Saturday, May 05, 2012
Two quick things...
First, I hit a yard sale this morning, and picked up a few clothes in smaller sizes. I was happy because the clothes were in excellent condition (most with tags still on) and great bands. I bought a pair of cute capris in a size 20 and told my husband "I will probably get into these at the end of summer". Got them home and tried them on.... I can get them buttoned and zipped NOW! They are too tight to be attractive, but it won't be long! For reference..... I wore a 22/24 outfit the night I graduated from High school!
Second, we stopped at the mall today to have my wedding set sized. It slides off too easily and I've been afraid I'll lose it. It's a size 7 1/2, and I expected to size it to a 7. Nope! A 6 1/2 fit great! A whole size on my ring finger in 4 months! (Actually a little more, because I didn't wear it a good chunk of last year because it was too tight.)
I am reveling in these non scale victories. Woohoo!
Friday, May 04, 2012
I re-started this journey 4 months ago. Weighing 308#, I was tired of it, and set about formulating a plan for change. I've spent the last 4 months educating myself and putting my plan into action. And I've learned a lot. But one thing I've learned has surprised me. You see... every goal I set for myself reflected a number on the scale. Every. Single. One.
Goal #1 - get under 300#
Goal #2 - lose 70# in 2012
Goal #3 - Reach ONEderland
Goal #4 - Reach goal weight
See what I mean? All about the scale.
3 months ago, a friend emailed and told me that my journey had inspired her to join a gym and get into shape. She was SLIGHTLY overweight to begin with. Today I met her for lunch, and she looks FANTASTIC! Seriously... tiny, fit, beautiful. Wearing a size that I can only dream of. And you know what? SHE was inspired by ME. SHE said she admired ME. SHE complimented MY success. How is that possible? Yes, I've lost 39# since January 3rd. But I'm still 269#. Not exactly the model of health and fitness.
I thought about this all day. I realized that I was measuring success simply by the scale. My friend reached her goal weight in the last 3 months, and in my mind that somehow made her more successful than me.
But is she? Really? She overcame her challenges and worked hard. So have I. She makes choices every day about how much to move, and what to eat. So do I. She's lost 21#. I've lost 39#. We've both gained muscle, lost fat, increased our self confidence, and worked to make long-term changes in our lives. How am I less successful than her? Because of a number on the scale? That's just stupid.
Tonight I bought a pair of size 22/24 pants that fit perfectly. 4 months ago, I was wearing a 30/32. That means that I have been successful in making progress! I AM SUCCESSFUL. Here's the truth people: this journey continues as long as you're breathing. Whether you're at goal weight, your highest weight, or somewhere in between. It's not over until it's over. It's about the choices you're making TODAY that deem you successful or not. Not about the choices you made yesterday.
I am just as successful as my beautiful, sweet, size 0 friend. And I'm going to be this successful tomorrow, too. And the day after. And the day after that one. I know I'll have days that feel like failure. But I'll pick myself up, dust myself off, and get back on much track. And to me, THAT is success.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
I decided to change up my routine at the gym this morning. I usually hit the elliptical for 30 minutes and do my thing. But since Saturdays I go with my hubby, I wanted to do something different and work out next to him. So, I jumped on the treadmill. I set my incline, and started walking.
About 10 minutes in, I wanted to see if I COULD jog. I increased my speed and went with it. I got to a jog! I only maintained for 15-20 seconds, but I JOGGED! For the first time in over 20 years, this body jogged. I slowed back down and kept a brisk walk pace. I worked in 2 more jogging bursts before I was done.
To me, the length of time and speed of my jogging are irrelevant. I DID IT! Less than 4 months ago, I LITERALLY fell off the elliptical my first day at the gym. Today I feel like I can do anything I set my mind to and word towards.
Today, I jogged. It wasn't long. It wasn't fast. It sure as HECK wasn't pretty. But I did it. That is a victory.
I'd like to say I looked like an athlete, but......
Pride. That is name of this feeling. It feels wonderful.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
I can't tell you how many times I heard that as a child. I heard it from my parents, sunday school teachers, school teachers in my Christian school, friends, etc. "God doesn't make mistakes". So easy to say. For me, impossible to believe.
I knew as a very small child that God, indeed, did make mistakes. And I was the proof of that. You see, when I was born, my birth mother left the hospital without me. She had made no arrangements for my care, and simply abandoned me in the hospital. The nurses cared for me for a week until a court order put me into foster care. I was adopted by my family as a baby. And while my parents love me dearly, there were a lot of things in my family and upbringing that were tragic, traumatic, and painful. Add to that the fact that I fit into my community about as well as a round peg in a square hole. I grew up in a very small, close knit Dutch community, mostly governed by the church. Nearly all my friends were fair haired and blue eyed. My red hair and brown eyes stood out. The fact that I was overweight? Yeah..... I was an easy target for school bullies.
God DID make mistakes, my young mind always insisted. Because God had made me. "God should have given me to a mom who wanted me", "God could have made me thin", "God could have kept this situation from happening", etc., etc., etc. Such was the inner dialogue in my mind.
In the last 15 years, I've done a lot of emotional work to deal with my adoption and some other issues. I've come to accept that it was HUMANS who had made the mistakes... not God. I have come to see the beauty that he brought from the ashes of their misguided, selfish decisions.
Except when it comes to my weight. A little part of me has held out on my grudge against God. For some reason, something in my mind broke thru today while on the elliptical.
"God didn't make me look like this! I made me look like this! God gave me two working legs. He created me with a healthy body that can move and exercise. I CHOSE not to. He created me with an intelligent mind, yet I never educated myself about nutrition. I DID THIS! ME! "
And with that gut-wrenching realization, the next thought brought hope:
"These were my mistakes. But my God can bring beauty from the ashes."
Today I made good choices. Today I found a little bit of healing. It was a good day.
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