So, I realized that I need to lose weight at the beginning of this week, partially due to a humiliating experience.
I was at my in-laws’ home a few weeks ago, and I stepped on their scale after I took a shower only to realize that I was at 173 pounds, which is my heaviest. At 21, and 5’5 this is a low point. I’ve never liked scales because they always screwed me up as a teenager. I weighed about 140 in high school, but I was super active. I played 2-3 sports my entire high school career and was training 5-7 days a week. I thought I was fat most of the time, though because I was usually 30 pounds heavier than my 5’6 sister, and I knew my mom was 115 at my age. My mom heavily discouraged me from wearing a bikini in high school and made comments about my belly, which I couldn’t get rid of. I found out that I was lactose intolerant at 18 and quickly lost the belly (and gas and discomfort) when I quit dairy. That’s when I found the body that I had always wanted: it was just hiding under all my bloat.
I fluctuated in weight while in college. I dropped to 130 pounds when I stopped intensively training, but gained to about 150 then dropped some in more active periods of my life and gained some when I’ve been more busy. I’ve been happy in the 130-145 range.
I got married, started grad school, and moved somewhere with winter. I stopped exercising because it was so cold and the treadmills were broken in my apartment gym. (An excuse, I know.)
I haven’t noticed that I’ve been gaining that much weight, probably because my clothes still fit. They don’t fit the same but I still can wear them. Except my t-shirts that I haven’t put on since the end of last summer (the cute little baby tees) now just make me look like Winnie the Pooh. That and the weigh in was a wake up call. Also, though my pants do fit, they have all started wearing out between the thighs probably from them rubbing together so much.
I re-downloaded my fitness pal, and made a goal to run with my dog 3 times a week, then walk/hike the other 2 weekdays. I’ve been sticking to a calorie deficit. My husband and I are usually fairly active people. We hike a lot. I walk the dog almost every day for 1-2 hours. We kayak in the summers, all those good things. I’ve always binged though, and I think my binging had gotten out of control. And I’ve been experimenting in the kitchen a lot more.
Monday, I put on my pants and went for a jog. I had just purchased about $200 of clothes that had come in with the intention of throwing away some old stuff. The leggings I chose were one of the pairs they had some wear between the thighs, and this run was their farewell journey. I got about 1.5 miles into my run when I went to pull up my leggings and the inner seams just tore completely. I had no choice but to go the last 1.5 miles back home. The sweat, the chub, and the rough seams were just the perfect storm. I ended up with two raw and puffy patches on my inner thighs by the time I got home. I was ashamed and crying. I’m so embarrassed about that and the fact that running is much more difficult for me now.
The next day, I had a gyno appointment, and he commented on my inner thighs, asking if I ride bikes or horses or something. When I got home, I took these before pictures only realized then how round I had become. I used to dislike that I was so rectangular, but all I want is to have that back now.
It’s Friday, and I’ve still pushed through. I’ve bandaged you and gone on two more jogs (in intact pants this time) and one 2 hour walk with my dog. I have another planned for this afternoon.
Anyways, I don’t expect anyone to have read through this. This is mostly just my rambling that I wanted to put out into the void to prove to myself that I wanted to start something. I’ve been scuttling around with my chafed thighs and wounded pride all week and just needed to do something to prevent giving up.