I didn’t even gain any weight my sophomore year of college, but somehow in the past 2 ½ years I’ve managed to put on 30 pounds—which seems incredible.
I guess the weight just crept up while I wasn’t paying any attention—getting into a serious relationship, pulling 20 credit semesters, working full time all played their part in the fat conspiracy.
I hate to admit it, but having a wonderful boyfriend who loves me, pretty much no-matter-what, steered me into a bit of complacency when it came to staying in shape. I wouldn’t say I let myself go, but I wasn’t doing the opposite of that—if that makes sense.
In the summer, after graduation I started working FT at my now-job, and they’re pretty awesome and have a corporate membership to Tilton Fitness (the most expensive gym ever.) Luckily, corporate membership means I get a pretty great discount, so I joined the gym, signing my life and money away in a 1 year contract. I go to the gym, and I shoot for (and usually accomplish) 3 days a week, but I haven’t lost any weight. This can be attributed to the fact that after I work out, I feel that I deserve a reward, and that usually comes in food form. I know I’m not alone when I say, “As soon as I finish my workout, I am starving like I have not eaten in 5 days.”
The pounds sneak up on you—for me it started with some muffin top, then lead to “Oh my God, I’m wearing spanx under my jeans—who does that?!” Now I’m at the point where I literally have like 3 pairs of jeans that fit, and 20 pairs that don’t.
I am currently a few pounds outside of what most health websites state is my “healthy weight range” for my height—it seems a bit of a vague range, especially since it’s only based on height—not age, or abnormally large or small foot size, but let’s just pretend it’s legit. I’m not obese, but sometimes when I find myself talking about food, or flipping through Martha Stewart cooking magazines, I have fattest or fat girl thoughts. I literally think about food all day. I think I was talking about some bakery the other day when Brian said, “You sound like a crack fiend talking about cupcakes.” Awesome.
I don’t really buy into the “addiction is a disease” mindset, so at this point there are no excuses to be made.
It is a CHORE to make time and get motivated enough to eat healthy and be more active every, single day, but it’s just something that needs to be done. Consistency is the hardest thing ever, especially when it seems every single time I am super serious about eating healthy, my sister (the pastry chef) bring home an entire gourmet cheesecake, and I’m like “Are you freaking kidding me right now?” And then, I eat some.
Over the past year of so, there have been many instances where Brian would say “Do you really need that 2nd slice of cake?” That usually just made me really made, even though his intentions were never mean, it was upsetting to be confronted, especially by someone who is always in perfect shape even though he eats McDonalds and Chef Boyarde like it’s his job. He eventually got the picture that I did not want a food lecture.
Right before Christmas, my good friend Joel was home for break and we were going to go out to dinner with a group of friends for “Friends-mas.” While I was getting ready in my room, I heard my mom talking to Joel and Brian in my living room. She was saying something along the lines of, “Wow, hasn’t she gained so much weight?! She has a pot belly!” I walked in and saw both men— visibly uncomfortable on the couch looked back and forth from me to my mother. Let’s just say it was awkward and embarrassing and I was pissed. What mom does that? Mine.
Those comments really bothered me for a while, because it was an asshole thing to say to my friends and because I did gain weight, but I do not have a pot belly.
I got over it after about a week, and actually started hitting the gym harder and more often. I improved my eating from the morning and though my work day, but dinner was still not up to par—that’s when I would indulge or stress eat, etc. Brian and I started talking lots of walks on the weekends (when I refuse to go to the gym,) and he’s starting to work out too. While he lifts weights, I do the BowFlex in the basement. It’s cool, I guess.
When I go to the gym, I try to take classes, because they’re more fun than working out alone, and if it gets really hard it way too embarrassing to walk out on a class full of people. I take a great class called Body Pump with a great instructor—lots of weight lifting and lots of reps. I’ve been trying to add a little more weight each time, and it’s really nice to have a good sore the next day. Pounds have not been flying off like I’d hoped, but I’m keeping at it.
Last night, I came home a little later than expected from a doctor’s appointment, so Brian was already there waiting for me. I got ready to go out to the bookstore with him—
(Side Note: BAM is the bookstore that took the place that Border’s vacated, and it is the same exact thing—so don’t worry! We can all still have our free magazine reading date nights!)
He was doing something on the computer when he said, “I just got the longest lecture from your mom.”
(This is not an unusual occurrence, and I’m surprised he hasn’t flipped out by now, because he’s gotten lectured on everything from religion to finances.) “Well, what did she say?” I asked.
Long Story Short:
Brian had mentioned to her his new plan to gain weight, and how he bought lots of sirloin burgers and chicken from Costco that day, and she proceeded to blame him for my weight gain, and essentially told him that he should do something about it—in a long and very repetitive, drawn out fashion, I’m sure.
This poor kid.
I laughed. My mom was trying to rally Brian into some fat intervention for me. This was rich.
I love my mother, but something I think she is actually crazy, and she is no slim chicken herself.
She came home from running whatever errands she was doing just as we were walking out the door.
“Did you eat dinner, yet?” She asked. (Very obviously implying, “Eat something healthy that I’m about to suggest to you. Like lettuce.”)
“Yes.” I lied.
As I said good bye, she was pulling cheese cake out of the refrigerator, which I’m sure she ate while standing over the sink—where she has most of her healthy meals.
I got a chicken cool wrap from Chik-Fil-A for dinner. I think my semi-unhealthy choice was to be secretly spiteful of my mother.
This morning, I scrambled to put a lunch for work together, when I saw a bunch of Slim-Fast bars in the cabinet. Assuming my mother bought them for herself, I tried to be nice, and I slipped one into her purse, because she was running late.
She was nice and offered to start my car when she left, so it’d be defrosted by the time I left for work.
When I got into the big, blue Jeep, I found a Slim-Fast bar in my cup holder.
I am now determined to get skinny, if for no other reason, than to spite my mom.
I can’t wait to go to the gym today!!!!!!