- HEALTH TRACKER
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You know how you look at your third grade class picture and laugh at all the knobby knees and elbows sticking out? Not me. Even as a kid I was the chubby one. In middle school I was too heavy for the cutest late 80's fashion crimes, and in high school I was grateful for grunge to hide me away in baggy jeans and flannel shirts. On my wedding day, just after turning 20, I was 190 lbs, a size 14/16. I was quickly pregnant and went to 225 before our daughter was born extremely premature and passed away. My weight hovered in the mid 220s until I became pregnant with our son. I went all the way up to 276, and then down into the 2-teens in the six months following his birth. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Then the light was covered by some cookies and a pint of ice cream. We moved away from our friends and family,a nd while my husband travelled for the next 6 months due to work, I ate my loneliness away. Within two years I was at 250 pounds. We moved again, this time to a warmer climate, and I made a decision to DO something. Over the course of 11 months I lost 70 lbs... by exercising 4+ hours per day and eating under 1000 calories. If I went over 1000, I made sure to throw it up. Finally I crashed out. My weight, then 180 and a size 10/12, crept up to about 200-210. I became pregnant with my final child and the weight went back up up up. I gave birth to a beautiful boy, and began the battle once more. 235 down to 220... then up to 230... then down to 220... then up to 230.. then down to 215. Two surgeries sidelined my fitness and the weight galloped back on. It became clear that the only way for me to lose the weight and keep it off was to exercise for hours and go on a strict calorie reduction. To let up at all meant the weight would creep back up.
We moved once more, and my weight bounced back to 250. For the past few months I've been trying to summon the desire to lead that kind of lifestyle once more- living in the gym. keeping my calories in the magic range., hoping to lose a few pounds ever so slowly. Meanwhile I'm raising two active boys. Every day I grow more exhausted. Every day my feet hurt worse, my knees pop more. Every day i wonder "What is the point?"
I dream of being athletic. I dream of chasing my boys and not growing winded. I dream of standing beside my fit and trim husband and feelign PROUD, not worryign that others are thinking "How did he end up with HER?"
I'm just starting this journey... and it's sure to be a lengthy one. But one that needs to happen.