It’s back. 30 pounds of it.
I’d been denying it for a while. I thought, “I’m working hard, I’ll get to it,” at my office job, where I sat for nearly 9 hours out of the day except for when I snuck out and walked laps for 20 minutes with my coworker during lunch until we got told we were “wasting time.”
Slowly, the pounds came. It began with, “You’re running more, treat yosself.” So I did. I indulged at Friday breakfasts, on monthly potlucks, in whatever was left as a treat on my desk from coworkers. I consumed it all, because I was running 4 miles a day. Then I got tired, and waking up for work got harder and harder until I only ran 1-2 miles a day, maybe 2-3 times a week.
And my body’s the sort that needs to be run. The sort that can’t lose weight just by eating a bit better or just by exercising a bit more.
When my pants stopped fitting, I only wore my stretchy cotton dresses, telling myself, “Alright, just eat better.” So I did, but I didn’t have time to fit in exercising. My boyfriend at the time wasn’t into it and I had to vehemently coax him to go running with me. But if he liked me just lounging around watching Shark Tank, why shouldn’t I? Cheers to laziness.
Then one day I caught a stomach bug and went to the clinic in our building and they weighed me and I was mortified to find that over the course of a year and a half working there, I’d gained 30 pounds. Despite exercising pretty regularly, despite cutting back overeating during the last 2 months.
The scariest part though was that I was afraid to go back. Back to being 5’1 and 190lbs.
3 years ago my weight skyrocketed during a really bad relationship. After we ended, I threw myself into a project to distract myself from heartbreak- it was rebuilding myself. I finally had time to take care of myself and looking in the mirror, I hated it. I began exercising but my back was hurting and the scale wasn’t giving. I overheard my mom tell a friend about someone she knew who went on an extreme diet- no bread, pasta, or rice. All of it out. Nil.
So I went on it.
I felt so, so terrible. I was craving everything sugary. I would sit in a daze and fantasize about eating doughnuts. Don’t let anyone tell you sugar isn’t an addiction- even if you can control it to minor portions, try going cold turkey. And I’m a girl that lives for sweets.
Over 6 months, I lost 60 pounds. I looked fantastic. I had so much energy. I sprang out of bed in the mornings, I loved to run, and boys were looking at me like I’d never been looked at before. I’d grown up chubby, a constant size 12 all through middle and high school. That was my norm. I’d also never gotten asked out by a single guy that entire time.
And just like that, the last year and a half nearly undid me.
Luckily, I quit my sedentary job, got in a phenomenal relationship, and now I’m in the place to work on myself. The warning bell went off when my hip started hurting a few weeks ago when I upped my running distance to 3 miles. I’m 24. I’m too young to hurt when I run. Even more important though, I’ve been hired as a tour guide and I start full-time in 2 months.
So it’s come to this: eat great, build my strength, and feel again the way I felt when I was in my best body. That’s what I miss most- feeling weightless, feeling incredibly sexy, and being able to look fabulous in anything I wore. I’m taking myself back.
My goal is 20lbs in 2 months. I finally got a scale, and I’ve stocked me fridge. Bring it.
Really, I just want my tiny boobs to stick out beyond my stomach.