Looking through baby pictures, I was pretty cute. Very average. I had chubby cheeks and a mess of brown hair. As I grew up, I was the picture of your typical little girl. Then...puberty hit.
Circa 1988
It hit hard. It hit me in the typical ways...spots of acne, "becoming a woman", bouts of emotional hysterics (sorry mom), but it also triggered my love affair with food.
Oh food...my friend and my enemy. The greatest confidante and friend and the worst enemy and villain. It was probably somewhere in late elementary school or early middle school that my eating heavy began. I remember rushing home from school to eat a big bowl of cereal in front of the tv. I got second helpings of my favorite dishes at dinner. I would sneak food into my room. Stash away candy for late night eating. I didn't realize it until I was looking around and everyone looked smaller than me. Everyone wasn't going back for more food. And at 16 years old, I tipped the scale at 200 lbs. I was devastated.
High school is the time when you get to wear ridiculous clothes that show off everything! High school is when you start to date and have first kisses and dances and all that good teenager stuff. But because of my weight, I shied away from all of that. All the food and weight had wrecked my self esteem. I didn't think highly of how I looked...I felt like a whale in a sea of cute, little, sparkly, skinny fish.
Though I was averagely smart, had a decent personality, made incredible friends...because of the ugliness I felt from weight, I was never going to really stand out for anything worthwhile. No amount of well meaning compliments or encouraging words could change the way I felt about myself in my head.
Half way through my junior year in high school, I joined Weight Watchers with my mom. It was really remarkable. I began to log what I ate. I started to walk...sometimes even jogging (which I know doesn't sound like a big deal, but was huge for me). I quickly lost weight. It was intoxicating. I lived by the saying I heard in WW - "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." Oh boy, it felt heavenly.
I went to Spain in April of that year. I walked a ton and didn't like the food, so when I weighed the week after at WW, I had lost 6 lbs (this was over the course of 2 weeks). I was thrilled. I was energized and ready to shed the rest of this plaguing fat.
Then something happened. I got scared I was going to gain it back. I had tasted skinny and really liked how it felt. So I amped up my walking and dragged friends along with me. I skipped meals. I only ate chips and salsa at lunch. I didn't eat breakfast. I stayed super busy, willing the thoughts of food to go away. And they did. The weight left me. By the time I went into college a year and a half after beginning that diet, I had lost 60 lbs. I fit into clothes I had only dreamed about. My prom dress wasn't the size 16 I had to wear my junior year, but a size 10. I wore a tankini instead of an ugly one piece (not all one pieces are ugly, but let's be real...the "big girl" ones are NOT cute). I was laying in my bed one night and ran my hand over my stomach. It was the flattest it had ever been. I loved the feeling. Loved it.
Circa 2004
One day during my senior year, one of my best friends looked at me worried and asked, "When is the last time you ate?" This was after lunch when she asked. I quietly mumbled, "Maybe yesterday?" She looked at me with wide eyes and concern etched on her face. "Coley, this isn't healthy."
But I couldn't go back to the way it was before. I couldn't feel like that. I was already emotionally a sinking ship, I couldn't add another couple gallons to it. I still look back at those pictures and feel so sad that I don't look like that anymore.
College came the next fall. I was still at my smallest. But with college came a boatload of emotions that I was not prepared for. Anxiety and depression knocked on my door and made themselves welcomed without so much as a word. My cousin died from cancer while she was still in her early 30's. My grades were terrible. And food, my long lost friend, came back into my life.
And that comforting "friend" stayed. Held on with tight grasps. Whispered, "Don't you remember me? Don't you remember how satisfying and wonderful I am?" I was lulled by it's carby, fatty, comforting love. Cheeseballs were hidden under my bed. Water was replaced with soda. Late night "Campus Take Out" calls were made at least once a week. Drives to Wendy's, Bojangles, Cookout, McDonalds, etc. became my usual stomping grounds. And slowly...the weight came back.
Because I had lost all that weight in such an unhealthy, quick manner, there was no stopping that fat from building back and my weight shot up quickly. By the end of college, I had packed on 40 lbs. Then..."adult" life started, and it was not good.
Circa 2011
Teaching added 40 different kinds of new stress and anxiety. A hurried lifestyle led to lots of fast food dinner choices. Being constantly tired led to drinking a lot of sodas. I didn't have time to work out...or rather, I didn't make time to work out. It was a struggle. And here I am, 7 years later...11 years from when I first walked into that WW meeting, and I'm the heaviest I've ever been. 100 lbs added to what I lost.
For the past several years, I start out the new year (school or calendar) with promises filled with going to the gym, eating healthier, cooking dinner instead of going out, and all the cliched resolutions that fill everybody's head. I would last a week...sometimes just a couple days before I feel off the wagon and found myself with a cheeseburger from McDonalds in my hand. Washed down with a cold Dr. Pepper. I would go walk and be persistent with exercise and then make up excuses as to why I couldn't or didn't want to.
October of 2014
In recent months, a few of my closest friends and mentors have stopped me in conversation and say, "I'm worried about you." It took a lot of reflection to realize I was worried about myself. I was tired of hiding behind my fat and using it as an excuse to not date, go out and socialize, do more in general. So, I made a change.
I quietly made promises to myself. I forbid myself from soft drinks. Downloaded "My Fitness Pal" (so amazing). I bought the healthiest cart of groceries that had ever packed my fridge and cabinet. And after a week of sticking to it, I shared my small success with some of my friends. They were thrilled! I texted my best friends and told them I had shed 6 lbs that first week. They were SO encouraging and happy and thrilled! Seriously...best friends ever. I called my sister and mom, both of whom were excited. And I then called my one of a kind, amazing cousin (who also happens to be a personal trainer and health expert). She talked me through my worries, gave me some suggestions, and said, "Coley, you're doing great." I felt like I had let her down with all of those previous calls with advice - always ending in a week with bad habits. I wanted to make her proud.
I'm only a few weeks in. I've lost almost 12 lbs. I'm not punishing myself. Other than the no soda rule, I allow myself little treats. I went to McDonalds (aka...my arch nemesis) and limited my meal to one cheeseburger and a small fry. Not the healthiest, but what a change from my usual order of a large fry and Big Mac with a coke to wash it down! I keep a check of my calories. I write down successes. I pin healthy food ideas. I'm conscious about what I buy at the grocery store. Bypassing my usual cupcake purchase and head to the apples. Seriously, apples are like the cupcake of fruits to me. Little by little I am making positive steps.
Last week, I did something I NEVER thought I would do. I joined the local YMCA and worked out. Then on Saturday, I took a Zumba class. I was amazingly uncoordinated and not very good, but it was so much fun!!
I am not going to lie. Those little voices of doubt and weight anxiety creep their little heads into my thoughts. It's tempting to give up or just have that one cupcake at the grocery store...but I try to squish them and make a better decision.
I think this was the longest post ever, but I'm excited to write and share the start of this journey. And it is just that...a journey. A hard one that has bumps and rocks and ditches and potholes filled with cake...but with friends lifting me up, family dusting off the frustrations, I will make it.
