It’s a long, long story, and I’d rather not get into the particulars, but it’s been nearly a year since I’ve been to a Crossfit, and because of this aforementioned unbearable amount of guilt and shame, I’m not sure I could possibly go back.
It’s the same thing as feeling guilty about not eating CLEAN and organic food.
It really seems counterintuitive–you’d go to a gym to become fitter and achieve those physical goals. But there’s a huge piece of humiliation that goes along with returning to a community that already knows you, and you appear totally different, now looking different and losing lots of strength and stamina.
So even IF my schedule aligned with class schedules, and even IF I could afford a membership, would I return?
I’m not sure.
And that’s kind of sad and scary to admit, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately, and I think it’s true.
Would it be easier if I conveniently made it to a place where nobody–not even the coaches–knew me, so I’d literally be starting at Ground Zero? Maybe. But history has shown that my ego has almost always gotten the better of me, and I’d immediately try to impossibly PR lifts, and just as sure injure myself…once again.
What is the answer for me? What to do?
Again, I’m not sure.
It’s a question I’ve been grappling with for some time.
For what seemed like so long, my identity was intrinsically tied into Crossfit. When someone asked me my hobbies, No. 1 was always “Crossfit.” When someone asked me to tell about myself, I always began with, “I Crossfit” or “I’m a Crossfitter.”
So what happens when I really can no longer say that? Who am I without Crossfit? Lost and kind of alone. Secluded even further and confused about my identity.
I know it sounds silly, to be confused about WHO I AM–who YOU are–but it’s absolutely true. Who am I without the label of “Crossfit”? Well, I guess I’m a lady. I’m engaged, and I love my fiancé. I enjoy coffee. I like to snuggle. I love the beach, and I have bunions. I’m a gardener with a very brown thumb. I’m really good at hiding vegetables in food. I’m a friend, a lover, a daughter, a sister, a peacemaker, and I know too much about too many random things. I like whiskey. I love traveling. I like holding hands and laying on The Boy’s chest.
But a Crossfitter? Maybe not. And I’m ready right now to let go of the anxiety and bitterness that has come along with that separation. Time to move on, and take care of myself, not my false sense of identity.
(And in that vein, it was time to change the skin of my blog. I hope you find it easier to read now.)
By this time you guys probably think that I’ve either fallen off the wagon or fallen off the face of the earth.
I guess it’s partially a bit of both.
Or is it?
I debated whether I would write this post for a few weeks. Here’s the thing: I write what’s true to me, and then everyone reads it. Which is great! But…then sometimes people I know “in real life” mention a post specifically, and sometimes it gets awkward. But that’s still okay, because they’re reading my writing. Yay!
Buuuuuut…um…often, my mom reads my posts. In fact, she’s probably reading this one right now (hi, Mom!). And then she comments on the post, to my face.
So the big question was, did I want to share what I am about to share with you…with my mom.
Well, Mom found out, so I guess it’s okay to write about it now.
This post is NOT about an endless pit of despair and gaining all my weight back plus some. It’s about beginning to fall down into the pit, and then climbing out of it.
We’ll call it the “Cereal” Incident.
Since the end of June, I’ve been home, playing in Portland with my friends and family. This is mostly why I haven’t had a chance to update in a good while. So to my devout followers, I apologize, because I have a lot to write about after this portion of my summer.
I’m sure at some point, I’ve written about some of the trials of being home. The house is pretty much carb central—chips, cereal, ice cream, cookies, crackers. Everything I don’t keep in my apartment, but love.
And then of course, there is OUTSIDE of the house, which is filled with coffee, happy hours, fried food, alcohol, and everything delicious (because just about everything in Portland is delicious, let’s be real).
Normally, I let myself have some things and maybe I maintain weight, but I try not to deprive myself, and have low weight-loss expectations when I’m visiting home.
Same goes for this summer.
Except…I have no idea what happened.
When I got home, one of the first things I saw was the drawer full of cold cereal. And two Costco-sized boxes of two kinds of cereal: Reeses’ Peanut Butter Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. My two all-time favorite cereals. I know, I know. That’s totally nasty and disgusting, and NEW DK would never let that crap EVER enter her body!
Um, y’all have really high expectations of me.
But, in my almost two years of Crossfit and Weight Watchers, I have never really binged. I mean, yes, I have my ups and downs, but I never had had that moment where it was like, Mmkay, Imma just eat and eat and eat and not think about it.
Somehow, and I’m still not really sure how, this is what happened.
And not for a day.
For an entire week.
I mean, we’re talking frappes, ice cream, beer, big-ass pieces of steak, crappy chocolate, and lots of other crap.
And then, one day, I got home from the beach while my parents were still there for a few days, and I thought to myself, I could really go for some Cinnamon Toast Crunch. So I went downstairs, opened up the Costco-sized box, pulled out the Costco-sized bag, and poured myself a big bowl of it. And then ate two more bowls of it.
And then afterward, I’m thinking to myself, Shit! Now Mom’s gonna come home, see the bag of cereal in the cabinet, and guilt trip me about why I opened it up. Well, I guess I better just eat the whole bag then.
I shit thee not.
And I realize that this logic is deeply, deeply flawed.
Over the next three days, all I ate was Cinnamon Toast Crunch. (Well, that, along with regular toast, plus more crap, obviously.) And then the bag was gone. And I pretty much never wanted to see Cinnamon Toast Crunch again.
Obviously, I wasn’t tracking. I was still going to Crossfit, but I was not tracking what I was eating.
So one day, I stepped on the scale (it was weigh-in day), and I nearly shat myself. I had gained around 8 pounds. Do you know how long it took me to LOSE 8 pounds? Like, three months! I gained 8 pounds in a week and a half?! What the hell was going on?!
It was only then that I started to feel a little ashamed. Or that feeling of, Shit, I REALLY need to figure things out now. The worst part about all of this was that I didn’t really even LIKE half the crap I was eating. I was just eating it mindlessly. I maybe only really enjoyed the first bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I certainly didn’t really LOVE the last bowl.
I like to be excited about the food I eat, especially when it’s a splurge or cheat. If I go out, and nothing on the menu makes my heart sing, I get resentful and sort of don’t want to eat whatever the food is that’s there.
The food I gained 8 pounds on did NOT make my heart sing. It was crap. And I didn’t really care. I was just binging and not thinking and being lazy. And when I saw that number on the scale, I knew I was at a crossroads:
Path 1: Continue to binge; gain weight back.
Path 2: Remember why I began changing my life in the first place; start eating clean again
I wish I could say that this was an easy choice. Because once you start eating crap, it’s kind of hard to stop. But it wasn’t. But eventually, I kept on thinking, C’mon, DK, you’ve come too far to let one week make you backslide completely.
And the next day, I picked myself up, and was really strict.
And somehow, almost lost what I gained in about two weeks.
Which was great. But at the same time, it’s like, well, I would have been losing if I hadn’t had fallen down the hole in the first place, and now it’s just maintaining, practically.
And at this point, you’re probably wondering why I’m telling this to you.
I’m telling this to you because losing weight, eating healthy, and maintaining a healthy lifestyle is not easy all the time. Everyone had told me that everyone slips up sometimes, and I thought that I was impervious to the occasional binge; obviously, I have enough self-control and forethought to avoid ever doing something so heinous to myself.
Even I mess up. I’m far from perfect.
But the key here is to recognize where you’ve come from and to not let go of it. And to let this guide you back to where you want to be. Because if you lose sight of what you’ve already accomplished, it’s just that much easier to fall down the hole and not climb out.
The other day, I was at the grocery store looking for good, fresh produce that wouldn’t go bad the next day (which seems to be the case around here, unless you’re really super careful). I’m sort of obsessed with avocados (well, that and bacon…duh) because they are so ridiculously delicious.
Then I saw it–a GIANT avocado. Was this my dream come true?
Or was to just too good to be true?
At Hannaford, they were advertised as Florida avocados that were “lighter” in flavor and a bit sweeter, too. Well butter my buns and call me a biscuit. I wanted a giant avocado. YUM. So I brought it home and waited a few days (and it still didn’t get exceptionally soft), and when I decided to use it, I saw the big sticker on it that said: “LITE! SlimCado.”
So I Google searched the term, and came up with, like, no information on this giant smooth-skinned fruit. Well, except that apparently these Florida avos, which are not genetically modified, have like half the fat and 35 percent less calories than normal avocados in a serving. Well, after further investigation, I find out that if you compare whole fruit to whole fruit, it actually has the same, but since the volume with the Florida SlimCado is higher, it technically has less fat and calories, but has a more watered-down flavor.
I cut mine open to try it, and the meat was bright yellow, as opposed to creamy green.
Then I started trying to spoon it out for some guac, but it was too hard. I’m not sure if it was just underripe or is always hard. I couldn’t use it. But from what I could tell, it was also a little stringy the way that some squashes are, if that makes sense.
Anyway, so I’m still sort of confused about this so-called “SlimCado,” and I’m surprised by the lack of information on it. Hmm. Have you ever tried one? Or better yet, have you ever even heard of it?
In the mean time, I’ll stick to my tasty small ones…..