15 minutes and 43.7%

That's how long I made it on the elliptical yesterday. Wooo weee!! I'm so proud of myself. The elliptical totally kicks my ass and I've been determined to work my way to an hour on it. At my weight, (which is down again this week, thank you very much) I can burn 700 calories in an hour. 700!! That's a lot of freaking calories. So, doing 15 minutes really made me happy.

What didn't make me so happy was my new scale. Fortunately, it showed the same weight as my old one. Unfortunately it also determines body fat percentage. And mine was at 43.7%. Youch. That's a serious amount of fat. That's 83.467 pounds of fat. I should be around 20%, or lower, or 38.2 pounds at my current weight. That says I've got about 45 pounds of fat to lose. Which is about right. Oh well, what did I think was in there, honestly? Gold nuggets waiting to be crapped out? Ha!

So, the journey continues. I wish I wasn't talking to myself out here, but for now I am. Hopefully someday I'll have a reader or two. Even better? I inspire one person.

I can't wait to make it 30 minutes on the elliptical!

Yea, I'm still here.

Jeesh, it's been a little too long since I posted. The good news? I'm still at it and doing great! The bad news? I never seem to have time for anything anymore. I guess I can understand where it goes - 1 1/2 - 2 hours a day to work out, food prep since I now pack my breakfast and lunch and make dinner every night, and going to bed early to get to the gym.

Wait...gym?

Yea, we joined a gym. The teenagers were really gung-ho on joining and offered to pay their own monthly fees. So, we joined. And I love it!! The treadmill isn't so horrible at the gym. I can do incline intervals and there are tv's and cute people to watch. Not only that, but strength training will be much easier there as opposed to doing it at home.

My eating has been dead on. Seems that something just...clicked. I honestly stopped caring about food. No huge cravings that I couldn't find a way to fit into my plan if I really wanted them. I'm not starving all the time anymore. Lately, it just seems that food has become fuel - and I want my body running on Super Healthy brand. And I feel AMAZING.

I can't wait to make it on the elliptical for 15 minutes straight!

Party in my Closet!

Ok, not an actual party...but I was pretty happy in there yesterday.

I cleaned out all my fattest clothes and bagged them up for charity. Gone are the 26s, 24s and 22s. I'm in an 18 now, but keeping the 20's so I'll have more things to wear. I can't really afford to go buy more pants right now, so the baggy look will have to do. My plan is to get about 2 sizes from each size. While I'm in 16 I'll also be wearing my 18s and so forth. Won't look as great, but I can't afford to buy a whole new wardrobe for each size drop.

And...gone are the fat panties!! Wooo weeee!!

I can't wait to be in a size 10! 4 more go go! Will I even get to 8?!? Whoa...

Back on track

I'm so glad I dedicated the weekend to getting my shit together. And I did! Worked out both days and my eating was within my plan. The scale showed me up another 2 pounds, though. Probably a combo of eating crappy, no exersize for 4 days and my TOM. I thought I'd be really upset about it, but I'm not. Does it suck? Yea. But I'm not giving up and it's a speedbump in my journey. What is truly wonderful is that I didn't do what I normally do - which is to give up for a few months and gain 10 pounds (or more) back. Maybe giving myself a day off from it all once a month would help? I get sick of tracking/exercising and being SO accountable every single day. If I plan to not go crazy, maybe it would help. Something to think about, but I wouldn't do it until next month.

There is a dress in my closet I've never worn...when I'm on the treadmill I think about the first time I can wear it. I can't wait!!

Ugh

Well, that about describes how I'm feeling right now. Last Thursday I was in a total funk. I was sick of counting everything that went into my mouth, sick of getting up a the crack of dawn to work my ass off and just sick of having to do all this. Went out of town where my routine was all out of whack and few healthy eating options were available and the crap was more than available. Came back...didn't feel well at all and just let myself slide further.

And while it wasn't horrific...

Scratch that, it was. Eating shit I KNOW I shouldn't have. Even while I was eating it!! And to top it all off, I know that eating shit and not exercising made me feel even worse physically.

Why do I do this to myself? Why?!?

But, I'm NOT giving up. I WILL NOT weigh 230 again. No freaking way. I'm using this weekend to pull my head back out of my ass and get back into my routine. NOTHING is stopping me

And...to keep with my intentions of keeping things positive, I can't wait until this kind of behavior becomes something I can control better.

Ramblings

I'm still here, just moving along. And doing quite well, really. I've been doing a lot of research into how I should be eating with this prediabetes crap. Let me tell you, it's overwhelming how much information is out there. I've learned a lot about how my body works and what got me to where I am (other than chips, funyons and candy) and what I need to do to turn it all around. Since every body is different, it's a bit of a trial-and-error deal, but I'll get there.

I seem to be steadily losing 2 pounds a week now. Yes, I know that's the recommended rate of loss, but it seems soooo slow! Another thing bumming me out is the heat. I can only go on hikes that will get us out of the heat that are short. Oh well, better than nothing I suppose.

I can't wait to lose the very last pound of fat that's kept me from all my life's goals.

How I began

I know that when I started this blog, I wrote an introductory post. But that was only part of the story. Now that I have a month under my getting smaller belt, I thought that I'd tell the rest.

Like many women, I struggled with my weight for years. YEARS. The last time I can remember being happy with my weight was in high school. Of course, I was WAY too thin back then...but what teenager listens to that? Fast forward through the next 10+ years through 1 difficult pregnancy, 1 normal pregnancy, 1 horrible marriage (followed by a nasty divorce), a few moves...and well, the pounds kept piling on and occasionally falling back off. Then I met my current husband, moved my kids and I across country and settled into a new life. Yet, even though I was happy, I couldn't stick with anything. Why? Who the hell knows. I'll leave all that self-analysis crap to Dr. Phil.

Then we have the last 2 years. My kids were now delightful teenagers. Their father died. My daughter got pregnant (again, PLEASE...no negativity, I'm begging you) and let me tell you...there is nothing more challenging than a pregnant teenager. Packed on more weight in the forms of anything I could get my hands on and in my mouth.

I've always been the person that did everything for everyone. No matter how tired I was or overworked. I gave and gave and gave until there was nothing left over for me. And when did I become someone who deserved nothing but leftovers anyway?

So...I popped one day. About 6 months of up and down depression led to my meltdown one day. No, I wasn't admitted to the psych ward (although, maybe that would have helped), I just went off. And I decided that I'd had ENOUGH. I...ME...was going to be FIRST from now on. MY well-being FIRST, everyone else afterward.

I'd admit, in the first few weeks I felt selfish. The kids were a bit surprised. People I dealt with through work were a little surprised when I didn't answer phone calls and emails 24/7 - but not upset. My husband even more surprised.

But they all were FINE. Imagine that. Not only fine, but doing great...doing things themselves.

And knowing they were all just as happy and healthy without me doing everything was quite liberating. It's made me a happier mom, wife and employee. In fact, my family has become really supportive.

Just this past Saturday, I was struggling a bit on the treadmill. My daughter comes outside with the baby and a sign the baby "made". It said, "Good Job, Nana!! I love you!!". It made every single struggle worth it. And I might have cried for the next quarter mile or so (and again every time I look at it!).

The moral of the story? Put yourself first. You deserve better than leftovers and your friends and family deserve the best you that you have to give.

I've waited a very long time to be this proud of myself.