Tuesday, July 24, 2012



That is how many pounds
I weighed yesterday
when I got on my parents' scale.

It is only 6 pounds less
than what I weighed
the day I brought James home 
from the hospital.

It is 42 pounds heavier 
than the weight 
I put on  my license
when I was 17.

143 pounds.

A lie by the way.

I think I weighed
somewhere in the 150s.

My 29 year old self wants to punch my 16 year old self for hating this bod.

I have struggled with my weight
my entire life.

Always hating something
about my body.

My stomach has always been soft,
my shoulders broad,
my feet too big.

I love vintage clothes
but have never been able 
to really fit into them
I think the last time
I felt comfortable in a bikini
I was 5.

I put myself 
on my first real diet 
when I was in 5th grade.

Skipping breakfast and lunch
and jumping on a ski machine 
after dinner.

High school was much
of the same
and my unhealthy body image
fueled unhealthy habits.

I'm pretty sure I've been
on every single diet ever.


4-hour body.

"Eat nothing and Drink only lemon water" diet.
(I think I made that one up)

In college I subsisted
on caffeine, nicotine, and diet pills.

And I was genuinely disappointed
when they outlawed my favorite
weight loss go to.

Strokes and death be damned,
I needed to be summer ready.

The first time I remember 
really loving every inch of my body
was when I was pregnant with Lucas.

Yeah I gained 75 pounds 
and got lost in a triple-chinned,
swollen foot,
moon face haze,
but I was growing a baby dammit
and I loved myself for it.

3 days before he was born.  Fat and happy.

I was barely 21
and my body bounced back.

By his 1st birthday
I had lost all of the weight
on Weight Watchers
and running 4 to 5 times a week.

When I got pregnant with James
I was somewhere in the low 160s
which sounds like a lot,
but my clothes were fitting well
and I was feeling good.

I gained 60 pounds with him
and lost most of it quickly.

However by the his 1st birthday
the depression of my failing relationship
had ballooned me 
to almost my pregnancy weight.

Yesterday as I looked for pictures for this post 
 the boys and I came across images
from his birthday party
and James didn't recognize me.

I have yo-yoed ever since
and cannot seem to get where 
I like the size of my clothes.

I no longer hate my body
but I know it should be healthier.

One of my worst habits
is that I hate to exercise
and another 
is my love affair with cake.

My 30th birthday is
5 months and 1 week away
and I would like to feel
hotter, healthier, and stronger.

Yes in that order.

The goal:
lose 30 pounds by January 29th.

Bring myself down
to a weight I remember feeling 
good about.

I know from past experiences
that if I set up a big elaborate plan
I will fall short and give up
so I'm starting with small goals.

Yesterday I weighed myself
and took measurements.

I set a goal of doing something active
for 30 minutes
3 times this week.

I ran intervals on the local track
while Lucas was in swim class
and of course it felt great.

Next week I'd like to do that
and maybe use that exercise ball
collecting dust under the stairs.

The one I constantly yell at the boys
not to bounce in the house.

So here's to 5 months
and 1 week of getting
in better shape.

And for honesty's sake...
I'm not giving up cake.

1 comment:

  1. Love your writing, your blog... your amazing ability to express your daily being/living/feeling is wonderful.