A weighty issue
Throughout high school, I was 5’6″ and 132 lbs. I never deviated more than 3 pounds. It is just that some where over the summer after freshman year, my ass sprouted. No joke: one minute I was a round child, the next I was an adult hourglass with stretch marks. It’s like the thing just burst out, and I’ve got the tiger claw scars on my cheeks to prove it.
Every Midwestern Girl’s Dream
After high school, I left suburban Hoosier heartland for wet Florida swamplands. I grew another inch and my weight dropped about ten pounds. A lot of that was “baby fat” but mainly I had a terrible diet. I subsisted off of cigarettes, pop, cheap liquor, and foods that came out of boxes. That Sam’s Club membership I had? Yeah, cheap alcohol plus I could buy orange Slice in flats.
I lived in Florida for four years. I went to clubs and parties. A lot. I ran. A lot. I drove to the beach or laid by the pool. A lot. I was skinny with a butt, tan with naturally blonde hair, and so far from real friends and family that I was miserable. And therefore drinking, smoking, and partying. A lot.
What’s love got to do got to do with it
I moved back to Indiana, reconnected with my friends, and !BAM! fell in love. I had only been living in the state for a few months when I met the future BHE. Love at first sight. The clouds parted and the angels sang. We began to seriously and exclusively date immediately. Within less than six months, we were moving in together.
I couldn’t cook. His abilities in the kitchen were limited to spaghetti with meat sauce, frozen pizza, boiled hotdogs, and grilled hamburgers. We were both skilled in opening bags of chips and driving through Burger King.
Oh my God, look at her butt
There is a photo
I will post here if I can find it that I won’t share, ever, which really illustrates what an abundance of love but lack of cooking skills does to one’s backside. We were canoeing down the Wabash River with his father and some friends. There were a few snapshots taken when we stopped on a sandbar for lunch*. I’ve turned to hug the future BHE. And my posterior is front and center.
Less than a year into our relationship, I had packed on 20 pounds. That is not an exaggeration. I was 122-ish when we met and 140-ish on that canoe trip. Bam! That just isn’t healthy.
*I ate an entire larger bag of Mike-sell’s Honey BBQ chips on that trip…and never once touched the oars.
Get rid of it!
I started at Purdue that Fall. I made it a point to park far from my classes’ buildings so I’d have to hoof it. I always packed my lunch, for work or school, so I wouldn’t pay to eat junk. My snacks were plain carrot sticks or a handful of raisins. I drank water. All. The. Time.
It didn’t go away. My thighs got firm, my butt lifted, my abs were never really hidden… But I still weighed 140 pounds. So not acceptable.
The future BHE proposed to me on New Years Eve, on a cruise ship, looking out over Nassau and into 2008. I had one more semester of school then my life was going to be all about the wedding and honeymoon. As I had a year and a half, I figured I could get rid of the weight if I went slow and steady, exercising and eating right.
Define “eating right”
I didn’t lose it. I was still 1-freaking-40 on my wedding day. I don’t care that I was squeezed into a size 2 gown. I was 140 pounds! On a 5’7″ frame! Not cool.
My sister-in-law’s favorite memory of our wedding reception was seeing me, in a chair pulled up to the buffet table, shoveling food directly from the serving dishes into my mouth. When she came to check on me, I told her to shut up, go away, and “I haven’t eaten in six months!”
I hadn’t. Eating right while exercising wasn’t working so I severely limited my intake. It didn’t work.
It wasn’t until the summer of 2012 that we were enlightened. THAT, my friend, is a whole post in itself. Stay tuned; I’ll type that one up soon. Think: gluten-free, organic, non-GMO. In other words, the real way to “eat right.”
Here’s recent history, by the numbers
I was 142 pounds in June 2012. We had our eyes opened in late July. I dropped 12 pounds in six weeks; the BHE dropped over 20 pounds in that time. I found out I was pregnant mid-October. At my 10 week appointment, even though I had been eating plenty and had no morning sickness, I weighed in at 130 pounds. Bam!
The most I weighed during my pregnancy (in my life!) was 174.2 pounds, and that was at about 38 weeks. Angel Baby was six weeks old when I had my post-op check up and I was 153 pounds.
By mid-October, I was back to 132 pounds. Nothing special: stuck to our regular diet, drank tons of water, and breastfed. No extra exercising or anything. I was 122 pounds on Angel Baby’s first birthday.
Just because you can do a thing, doesn’t mean you must do a thing
I’ve dropped to 119 one but have been firmly at 124.6 since right after Thanksgiving 2014. I ate horribly for the entire month of December. Because I could. Because of the holidays. Because of my birthday. Because I could.
The BHE and I both felt terrible after all the holiday celebrations were done. Fluffy and lethargic, bloated and sick… Ready to get back on track.
I’ll tell you all about what we do and why in my next post. Until then, here’s a before-&-after picture for you to gawk at: