Tuesday, March 20, 2018

He knows how much I REALLY weigh

My boyfriend knows how much I really weigh. He is the first person (EVER) who knows the actual number on the scale. We weigh in together and write down our losses on a calendar. I remember the first time we did this. I thought I was going to pass out. I don't even like my doctor knowing the real number one the scale. And now, here I was getting ready to stand on the scale in front of my babe. I swear I went to the bathroom 4 times before I stepped on the scale just incase those 3 drops of pee made me 4 lbs lighter (Seriously what is it with having to pee right before you weigh in?! I think I will blog about this later and our weird weigh in rituals). I made him go first. I went. My weight appeared on the scale like a bomb going off in church. We wrote our numbers down. And we didn't talk about them until we had our next weigh in. Turns out he was just as nervous as I was. We only focus on how much we lost per week and what our next goal weight is. It was so scary the first time we weighed in together but now it is so helpful. There is something very comforting in having someone go through this journey with you. Step by step. Someone who gets the struggle and someone who can celebrate the small victories as well as the big ones! Next goal: weigh as much as I told the DMV I weigh

Denial ain't just a river in Egypt....

How many times have I said " I am restarting today!" or "this is my last junk meal!" My guess is about 10876 times each... ugh The worst part about saying I am going to start over or I am going to have my 17th last junk meal is, how much I let my self go. Or I should say let myself gain. I would tell myself daily that it is not that bad, or it is only a couple pounds or my jeans are too tight because of the dryer AND not because I ate like a cow for the past two months.
Well, here I am.... re-starting or re-committing....again. I joined weight watchers, well, I am following weight watchers again. I never have not been a member for the past few months, I basically paid for it every month to just be an app on my phone. I plan on weighing in on Saturday mornings and will attend a meeting at that time.

Friday, December 15, 2017

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Social Media

When I started my weight loss journey, I decided that I was going to share it on all of my social media accounts. I figured that if I started sharing it with everyone, it would keep me accountable and help keep me motivated. 

I have been asked many times why I have never made a weight loss specific instagram or twitter or facebook. The reason I have kept all of my social media accounts as my personal and my weight loss is because this is my life. You really can't have one without out the other. Me going to tailgate at a vikings game and trying to stay on track with my eating while having shots of fireball are all part of my personal and my weight loss life. I am not on a temp diet, I am changing my lifestyle. 

The second reason I have never made my accounts separate is the feedback and support I have gotten from my friends, my family and that person from high school who I have not seen since 1999 that I have reconnected with because I am sharing my life. My journey has brought so many people into my life and reconnected me with people I never in a million years thought it would have. 

I've been asked more than once if I was ever embarrassed sharing how much I weigh or what I ate or what size I wore or how much I gained back. I don't think embarrassed  is the way I would describe how I feel or felt. Sure, posting on my facebook that I weighed almost 300 lbs or that I was wearing a size 26 jeans was not the most comfortable thing to do but it was/is part of my story. And lets face facts here, I posted just as many pictures back then as I do know so people were aware I was not rocking a size 10.

When I decided to share my journey, I decided to share my life. The good, the bad and the fat. 

I miss the smell of her cigarettes

I have tried for months to write about my mom. I never get past the first few lines. But I keep trying, because I know I have a lot of emotions and things I want to say. 

I miss her. Everyone keeps telling me it will get easier with time but I honestly think it's getting harder with time. Part of me feels like she is in treatment for a few months and she lost her phone privileges. Growing up a child of an addict, that actually happens. It has happened more than once in my lifetime. 

But with each passing day reality sets in that she is not in treatment, she did not lose her phone privileges and she really is gone.  

She's gone. 

I talk to her all the time. While I'm at home, when I'm driving, sometimes even when I'm walking through target. I feel like she hears me, but I would give anything for her to answer back. I listen to her voicemails all the time. Just to hear her voice, her take a drag of her cigarette and just to feel like she's replying to a message I just left her. 

I miss her smell the most. And anyone who truly knows me KNOWS I am the worst ex smoker on the planet and the smell of smoke is disgusting. BUT I miss the smell of her cigarettes. 

I miss so many things. I miss her calling to tell me to DVR some show on my DVR cause she couldn't figure hers out. I miss her talking baby talk to my cat aka her grand cats. I miss her guacamole. I miss her laugh. I miss playing cards with her. I miss cooking with her. I miss talking to her the most. 

I miss having a mom.

 She was the only parent I had and it's a shitty feeling when you realize you have no parents left. I don't care how old you are, you always want your mom. Every time I am sick or I had a fright with a friend or I found a new thing at target, I want to call her and tell her. 

Last summer I told her I met Mike. I didn't know him really well at the time so I didn't tell her much. I do remember telling her about his New Yorker accent and she told me "you would do well with a New Yorker." She never saw a picture of him and she never got to meet him. That will break my heart forever. 

Sometimes I play how I think them meeting would go in my head. I know she would have loved him. I know she would have asked him the most inappropriate questions and showed him the worst pictures of me in existence. I know she would have told him how desperately she wanted grandkids at to early and scared the crap out of him. I just know they would have hit it off. 

I still have a hard time driving by her apartment. I can't go into her old work. I struggle listening to some of her favorite songs. And I still can't throw away this ugly rug she gave me, it's still in my room. 

Will this ever get easier, I don't know. All I know is that I struggle every single day. I miss her. 

I miss having a mom. 

That's all I can say right now.