Every three months I go to the endocrinologists office. The appointment is pretty routine. I show up a few minutes early, check in with the super skinny and cute receptionist, Anastasia, and then I wait. I wait to get called back and hoisted up onto the scale. The scale at that office is evil. I weigh myself before I leave the house every three months for this appointment. I wear the lightest clothing I own. I prep for three days before by drinking a lot of water and thinking happy thoughts. And, it's always the same....I weigh 5-8 pounds MORE at the doctor's office than I do at home. I'm sure that's the way it works for most people but for me, someone who is already overweight, it just adds insult to injury.
At the beginning of the summer I had one such appointment and hit an all time low - rather high - on the scale. It was a number I'd been toying with for a while, one that of course I hadn't hit at home, but it was depressing to say the least. I made a deal with myself and my doctor that I'd really start to do something about it this time - I knew that this summer would give me some opportunity to try and make some changes, but with a move, and life getting int he way, I got a late start.
I did start in July, when Ross got home from Australia and was working hours that made him accessible to me as a babysitter in the morning. I started to exercise, at least 4 days a week, in the most consistent manner I'd done for years. I would walk and jog the track in my neighborhood or I'd go on a power walk around the world. It was invigorating to be sweating and moving and listening to the music I wanted to listen to - being alone and doing something just for myself was pretty rewarding.
Then, Ross went back to work and for a couple of weeks I got up super early in the morning, got dressed and hit the pavement. It was chilly, but those early mornings out walking were amazing. I loved it a lot more than I thought and really enjoyed watching the sunrise every morning. But, the weather got cold and by mid September I needed something else.
But not until my 3 months were up and I had to go back to the doctor.
Ug! The doctor.
I had made some changes in my lifestyle, seen some minor results on MY scale, and then headed back.
To be told that I was obese.
To be told by a doctor's office scale that I'd made no progress all summer and weighed a smidge more than I had three months before.
I wanted to cry!
I wanted to scream!
I wanted to grab my doctors spare tire gut and say, "who are you calling fat!!!!!"
But I didn't.
I looked him in the eye and said, "I cannot lose weight and I need help!"
He said, "okay."
We looked through my file and my weight history. I've been going to the same office for 5 years and in 5 years I've gained 46 pounds. Granted I've had two babies in that time period and became a work from home/stay at home mom, but that's a lot of weight to add to my frame. Thank heavens I'm six foot three. One more reason to be grateful for my height.
So, the doc? He gave me a two month prescription for a commonly prescribed appetite suppressant and told me to take half a pill every morning. He told me that I had to modify my diet even more and that I had to increase the exercise...just walking, though healthy, wasn't going to cut it. He even gave me the name of another doctor who specializes in helping people like me (fat from insulin just as much as fat from life) in case I wanted someone else to contact.
I came hope depressed. I cried a bit in the car!
"Why is this so hard?" I thought to myself.
The weekend before this appointment I was at my moms, looking through photo albums and I found a picture. A picture of me in a bathing suit so tanned and skinny that I almost threw up. That picture was taken in an era when I thought I was fat (silly girl!). That picture is now on my fridge, where I stare at it about 50 times a day. I analyze that girl. There is no way on the planet I'll ever look like her again - there really isn't much desire in me to be her again. But! BUT! That girl provides me with some motivation that I was lacking before.
All of this happened in September. On September 19th I started the quest to stop my own personal insanity. I started working out with a video (Jillian Michael's busting my butt to be exact!) at least 4 days a week. Minus the occasional failure like I had this weekend, I've almost entirely stopped eating chips, excessive sugar, bread, pasta, potatoes, rice...all the stuff I know that doesn't work with my diabetic body. There isn't anything I've cut out completely, but I'm really making an effort. My portions are smaller. I'm picking fruit and yogurt for a snack instead of Cheetos. I'm not fixing as much food for dinner so there is less to sit and pick at. I'm trying to listen to myself when I go out to eat and not finish everything in front of me just because it's there - sometimes knowing when you are full is a good thing.
And guess what - It took me 7 weeks to do a 30 day video but I did it 30 times.
And guess what else - I lost 11 pounds doing it.
I know that doesn't seem like much but for me, the girl who has given a half hearted effort to lose weight for over two years, it's a huge deal.
I'm a little bit proud of myself.
And today - I'm starting all over (except that because of a medication I take, metformin, I get super sick all the time and today is one of those days where I cannot venture too far from the bathroom or stand up straight so I might have to start tomorrow.). Another 30 days of exercise and diet (thrown into another 6-7 week period because life gets in the way of all goals).
By the end of the year, with increased effort, I'm hoping to dump another 10 lbs in the garbage can. And then maybe another 10 after that.
I can hardly believe it, but there really is a little tiny light at the end of my dark tunnel right now. It's a tiny glimmer, but hopefully, as I get closer, it can get a little bit brighter!