who I still kept in contact with. So He suggested to one of his friends, we will call Tripp, to take me out.
When I first met Tripp I was still dating my previous boyfriend. But I felt an instant connection to him and wanted to be by him. He was electrifying to me. Full of personality, so different from, I will call him Rob.
So after Tripp and I started dating, I fell in love with him fast. I loved how much fun we had, and how we connected.
One night after we had been dating for a while, Tripp decided to push me with some questions and concerns. He talked to me about how I might be a little high-matience and why wouldn't I use cheap shampoo and why do I wear so much makeup and all these questions...Then he said it.. He talked about my FAT POTENTIAL.
I was so heart broken. Here was this guy, who I loved, who I thought loved me, and he was worried about my FP. I was so devastated. I just wanted someone to love me for me, and take me as I am.
Sure I had gained like 5 or so pounds when we were dating. I had gone from having a boyfriend who had no time for me, never took me out, to having a boyfriend who took me out every night. (I don't care who you are, if you eat out a lot you gain weight).
And so my self-loathing began again.
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