Weight Update

I hopped (OK, gingerly stepped while holding the towel rack for dear life to delay the inevitable as long as possible) onto the scale this morning, and was delighted to see a 1.5 lb weight loss! Since I've only been committed to a healthier lifestyle for 3 days, 1.5 lbs is something to cheer about, especially since losing weight has been very, very difficult for me over the last couple of years.

I feel really good, mentally and physically. It's interesting that it feels so good to be in control of my health, and to be making healthy choices, yet all my life I have been drawn to do the complete opposite. I'll explore that in depth at a later time. For now, I need to decide how to navigate Girls Night tonight--pizza and cocktails--without breaking my SparkPeople app...

My backward before & after...

I talked about before & after photos in my last post, and then I realized that I have one. Unfortunately, it’s not the very inspiring kind...

                                           BEFORE                              AFTER

Well, that was embarrassing.

The photo on the left is of me at roughly 172 lbs, about a year before my doctor put me on anti-depressants and I spiraled into the photo you see on the right. By the time I saw a doctor about my anxiety issues, I had regained some weight and was up to 190 pounds, but I was determined to get back to my goal. That determination disintegrated with my introduction to Citalopram, then Remeron, then Prozac, and over the course of two years I have gained more than 80 pounds. At my highest I was 273 lbs, but I took myself off of anxiety medicine five months ago and I have managed to lose 15 pounds, though every ounce was a huge freaking struggle.

I don’t blame the meds entirely, because the reality of my size caused me to start eating emotionally, which exacerbated the problem, but antidepressants did play a big role in my weight gain. From the time I started taking meds I was extremely lethargic, hungry all the time, foggy, and that alarm that goes off in a non-medicated brain that says “HEY! You’re gaining tons of weight—DO SOMETHING, DUMMY!” was just switched off. It was like the weight gain was happening to someone else, and I was just observing the rapid expansion of my girth unemotionally as a third party.

My body is now a disaster. I have struggled with knee and back problems, stomach ulcers, hernias, GERD, hypothyroid, and menstrual issues (I’ve literally been on my period since Christmas). Now that I’m off of medicine, the logical thing to do is lose weight, but the reality of just how much I need to lose has been a constant excuse to not even try. I am trying, though. Because this is not me. Yes, I’ve struggled with my weight since I was a child. I’ve never been skinny. But I’ve been healthy before, as you can see from the “before” picture above, and I’m determined to get back to that place once again.

Let the hard work begin. Or a nap, and then the hard work… (See?! Constant struggle.)

"Before & After" doesn't tell the whole story...

Whenever I need a little shove in the motivation department, I grab the Mac and search online for weight loss before/after photos. Come on, you do it too... Today I searched before/after pics on Pinterest while inhaling a BK Big Fish sandwich and medium fries. (But hey—no tartar sauce, and diet soda instead of regular, which I’m pretty sure is kind of… not at all what health professionals have in mind when they talk about making “healthy choices.” Sigh.)

There’s something so gratifying about looking at split shot after split shot of the complete body transformations of people who have lost 60, 80, 100+ pounds, and to see the dramatic difference between the two sides of the photo. In a split second, before/after photos show a woman at her absolute worst—the fattest point of her life that somehow got captured in a photo that she probably wept when she looked at for the first time—and then at her absolute best: a skinny, sexy version of her, radiantly happy and proud and bikini-clad. Her weight loss story is told in less than one second.

The good thing about Before/After photos is that they inspire me to be thin (other than the occasional selfie of Spray Tan Teen Girl in her panties as a size two, and three weeks later as a size 00, which mainly inspires me to hunt her down and wring her scrawny neck). 

Yeah, stop it.

The bad thing about before/after photos is that they inspire me to “BE” thin. Not necessarily to exercise, eat right, choose a salad over a fried meal, or spend month after hellish month fighting all of my natural instincts to eat a lot and be lazy.

The truth about weight loss would be better portrayed in a before, during and after photo (Before/HELL ON EARTH/After). But the edited version is what we love because we don’t have to be bothered with all the hard work and sacrifice that made “after” possible. At least, that's my problem. I don’t want to think about the reality of “during” because I’d rather skip that part of my own weight loss story. I want to decide, mentally, to lose weight, and then a split second later become my “after” shot, without killing myself for a year or two or five minutes to get there.

This isn’t a problem with photos, obviously. It’s a problem with me. The before/after pics just put a spotlight on one of my glaring faults: the desire for immediate gratification. When I had 20 pounds to go before I reached my goal weight, my struggle with immediate gratification wasn’t as bad, but now that I need to lose 100 pounds, it’s something I have to fight constantly. I’m fighting the knowledge that if I eat a healthy meal instead of fries for lunch today, it’s a better choice but I’ll still be fat tomorrow. And I’ll be fat the next day, and next month and probably the month after that. I could lose 70 pounds and still be fat, so my inner comfort-seeker is constantly popping into my head asking why she can’t just go ahead and have ice cream when it’s not going to make me look any different to eat carrots, and it definitely won’t feel as good in the moment.

Of course, the truth is that when you string together dozens, hundreds, thousands of healthy choices, (the often painful, difficult choices that the before/after pictures don’t show you), eventually they’ll add up to an “after.” It’s a long, tough road, but I know that “after” is not impossible if I’m willing to work at it, and make those torturous carrots-rather-than-ice-cream decisions. That’s the truth that I need to focus on as I set out to lose 100 pounds. The before shot has been taken. I’m officially in the “during” phase of my photograph. It’s the phase that no one is very excited to see, but it will determine the end result: my after. 

I wouldn't read my blog, and other welcoming thoughts...

My name is Kelly. When I was a skinny kid, my dad and my brothers called me "Kelly the Jelly Belly" to annoy me. (It worked.) A few years later, when my struggle with weight began and I actually did have a jelly belly, people called me that to be mean. I'm starting this blog as an outlet for my thoughts, feelings and experiences as I attempt to lose 100 pounds and banish the jelly belly for good.

This is supposed to be where I say something amaze-balls (thank you, tweens and Giuliana Rancic) to capture your attention and superglue your eyes to my blog for the rest of eternity. 

I'm going to fail.

The truth is, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn't read my blog. At least not for a year or two. I much prefer to read the blogs of women who are at the end of their long struggle with weight loss, and not just starting out with 100 pounds to lose. There are mind-blowing Before & After pictures to enjoy, pages filled with inspirational messages, and RESULTS, which you definitely won't find here just yet. But if you're different from me, and were born with even the tiniest capacity for patience, and you want to read along while I type my way to a 100-lb weight loss, well, welcome to my blog.

I'm not exactly sure what I'll be writing or how often, but here are a few things you can expect from me:

1. Lots and lots of italics. Because I have to.
2. Sentences that most English teachers would encourage me to break up into smaller pieces in order to make them more palatable, but that I can't seem to bring myself to because I prefer to write the way I talk.
2. Self deprecation. (It may not be healthy, but it's what I do.)
3. After this post, a total absence of the word "journey." Unless you are on this season of the Bachelorette or were born in 1712, you are not now, nor have you ever been on a journey. This is a struggle, a road, an event, a time, a trip or a challenge, but it is not the j word. Stop it, America.

There you go. This is my blog. I'd understand if you never returned, but I'm really glad you're here.