By now, most of you who follow me on Facebook already know. After literally MONTHS fighting with the same freaking five pounds, I finally, finally, finally made it to my next major milestone: 75 pounds.
SEVENTY. FIVE. FREAKING. POUNDS.
That’s, like, the most weight I can even get overhead. And I. LOST. THAT. MUCH. WEIGHT.
Excuse me for a moment.
Okay. I’m good. Really.
Since you’re pretty good and updated on where I am fitness-wise and nutrition-wise, I don’t think it’s necessary to rehash how I’ve changed. (But if you’re interested in other milestones, please check them out in my archives!)
Now for the fun part. And then a story. More before and now photos! Yay! Get ready for this.
It’s not easy to shock and horrify the coaches at Crossfit, because I’m pretty sure they’ve seen it all. But I will say, I’m pretty sure I shocked, and maybe horrified, Kevin yesterday when I sat down with him to talk about Weight Watchers and Crossfit. He got on his computer and started looking at my photo archive on Facebook. And the “whoas” and “holy craps” that came out of his mouth were multitudinous.
It’s hard to see change when it’s gradual and you see someone almost every day.
But it’s pretty obvious when you look at photos like the ones above.
The funny part is that I have always carefully filtered which photos of me end up tagged on Facebook. And what we now see as horrific photos were, at the time, what I considered to be pretty damn good photos of me. Weird, right?
You know what else?
Even though they’re not all tagged on Facebook, I have carefully downloaded and saved every single photo that Albany Crossfit has ever taken of me and posted in their albums. They’re in a folder that I labeled “Ew, Crossfit!” because for the first several months, or even year, I was absolutely horrified and disgusted by a lot of the photos. Now, I’m thinking about changing the file name to “FYEAH, CROSSFIT!” because I really don’t think it’s gross anymore. In fact, I laugh every time I see the file name. Weird, right?
Wanna hear a story?
I’ve made a lot of excuses in my life. I’ve justified my unhealthy lifestyle in myriad ways, and it helped me perpetuate the cycle of junk-food-eating and weight gain. There were a lot of hints before I took this journey (often pointed out to me by my mom…thanks, Ma!…with the hopes that I would change something).
The major one that happened a few years before I ever walked in the door of a Weight Watchers awesomely happened on the day of my college graduation—what should normally be a super happy milestone in anyone’s life.
When most people look back on their college graduation as a time full of excitement and happiness (and probably booze), I look back on it with shame and embarrassment.
Do you see the photo of me wearing the red robe?
See how everyone else’s is zipped up?
Do you see where this is going?
Like everyone else, I went to Jostens to buy my robe. I even anticipated that fit might be an issue, so I asked them if they had plus-sizes or extended sizing for the robes. The salesguy looked at me, and said that I wouldn’t need a different robe.
Being the dumbass that I sometimes am, I believed him, didn’t take the robe out of its bag until the day before graduation to iron it, and even then didn’t try it on until the day of. And my whole family is standing there in my dorm room, and the robe zips. But damn if it isn’t tight. And really horrible-looking.
My mom points this out to me and tells me that I have a problem.
I start crying.
She starts ripping part of the zipper to loosen the part around my butt. With my dress underneath it, I look absolutely ridiculous.
And I’m pretty sure I walked like that. Embarrassed and self-conscious and really depressed. My friends say nobody noticed, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the case. I immediately unzipped the robe for the rest of festivities and tried not to think about it.
But the fact of the matter is, it’s this moment that’s stuck with me, five freaking years later. The hurt and the embarrassment and the shame.
That could have been my turning point, but it wasn’t. After graduation, I was just filled with a depressed rage for how things went down, blaming it on Jostens for giving me the robe or on my mom for using it as an opportunity to tell me to lose weight. But in reality, it wasn’t either of their faults, and I should have used it as a wake-up call.
The fact that my fatness has gotten in the way of me having good memories of milestones, now, is what pisses me off and drives me now.
Because you know what?
I’m never going to be that girl again who can’t wear a robe at graduation when I get my Ph-freaking-D. I’m never going to be brought to tears in a department store dressing room because nothing fits. I’m never going to have to ask a flight attendant for a seatbelt extender.
And I thought all of these things were just things I’d always have to deal with forever.
I guess not.