Back in the 90's a friend was describing the guys at his college. "They're all like frat, frat, wind pants, frat." Which lead to me and my friend Sarah describing ourselves as "fat, fat, wind pants, fat." And today I'm here to tell you that I am full-blown wind pants fat again.
I mean what else would I have been doing over the past 3 years? If I'd spent it getting skinny I'd have been here acting all authoritative and inspiring, giving everyone homework assignments to motivate you to be as happy and fit as ME ME ME! But instead I've been eating my weight in Reese's Cups monthly, making a charitable contribution to not one but TWO gyms that I never visit, letting the basement treadmill belt crumble from non-use, and so on.
Despite a few short-term successful efforts to lose a few pounds, I soared up to my highest-ever weight before I stepped on the scale on January 2nd, 2018. All 90-ish pounds I lost in 2013-14 came back, and they brought 12 new friends. And they were accompanied by stage II hypertension, back and joint pain, and some other unpleasant symptoms of fatness I'm unwilling to disclose. Even my super emergency fat clothes didn't fit anymore. The once roomy 2X's gave way for new 3X's. For the first time in my life, I honestly was afraid I was going to die.
I experienced the joy of vertigo in late 2017 which lead me to Statcare…my first doctor's visit in several years. They told me my BP was 164 over 100 and that I should see my regular doctor about it. Buttttt….I didn't have a regular doctor. And I was really embarrassed to walk into one this fat and with my brain ready to blow up at any moment. Day and night I worried about having a stroke or a heart attack. I knew I had to get it under control or see a doctor soon. But fall became winter, which became Christmas…and THAT seemed like a dumb time to save my life. There were cookies to be eaten, for crap's sake. But by January, I was ready.
On the morning of the 2nd I weighed myself, and that evening I had my BP tested. 163/98. Early Stage II on top, late Stage I on the bottom. Yep, I was a time bomb. I'd talked myself into thinking maybe it was just high at Statcare from stress and fear, not the 120 extra pounds I was carrying and the cheeseburger/fries habit I'd developed for brunch each day.
I went back to the only plan I've ever had long-term success with - low carb. I hate to call it Atkins or Keto because it's not necessarily either of those things, by-the-book. I try to stay around 20 net carbs a day, and I try to keep my fat high, my protein moderate, and my calories under 1200. I'm not like the Atkins people who can eat 3000 calories of beefy cheesy bacon bake….and I'm not a keto person who can drink buttery coffee and track incremental percentages and macros all day. I have to keep my calories low, and those calories have to be low-carb. Yes, I'm so fat, fat, wind pants, fat that I have to be on two diets at the same time.
But, it works. It's working. I've barely incorporated exercise yet. I WANT to run again but when I tried in February it killed my shins and ankles. I've gone to a couple of zumba and water aerobics classes. I bought a Sweatin' to the Oldies DVD, my 90's go-to workout that now feels unbearably long after the era of HIIT 20-minute boot camp workouts. But I'm not even exercising twice a week most weeks, other than walking the dog a mile every day.
Anyway, I'm down 32 pounds since January 2nd. My BP has dropped to 142/81. That's early stage I on the top, early pre-hypertension on the bottom. Not too far from normal-ish ranges. I'm ready to find a doctor and go get everything checked out. Maybe ask if I should be on a med for awhile or if it's ok to keep trying to do this myself. I don't feel like a bomb is ready to go off in my head anymore, which is reassuring. But I'd probably benefit from a real medical opinion and some bloodwork.
But man, I'm 40…this is the age where people start getting bad news. I know bad things happen whether you find out about them or not. But holy mammograms, I'm terrified to go. I know it's the wrong attitude, I'm working on it.
I went on a two week vacation to Hawaii and gained 8 pounds. I got right back on my plan when I got home and I lost 12 pounds in two weeks. Over Easter I gave myself a 3-day vacation from my diet, and I gained SEVEN pounds (THREE DAYS!), but I took off 9 pounds in the week after. I don't remember any point in my past when I was so easily persuaded back onto my diet after a break. Part of my motivation is Healthy Wager. It's a website where you can bet on yourself to lose weight. In fairness, they are essentially betting that you will lose, but they put a positive spin on it. You throw money into a wager every month and they figure out a payout based on how much you pledge to lose in a certain amount of time. If you fail, they keep everything. If you succeed, you win big. I have $1400 on the line, and the weigh-out day is the day before I leave for Cancun. So if I can peel off another 50 pounds by November, my trip will be paid for, courtesy of my fat. If I don't…I'm out $300.
Along the way you can do little group challenges. I just completed a 3-month, 6% weightless challenge and won $66. It seriously motivated me, so I just turned that money back over for a new challenge.
I haven't gone back to TOPS. I was too embarrassed to go back so fat, even though I know they understand more than anyone. But I also feel like it might be discouraging for them to see it. I don't want anyone to think "why lose all of this weight, everyone just gains it all back eventually." I've heard they aren't as motivated as a group anymore, anyway.
Plus since I last wrote, I was promoted to the top of my company, and it's not so easy for me to leave work early on Mondays to get to meetings. And I have a big, sweet, fluffy dog who I'd rather spend my evenings with. So I think the Healthy Wager thing has become my TOPS. Let's face it, I was in it for the prizes more than anything anyway.
I realize I'm writing this blog into the air. The few who followed have long faded-away, and I'm not brave enough to post a link for people who actually know me in real life. But last night I found this old blog and read some posts, and it reminded me how much it helped me to vent my frustrations and rejoice over my successes. So this is for me, my therapy. But if you have stumbled into it and you get some small amount of support or enjoyment from it…then I'm happy you're here.
Hopefully I'll keep this train rolling right back toward the world of normal clothes and fitting onto roller coasters and not having my thighs make a swishy sound when I walk in my Spanx.
Welcome back.
