DAYS 45-47

The past few days have been strange and unexpected. Having passed through two weeks of staffing and not finding any summer prospects, I'd resigned myself to a summer of working out and writing and form a solid foundation for my routine before I went back to work in August. All of this was thrown out the window, however, when I received a full time position for the summer. I was mid-hike when I got the text, asking me if I could babysit that night. To which I immediately said yes. But after the night of sitting, they sprung the full time offer on me. And I was slightly blind sided.

Though, I knew I wanted to - the family is great, the kid is great, and we'd worked together before, so I felt good about making a summer long commitment - the doubts started to creep in. When was I going to fit in my workout? I'd be working 12 hour days, and taking care of a toddler. Would I be able to maintain my exercise schedule with those kinds of hours? And what about food? Would I have time to prep my meal plan? Would I be more tempted to "cheat?" Anxiety took over. I wasn't ready for this so soon!

I told them I had to think about it, and they were more than happy with that answer, which I appreciated. I was so exhausted from my week of not sleeping, though, that I slept through my alarm the next morning and missed my window of opportunity to go to the gym. So it begins, I groaned to myself as I prepared for another afternoon of work.

But what I didn't anticipate was how helpful and accommodating the family would be. As soon as I told the mother my anxieties, she completely understood. She was so impressed by my motivation and desire to keep pushing forward toward my goals that she said she would do anything to make it work for me. Exercise could be shoehorned into the day while the toddler napped, she told me as she waxed on about the gloriousness of fitness DVDs. She even gave me a few to take home that night, to try out and see if I liked them. Or, I could take the toddler hiking with me, she suggested. Their home is close to several hikes and the entire neighborhood is uphill. As for food, she said I was welcome to take anything from their fridge. They actually use an at home food delivery service, which is farm to table and can be altered in order to fit my fitness needs. I was overwhelmed. I couldn't even begin to describe my gratitude for her support. Suddenly, the idea of going back to work seemed less daunting. 

Plus, going home and looking at my step count for the day, I realized that my activity level was automatically going to go up in trying to take care of a toddler, who wanted to run around all day. 

I woke up this morning feeling incredibly motivated, and ready to tackle the next leg of my fitness journey. And this only made it that much better. Finally getting into the 240s on the scale.

At first I was a little bummed out, I'm not going to lie. I had been home for three weeks and only lost two pounds. But also...finally seeing below 250 was pretty amazing. And I need to remember that this is an accumulation of pounds lost. Not a sprint. Plus, it meant that I could get myself a 10lb reward for myself. It popped out at the gym today. Something I've desperately wanted for my hikes - an arm band for my phone! And it's pink, because that's how I roll. I also finally bought Ed Sheeren's album for myself, which totally got me pumped during my cardio on the stationary bike. 

 And though, no, it's not what I thought this summer would be, I'm excited to see what it will bring. Even if it means figuring out a new fitness schedule and a new meal plan, I know I am committed to myself and my health goals no matter what. As always, let's keep doing this!

DAYS 39-44

It's almost been a full week since my last entry, and I finally forced myself to sit down and think about why that was. After making such a promise to myself to keep up with my feelings, I walled up and shut down and bailed.

For those of you closest to me, you know this is how I handle being overwhelmed. In the past six days, three of them were partaking in large group activities and the other three were focusing on a writing deadline.

The first group activity was a game night at a friend's house. I was already feeling down on myself because I'd had my blood drawn in the morning and had been unable to finish out my second week of five workouts. I knew that getting four workouts in wasn't bad by any means, but still riding the roller coaster of my belated period, I wasn't feeling 100%. I mustered up all the willpower I could to put on a happy face for the night, but I was immediately assaulted by snacks and drinks. My friend had prepared an amazing looking spread with brie and crackers and brownies and goat cheese strawberry pastries and home made pizza and lots and lots of wine. I knew I had to stay away from the food, but I had allotted calories for two glasses of wine for the night. But when the room started to fill up, and I was presented with a large group of people I didn't know, I broke. Food has always been a comfort to me, and with my nerves skyrocketing and not wanting to talk to new people, I broke away from the circle to grab a few snacks. By the end of the night, I was racked with guilt. I had wanted to stay on target, but I didn't.

The next day I was forced into a similar situation. To go to a picnic with an even larger group of people I barely knew. My friend and her boyfriend host a potluck picnic in the park during the summer for all their groups of friends, and though I knew a handful of people, the majority were strangers. Luckily, my raging guilt from the night before had forced me to bring a mixed green salad to the potluck and bring my own prepared lunch in a cooler, so as not to be tempted by anything there. It worked, thank god. But as my friend approached me and told me how much she loved reading my blog, how much it motivated her to exercise and eat right, the wave of guilt returned. With the schedule I'd created for myself, I was supposed to rest during the weekends, but I felt guilty knowing that I'd tacked on an extra day of rest. I didn't have the courage to weigh myself.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I was up tossing and turning until nearly 6:30 in the morning. I heard people leaving their apartments, walking their dogs, and getting up for the day, all before I was able to fall asleep myself. Something was nagging at the back of my brain, keeping my brain spiraling with worry. When I woke up Sunday (mid-day), John suggested I do something nice for myself. Brunch out? I agreed, ready to refocus my mindset on one off positivity. But when we arrived at the restaurant, I realized this would be my first time eating out since getting back to LA. I hadn't looked at the menu to prepare options, like my sister recommended, and I felt out of my depth. Luckily, I was able to find something relatively quickly on the menu (egg white frittata with garden vegetables and feta with a side of fruit) and relaxed a tiny bit. I enjoyed the sunshine and my delicious food, and when we got home, I settled in to write for the rest of the day.

I couldn't sleep again that night.

I had planned to wake up Monday morning, fresh and ready to conquer my leg day at the gym, but instead I slept through my alarm, waking only in time to make it to a writing date I'd scheduled a few days earlier. The writing was cut short, though, by plans to attend my friend's Memorial Day BBQ. Not wanting to deal with any sort of guilt, I brought watermelon to the party and snacked on fruits and veggies the whole day. And pickles. So many pickles.

I left the party realizing that during my busy holiday weekend, I hadn't worked out once and was now four days out of the game. I wanted to cry. How could I have done this to myself again? I reminded myself as kindly as I could that I had a very pressing writing deadline that needed to be attended to, and I prioritized that above all else. But I knew in reality I should have made time.

Yesterday, after banging out my morning hike with Rory (which was considerably harder after four days off), I went to the coffee shop and refused to leave until my writing was finished. I sent my script out for notes, grabbed my grocery list for Week #3 of my meal plan, and headed to Trader Joe's. And that night as I enjoyed my delicious dinner of spiralized summer squash noodles with turkey meatballs and worked on my script revisions, I felt incredibly accomplished.

Rory, killing our hike.

Today I think I truly figured out what has been bothering me, and it's going to sound really dumb, guys. Last week, during my hike on Thursday, my Polar FT4 Heart Rate Monitor ran out of battery, and I've been feeling totally off since. I've learned that I'm way more motivated when I can see the number of calories I'm taking in (and logging them in MyFitnessPal) and compare it to what I've burned on my watch. You'd think by now, a month and a half into this journey, I'd be okay not knowing how many calories I'm burning in each work out. It's the same work out each time, why the hell do I care? And the answer is...I don't know. But I do.

As I left the gym today, feeling broken down from my leg day, I wished I could see the number on my little pink watch telling me it was a job well done.

Do I see a difference in my body (especially given the ridiculous amount of selfies I take)? Yes, of course I do. Even in this horrible picture I see my face and arms thinning. But there was something extra motivating about seeing that calories burned number climb during my workouts. I'm waiting for the battery to come in, and I'm not going to lie - I expect another shitty night's sleep until it's back up and working. But until then, I know I'm going to push myself harder every day. This journey is still in its beginning phases, and I have a lot longer to go. I'm inevitably going to get frustrated and not always be able to work out and write every day. But I'm going to keep at it for as long as I can. As always, let's keep doing this.

DAYS 36-38

After Monday's affirmations, I expected the week to get magically better. The problem was, my mindset had been compromised for the first time since starting my journey, and it took a full three days to try and work my way out of it.

Sometimes a week just doesn't go well. And I guess this is where I complain about it.

Tuesday I was supposed to hike in the morning with Caiti again, but I couldn't pull myself out of bed. I was waylaid by intense stomach cramps (but weirdly no period), which luckily dissipated later in the afternoon. Fortunately, I was still able to force myself to get out of the house and go on a hike, but it was with great effort. After coming back from my hike I realized, to my dismay, that I had one dinner left of my pre-cooked meals, and I desperately needed to go grocery shopping. I knew I'd have to go to the grocery, but I was too tired to deal with a trip that night. I'd go in the morning.

Yesterday, I woke up and again didn't want to work out. I stole a piece of toast and two eggs from John before I resigned myself to figure out my finances and go to the grocery store as soon as possible. The problem is that even with a mapped out meal plan, eating healthfully is fairly expensive. There's a reason obesity is such a problem, and it's because healthy food is expensive. My sister has helped me figure out less expensive alternatives (cooking meals that last for 4 days, swapping fresh veggies for frozen ones, etc), but still...one week on my meal plan is about $100.

Compare that to this video of this guy who ate everything on the Whitecastle menu. For a whole $60.

The video came up on my Facebook feed, and even though I couldn't bring myself to watch the entire video, I did happen to skip to the ending. His tally. $60 for about 10k calories. That's enough junk food to feed one person for a full week, based on intake. Nearly half of what I'm spending. 

Not only is the price insanely low, but fast food advertisements are everywhere. In fact, even my iTunes radio (my soundtrack for the gym) has now been invaded by commercials for Rold Gold Pretzels and Famous Amos Cookies. I turn on my TV and am assaulted by advertisements for cheap fast food, and I remember how easy it was to pick that crap up. It's much harder to plan and shop and cook. And though I'm no longer tempted, I am annoyed. Annoyed that I can't go anywhere without this junk being put in my face. Whether it's billboards along the street as I walk to my hike, or catching up on the latest episode of The Bachelorette, or passing numerous chains as I drive to the gym, cheap fast food is far more prevalent than nutritious food - and I live in LA around the corner from two farmers markets!

Needless to say, I'm SO happy that I'm eating healthfully. I was actually gleeful as I unloaded my haul of groceries yesterday. I smiled as lean proteins and veggies and whole grains spread across my counter. But it was a frustrating point of my day. 

Yesterday continued to frustrate when I looked down at my heart rate monitor during my workout and realized that it had died. Though I know I can easily replace the battery, I have become somewhat reliant on my HRM, and I was incredibly disappointed when I couldn't enter my calories burned into my fitness app. Estimating or not counting them at all felt way less satisfying.

Last night I went to bed disappointed and frustrated, but I resolved myself to wake up this morning and push forward. Who cared that things were annoying me this week? People get annoyed all the time! It was at that moment that I looked at my calendar and realized my period was 10 days late, despite the cramping I was feeling. And that might have something to do with my intense irritability. I pushed the thought aside until I met up for real with Caiti this morning for my Thursday hike. I confided in her that I was extremely nervous, that my body felt out of whack, and I was a little stressed.

Caiti, being an athlete herself, talked me down immediately. She assured me that with my massive burst in activity and decreased intake, there was a really good chance I'd changed my menstrual cycle, and there was no reason to freak out. I scoffed at the idea (even though my mom had said the same thing the day before). Wasn't losing your period a thing that athletes did because they were under a certain body fat percentage? At 250 lbs, I highly doubted I would be affected similarly. But, regardless, I felt better. Plus, we had a super cute dog with us.

Knowing internally (despite my lack of HRM) I'd burned 1k calories and filled with positive thoughts from Caiti, I headed back inside to make lunch for myself. Second lunch on the meal plan! Chicken Caesar salad with homemade greek yogurt based dressing. It came out amazing.

But as soon as I'd taken a few bites, I was attacked by cramps again. There was no questioning this feeling. I knew without a doubt I'd finally gotten my period. Thank god I'd been able to work out in the morning, because at the rate my cramps were coming, there was no way I'd have been able to move this afternoon. In fact, the whole day was spent in bed, cursing being a woman. Just kidding. Kind of. 

That said, it's clear that through this whole process I am having to learn my body all over again. My moods, my rhythm, my mindset have all changed so drastically in such a short amount of time, and I'm just beginning to figure out what feels best for me. I am becoming a different person, a more motivated and determined person, and even though that person is different than the one I was just a few months ago, I think I like this one even better. Yes, I had a bad week, but what are a few days of discomfort while I relearn myself compared to a lifetime of being comfortable in my own body? 

Let's keep doing this, people. 

DAYS 34 & 35

Warning: If you are triggered by mentions of sexual assault or rape, this entry is not for you.

Just over six years ago, I was raped.  On a day to day basis, it's not something I deal with anymore. And recently, my days have been more about which foods I have to prepare and what workout I've been able to complete, than anything else. In other words, my brain has been so busy thinking about other things and reprioritizing my day, that there hasn't been any time for much else to creep back in.

Last night, however, I was forced to deal with it. The final scene of Sunday's Game of Thrones showed a pretty graphic and unnecessary rape of one of the leading women. I knew it was coming, but I still wasn't really prepared. I focused on my phone instead of the TV, staring at the little game of Solitaire, and trying to block out sounds of aggressive grunting and pained screaming in the background. Luckily, I had two more shows to watch before heading to bed, but when it came time to turn off the light, my brain couldn't stop circling.

I woke up this morning feeling sluggish and easily annoyed. While last week, I'd been so excited for my Monday work out that I jumped out of bed and headed to the gym before my alarm even went off, today it took two hours of John's coaxing and an extra cup of coffee to get me there. I told myself to get over it. That I was fine, and to just do my workout the best that I could.

Apparently I took that direction to heart, because I don't think I've ever worked out as hard as I did this morning. I hopped on the elliptical for my warm up, turned on my angriest playlist and pushed myself as far as I could. And it didn't stop there. I attacked my leg circuit, pushing myself an extra two or three reps, until my muscles were shaking.

Four years ago, when I first started going to sexual assault therapist, she recommended that I exercise as part of my routine. The only gym I felt comfortable going to, however, was the 24 Hour Fitness in the middle of boystown West Hollywood. I worked out fearlessly there, knowing that the boys were more interested in checking each other out than me, and I could slip through my routine without anyone noticing I was even there. I'd avert my eyes if anyone tried to make eye contact with me and would happily give up a machine just so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone else in the gym. In other words, it was perfect.

Back at that same gym today, I was ferocious. I staked out a corner of the weight lifting room for my circuit, marking my space with my towel and water bottle and practically growling at anyone who came too close. Today, I was angry. Angry that even after six years, one fictional rape scene was enough to make me feel like my body was under attack. That even though I've worked at it and healed as much as I could, somewhere deep down I still believe my body is not allowed to take up space. That it's not my body. It's everyone's body.

My anger came to a head today when an approaching guy asked if I was still using the incline bench (even though there were two more in the near vicinity). "Yup!" I said, continuing with my workout (almost an hour strong!). Feeling slighted, he put up his hands and backed away with an, "Okay, Bambi." It took me a full 30 seconds to realize that I was wearing a shirt I'd bought at Disneyland many years ago that had Bambi on it, and another 30 seconds for my spirit to break. I felt betrayed by the gym that had kept me safe for so many years.

Tears mixed with sweat as I hopped back onto the elliptical to wind down for the day. I put on the pop station on my iTunes radio, trying to perk back up, but I couldn't . There was something so innately sexist and frustrating about the way I had been addressed. "Bambi." Really? I would never have approached a stranger and said anything like that. I just couldn't believe that even while being unafraid, in the zone, and doing exactly what everyone else was doing, this stranger felt the need to talk down to me. Maybe he thought he was being cute or clever. Maybe he does it to men as well as women. I don't know. But I do know that it made me feel small and belittled, despite leaving the gym with nearly 1000 calories burned.

After getting home and showering, I contemplated calling it a day. Just crawling into bed, deciding the world is too scary a place for me, and going back to sleep. But part of this journey is healing and taking control of my body. And so...I forced myself to put on makeup, real clothes, and shoes, and head out to a coffee shop to get some things done. 

I know no matter what society, experiences, or media tries to tell me, I can be the master of my own body. And that giving strength to my own voice is a positive thing, no matter who feels slighted as I do it. Because...as I say each time....I'm going to keep doing this.

DAYS 32 & 33

There's a lot to be said for "feeling pretty." It's something that can make or break your day, and I've fallen victim to ruining my plans because I don't feel that way.

So, when my friend Alissa suggested we go to an event she was invited to last night and pre-game with Dry Bar blow outs to "feel pretty," I was game. After getting in five work outs and sticking to my meal plan this week, I was excited to go out for the first time in a very long time. She forwarded me the invitation, and I cringed. "Attire: Cocktail/club." What the hell did that mean? I scoured my closet, desperately searching for anything that would be appropriate. Anything I thought that could be remotely appropriate ended up on a pile on my bed, and I was not surprised to see that everything in there was black.

A black knit shift, a flowy (well, it had been flowy the last time I put it on) black tunic, a summery cotton black dress, and a black dress with pleather side panels that I'd gotten for my birthday a year and a half ago when I'd put on my first 50. I knew that dress sounded the most appropriate, but I wasn't sure if it was going to fit. I'd last worn it to a friend's birthday last summer, in the middle of my second 50 lb gain. I knew I'd only lost 10 lbs, but I thought...maybe it would fit? If it fit me at 225, why not at 250? I packed all the options in my bag and hoped for the best, but resolved not to think about it during my hair appointment. After all, I was about to get pretty!

I tuned out the world for an hour and luxuriated in the modern but elegant atmosphere of the Dry Bar. Only pausing to snap this pic.

When it was done, I felt like a model. True to Alissa's word, I "felt pretty." But I quickly realized that it was approaching dinner time, and I'd forgotten to bring anything with me! Luckily, Alissa is one of my most amazing supporters, and she was happy to make a quick grocery run to pick up a healthy dinner for us. We decided on splitting a rotisserie chicken and steaming a side of broccoli (my favorite vegetable). Quick and delicious (even having only breast meat with skin removed I was a very happy camper!). 

What I realized shortly after consuming my dinner is that I had eaten a little too fast and felt a little bloated. And now I had to figure out what to wear to this event! I showed Alissa all the options, and she agreed with my initial instinct - the dress with the leather panels was the winner. But after zipping it up, I wanted to cry. The dress fit - as in, it zipped up with little effort. But because of the stretchy fabric, I felt like I was being squeezed into a sausage casing. I could see every roll of my stomach, and I felt a hot rush off panic sweep over me. "I can't wear this!" I squeaked. Alissa assured me it looked fine, but I couldn't stop looking at my sides in the mirror. I took of the dress as quickly as I could, and felt relieved when I could breathe again. I knew had I spent one more second looking in the mirror at me in that dress, I would have gone into a bad head space and asked if we could stay home and wallow instead. 

Luckily, I knew without a doubt that my black knit dress fit me, and put it on instead. It wasn't quite as fancy looking as the previous one, but I felt like I could breathe in it, and that was the only important thing to me. I compensated for the less fancy dress with fancier makeup, and within minutes, I felt ready to take on the town. 

"The town" as it was, turned out to be a graduation party for former The Hills star Spencer Pratt, hosted by his wife, Heidi (who I later learned had invited Alissa personally, and was maybe the sweetest person I've ever met). It was pretty surreal, as the party was fairly intimate, and I only partially felt like I was intruding. Though, Heidi and Spencer were thrilled to hear about me being a USC alum, and I weirdly teared up when the USC marching band made a guest appearance and played the fight song halfway through the night. Feeling good, I enjoyed a glass of white wine as we mingled. And didn't feel tempted at all by the large food spread at the side of the room, or by the waiters who were offering appetizers through the evening. 

By the time we got home, I'd forgotten all about the problems getting dressed I'd had, and really just enjoyed being with my friend. And because we're adorable, we documented it. 

This morning I woke up, excited to weigh myself. Saturday weigh day! I couldn't wait to step on and finally see that 10 lb goal accomplished. To my shock and horror, though, when I stepped on the scale, it read 253. That couldn't be right. I stepped off and stepped back on. The screen flashed 253 again. I nearly broke down. How could I have GAINED weight since last week? I'd worked out more than ever, followed my new meal plan to a T! I'd had a 1000 calorie deficit a day, meaning I should have LOST 2 lbs, not gained them.

I sat in confusion and horror, and lay down in bed, losing motivation and wallowing for about an hour before I realized I was being an idiot. I needed to accept a few things. First, t was a different scale than I'd been weighting myself on. Not only that but I was about two days away from getting my period again. It was extremely likely that my body was holding onto water weight, and that's where those extra pounds were coming from. Also, after a week of weight training, it was extremely possible that I'd gained two pounds of muscle. 

Am I still upset about the number I saw? Yes. I'm not going to lie. I'm disappointed that I didn't see the weight I wanted to on that scale. Especially after working so hard this week. But it wasn't enough to ruin my day. 

Mostly, because one of my best high school friends was coming up to LA to visit and go to an outdoor screening of Pitch Perfect with me. Usually for an outdoor screening, I'd pack a picnic of meats and cheeses and crackers and wine, or rely on the food trucks at the location, but tonight I knew I needed to plan and eat better. So, I made a quick trip to the grocery and stocked up on low sodium turkey, cucumber slices, light string cheese, almonds, and grapes. My snack smorgasbord was a winner, and I didn't feel guilty eating a larger portion of the foods I'd brought with me. 

Though I'm still feeling insecure about my weight, I'm conscious of the positive path that I'm on. It's a healthy one, and it's a happy one. And I need to reconcile the fact that the number on the scale is going to move slowly, and it might move up and down. And while two pounds feels like the end of the world right now. Eventually, when my weight fluctuates according to water retention it will be like nothing. In fact, I'm hoping that when I get to my goal weight, I won't feel the need to weigh myself at all. That I'll be so in tune with my body that the number on the scale will lack any sort of importance.

The truth, though, is that I'm not there yet. It upsets me to not see the number lowering the way I want it or expect it to. And it sucks that even though I know I'm doing all the right things, the scale is going to fluctuate depending on what time of month I'm dealing with. That said, I'm learning how to talk to myself down and stay focused, as opposed to throwing in the towel and giving up. Because no matter what the scale says, I know I'm on track. 

Today I read a quote (that I believe Bill Gates said?). "Most people overestimate what they can do in a day. And underestimate what they can do in a lifetime." And it's true. The scale isn't magically going to jump down tomorrow. But the longer I stay focused, the more it's going to accumulate and add up to the loss I want. Either way, I know I'm not deterred. And I'm going to keep on doing this. 

DAYS 30 & 31

Yesterday was a typical day. Woke up, went to the gym, went about my errands, ate my meal plan meals, etc. But today I woke up and realized it had been a month since I started keeping this journal.

A whole month.

I didn't have time to think about it, though, because I could see ominous clouds in the distance, threatening rain at any moment, and I had a morning hike to attend to first!  Despite being accompanied by John and my friend Caiti, I was extremely slow in my ascent. My new work out in the gym has made my legs sore as all hell, and that blister on my heel (the one that looked like a sinkhole and thought would give me sepsis) made my foot twinge with each step. I'm sure my hike suffered because of the way I had to put my foot down with each step, trying to avoid hurting the blister more. Luckily, we made it to the top in relatively good time, and managed to get back home before the rain started. Also, this motivational sign made an appearance on my street and got me thinking a bit.

Inspired, I decided to make my lunch and get to work on my writing for the day. But as I attempted to draft my latest spec script, something felt OFF. I couldn't pin point it. Maybe it was the lack of sunshine, or that I'd wanted to explore a new coffee shop today but didn't want to brave Los Angelinos attempting to drive in the rain (seriously, 99% have NO idea that the road gets slippery). I just couldn't make the words flow. I was about to throw up my hands and call it a day when I realized that I knew why I was feeling so weird. 1 month meant I had to take a progress picture, and I really really really didn't want to. But, going in , I made a promise to myself that I would take monthly progress pictures, and so I wanted to adhere to that. So, I did. I even got a little brave and took a picture of my side view as well as from behind. 

This is me, ten pounds lighter than last month.

I look at the picture, and I honestly can't see a difference. In fact, I feel like my back looks heavier than one month ago. So then i got to thinking. Where did that weight disappear to, if I can't see a visible difference? Well, then something magical happened. I talked myself out of feeling crappy about not being able to see a difference and just moved forward with my life. I even decided to treat myself to a glass of champagne to toast myself for sticking with this for a month, hitting my goal, and being ready to conquer the future. When the cashier asked for my ID at the checkout line, I even giggled gleefully - loving that even approaching 30, the cashier needed to make sure I was 21. But what she said next nearly knocked me out. "Girl!" she exclaimed, bringing me out of my giddy trance. "You've lost a LOT of weight! You look good." I took my ID back from her and realized that the photo on the ID had been taken this past November (the peak of my weight gain), and this woman could tell based on that photo and my current face that I had lost weight. I was stunned. Here I was, merely hours before thinking that I looked no different, but I was wrong.

After thanking her profusely, I headed home to make my dinner and enjoy a glass of champagne. For my last day of Dinner #1 on my meal plan, I decided to mix things up a little bit. For the last three nights I'd been enjoying bolognese sauce over sauteed mushrooms and zucchinis. But today I was feeling excited and wanted to see if I could create zoodles - or noodles created out of zucchini. For Hannukah, my mom had sent me a spiralizer but I had yet to really use it. I'm not sure why, though. Because it was maybe the best thing I've ever used in my entire life. Within two minutes, I had a bowlful of zoodles. I'd heard that since zucchini contains a lot of water, it's good to let them dry out a bit, so I let them sit on some paper towel for about 15 minutes before throwing them into a sautee pan. About two minutes in the pan, and my zoodles were ready! I topped them with my leftover meatsauce, a sprinkle of cheese, and VOILA. Best. Dinner. Ever.

Pasta has been the one thing that I really truly miss so far. And boy am I glad I found zoodles because they have the same texture as spaghetti. So much so that I genuinely felt like I was eating pasta for the first time in a month! I highly recommend a spiralizer for anyone who wants to try them. It was the easiest dinner I'd made so far. 20 minutes from conception to the plate. And so so satisfying. I'd never been so excited about a vegetable before in my life.

But, I guess that's who I am now. Excited by vegetables, and ready to take on the world. Thank you for taking this journey with me for the past month. Now, bring on the next one!

Let's keep doing this.

DAYS 28 & 29

Day 1 back in Los Angeles required a lot of adulting. More than I was prepared for, to be honest. Although I knew it was going to be a transition to get back to my "normal" life, without the help of my mom and sister, I wasn't really happy about the lack of motivation that greeted me in the morning.

Curled up with my puppy as my little spoon, getting out of bed and heading to the gym seemed like the last thing I wanted to do. My "normal" life, I figured out really quickly, was no longer normal.   But after making myself my sister approved breakfast of chicken apple sausage, egg whites, and avocado (as well as a side of strawberries I cut up for myself), I decided it was time to start the day. But come on, you'd have trouble leaving this face too.

I dropped the puppy off at the groomer for a haircut and made my way to the gym (boyfriend in tow). Before arriving in LA, I had made a new exercise plan for myself. One that now required exercising 5x a week. I figured while I was temporarily unemployed and had my days truly free, it would be the best time to go hard. I did a lot of research before deciding on a new exercise regimen - one comprised mainly of circuit training.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with circuit training, it's a series of exercises performed in quick conjunction (in a circuit, if you will). By only resting about 15-30 seconds between each exercise, it utilizes HIIT or high intensity interval training, which is the most effective in fat burning by combining quick spurts of maximum efforts with a short rest period to keep energy levels up.

On this new schedule, I would be circuit training at the gym on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, while doing cardio on Tuesday and Thursday. Leaving my weekends for total rest and relaxation. And by training every other day I would be able to give my muscles rest time to build strength. That's something I'm very excited about doing - building strength.

So, my leg circuit was up first. Monday morning. I had looked up a few beginner's circuits, and chose the one that seemed the most interesting to me. And though it was interesting, it was HARD. Good lord. I thoroughly underestimated how difficult a beginning circuit would be. By the time my hour was up, my legs felt like jello. I actually had to use my boyfriend as a railing in order to go down the stairs. He laughed at me, but understood.

He's in his own process of training, too. In fact, right before we met he had lost 80 lbs and so he is extremely familiar with the struggles I'm going through, and I couldn't be more grateful to have him as an inspiration, motivator, and teammate in this journey. After the loss of his father last fall, he spent time in Texas with his family and unfortunately lost some of the progress he had made, but now we're both at it and have double the motivation. We unintentionally matched yesterday. Don't judge.

After the morning workout, I was totally wiped out, but I remembered before leaving for my three week cross country sojourn that I'd made a doctor's appointment. Last year, I went to my doctor and asked her about my 50 lb gain. She chocked it up to being depressed and added an antidepressant that was also an appetite suppressor to my regimen. All in all she was pretty dismissive of my concerns with my weight gain, and never even asked me about the source of my depression.

 Now 100 lbs later (well, 90 now!), I was more prepared for interacting with my doctor (a new one, thank god). He was great. We talked about my weight gain, my problems with depression, anxiety and overeating, my current medication and what my plan to lose this weight is. He was incredibly supportive, and ordered a thorough blood test to be done later this week to just make sure nothing is going on physically that I should be aware of. He said, "Most patients wish that something is wrong with them, something that they can treat and fix and explain their weight gain, but the truth is...you DON'T want that. You want your body to be working properly." He sent me back home feeling much better and confident in my journey. I would eliminate the option for anything else to be wrong by doing an extensive blood test (seriously, he sent me home with a paper that looks like everything is circled on it...not sure what they're NOT testing for). And in the meantime, I'd continue as I had been.

After that much adulting, I was anxious to head home, but I needed to do one more adult thing on my to-do list before calling it a day. Grocery shopping!

I took the meal plan V had expertly prepared for me a few weeks ago, and finally put it in action. I purchased everything I'd need for the week and headed home to do my meal prep. Dinner #1 this week was sauteed zucchini and mushrooms with meatsauce. Because I love pasta SO much, eating bolognese sauce tricks my brain into thinking I'm having pasta, even when it's just veggies. I portioned out 4 nights of the meal before partaking in this one (and topping it with 1 tbs of pecorino romano).

It was so incredibly filling and delicious. Plus...the nutrition facts were crazy. Only 277 calories, 16 g of carbs, 10 g of fat, and 30 g of protein. Totally sated, I decided that I could take the rest of the night off (even though I had plans to continue writing my spec script). And that was totally fine. After so much adulting (and still partially on east coast time), I was totally wiped out. Plus, I knew that I had cardio plans the next morning (an 8am hike with an old co-worker!), so I wanted to get a good night's sleep.

Luckily my old co-worker pushed our hike to 9:30, so I was able to sleep in a tiny bit more than originally planned. What I totally forgot is why he was so gung-ho about hiking with me, though. He is incredibly in shape, and brought his giant hiking dog with us. He asked if I wanted to try a new hike instead of doing Runyon, and I said sure! Excited to try something new, I was disappointed pretty quickly. The hike was HARD. Like...really really hard. More of a narrow path through the trees, my legs ached and burned merely 1/4 of the way up. I had totally forgotten how sore my legs would be after my hard day of training at the gym yesterday.

Needless to say, I did not complete the hike. We ended up turning around and attempting Runyon. But by that point, we'd already added an extra mile and a half to our hike, and my legs gave out somewhere near the third hill of Runyon. He was incredibly understanding, and it actually gave us time to really talk about our lives and everything that had been going on since we'd stopped working together (four years ago!). And though I immediately felt like a failure, he reminded me that our first and second hikes combined were way more challenging than just doing Runyon once through. And I should be proud of myself for waking up and making good on my promise to hike with him. My disappointment faded away pretty quickly, seeing as when we arrived back at my apartment I'd burned over 1000 calories in 90 minutes.

The rest of my day will include catching up on the writing I did not get to do yesterday, as well as enjoying my second portions of my meal plan meals. Though the routine is not 100% yet, I've only just returned to this new normal, and I am positive I will continue to persevere. As always, let's keep doing this!

DAY 27

Over the past two and a half weeks, I've undergone quite the mental (and the beginnings of my physical) transformation, and it's with great sadness that I post this entry from the air headed back to Los Angeles.

Though I'm beyond excited to get back to my boyfriend and my puppy, I'm incredibly sad to be leaving behind my mom. Our weeks together felt far too short. And being the mean daughter that I am, I left her with my terrible cold (I'm so so so sorry again, mom!)

But despite not feeling 100% well, she wanted us to have a special Mother's Day before I departed. And we absolutely did.

Me and mom enjoying the sun on her balcony <3

Not in the mood for getting all dolled up, we took the most casual approach to brunch we could and headed towards a local diner. When we got there, it took me about thirty seconds of looking at the menu to decide what to get. Egg white omelet with turkey-bacon, feta, tomatoes, and spinach. Substitute the carby sides for a bowl of fruit. And a coffee with skim milk. My mom looked at me curiously. "Would it really upset you if I got pancakes?" she asked. I nearly facepalmed. I hadn't even realized that for the past two weeks my mom had been on my healthy eating plan with me! The poor woman wasn't even working out and had probably lost a few pounds. That's how incredible she is. And selfish me hadn't even noticed. I mean, of course we had cooked our meals together, and when going out to restaurants I figured she was just a healthy eater, but inside I knew she could probably be eating differently. I insisted she order the pancakes, joking that would be my gift to her, allowing her to have pancakes in front of me (joke's on her though, since I will always pick eggs over sweet things at brunch!)

But in all seriousness, I appreciate what she did for me so much. Had we gone out to an Italian restaurant and she ordered pasta two weeks ago, I would have been sorely tempted to take more than one taste. Today though, I wasn't jealous. I was glad to see my mom enjoying her pancakes, even as she poured syrup on them and finished the plate. And though I'd never intentionally deprive anyone of eating something tempting, I am insanely grateful she decided to stay on track with me while I was here. It made meal planning so much easier, and I honestly feel like I've regained a certain amount of control when it comes to my unhealthy impulses.

Did I still want to knock the McDonald's fries out of the girl in front of me's hands as we boarded tonight? Absolutely. But there would have been a time where that would have tempted me to leave line and get fries of my very own. Today I didn't. Instead, I just opened up my expertly prepared lunchbox and ate the grilled chicken caesar salad waiting for me.

And though I'm heading back to Los Angeles with some trepidation about the weeks to come, I know I've formed a solid foundation on which to jump start my journey. Tomorrow vacation ends and real life begins. Tomorrow I start putting my sister's monthly meal plans into action, as well as maintaining my exercise and writing schedule on top of that. I have so much to accomplish this year, and it's really just beginning. I'm hopeful that my support system in Los Angeles is just as helpful and encouraging as the one I'm leaving behind in CT (although let's be real, no one will ever match my mom). Stay tuned on this journey...

And again, thank you times a billion to my amazing mother, sisters, and friends who have come forward and given me the guidance and encouragement I need to continue. I can't even begin to express my love and gratitude. East coast lovelies, I will miss you greatly, but...Los Angelinos, get read!. You're in for a ride with a new girl. As always, let's keep doing this.

DAY 26

There's something intensely gratifying about catching up with old friends, but it's even more gratifying when the people who know you, the core of your being, come back into your life as if they never left in the first place.

Last night was one of those times for me.

Leading up to last night, I had planned to see two of my closest friends for drinks when I was back in town. We have so much overlapping history it's ridiculous. Same Hebrew school, same middle school, same high school...and same sleepaway camp. Camp sounds so trite and silly when you say it as an adult. It's one of those things I think only east coast kids did, but I loved camp more than pretty much anything in the entire world. So much so that I even went back as a counselor. For eight weeks of my life I could just be myself, and getting to know that person was one of the best things I've ever done. Though I'm not in constant contact with my camp friends (yes, did I mention it was an all girls camp?), I've received the most support for this health journey from that community, and I know no matter where we go in life, we'll always wish the best for each other.

Needless to say, when a third camp friend heard about us meeting up for drinks, she was eager to join in on the plans, and I was eager to have her there. After relaying my health concerns, we agreed to grab salads from a nearby takeout spot and eat in Bryant Park. It was lovely and delicious, and we were able to catch up on everything (though, I did get a bunch of, "Oh, yeah, I read about that on your blog!" - so I guess everyone knows details about my life all the time now!).

I'd even spared myself enough calories to splurge on wine after the meal, so we walked a few blocks to a cute bar, and talked the night away. I wish I could let everyone know how amazing these ladies made me feel and how much I adored seeing them, but I don't think there's any way to describe the sort of longstanding connection we have. And because I value their opinions so much, it made me even happier to have them support me on my endeavors. It was the lowest pressure night out I could possibly imagine, and I was filled with angst at the prospect of not reuniting for another ten years (so, naturally we documented it!)

Us minus one (whose fiancee came and stole her away before we remembered to take a picture)

The only downside to the whole evening was our terribly rude bartender, so in an attempt to make the evening last longer, I suggested we find a new place close to the train. We ended up walking in several circles before finding a new haunt, but it was great with me because it meant I was adding steps to my daily count, and I got to enjoy a beautiful evening in NYC.

Though the night itself had very little to do with my health journey, it was one of those moments I realized how important what I'm doing is. That I have so much good in my life, so much to brag about, and so much yet to accomplish. I can't be derailed by poor health. I just can't. And as the night came to a close, I became even more determined to stay with my plan. 

So, when I realized this morning it was time to weigh myself again (really, a whole week went by since last time), I stepped on the scale with little fear. What merely days ago made me cringe actually made me smile this morning. I knew I'd been on target with my food, and despite my cold side lining me from working out, I'd managed to stay active and walking every day. And this was the result. 

Nine pounds down. I got off and got on the scale again an hour later, thinking the first number must surely be a mistake. But, the number stayed the same. 

 Only one pound and four days away from my goal of losing ten pounds a month, I'm ready to continue accumulating lost pounds and healthy meals. I know it's just the very beginning of what's sure to be a new life, and  I'm incredibly excited by it. I feel so lucky to have the support system and community I do, because I know that the best part of my day is sharing this with all of you. 

Massive shout out to my TLC ladies. Let's keep this journey going. Next time in LA? Because, as always...I'm going to keep doing this. 

Days 24 & 25

Almost a month into this journey I have found a lot of positives in my every day. Beautiful looking, delicious healthy meals (like this morning's apple chardonnay chicken sausage with egg whites, avocado and strawberries). 

And the rush of endorphins from working out four times a week and the amazing energy burst that follows (seriously almost all my photos look like this now)

I've even delved into the negatives, gathering my thoughts about my emotional dips and difficulties I've faced. 

But nothing could prepare me for the physical negatives I'd be forced to face. Obviously I knew I'd have to deal with sore muscles and challenges in the gym. But somehow I forgot to think about the fact that my current body would be doing 4x as much exercise with much less recovery. That I'd be stretching and pulling my skin in ways it had never done. And the results have been...not that great. 

General warning: The rest of this entry is not recommended for the squeamish or those about to eat. Sorry!

Take these pictures of my foot from this morning, for instance.  

After walking nearly 25k steps last weekend, a blister appeared on the side of my heel. No big deal, I thought. But as I continued to walk throughout the week I noticed it was getting really full and uncomfortable. Not one to shy away from pain, I poked the edge of the blister letting the fluid drain out. But after yesterday's workout I noticed the top skin had pulled off, leaving a bit of a sinkhole in my foot. Not wanting to slow down, I generously applied some neosporin and a band aid, and continued to walk another 10k steps with my friend who was gracious enough to visit me in CT. 

Luckily, my sister is a doctor and has many doctor friends (one of whom is an incredible dermatologist), so I was quickly able to quash my fears that my foot was going to fall off or an infection would lead to sepsis and death before I'd be able to fly back to LA and see my boyfriend and my dog on Sunday. But, it DID prevent me from going to the gym today. 

Just like figuring out my calorie intake, workouts, and rest days, taking care of my skin is a new thing I've had to add to my list of priorities. Blister pads, antiseptic, and band aids have become my new best friends. Because I refused to be sidelined, no matter what my heels look like. 

The constant friction and sweat during my exercise hasn't only led to blisters, but chafing between my thighs and under the band of my sports bras. And I'm not going to lie to you all, it's not great! 

I know there will be more to come. That blisters are the least of my problems (I mean, just wait until I have to deal with sagging leftover stretched out skin!) but really, I'd rather be dealing with some minor skin problems than the multitude of life threatening diseases and chronic pain that comes along with obesity. 

So, blisters be damned. Let's keep doing this!

DAYS 22 & 23

In forced rest and recovery for my cold, I have been through quite a bit. While yesterday started off as a day to treat myself with a relaxing morning of doing my hair and makeup and walking to the local nail salon for a fancy pedicure, it took a swift turn into foreboding as my mom asked me to accompany her on a shopping trip to the mall.

The original purpose of the trip was to find a birthday present for my big sister, but I knew that was only part of her mission. Though my mom thinks she's super subtle, the comments about taking more pride in my appearance and how worn out my current wardrobe looks did not go unnoticed, and I knew I'd be in for a bit of a shopping trip myself. Since gaining my weight I have not shopped. The clothes I'm wearing now are from 50 pounds ago, and I've been okay with that. I don't want to know what size I am. I'd rather go around knowing my clothes didn't quite fit than succumb to purchasing clothes in a bigger size. My clothes are the one vestige of my previous normal-sized life, and to acknowledge that they don't fit and I really truly can't wear them anymore is to truly admit that's not my life anymore. And I didn't think I was ready to give that up.

To make a long and boring shopping story short...I was right. I was not ready. Trying on jeans was pure torture. "Why don't we start with the biggest size?" my mom suggested. "That way, it can only get better." I knew she meant it as a joke, but my mind raced - what if I didn't fit into the biggest size of jeans? I held them in front of me. They looked like they took up my entire body. Luckily, a saleswoman must have seen the panic on my face and suggested another cut and size of the jeans. A decidedly bigger than my last size, but still not enough to make me want to throw up - size 18. I grabbed them, as well as a few larger tops, and settled down in the fitting room.

There is no worse place in the world to a fat kid than the dressing room. The harsh lighting, the 360 mirrors, and clothes. Ugh. I disrobed quickly, trying not to notice the stretch marks marring my body, and shimmied into the pair of jeans. They were snug, but they zipped up, so I said they were fine. But about three shirts in (each one of which got an, "Oh my god you look amazing!" from my mom), I thought I was going to pass out. The jeans were too tight around my stomach. Oh god. I'd have to go up to a size 20.

20. The number rolled around in my head. I'd just watched Amy Schumer's bit on the Ellen Show about how at a size 6 she felt obscenely overweight walking through LA. My size would be 8 sizes bigger than that. I broke into a cold sweat, and the fluorescent lights stung my eyes. "I need a bigger size. And we need to do this fast before I have a panic attack," I blurted out. My mom looked stunned, but quickly went to grab the bigger pair for me.

Alone in my underwear, I sank onto the cushioned bench in the dressing room, trying to hold back my tears. I did my panic attack breathing. In for five, hold for seven, exhale for eight. And again. I kept my eyes down, not willing to look at the rolls that had formed while sitting, afraid it would set me off again.

I managed to make it out of the store about three minutes after trying on the 20s. The pair felt extra heavy in my bag, and I was ready to head home.

Today, I was not ready to wear the jeans. Though they're in my possession, I'm not sure I ever will be. I'm glad Nordstrom has a great return policy because I honestly don't know if I will ever feel okay putting them on. I know a size means nothing. It's a totally arbitrary number, and I'm already well on my path to a different life - so why don't I just wear the fucking jeans, no matter what size they are? It's not like anyone besides the people who just read this post will even know? But it means something to me. I put on one of my new shirts in an attempt to feel okay, but I still felt like a blob in my outfit. I knew a lot of that was due to still being unable to workout, so I made myself a healthy breakfast and forced myself to let it go.

Breakfast: 1/2 cup steel cut oats, 1/2 cup skim milk,
2 tbs natural peanut butter, and 1/2 chopped pink lady apple

I was excited for my day. Though my mom and I had originally planned to go see a matinee on Broadway, I felt like if I had been in the audience and someone came in with a hacking cough they couldn't control, I'd try to cut a bitch. So, we regrouped. Something we loved to do when I was younger was pick a random location and go on an adventure--get lost and wander around. We picked a small coastal town in CT, Niantic, which was named one of the most charming towns. After a two hour drive, we were expecting a Stars Hollow-esque experience, but were thoroughly let down to find out there were about two restaurants, neither of which had anything but fried fish available, a book store, a coffee store, and a boutique. Disappointed, we continued to travel onwards and unintentionally upwards. And by the time we realized we were incredibly lost in bumblefuck CT, we were both uncomfortable, burgeoning on hungry, and had to pee badly.

Our pee break was taken care of immediately, but the other two had to wait a while. We searched and searched and searched for somewhere to stop for lunch, but the longer we wandered and couldn't find something, the closer to dinner time it became. My bra started to dig uncomfortably into my ribs, and I knew my cough was wearing on my mom. Between the two of us, we were grumpy and grumpier. Finally, we made it back to our home base and drove through towns we were more familiar with. We agreed on a seafood restaurant, since that's what my mom had been craving earlier, and sat down ravenous.

Now, if my sister had planned this vacation, we would have known exactly what restaurant we were eating at about a week ago, but she didn't, and I didn't. So, looking through the menu, starved and cranky and annoyed with my bra was not the best plan in the world. Steak au poivre, fish in a beurre blanc sauce, and mac and cheese all popped out at me. I hadn't eaten anything since noon, and this was just after six, I said to myself. I could have a more decadent dinner, right? But the pain in my ribs from my too tight bra reminded me otherwise. And instead I focused on what would be the most healthy dinner on the menu that I'd still enjoy. Roasted chicken with roasted seasonal veggies (as a substitution for mashed potatoes) was my best bet, and I felt like I was treating myself with a pretty large glass of Malbec.

Satiated and back in the car, I realized what a victory that was. It was small, but it was a positive decision that I made all by myself. And despite my negative mindset the past day, I'm still sticking to my goals. I know there will be more bad days to come, but I'm proud of myself for pulling myself out of this one. Because, as always, I'm going to keep doing this.

DAYS 20 & 21

As I approached the three week mark of my journey, I was filled with a sense of accomplishment. I went back into NYC to visit two of my best friends - neither of whom I'd seen in almost two years. 

As I brunched on egg whites and salad with bestie #1, I felt a twinge of congestion and a few sneezes squeak out. Ugh. Allergies. I'd been warned that this was going to be one of the worst allergy seasons ever - something to do with an overpopulation of male trees and a whole lot of pollen with nowhere to go but into my nose. I figured that rather than feeling like crap I should grab some Claritin D and really try to not to tucker out during the time I'd allotted for bestie #2.

Though I was still sniffly, I powered through, walking the floors of Bloomingdales like a champ. It was not until taking the subway to Brooklyn that I realized the congestion was getting worse, not better. I popped back some more Claritin, knowing I needed to rebound immediately. Bestie #2 had a ton of energy as she was training for a race and currently running upwards of 10 miles a day. And she wanted to meet at the Brooklyn Bridge Park where we'd be able to take a long walk. I couldn't Peter out now, allergies! Luckily, the walk through Brooklyn was beautiful, the absolute perfect weather. Plus, it was the time of day just before the sun began to set where everyone was walking their dogs. It made me miss Rory (my own) so terribly that I found myself saying drawn out "hiiii"s to several dogs as I passed them by. I was so into one particular dog that I didn't even notice one of them belonged to one of my favorite actors, Bryan Greenberg (my love for OTH will never die) and his girlfriend Jamie Chung, until I'd passed. It turned out to be okay, though, because as I came upon the park I was greeted with this beautiful view of lower Manhattan. No filter necessary. 

Before I even had time to process, I was being wrapped up into a warm hug, And my mood instantly lifted. As we walked down the path, she informed me all about her running progress and asked me about my journey into healthy living. Having once been packing a few extra pounds (though not quite where I'd let myself go), she offered her two cents. "I'm sure everyone has given you theirs already, she said, "But since I've really gone through it I just wanted to tell you my experience." I told her I wanted all the cents I could find, and she launched in. She told me she'd been keeping up with my blog and instagram and she worried my intake was too low. That when she did the same thing starting out she was inexplicably exhausted and not losing nearly as much as she thought she would. It was only when she added to her intake (healthfully, of course) did she start losing more and having way more energy. I told her I'd thought about the same thing, as most of the health and fitness gurus say the same thing. When you're exercising you need to feed the muscles you're building. More muscle = higher metabolism = more fat burning even while not working out. That contrary to logical thought, eating less while still maintaining my exercise routine would signal to my body to store more of my intake for fear of not getting enough fuel for my workouts. I explained to her my anxiety about raising my calorie limit. That my problems with binge eating were so pervasive I worried about opening that door too quickly. She understood, but then she started crying. (Side note: Can I say a blanket apology to everyone I've made cry? I'm horrified that my behavior has affected so many people. I don't plan on this happening ever again.) 

Anyway, she cried. She said how upset she was about learning my previous weight loss hadn't been earned through healthy means. That she was upset with herself for not seeing through my lies. But I promised her I'd never do that again. It was miserable to feel that kind of guilt associated with food, and it's what led to my cycle of binge eating. She hugged me and we took this picture to commemorate my promise. 

After our emotional conversation, we were in dire need of sustenance. We easily found a healthy restaurant a few blocks away (seriously if you're ever in Brooklyn and want delicious healthy foodNature's Grill is all organic with gluten free, vegan and vegetarian options). I left her for the night feeling energized and loved and ready to conquer the 4th week of my journey! But by the time I was finally sitting on the train back to CT (nearly 12 hours and 16k steps later), I realized my "allergies" weren't any better. In fact, they were about 100 times worse, and were actually a cold. 

I woke the next day completely incapacitated by my sickness. Fever, congestion, soreness and a hacking cough took over my body. I could barely move off the couch and eating was not high up on the list of thigs I wanted to do. Somewhere between my naps and nose blowing, I started to feel a panic rise up in me. 

This wasn't a part of my schedule! I was supposed to spend the morning in the gym doing upper body weight training and my intake was totally off. By 5pm I'd only consumed 350 calories and walked 40 steps. The mean voice in my head returned, telling me I needed to get off the couch, that I was a lazy sod. So when my mom said she was going to go for a walk down by the water I immediately jumped at the chance to join her. 

I pushed through a two mile walk, insisting I was fine and even encouraging us to do more for fear of having an unintentional rest day. Though I could see the worry on my mom's face, I ignored it. Until we got back inside and I was wracked with chills and sweats. After a long shower and hearty dinner of chicken, veggies and brown rice, I reminded myself that I would only prolong my sickness if I continued to push myself like that. That my anxiety can't be what rules my life. I need to take control and tell her to step off, that a rest day is necessary when I'm this sick. And being healthy includes self care and rest. 

Today I'm giving myself the rest day I need and trying not to feel bad about it. I'm taking care of my brain as well as my body by putting on makeup and doing my hair and getting a desperately needed pedicure. I keep reminding myself that two rest days in a row while my body heals is necessary and I can't feel guilty about that. That pushing myself to do anymore will hinder my heath, not help it. Because I have a long ways to go. As always, let's keep doing this. 

DAYS 16-19

I promised myself I would, so I did. Today I finally weighed myself. And this is what happened:

19 days of blood, sweat, and tears, and I've officially lost 5.6 lbs! As I stood on the scale, trying not to hold my breath, waiting for the numbers to pop up, about a thousand things ran through my head. But nothing could have prepared me for the underwhelming - hmmm - that was my actual reaction. Not elation, not disappointment, simply satisfaction. Satisfaction in knowing that this journey is not a sprint, it's a goddamned marathon (two or three marathons, even!), and I'm just starting out. I am losing exactly how much I set out to (~ 2 lbs/week) and am on track to have a 10lb loss per month. And because of this, I need to start thinking about my rewards system. 

I knew the best person for this job would be my longest friend, Amber, so on Wednesday after my morning workout and haircut (supplementary photos are all on my Instagram Follow Me HERE!), I hopped on the train to NYC to meet her for dinner. Per my sister's instructions, we had decided on a healthy restaurant earlier in the week - a great place in Chelsea that specializes in vegetable plates called Westville. The portions were ginormous, and I was able to take home leftovers of roasted cauliflower, sautéed brussell sprouts, and shaved artichoke hearts, as well as most of my salmon and quinoa salad entree.

Breakfast (TL): Steel cut oats w/ 2 tbs natural peanut butter and 1/2 apple.
Lunch (TR): Grilled chicken and eggplant salad over mesclun w/ dijon vinaigrette.
Dinner: Blackened salmon w/ quinoa salad and roasted tomatoes. Market veggie plate.

 As we dined on this deliciousness, I asked Amber to help me out with coming up with some rewards for myself. She immediately started plotting. Knowing about my financial constraints (*shakes fist at hiatus/unemployment in the entertainment industry*), she tried to keep the rewards as cheap as possible, even coming up with a few free options. We agreed that the rewards shouldn't be weight dependent, so no food treats, not too many interim clothes, etc. We even tried to think of things that would be health promoting treats, an expensive exercise classes a la Soul Cycle, or a high end sports accessories from Athleta or lululemon. That night, even though I was exhausted from walking all over NYC, I continued brainstorming ideas. I never thought I was an incentive based worker, but it turns out I might be! My list is still in the works, but I can't wait to share it with all of you.

Thursday was supposed to be my rest day, I swear. I woke up, put on makeup, did my hair, and made a delicious brunch with my leftover veggies, quinoa salad, and added chicken sausage for some protein. I was planning on hanging out, writing up my blog entry and catching up on all the TV I'd missed since beginning my travels. But as soon as my mom asked if I'd want to go to the beach with one of our oldest family friends, I couldn't resist putting on my sneakers and abandoning all thoughts of resting. Though the walk was slow paced (my family friend hadn't seen me in two years and led about an hour long inquisition of my life -- she's not on FB, haha), it was still a good 3 mile loop. I felt proud of myself that I didn't feel resentful of being asked to exercise on my rest day. At no point during our walk did I even feel like I was exercising. I was simply catching up with an old friend.

Brunch (TR): 1 link chicken sausage over 1/4 cup quinoa salad, 1 cup roasted veggies.
Dinner (BR): Balsamic chicken over 1/4 cup cooked quinoa, zucchini, tomatoes, and mesclun.

The highlight of my week, however, was yesterday. After my morning workout (an intense leg day of a one mile treadmill warm up, weighted lunges, squats, deadlifts, leg extensions, leg curls, leg press, and finishing up with 100 weighted crunches), I showered and got ready to go back into NYC with my mom to meet up with her best friend since childhood (whom I call my "other mother"). I spoiled myself and used a bunch of my mom's fancy makeup (even getting her to give me a few of the items she'd impulse purchased and didn't end up liking after a few uses!), and sent this picture to my boyfriend. He called me immediately. "Your face looks so skinny, <insert nauseating pet name here>!" he said. I scoffed. How could this be? I'd only been gone a little over a week, maybe it was just the angle of the picture? I took another one from straight on and asked, "Really?" At this point, I hadn't yet weighed myself, so I kind of thought he was just being overly sweet and brushed it off. But as I scrolled through the week since I left LA, I could see he maybe wasn't being insincere. My cheeks and chin had started to subside. And I was feeling great about it. 

Invigorated and "feeling pretty" for the first time in...I don't even know how long, I walked through the city going picture crazy. I stopped and took photos of the flowers in bloom on Park Avenue, I made us pause at Intermix and take a picture on their couch. I smiled and laughed a lot. By the time the sun was starting to go down, I realized we'd walked about 60 blocks, just window shopping. Our feet were aching, and none of us had brought jackets with us, so we needed to find a restaurant for dinner. My other mother recommended a small Italian place by her apartment, and I was able to look at the menu and pick out about three healthy options before even sitting down. After my exercise intense day, I splurged on a glass of red wine with my dinner, and didn't even feel tempted to join in pre-meal bread eating. A first, for sure. 

I was the definition of happiness, even as we said goodbye and headed back to the car. Fully situated, I pulled up my health app, curious to see how many steps we'd actually taken around the city and was shocked to see that we'd almost cleared 13,000 steps, just over 6 miles (and that wasn't counting my mile on the treadmill earlier in the morning!). I was overwhelmed. I turned on the radio and attempted to sing along, but I was so damn happy that I kept getting choked up and being unable to continue. Though I am a crier (the HomeAway commercial with the dog getting left behind brings literal tears to my eyes), I couldn't remember the last time I'd been too emotionally overwhelmed to sing. I think my body is just so relieved I'm actually doing something to make so many positive changes that it sort of went into shock.

I'm grateful for my tears, though. They remind me to keep going. That this is the right path for me. That even though I'm just beginning, and I know there will be bad times and harder times ahead, I can enjoy pushing myself and coasting through this tidal wave of happiness right now. That I'm allowed to feel happy at any weight. As always, let's keep doing this.