Every once in awhile, my body speaks to me.
Sometimes, it says “Hey, good job being less fat! Let me allow you to button those jeans!”
Other times, like last week, it says, “Hey dumbass! While I appreciate your efforts at being more ninja and less flabby, if you don’t relax, hydrate and feed me, I am going to donkey punch you right in the baby maker and force you to lie down!”
I had a rather scary and unpleasant experience with low blood pressure for a few days. Basically, anytime I sat up, stood up, opened OR closed my eyes, or even attempted to move my head, the whole world got blurry and spun like I was on some demented merry-go-round while knocking back Tequila shooters. And while I do enjoy a good Tequila buzz and the occasional amusement park ride, this was not a good time for me. It forced me to come out of downward facing dog, turn off the treadmill, eat a nice salty meal and drink water until my kidneys were dancing the cha cha alongside my bloated bladder.
As my one year “birthday” approaches, my mind is clouded with thoughts and feelings regarding who I am as I lose weight and take back control of my life. There are days I almost forget I’m not that person anymore, so when I put on a pair of skinny jeans or put my hands on a waist where you can no longer pinch extra skin, it seems very surreal to me and takes me a second to adjust.
Let me break this down for you like this. In 9 months I have:
Lost 140 pounds.
Lost 15” from my bust.
Lost 17” from my waist.
Lost 16” from hips.
Gone down an entire shoe size.
Seems crazy, right?
I basically sweated and pooped out an entire human being. Nine months ago I may as well have been carrying my 10 year old son around on my back all day long. Yet when I try to swing a 20-lb kettle ball over my head I still feel like I might die. At least now I can do yoga without crying and I can run without my ass bouncing around like two pigs fighting under a blanket.
Now, you may want to take a moment to call the WHAAAAA-mbulance because I am about to whine and be a total ASSHOLE when I tell you how HARD this has been for me. When I started out, all I wanted was to lose 100 pounds. I have a photo of me on Facebook and the caption under the photo reads “50 Pounds Gone! Halfway there!” and I remember being SO proud of myself. 140 pounds later I wonder how I ever thought 100 pounds would have been enough. Then I wonder, what will be enough? When I lose another 25 pounds I will weight what I did when I graduated high school. Will that be enough? I feel almost unstoppable some days. Like, if I did this in 9 months, just imagine what I could do with another 9! Typically, you lose all the weight you will have lost within the first 18 months so if that is true I could achieve goals I never would have imagined for myself. But at what cost? My health? My sanity?
Because, if I am being really honest with myself, food and exercise are becoming an all consuming obsession. And in a completely different way than they were 9 months ago. If I am not researching the nutritional info in food or planning my meals, I am researching info on yoga, doing yoga, running or thinking about how much running I will have to do to burn off the food I spent all day researching, making and eating. Should I feel guilty for the chocolate I treated myself to or for the skinny caramel macchiato I just had to have after a long week?
Where do I find that happy balance?
When do I stop and allow myself to really be proud of what I have done?
When can I take a compliment without feeling embarrassed?
When is enough, enough?
And most importantly, will I figure it out before I exhaust myself and cause harm?