Tonight while she was getting ready for bed, my daughter once again broached the subject of God. We have never spoken of God as I was raised without religion. I have always wanted to learn, and I have even gotten the NIV study bible and a fascinating book called “The Word On The Street” that summarizes the bible into lamens terms. (Great for beginners.) As we were talking, I decided I would take the opportunity to just teach Emma a few basic things.

First, she asked me if God was nice. I told her that he was. She asked me where he lived and then answered herself with the phrase, “God lives EVERYWHERE!” I told her that was right that God was everywhere but that he lived in a place called Heaven. She asked me where Heaven was and I answered in the only way I thought she’d understand. “Heaven is a place in the sky honey, that is hidden by the clouds. God lives there.” She looks at me wide eyed and then looks up at her ceiling. She says to me, “Mommy, I’m really sad at God right now.” I was pretty taken aback and I asked her why. She says, “God is hiding. That’s not nice. I want to see God.” I laughed and told her that one day we would see him, but for now he was hide-and-seeking with us. I told her that God loved her and was her friend. She said she wanted to talk to him, so I told her to put her hands together like this (folds hands into prayer position) and talk. She says, “Hello God, how are you today?” and then giggles. I proceed to teach her for the first time the bedtime prayer I learned as a child. I felt a little strange having my three year old utter “If I die before I wake,” but she seemed to enjoy it. I told her any time she wanted to talk to God, all she had to do was fold her hands or talk to the sky. I reassured her that God would always listen but never talk back. She replies with, “God will talk to me. Let me see if I can get him to talk to me. He’s going to be loud, like a car! Wee-woo-wee-woo.” That would be her impersonating a police car. Apparently, God drives one of those…

As I was getting her tucked in to bed, she looks at me and asks if we have any bedtime stories about God. I tell her we don’t, but we will soon. I have already decided to get her a toddler bible storybook. Now that she is actually showing interest and will hopefully be attending a preschool set inside of a church next month, I feel that it’s a great time to get her involved.

Once again, I will reiterate that I never learned about religion. I thought God and Jesus were the same person until I was told otherwise at the age of 21. I had never heard of things like original sin and I surely didn’t know the ten commandments. I had no idea that people used to live so much longer and I never knew that God demanded someone sacrifice a son for him atop a mountain. I still don’t know much about religion and I am a self proclaimed spiritualist/agnostic. I feel that I don’t know enough about religion to claim one because I didn’t grow up in a church or in a household that talked about God. As I grew up, I wanted to know more and more and I attempted sporadically to teach myself, but the bible isn’t an easy thing to learn. For that reason and a million others, I don’t want my daughter to grow up the same way I did. I’m lost when it comes to religion. I don’t know the basics and I feel that it’s difficult to teach her the things that even I don’t know. That’s where her church based preschool steps in. It also helps that Chad’s family is very religious so she gets a little bit of it when she’s at his families house too. I hope that one day she will be able to make an informed decision on if she wants a religion or not. I hope that she will grow up knowing faith and always feeling the loving hand of God on her shoulder. I didn’t have that luxery and once you’re in your mid twenties it becomes harder to accept that humans were 700 years old or that snakes talked and there are places like Heaven and Hell. Im not saying I don’t believe, I’m just saying the logical Scientific part of my brain has a hard time understanding and accepting those things. I don’t want that for my daughter. I want her to know God. I want her to have a relationship with God. Then, in the future, if she decides she doesn’t want to be a part of that, she doesn’t have to be. But at least she’ll know. At least she’ll understand.

For now, my baby is only 3. She’s laying in her bed talking to God like he’s an old friend. Asking him how he’s doing and why he lives in the sky. She’s hoping that he’ll answer back. We have years to learn and teach one another things like this, but for tonight I can’t help but smile at how amazing such a simple conversation is.

Peace, Love, and Faith.

When left to my own devices, I can come up with some really strange things. I can imagine the way my life will be in the future, contemplate the way it was in the past, daydream about fish floating around me in the bathtub while listening to Death Cab For Cutie, and imagine swimming in a rain storm. When I’m left alone in a silent, empty house, my mind goes crazy. And sometimes, I let it get to me.

I wasn’t kidding when I said tonight I was taking a bath where I imagined fish swimming around me. For some reason, it relaxed me. Not that swimming with actual fish would, but the image of something beautifully colored gliding gracefully next to me was a nice image at the moment. After my playlist shifted, a country song came on. I still had my eyes closed from imagining my fish friends when suddenly I realized that I was touching my stretchmarks. Suddenly, I was not only listening to a country man sing about his daughter, I was touching my stretchmarks. It was as if I was suddenly amazed by them and had never seen them before. These things that I have loathed for so long, that make me so self conscious of my body…I was just….gawking at them. Just like that, it hit me. Just like that all these memories of my adorable, independent, smart, loud little toddler being a baby came back and I had the urge to cry. I remembered sitting her on top of her toy box so I could take her picture when she wasn’t even a year old. I remember the first time she rolled over. It was in the middle of the night on the bedroom floor when we both should have been asleep. I can recall the first time she stood in her walker and pushed herself backwards around five months old. She continued to walk backwards for months running into everything in her path! I recall the doctors appointment when she was a week old where we had to do a full body xray and how sad that made me. I can remember her not sleeping through the night until she was fourteen, yes count em, fourteen months old! I remember her first tipsy walk, her first word, her first wave, and the first night she ever-after 6 months-decided she didn’t want a binky anymore!

As these images came flooding through my head, the song was long over, and yet the images continued to pour in. Only this time, they were imagined. This time, the images were of her future. Things that hadn’t happened yet, but I seemingly wanted to. Hopes and dreams that I didn’t know I had for her until these visions. I imagined who she would marry, the friends she would have over in high school, whether or not she would be asking me for running shoes or high heels, the day I needed to buy her a car and trust her to drive, who she would grow up with as a father figure, the boy she would bring to her first prom, the first time she asked for a piercing or a tattoo and what a hypocrit I’m going to be when I tell her “Hell no!” I imagined both her past and her future, but in every version of her world, I’m right there beside her. I’m her cheerleader, her best friend, and occasional nemesis. I’m never going to be a cool mom, but I think I’ll be a good mom. Well, I think I am already…

Eventually, I was overwhelmed with emotion and I had to stand up and open the bathroom window. It’s a brisk thirty degrees out and the cold felt like a refreshing slap in the face. I get so tired of cliches where people say things like, “Oh, they grow up so fast.” I never realized how true it was. I vividly recall my daughters birth and every birthday ever since. I can recall minute details that have no relevance in anything, but were still somehow important to me, as every phase of her life is and will be. So, why is it that tonight it suddenly hit me that she’s growing up? When she was born I thought to myself, “Wow, I have 18 years to teach this little girl the ways of the world.” Tonight I realized that if I’m lucky, I have 15 years to go, and that’s if she isn’t rebellious like me and leaves home early…

Every day that I wake up to her hugs and kisses I realize how blessed I am. I kiss her forehead and smell her hair. I look into her beautiful hazel eyes and I hug her repeatedly. I do my  best and while I’m not a perfect mother, I give my daughter everything she needs and then some. If she ever wants to outgrow my “hugging ups” or “upside downsies” I don’t know what I’ll do. The day she refuses to let me kiss her forehead or give me a hug is a day where my heart will break. I can only hope that day never comes and she is an affectionate person like her mother.

Only time will tell who my daughter is going to grow up to be. I don’t know if she’ll be like me or her father. I don’t know who she will look like or how tall she’ll be. (I’m guessing tall.) I don’t know how old she’ll be the first time she gets caught out past curfew or with a boy I don’t approve of. What I do know is that for right now, my baby is three years old. Her time is mine. She still loves my hugs and kisses, laughs when we rub noses, gets a kick out of learning somersaults, and leaps into my arms when I get home from work. Right now, I’m the coolest mom in the world. That may not always be the case, but right now…I don’t need to worry about the past or the future, because the most important time I have to give her is the present. She is my whole world. She is a part of me. She was worth all of these damn stretchmarks and a million more. She is my miracle.

 

 

 

Today was Emma’s first real snow day. (We really didn’t have them in Tennessee!) She loved it. Check out the gallery.

I really have no reason to blog right now and nothing particular to write about, but I felt like writing anyways. Today was a good day. I took Emma outside for her first real play in the snow. She seemed to love it but after fifteen minutes it was too cold to stay out  much longer. Instead, we came inside and watched kids movies, ate tacos, and played on the mattress topper that is currently resting on my floor. After she went to bed, the mister and I put on a movie. It is the worst piece of garbage I’ve ever seen, so I put on headphones in order to drown out the awful dialogue with my less awful music.

I don’t know what the deal is with me lately. Maybe I have a case of SADD or maybe it’s my mood disorder but I’ve been felling stalled lately. I guess my life is as good as it’s been in years and for that I’m thankful, but I can’t help but feel I’m not where I want to be in life right now. I need more space for sure and to get back into my old hobbies but for some reason, I just feel like sitting around day after day. I think winter just does that to me. The fact that I’m coming up on being a one year divorcee isn’t helping either…

God, I can’t believe it’s been a year already. It seems like only yesterday. The pain I went through, the tears that fell, and the heart that I swore ripped out of my chest the day I drove away. All of that is behind me now. I’m getting past it all and trusting again. It’s hard at times, but I’m thankful that I have someone trustworthy. I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t. I don’t think I could ever handle that again..

Who knows, maybe someday we’ll get married, have babies, own a house, have careers, and live happily ever after. Well, that’s my hope anyways. For now, I’m almost content just living day to day. I still have moments where I think about how much I want to be somebody’s wife again. I still have moments where I want to be a family. I want the dream just as I always have but this time around I’m going to be a lot more careful with it. I know I don’t need to guard my heart anymore, but It’s still a bit fragile from last year so I do it anyways.One day when the time is right everything is going to fall into place and rather than jump the gun (as I always do) I’m going to let nature take its course.

Sometimes I think that I needed to learn the hard way…and that’s why life saw it fit to put me through the ringer. I needed it. I needed to learn, to grow up, to have my eyes opened. I needed to be reminded that life was about more than living day to day. It was about more than dating, partying, dropping out of college, running away from home, avoiding my problems and fighting with my parents. I had no idea what life was until I let it open my eyes. And I’m so glad I did.

Life now is beautiful. On my worst day, It’s still beautiful. I’ve never had a privileged life. I’ve never been called ‘blessed’ until now. My daughter is my life. My boyfriend is my heart. My family is my soul. Without each piece, I’d be incomplete. I’m so thankful for the lessons I’ve learned in the past four years, no matter how painful they were. Because of the life I’ve lived, I can appreciate fully now the type of life I’m living, It’s one I had always envied and been jealous of. And yet, here I am… I have a beautiful baby girl, a loving boyfriend, and a supportive family who’s willing to help out. What more could I ask for? I’m going to finish college if It kills me and get a good job. I’m making new friends, I’m talking to old friends, I’m doing everything I never thought I’d get to do again and then some.

I feel rejuvenated. I feel new. I feel alive.

 

And even on my worst day, I thank my lucky stars for everything that’s been given to me and everything that’s been taken away. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be who I am today.

 

 

Disclaimer: This blog was written entirely from the heart. There has been & will be no editing. This is me. Enjoy.

 

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t want to write this post. No, I don’t think you understand how MUCH I don’t want to write this post. And yet, here I am…writing it. I’m sure you’re asking yourself why I’m bitching about writing a post that I don’t want to write if I’m just going to do it anyways and the short answer is….for you. For you and I and everyone else fighting the battle of the bulge. I’m going to be brave, cringe, cry, squirm a little, and then I’m going to post pictures of what my body looks like after having a baby & losing 85 pounds. No camera tricks. No lies. No gimmicks. This is all me.

Sometimes people make it seem like all you have to do is work out and suddenly you’ll lose weight and have a tight little body but I hate to break it to ya kid, that’s not how it works. Ya see, It took me almost 2 years to lose all this weight. I walked, I did yoga, I kickboxed, I zumba’d, I had living room dance parties, I bought an elliptical, and I counted calories until I knew how many were in my favorite food items without even looking, and yet, my body…is far from “fit.” Sure, I’m a lot thinner than I was (although still a bit chubby) but I don’t have a tight tummy, lean legs, or fit arms. No. I weigh less but the skin that housed all the extra fat, well….some of that stuck around.

This is who I am. I’m a bit vain so posting this is causing me distress. It’s a huge blow to my self esteem but I’m trying to focus on the positive. I look better than I did. I’m fitter than I was. I’m healthier than I used to be. Sure, my body isn’t a work of art but it’s mine, it’s healthy, and it created life. What more could I ask of it, right? (Body if you’re reading this, just drip off the fat, shrink down the middle and knock me into about a size 6.) Sorry…wishful thinking.

So, low and behold, here is the ugly side of weight loss.

Let’s ease into things with a side shot. Not too bad…

And here is the other side. Notice the stretch marks that go around my entire body.

Now let’s get a little uglier…

The remainder of a 262 lb stomach...

What happens when you deflate a 262 lb belly....the results are in.

And finally, the minute details people don’t think about….

This is the back of my right leg. There are stretchmarks from thigh to ankle.

Followed by my arm which also has marks all down the side from rapid weight gain & loss

Now, in order to lose weight you have to do a little of this….

Getting ready for a workout!

Oh look, shiny!

And a lot of ^ that!^ (Sweating.)

So there you have it, the ugly side of weight loss. My body is my own and while it isn’t pretty it did take me a lot of time, effort, and pain to get to this point. So even if the after effects of my weight loss are less than appealing, I did what I had to do to get myself there and you know what, I’m pretty damn proud of that fact. Besides, who needs a pretty body anyways? Mine functions, does what I ask of it with minimal complaint, and has created life. I’d say that my body is doing pretty damn good for itself these days.

Peace, Love, and Special K Protein Bars
Sarah V.

 

And as a reminder, here is me at 262 lbs….

 

As I sat in the silence of my one bedroom apartment tonight I felt my mind drifting off. I realized that I could never live with a silence like this. My daughter is sound asleep in her bed no more than fifteen feet from where I sit and just knowing that completes me. Without her my life would be nothing. And with that thought my mind began to drift further….

Sometimes I wonder where I would be if I had never made the decision to move to Tennessee. I sure made a lot of people angry with that decision but I felt that I needed a life of my own outside of the confines of this state. Sure, it ended in heartache but I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t tried. I honestly feel that the universe gave me the choice and I made the right decision. Two days before leaving to Tennessee in 2007, I received a phone call. After nearly 6 months of looking for work and a few pointless interviews, I was offered a job. I could have taken it, stayed with my then boyfriend and tried to continue living life the way I was…but I chose to leave. I realize in retrospect that It wasn’t the nicest thing for me to do, leaving to another state to be with my then best friend who later became my boyfriend who later became my husband, ex husband, father of my child, well–you get the idea…but I did. Can I say that it’s a move I regret? Not even a little bit. My entire life began on the day that I left Iowa, I just didn’t know it yet.

A few months later I was pregnant and suddenly I had to grow up, fast. My years of rebellion had come to an end just like that and my maternal instincts took over. (As well as my emotions.) I did everything I had to do in order to ensure that I had a healthy baby girl and I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. I’d break hearts, upset my parents, and I’d even go into that marriage knowing full well the heartache, pain, and hurt that I was going to feel. I would do it all over again a million times if it meant that I got my Emma every single time.

The day I moved to Tennesse, my world changed. The day I had my daughter, my life changed. The way I saw the world, my perspective, my mentality…all of it became different, just like that. I still have my days where I see a glimmer of my old self but I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.

…After all, the old me is the girl Chad fell in love with.

If you would have told me eight or nine years ago that Chad and I would end up together I would have looked at you like you were crazy. He was a friend, a good friend, my best friend, a roomie, and then just like that we were strangers again. Separated by life, by everyday obligations, by boyfriends, girlfriends, families, and thousands of miles. We tried to keep in touch but it didn’t always work. Regardless, he was the one person I have always and will always be able to be my true self around. That is something I’ve never shared with any other person. He knows my faults, my flaws, my disabilities, and my disorders. He understands my temper and frustrations and knows just how to calm them. On my worst days when my mood disorder is acting up, he picks up the slack, takes care of Emma, and calms me down–something no one else has ever done. No one else ever has taken the time to get to know me the way Chad does. No one else has gotten into the depths of my mind, body, or soul the way that he does. I can tell him everything. I never hide anything from him. I have no reason to lie to him. And when I’m having a bad day, I’m not afraid to tell him. He respects me, understands me, and accepts the boundaries that I sometimes apply when I’m angry and want to be left alone. He doesn’t tell me I’m crazy or stupid or ask me to become medicated for him, (Yep, someone did that once…) rather he accepts me for who I am and he works with it. He is still my best friend and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

The funny thing about Chad and I is that after years of distance tearing us apart, the moment we saw each other again we picked up just like no time had passed at all. That is something that is so important to me, to have a true friendship enveloped inside of our relationship. It’s important to have someone who is a partner and an equal, someone willing to help out when I need it most, someone who accepts that I hate doing the dishes and vacuuming and is aware of the fact that I’ve been known to leave wet towels on the floor from time to time. To have someone who understands that I’m a blanket hog at night,  someone who knows that I have problems, that I am flawed, that I need a little extra time, understanding and love, and someone who is absolutely one-hundred percent okay with all of it…just because of how much he loves me.

Are there times where I slack off around the house? You bet your ass there are. I have a hard time staying in this apartment because it feels like a prison. Being here is depressing and I feel like I’m in a rut. When I walk into the door I’m already wanting to walk back out. I have fallen into a depression regarding this place but I do my best not to let it get to me. When things get out of hand, I do my best to get them back in order, but for the time being, I’m perfectly okay with this place being the shithole that I feel it is. (Okay, it isn’t really and Chad likes to keep things in order so it doesn’t ever get as bad as a “shithole” but you get the point.)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m never going to sit here and tell you my life is sunshine and rainbows. I still have my days where I miss more than anything being a stay at home mom. I feel guilty that there is no yard for my daughter to play in, that I don’t work with her the way that I used to and that she spends a large amount of time at her grandma’s house because I have to work. I still have my days where I feel an emptiness inside of myself because of my longing for a second child that I know I’m unable to afford or care for right now. I have my days where I don’t want to cook, clean, leave, or even get dressed. Hell, I even have days where I feel like a terrible mother. Is four hours of television too much for a three year old? Probably. Have I done it just so I could do dishes, clean the bathroom and take a shower? You bet I have. And then I felt guilty.  If we’re being totally honest here, confession time:

I only like working for the adult conversation but I miss spending time with my daughter

I’m skating through college right now because I feel overwhelmed and I’m only doing enough to get by

I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough to send Emma away for the summers

I’m jealous of the parents who don’t have to work and are still able to afford a better lifestyle than mine because they have government assistance, fip, and child support.

I often wonder what the future holds for me. I’m curious if I’ll ever have another child. If I’ll ever get a house. If I’ll ever be debt free.

My ex husband didn’t pay a lot of bills we had jointly used that were in my name and now my credit is terrible. I have no way of paying the amounts owed and I’m afraid that the years I’ve spent rebuilding my credit were all in vain.

My toenails have been painted and repainted for over a year. I think I’ve only taken off the old layers once with polish remover. Otherwise, I just keep painting over them. I wish I had time for a pedicure.

Sometimes, I’m far more materialistic than I’d like to be. Would I be happy with a sparkly diamond ring? OF COURSE! But could that money go towards something far more practical……of course.

This apartment is the first one I’ve ever lived in where I’ve actually stayed until the lease was up. (In seven years..)

I have a hard time believing the things I did before I had a child. Parenthood changes you in ways you’ve never imagined.

I’ve never had friends. Well, not a real group of friends anyways. I have one or two good friends (Holla Quinn!) but really, everyone else has been an acquantance. I often times envy the girls that I see in large groups sharing stories over bottles of wine or coffee. I wonder what It’s like to be in one of those cliques, but I guess I’ve always kind of been a loner and danced to the beat of my own drum.

I’m 25 years old and I still feel lost in the world, but when I’m right here…with my family……(Chad and Emma) I feel more grounded than I’ve ever felt. I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt. And even now, just watching my daughter sleep in her bed, I feel my chest tighten because the love I have for her runs so deeply that I can’t even imagine a life without her…without tearing up. I will never be as close to anyone as I am to my daughter, for it is she who knows what the beat of my heart sounds like from the inside.

This is my life.
These are my thoughts.
Through it all, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Today I read this article and was deciding whether or not to write about it. Of course, if you’ve ever read my posts before you’ve probably seen my constant tirade on why people have to hate on plus size models. Everyone assumes they are fat girls who sit around and eat all day, have diabetes from being so big and can’t fit into regular clothes. Of course, I don’t know these girls personally and for some that might be true, but has it ever occurred to people that we’re all built differently?

I am 5’11. My father is 6’1. My mother is only about 5’7. Logically, most girls I know are built like their mothers. Tiny and petite but that isn’t always the case. I’m not the only girl amongst my group of friends who takes after their fathers. Do I wish I was 5’7 like my mother with a smaller chest, shorter legs, and a far more petite build? Not really. I used to though. It always appeared to me that the shorter you were, the more clothing options you had. I can’t shop in a regular store without buying clothes a size too big just so they’re a little bit longer. You see, I have a very long torso which makes clothes shopping difficult, but I’m veering from my point here a bit.

My father is a tall man with broad shoulders and unfortunately I’m a tall woman with a bit of broad shoulders myself. Don’t get me wrong, I’m never going to be a linebacker, but I’m bigger all around than my friends of the same height. I’ve met women my height who weigh 120 and I’ve met women my height who weigh 220. The numbers don’t matter because they’re all beautiful women. The fact that there are people who think I could be considered “obese” or that assume I have diabetes because of my weight is just asinine.  I don’t look at every thin girl I see and call her out for being anorexic. I don’t look at women like me who weigh 120 and talk about how disgusting they look. Everyone’s body is different. Do I wish I could lose weight and have a flat stomach like all the cute little models you see on the tv and in the magazines? Of course I do. I would kill someone for a flat stomach, but it wouldn’t change my weight much. I weighed 195 pre-pregnancy, had a flat stomach and a fairly toned body. I was constantly calling myself fat, but looking back at the photos now I was no where near fat. In fact, I was nothing if a smidgen chubby. Of course, my mom hips have always gave me a bit of a ’rounder’ look than I’d liked but they did their job and I was able to push my daughter out in a mere 30 minutes. Sorry for that TMI tidbit. The point is, it’s not going to matter if my stomach is flat and my arms are toned, the numbers may not change on the scale while my body does. There’s also a possibility that I could be as fit as I’ll ever be and still be a size 12. My hips will undoubtedly stay this wide forever and that’s something I can never change. My stomach may shrink but I’ll still need to wear large shirts because of my 38DDD’s. The only way I could ever get down to a tiny size or 120 pounds would be with surgery. Lots and lots of surgery. I’d have to remove fat deposits from my stomach, legs, thighs, arms, toes, fingertips and just about everywhere else imaginable. I’d also have to get my breasts removed. (which I’d like to do anyways but that’s not the point.)

The point IS that I’m a size 12. I don’t love my body right now but we’re developing a rather complex relationship at the moment. The important thing is that it does what I need it to do. My arms are able to hug my daughter, my legs are able to carry her to her room at night, my stomach digests the foods that I eat like a champ and my eyes are able to see the beauty that surrounds me. (Albeit with the help of corrective lenses.) My body may not look ideal, but it does the important things that I need it to. The focus doesn’t always need to be on the size or shape of our bodies but rather on the abilities of our bodies, the things that our bodies do for us every day that we take for granted, and if we are going to chose to focus on the shapes of our bodies, let’s do it for the right reasons. Let’s focus on changing the shape of our bodies in order to get healthier. Let’s forget about what other peoples ideals are for us and focus on our own. Do I think I’ll ever weigh 120 pounds? God no. Do I think I’ll ever be able to weigh 165 and be a lot healthier & more energetic for my now rambunctious toddler? Well, that’s the goal. If I look better in the process then so be it, but I already have a beautiful daughter, a loving boyfriend who tells me I’m beautiful every day and doesn’t care about my size at all, and a body that does the important things it should. In all honesty, I should be counting my blessings because I know that not everyone is so lucky.

 

And now, the pictures that I was talking about yesterday have found a reason to be posted. I should warn you that they aren’t really pretty but that’s kind of the point of this blog anyways… And while I really don’t want to post these, I will just to prove to the world and myself that while my body might not be beautiful in an idealistic way, it is beautiful in the way that it has created life, lost 85 pounds, and carried me through for 25 years with minor complaints.

 

 

 

 

As you can see, my body is covered in stretchmarks. This happened when I weighed 262 pounds and was pregnant with my daughter. My body was a lot worse off back then. You’ll also notice in the second photo that there is a lot of…uh…what’s the word here….flesh. That’s the aftermath of losing 85 pounds and getting myself healthy. Sadly, that looks a lot better than it used to and is a constant work in progress. Am I skinny? Not by any means but I don’t believe I’m obese either. The majoriy of my weight in the front is actually skin from the weight loss (Yes, that’s very gross and I’m so sorry you had to read that) and if you look from the side you get a more accurate representation of my body size. Just a few more ab workouts a week and hopefully one day I’ll lose the skin but I’ve been told from numerous sources that losing that much weight almost always requires surgery to remove the left over skin.

I am a size 12. But I used to be a size 20/22. To me, this is amazing. To me, I’m proud of myself for losing the weight. And honestly, if someone wants to come here and look at my pictures to tell me how fat I am, I’m gonna tell em to “fuck off” because I’ve come a damn long way from where I was and I’m still working towards my goals three years later. I won’t stop until I reach a place that I’m comfortable with. Without taking into consideration what anyone else thinks I need to weigh or look like.

 

Think about this:
1. What’s your take on the article?
2. Do you let other people dictate what you should weigh?
3. Are you comfortable in your own skin?
4. Do you think that all plus sized models are “obese?”
5. If we didn’t all pick at our flaws and other peoples, do you think the world would be less weight obsessed?

Diary entry 1–

Today has been a rough day when it comes to food. I don’t know why, but I’m always much hungrier at nights. I had breakfast pizza leftovers for dinner and I’m still hungry. I also had a lot of chili for lunch. I’m still under my calories, but I think I calculated the pizza wrong since the serving size is 1/5 and I cut it into 1/8ths. I’ve never been good with that math so I just am leaving myself some leeway to be safe…

I decided that since it was a new year and I’m embarking on a new journey (that I can hopefully stick to again this time) I should document some things. I went into the bathroom and took pictures. I cringed, looked away, and cringed when I looked again. Losing a lot of weight isn’t any prettier than gaining a lot of weight. I have stretchmarks on my arms, legs, sides, stomach, behind my knees, on my chest, my boobs, and worst of all they’re all over my pelvis. I feel like a wall that someone colored all over with a red crayon. Don’t get me wrong, I assumed I would get some stretchmarks, but because of the MASSIVE weight gain I had when I was pregnant, they are a lot worse than they needed to be. But hey, what can I do about it now besides accept it? They’re there because I created life. That’s all I need to know. (I don’t have to like them though, right?)

I thought about posting the pictures I took but I think I am too ashamed to do that right now. Maybe once I make some progress and I can use them as “before” pictures I’ll do it, but seeing what I saw tonight and reevaluating my food choices has made me realize how easy it is for me to blindly eat and not even realize that I’m putting weight back on. When I moved back to Iowa 11 months ago, I weighed nearly 175. That was my lowest weight since I was a freshman in high school. I am now sitting pretty at 187.8. I had gained more but I managed to lose a bit when I was sick and from being more conscious of my food choices.

As a personal goal, I am going to track my weight and body once a month. I don’t know when but since I started today, maybe around the middle of the month would be a good choice. Who knows, maybe it’ll be the motivation I need. Maybe one day I’ll lose all my weight and hit a total of 100 or more pounds lost and I’ll be able to use these photos, diary entries, and food logs as motivation for other people struggling the way I am.

I know that I excel at weight loss in the summer, but winter is the worst. I keep hoping that if I can get into a routine of doing just a little something every day, my weight will drop like before. Dance parties, yoga, kinect fitness, walks, etc. Something has to work. I may even try to get back into light kickboxing (my favorite workout!) once my knees feel a bit better. Oh, and on that note, I’m going to finally try to call an actual specialist and see if they can’t help me with pain management for my knees at least since they refuse to give me surgery on them because of my age. Last I had heard, I had torn bilateral cartilage and fluid retention on my knee. I was given steroid injections, I did a month of physical therapy, and had a zillion x-rays done. They said there is no cushioning where my knee bone and leg bone meet which is causing the majority of my pain (bone on bone) but basically they told me after that… “There’s nothing we can do because you’re so young. We can’t do surgery and the therapy didn’t help.” I even did the electroshock therapy on my legs! (photos here.)

I just want to be able to carry my child up the stairs without collapsing in pain afterwards. I want to be able to enjoy the cold without my knees aching. Oh and I don’t want to have to put icy hot on my knees just to work an 8 hour shift. I’m 25, not 52! Ugh. So, cross your fingers that maybe the specialists or actual doctors might know a way to help me. After all, my daughters weight is only going to increase and I have to be able to lug her up and down the stairs. Oh and I wouldn’t mind doing some high intensity workouts again too…

 

 

UPDATE: After writing this blog, I decided that It was time to get off my butt and get a workout in. I threw on the kinect and did a few small games then I spent about 20 minutes working out with your shape fitness evolved 2012. Jump rope, ralley ball, yoga, wall smash and a bit of other various things. I was sweating bullets and panting like a dog, but it was totally worth it. Overall, I did 30 minutes of activity.

When I weighed myself this morning the scale read 187.8. I have been working on losing the 15 pounds I gained upon moving back last year. So far, I’ve only lost about 3. The numbers on the scale don’t seem to budge very far. Some days It’s 186, but lately the scale has been dead set on these numbers, down to the ounce. In a way I’m disappointed that the numbers aren’t budging, but in a way I’m also relieved that the numbers aren’t climbing. I’d rather stay at one steady weight than have the numbers bouncing all over the scale. The most weight I had gained after I moved back put me all the way back to 192. Thankfully, I’m slowly trimming the fat again…sort-to-speak.

Weight loss is much easier in the summertime for me. I can’t manage to do a lot in the winter in my one bedroom apartment. I did get the kinect your shape fitness which I am going to do again sometime this week. (I messed my knee up doing jumping jacks last week. If you read my blog/know about me, you’ll know I have torn bilateral cartilage in both knees) If all else fails, I’m going to get back into doing yoga again. It’s a fun way to start off easy with exercise and the last time I did it for 6 weeks, I lost 9 pounds and several inches off my waist!

I know that this journey doesn’t happen overnight. I know that it took me 2 years to lose the 85 pounds that I did. I also know that I’m very impatient!! (Shocker, right?)  I often times spend a day or two eating healthy and get angry when the scale doesn’t budge so then I think to myself “What’s the point?” and go binge on a bag of bbq potato chips or whatever horrendous thing in the cupboard has the highest fat intake. I drown my sorrows in the fatty foods and then get angry with myself and jump back on the healthy food kick. This is a horrible pattern that I’m ready to break. If the numbers aren’t budging, then that’s okay. It shouldn’t be the defining factor in what I eat or how I work out. Instead, I am trying to focus on the fact that eating healthier means being healthier. I shouldn’t be using food as a punishment or reward and I know that. I shouldn’t spend my days angrily eating junk food just because I can’t lose weight. It sounds stupid and it’s counterproductive. That’s just how I’ve always been though. A yo-yo dieter to the extreme. A fluctuating weight kinda gal. I’m ready to break that habit and just eat healthier all the time. I’m sure I’ll slip up now and again, after all I do love my occasional take out and breakfast pizza, but that doesn’t mean I need to punish myself for it. I’m only human.

Yesterday began my new attempt at a healthier lifestyle. While grocery shopping with the family I walked past the potato chips, skipped the poptarts, and didn’t buy my usual frozen pizza rolls. Instead, I have organic pretzel crisps to satisfy my salty food urges (With weight watchers 1 point cream cheese, it’s delicious!) I have natural peanut butter granola bars and oatmeal made with flax seed instead of poptarts, but most importantly is the freezer section….I didn’t fill it with junk food. I grabbed a few healthy choice frozen dinners for the days I absolutely am pressed for time and/or everyone else ate and I don’t want to cook a big production just for myself. I also bought frozen fruit and an assortment of fresh cut veggies. (My local grocery store sells packages of pre cut fresh veggies that they prepare themselves. It has cauliflour, radishes, broccoli, carrots, and celery.) I used the fruit yesterday to make a fruit smoothing using all natural greek strawberry yogurt, a banana, frozen strawberries, and 1% milk. Last night, I snacked on fresh veggies with spinach veggie dip instead of my usual potato chips. And finally, after work last night all I was craving was something sweet. I thought about buying chocolate, candy, pie, cake, cupcakes, or even cookies on my way out of the store but I knew better. I had a small brownie on my break at work and that was my indulgence for the day. Instead, when I got home I made myself some white minute rice, added some cinnamon sugar, and made myself a cinnamon/raisin bagel with cream cheese. It hit the spot, I couldn’t mindlessly eat it, and I imagine it’s a whole lot healthier than my usual old nightly snack routine.

My goal for 2012 is to eat healthier meals & snacks. If I lose weight while I’m doing it, well obviously that will be fantastic. But my weight loss and my eating healthier are two separate goals that happen to coincide.  At least if I don’t start losing weight right away I’ll still know that now only am I eating healthier and becoming healthier for myself, but I’m teaching Emma better eating habits. Those are more important things than the numbers on the scale. Well, today anyways.

 

Peace, Love, and Raisins
Sarah V.

 

 

Today’s breakfast:
1 banana
1/2 cup raisins
1 cinnamon raisin bagel w/cream cheese and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

 

We’re off to a good start!

Making healthy changes is no walk in the park, I think we all are aware of that. But, if we are conscious about what we do, then maybe it’ll come a little more naturally over time. Well, that’s my theory anyways. I’m feeling pretty good about today. Chad and I went to the store and got 2 carts full of groceries for only about $150. We have a lot of food and it isn’t all junk. I left out getting things that I wanted like pizza rolls, ice cream bars, and potato chips and focused on other things instead. We got spinach veggie dip and a bag of fresh assorted veggies like broccoli, carrots, radishes, cauliflour, etc. We got whole wheat bagels and whipped cream cheese, raisins, oatmeal with flax seed oil, and a bunch of other things. Tonight after work, I really wanted something sweet. I couldn’t decide on what I wanted, so I went to the kitchen and browsed. Normally, I would grab the first bag of whatever we had in the cupboard and munch mindlessly until I fell asleep. However, because we were awesome and didn’t BUY the crap, I didn’t give myself that option. (Score one for me.) Instead, I whipped up two bowls of white minute rice, added some cinnamon sugar (20 cal/tsp) and enjoyed my sweet snack which of course is much better than the 1/2 a bag of chips and chocolates I would have eaten normally. I also made a smoothie for myself today using all natural greek yogurt (strawberry) 1/2 cup of 1% milk, frozen strawberries, and a banana. It was a little tart for me, but surprisingly good. I drank half and gave Chad the rest. Next time, I’ll use more bananas to reduce some of the strawberries tarty flavors.

Overall, I’d say today was a pretty good food day. These things take time and the first step I’ve made in the right decision this month was buying healthier foods, not allowing junk into the house so I can’ t eat it, and hell, I even drank a glass of water with some meyo in it. Even if I don’t start to lose weight right away, at least I’ll know that I’m on the road to being a healthier person. I’d call that a win!

 

Peace, Love, and Minute Rice
Sarah V.