When I started this blog, I promised myself that I would let it take on a life of its own. Sure, I started it to talk about my hopes and fears and adventures related to the Windy City, but in the back of my mind I promised myself that I'd let it be somewhere I could come to unload life's stresses too; if that is what I felt like I needed to do.
So, with my promise to myself in mind, and because I don't want to be someone who shies away from sensitive topics, I've decided to go ahead and talk about something that has been weighing on my mind lately, no pun intended; my weight.
I come from a family of eaters. We love to eat. When we get together, there is usually food involved. In fact, I've continued a tradition that my lovely grandmother started many, many years ago; the Sunday Dinner Tradition. My family comes to my house once a month on a Sunday afternoon, and I cook a huge lunch. We eat, we laugh, we talk, we enjoy each other's company.
Luckily, I've never been overweight. I was at my heaviest in my junior year of high school. I weighed 171 lbs. I am 5'11". So I was within the recommended healthy weight range of 136-179 lbs. I was laaaaaaazy in high school though, and unhealthy. I was pretty out of shape since I had quit playing basketball, and taken a part time job at a fast food restaurant. I was not happy with the way my body looked or about how sluggish I felt.
Fast forward three years. I has just turned 19, and had just started dating Will. I was working full time as a waitress/serving wench at a truck stop. I was smoking like a chimney, but I was on my feet and running around for 8+ hours a day. I weighed 155 lbs, and I was pretty happy with how my body looked, and how much physical activity I was getting. I went to the gym off and on for awhile.
Fast forward about another two years. I had turned 21 and was partying pretty much every weekend. I was happily going along in my relationship with Will, and we went on lots of dinner dates. I had quit the job at the truck stop, and taken a job as a front desk attendant at a local hotel. I was pretty sedentary. I gained 12 lbs and weighed in at 167 lbs. I was unhappy that I allowed myself to put on so much weight after leaving my waitressing job, and again, I didn't like how my body looked. For the next two years, my weight fluctuated from about 160 to 167.
Fast forward a year. I quit the hotel and took a job at a medical clinic. My weight didn't change much, but I did become a bit more active. And then fast forward another year or so and Will finds out he's going to medical school. (YAY!) In another country. ( Fuuuuuck!)
The first 6 months Will was gone were TOUGH on me. Tough emotionally and physically. I became anxious and I had trouble sleeping. I was eating, but I wasn't eating much. The stress affected my appetite and weight big time, and my weight plummeted. I went from 167 lbs to 133 lbs in about 6 months. 34 lbs in 6 months is A LOT of weight and 133 lbs for a woman of my height is underweight. My face looked gaunt.
My doctor became concerned with my weight loss. My family became concerned. Finally, when I saw everyone else was concerned, I took a good long look at myself and became concerned as well.
I decided to stop moping, get active and get my emotional and physical health back on track. I immersed myself in my work at the clinic. I got accepted to the University Of Illinois and enrolled in classes full time to finally get my bachelor's degree. I started a legit exercise program for the first time in my life and I stuck with it. I ate extremely clean. Lots of lean protein, fruits, and vegetables. I felt amazing. I LOVED the way my body looked. As I gained some muscle, my weight slowly crept up to a healthier level of 140 lbs and there it stayed until Will came home, which is what leads me to this post.
When you're in love/married/partnered up with someone, it becomes easier to let yourself off a little too easy when it comes to your eating habits. You're happy. You're in love. You do get a little lazier. Or at least, I do!
Don't get me wrong here. Will and I DO go to the gym together 3-4 times a week. We do cardio and weights. We also eat alot. And what we eat is not always super healthy. Will has been home for about 9 months now and my weight has crept up. I am sitting at 147 lbs as we speak, and I'm not liking it. Some of my jeans are tight, and I don't feel as healthy as I did when I was eating so clean.
Ok. I confessed.
Really, I'm not entirely sure what the point of the post was.
I'm just feeling guilty. And then feeling a little guilty about feeling guilty, because I know for the most part I am a pretty healthy person, but no matter how hard I TRY not to care about the number on the scale, I care a little. I'm vain. I'm not going to lie. I'm not extremely vain, but there is a little vanity goin on up in here.
I'm definitely not the kind of vain beeyotch that gets a boob job or injects botox or does some freaky ass extreme diet or cares when my weight changes a couple of pounds. But I am the kinda vain beeyotch that does like to look as good as I*** naturally*** can; I DO want to slide easily into all of my jeans, I want to be fit, and I DO want to feel as good as I felt when I ate so well.
I don't usually make new years resolutions, but I really want to get back to eating cleaner in 2012. Hopefully I'll be able to look back on this post and remind myself of that.
So, with my promise to myself in mind, and because I don't want to be someone who shies away from sensitive topics, I've decided to go ahead and talk about something that has been weighing on my mind lately, no pun intended; my weight.
I come from a family of eaters. We love to eat. When we get together, there is usually food involved. In fact, I've continued a tradition that my lovely grandmother started many, many years ago; the Sunday Dinner Tradition. My family comes to my house once a month on a Sunday afternoon, and I cook a huge lunch. We eat, we laugh, we talk, we enjoy each other's company.
Luckily, I've never been overweight. I was at my heaviest in my junior year of high school. I weighed 171 lbs. I am 5'11". So I was within the recommended healthy weight range of 136-179 lbs. I was laaaaaaazy in high school though, and unhealthy. I was pretty out of shape since I had quit playing basketball, and taken a part time job at a fast food restaurant. I was not happy with the way my body looked or about how sluggish I felt.
Fast forward three years. I has just turned 19, and had just started dating Will. I was working full time as a waitress/serving wench at a truck stop. I was smoking like a chimney, but I was on my feet and running around for 8+ hours a day. I weighed 155 lbs, and I was pretty happy with how my body looked, and how much physical activity I was getting. I went to the gym off and on for awhile.
Fast forward about another two years. I had turned 21 and was partying pretty much every weekend. I was happily going along in my relationship with Will, and we went on lots of dinner dates. I had quit the job at the truck stop, and taken a job as a front desk attendant at a local hotel. I was pretty sedentary. I gained 12 lbs and weighed in at 167 lbs. I was unhappy that I allowed myself to put on so much weight after leaving my waitressing job, and again, I didn't like how my body looked. For the next two years, my weight fluctuated from about 160 to 167.
Fast forward a year. I quit the hotel and took a job at a medical clinic. My weight didn't change much, but I did become a bit more active. And then fast forward another year or so and Will finds out he's going to medical school. (YAY!) In another country. ( Fuuuuuck!)
The first 6 months Will was gone were TOUGH on me. Tough emotionally and physically. I became anxious and I had trouble sleeping. I was eating, but I wasn't eating much. The stress affected my appetite and weight big time, and my weight plummeted. I went from 167 lbs to 133 lbs in about 6 months. 34 lbs in 6 months is A LOT of weight and 133 lbs for a woman of my height is underweight. My face looked gaunt.
My doctor became concerned with my weight loss. My family became concerned. Finally, when I saw everyone else was concerned, I took a good long look at myself and became concerned as well.
I decided to stop moping, get active and get my emotional and physical health back on track. I immersed myself in my work at the clinic. I got accepted to the University Of Illinois and enrolled in classes full time to finally get my bachelor's degree. I started a legit exercise program for the first time in my life and I stuck with it. I ate extremely clean. Lots of lean protein, fruits, and vegetables. I felt amazing. I LOVED the way my body looked. As I gained some muscle, my weight slowly crept up to a healthier level of 140 lbs and there it stayed until Will came home, which is what leads me to this post.
When you're in love/married/partnered up with someone, it becomes easier to let yourself off a little too easy when it comes to your eating habits. You're happy. You're in love. You do get a little lazier. Or at least, I do!
Don't get me wrong here. Will and I DO go to the gym together 3-4 times a week. We do cardio and weights. We also eat alot. And what we eat is not always super healthy. Will has been home for about 9 months now and my weight has crept up. I am sitting at 147 lbs as we speak, and I'm not liking it. Some of my jeans are tight, and I don't feel as healthy as I did when I was eating so clean.
Ok. I confessed.
Really, I'm not entirely sure what the point of the post was.
I'm just feeling guilty. And then feeling a little guilty about feeling guilty, because I know for the most part I am a pretty healthy person, but no matter how hard I TRY not to care about the number on the scale, I care a little. I'm vain. I'm not going to lie. I'm not extremely vain, but there is a little vanity goin on up in here.
I'm definitely not the kind of vain beeyotch that gets a boob job or injects botox or does some freaky ass extreme diet or cares when my weight changes a couple of pounds. But I am the kinda vain beeyotch that does like to look as good as I*** naturally*** can; I DO want to slide easily into all of my jeans, I want to be fit, and I DO want to feel as good as I felt when I ate so well.
I don't usually make new years resolutions, but I really want to get back to eating cleaner in 2012. Hopefully I'll be able to look back on this post and remind myself of that.
