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 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!

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. 

DAY 15

I've never really held much stock in the phrase, "There's no place like home." Unlike Dorothy, my friends and family left the small town where we grew up almost as soon as they could. With my sisters in LA and Chicago respectively, and my best friends spread across the nation, I'd never really seen the point in coming back to Connecticut. Though my mom remained, it wasn't like she still lived in my childhood home (neither the first, nor the second), and I'd much rather spend time with her in LA where we had better weather and much more to do.

But after my mom visited LA in March, she begged me to come home. Really, truly begged.
"It'll be like a spa vacation," she said. "You can relax and go to they gym and work on your writing!" Since I was on hiatus, waiting to hear if the show I worked on was going to return for another season (it did, btw--yay Faking It Season 3!), I figured...why not? I knew she was anxious to keep an eye on me; I'd never seen her as worried about me as when she was leaving LA this time (and that's saying something because I'm ashamed to admit I've put that woman through a LOT to be worried about). And as the weeks passed, I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd spent any time alone with her. Because of my crazy television work schedule, all our time together had been as a family, and I lacked any one on one time with her. I was excited. And I was not let down.

My mother is not a cook (she was quoted saying she prefers cleaning dishes to cooking tonight), but using the meal plan V and I had come up with a few days before, my first day home turned into a magical delicious feast.

Breakfast (top left): 1/2 cup of steel cut oats cooked in 1 cup of skim milk. 1/2 of a chopped granny smith apple, and 1/8 cup of walnut halves.

Lunch (bottom left): 4 oz. chicken breast, 2 tbs. 0% greek yogurt, a dollop of fresh pico de gallo, on top of 1 cup chopped romaine.

Dinner: 6 oz. filet mignon, with mixed veggies (1 cup of sliced mushrooms, 1/4 cup of red bell peppers, 1/2 cup of green beans) cooked in 1 tbs of olive oil and 2 tbs soy sauce, on top of 1/2 cup brown rice.

I was seriously astounded at how delicious my meals were. Not only that, but since they'd been planned before time, they required about zero thought. And my total intake was only 1390 calories, even before my exercise. The spa vacation sentiment was pretty true. Plus, it felt amazing to be taken care of by my mom. That sounds pretty silly coming from a 27 year old adult, but there's something so intensely gratifying about it. My mom is the first to support my goals and my journey, and a large part of this has been influenced by her, but being with her was suddenly incredibly low pressure. I felt like we could just enjoy being together.

This morning we accomplished my first and most important mission. New sneakers. My brother in law promised I'd tell my mom I needed new sneakers after the bloody foot incident of this past Sunday, so that's where our day began. And it was quite an experience. For the past three days, I've done extensive research on which gym shoes are best for overweight women. Which shoes have the most shock absorption to decrease pressure on joints. Which shoes have the most stability. Which shoes come in fun colors (I'm sorry, but that's important to me!). The most valuable piece of information I learned in my research was to go to a running store and have someone evaluate my gait. It sounded silly to me, but I figured why not? So, I went to the closest running store and took my chances. Let me just say, if anyone ever needs any new sneakers, I cannot recommend this experience more. Not only did the salespeople know everything there is to know about different sneakers, but she first had me stand on a computer scale, which projected an image onto a screen to show me where most of my weight was distributed (my heels), the length and width of both my feet (9M forever despite my weight gain), and if I needed extra arch support (nope, my arches are high as hell). Because of my weight, she picked a few sneaker options that were high in stability and cushioned soles, and I went to town. After finding a pair that felt like I was floating on a cloud or walking on a pillow, she put me on a treadmill to run for 15 seconds. My feet were filmed, and when I got off, she played the video back in slow motion, just to check and make sure my alignment in the sneakers were good (toe lining up with ankle, heel, and knee). They did! And this was the glorious result.

Anxious to try them out, I convinced my mom to do the 3 mile loop around Tod's Point Beach with me. I put on my heart rate monitor, my new shoes, and grabbed my water bottle, ready to enjoy some quiet time with my mom. The view wasn't too shabby either. Plus, I managed to burn 500 calories.

 On our way home, I asked my mom to show me where her gym was. She knew she was going to have to go into work tomorrow, so I wanted to be prepared for my workout without her there to push me. Turns out I probably won't need a push. As soon as we stopped in the gym, I was taken aback by my urge to really break a sweat. My three mile walk had felt more like a warm up than true exercise, and I decided to do a quick weight training session while my mom went upstairs to start on dinner. I grabbed a pair of 15 lb weights and went to town. 4x12 sets of squats to shoulder press, straight leg deadlifts, lateral raises, lateral dips, lateral pull downs, bicep curls--and finishing things off with 100 crunches holding the 10 lb plate above my head. My quick session raised my total calories burned to nearly 1k calories. Far more than I'd originally anticipated.

And though I'm sitting in bed now, soreness starting to creep into my muscles, I feel incredibly accomplished. At no point did I feel like I was being forced into eating something healthy or working out. After two weeks, it's simply part of my routine--something I HAVE to do, just as important as sleeping or showering or watching all my shows!

Something I haven't done yet, however, is weigh myself. It's something I'm still a little scared to do. What if the numbers haven't changed at all? What if they've changed too little? What if I've gained weight (I know that's implausible but my brain works in crazy ways). One of my promises to myself is that I will weigh myself this week. By Sunday, I will have a weigh day, and that will be my new weekly weigh day for this journey. I decided that with each 10 lbs I lose, I'm going to treat myself with something (non-food related, of course). For my final goal, I want to take a weekend trip away somewhere. Santa Barbara or Palm Springs or Vegas? But with my current bank account's state, I need the treats leading up to that final prize to be somewhat economical. If anyone has any suggestions, I need 9 more treats/presents to myself to fill in! Because, as always, I'm going to keep doing this.

DAY 9

Yesterday I had a conversation with a reader of my blog that upset me greatly. I contemplated not writing about it, not wanting to single them out or make them feel uncomfortable, but I decided that it made ME so uncomfortable that I had to talk about it. It went a little something like this.

Reader: Your last blog post really upset me. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it upset me.

Me: I’m sorry (thinking my binging/purging discussion and clearly disordered eating might be triggering). Maybe you shouldn’t read it anymore?

Reader: I just think you need to be tougher on yourself. The way you told yourself to be nicer and to stop listening to that voice…I think you need to be tougher.

Me: (internally: What?) Uhh…I don’t think I should be listening to that voice. It’s incredibly mean. And it makes me want to hurt myself in an unhealthy way.

Reader: There’s a fine line between being mean and being tough. 

Me: Okay, well…I’m heading to a new hike now, so…

Reader: You should be careful about doing so much strenuous exercise too. Doesn’t it make you hungrier?

Me: Yes. 

Reader: There’s no need to work out that much.

Me: I just don’t think working out four times a week for an hour is that strenuous. It’s pretty average. 

Reader: Okay.

Me: Okay.

Here’s the thing, though. Thinking back on this, I KNOW that this person did not mean to upset me. They meant to be encouraging of my journey and were upset about my very bad day. They were worried. They’re seeing everything from my eyes from the first time, and that can be disturbing. I know; I’m living it. But just as they said there’s a fine line between being mean and being tough…there’s also a fine line between being encouraging and shaming. And I left this conversation feeling humiliated and shamed. Should I stop writing everything that wasn’t the perfect picture of health? Should I be ashamed of my mistakes on my journey? It seemed like they thought I should. 

Luckily, I was meeting a friend for a new (more difficult) hike in Malibu - Temescal Canyon, so I was able to put all my frustration towards my workout. With each ascending step, I pushed through, wanting to be “tougher” on myself. But I couldn’t help but keep coming back to that conversation. I knew I had had a bad day, but how was I not being tough on myself? Just because I’d told my abusive inner voice to shut the fuck up, didn’t mean I wasn’t tough on myself. In fact, it meant the opposite. In a week of seven days, I had worked out the four times I’d promised I would. I had made healthy food choices, swapping my carb heavy meals for ones focused on lean proteins and veggies. I’d made a decision to have at least one cup of vegetables with lunch and dinner and stuck to it. Prior to this renewed effort in health, I would have seen that day as a failure and kept failing. Fail once, may as well give into that voice that tells me I’m just meant to be fat and ugly and keep on my destructive ways. But I didn’t. I went to bed and woke up the next day, and started again. I ate my veggies and chicken, I went for a long walk around the block, and I made a plan to try an even more difficult hike in Malibu with one of my friends. I didn’t give up.

Two miles and an hour and a half of sweating later, we made it to the top of Temescal Ridge (check out this view). 

The endorphins rushed through me as I took in the wide seascape in front of me. We had climbed incredibly high (I should look up the altitude just to see exactly how high, but I haven’t yet). I could see from the middle of the Pacific Ocean all the way to downtown and back. I should have been proud of myself, but I wasn’t. I should have smiled, but I didn’t. Instead, after snapping a few foggy pictures, I headed back down to the car. Even the amazingly large number of calories burner on my heart rate monitor didn’t make me feel better (though today I feel WAY better about it — look how impressive I am, hah!. 

All my doubts rushed back into my head as I drove home. Did my reader think I was a complete failure too? I struggled with that thought, letting it swish around my brain as I made my post-hike brunch (3 egg whites, 3 links of jalapeño chicken sausage, and 2 cups of chopped spinach). It was large and satisfying, but as I continued with my day, I felt it sit there in my stomach. Was my exercise making me eat too much? Was there something wrong with being hungry? My disordered brain went into overdrive, and the mean voice returned in full force. FAILURE, it shouted. WHY DID YOU JUST EAT ALL THAT? it lamented (despite the fact that I’d burned my entire daily intake’s worth of calories merely hours before and wasn’t even close to reaching it). NO MORE FOOD TODAY FOR YOU, FATTY. EATING IS BAD. 

After my shower I crawled into bed under the guise of packing for my trip the next day and cuddled with my puppy. I spiraled and spaced out, not even bothering to turn on the TV. My boyfriend immediately knew something was wrong. But instead of calling me out on it and making me clam up even more (I can’t even count the amount of times he’s heard “I’m fine” when I’m clearly not fine), he gave me a kiss and said, “We’re doing something fun tonight. It’s your last night here for almost three weeks, and I want to have fun with my girlfriend. What do you want to do?” I said I didn’t know about five times before he suggested a local happy hour. I told him I didn’t want to eat gross bar food. It was too unhealthy. We were broke anyway. We could just hang out at home. But he insisted. We wouldn’t have to eat if I didn’t want to. He had salmon filets defrosting for when we got back. He just wanted a beer or two and to spend some time with me. I knew his ulterior motive - he was worried and wanted to get me out of bed, so I appeased him. And I’m glad I did. 

Getting out with him enabled me to take a step back and look at the conversation objectively. Eating is not bad. In fact, I need to eat in order to live. It’s fuel that enables my body to function properly. Last time I lost a significant amount of weight (right after college graduation), I stopped eating. My weekly grocery list consisted of box of ricearoni and two bags of mushrooms. I consumed only 500 calories a day (the recommended intake for a sedentary female is 1800). When I was hungry — which stopped happening after a while, I’d drink a big cup of tea. The weight fell off me. I received praise for my new body and was applauded for my hard work (I told people I was eating better). Little did they know my hair was breaking off, I couldn’t sleep for more than three hours at a time, and I began lying to everyone. No one questioned me because they were just so PROUD of me for looking good. Sadly, this has become my default setting. But I am trying to learn otherwise.

At happy hour I had a beer and we split a plate of chicken tacos - a corn tortilla with grilled chicken topped with pickled onions, cabbage, avocado, and hot sauce (thank you LA for having a Mexican restaurant with healthy options). He told me I looked beautiful and he was going to miss me, and I finally came out of my spiral. The thing is, I know I’m going to continue worrying people. They’re not going to agree with my choices, and my journey isn’t going to be a smooth journey. But I’m not going to hide what’s happening. This complete transparency thing has been the most freeing aspect of my journey so far. In the health and fitness community there’s a motivational phrase - fall down seven times, get back up eight. And that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t take back my failures, and despite my best efforts, there will be more. But I refuse to be ashamed of them. Because I’m strong, and I will get back up again. Shame is not welcome here. 

As always, thank you to those who have been supportive and engaged in conversations with me. Despite this epic ranty-mcrant, I really do appreciate it. Your worry and compassion shows me a love and community I didn’t know I had. So, let’s keep doing this. 

DAY 6

There are many days where I wonder if being in LA contributes to my skewed body image. Today was one of those days. 

After being a productive adult (four loads of laundry, dishes, dogs walked, meals prepped), I met up with one of my best friends to tackle Runyon yet again. Though I wasn't anticipating it being a breeze all of a sudden, I secretly wished it would be. The last time I hiked with her I was in far better shape. Plus, she's an aspiring pro golfer, who could probably run Runyon up and down twice before I slow trekked my way to the top. Regardless of my trepidation, I was grateful for the company. Especially because it allowed me to take not just one but two puppy friends for the hike. 

The hike itself wasn't as bad as yesterday. I certainly wasn't sprinting uphill, but I took fewer breaks (though it took all my courage to ask her to pause for the first one). It was really our conversation that got my wheels spinning. She told me she wasn't really isn't LA right now and asked if I'd ever consider moving away. And I wasn't really sure how to answer. I used to be 100% certain that I'd move back to New York, that I'd NEVER want to be an LA person. But that changed many years ago when it became clear to me it was a necessity to stay in LA if I wanted to write for television. I'd have to pull a Lena Dunham and sell a hit show to a major network who wouldn't mind me setting up shop in NYC for me to ever realistically consider returning. But her question gave me pause regardless. 

Had my body image suffered because of regularly working with actors and actresses? Did I internally compare myself to the fashion forward models in my neighborhood who looked gorgeous first thing in the morning as they walked their dogs? And would that change in another city?

I recently received a message from a girl I went to college with but didn't know very well, who expressed similar self esteem and body dysmorphia issues to the ones I'd experienced. She moved away from LA, reached her lowest weight and still was unhappy with her body. 

And as I hiked today, taking in the wide array of fit bodies along the trail, I acknowledged that it doesn't matter where you live or who you're surrounded by. You will always compare yourself to others unfavorably if you don't know how to be happy in the body you have. I'm working on that, slowly but surely (even if my face doesn't look super happy, it's still a proud one!)

Let's keep doing this!

DAY 1.

I can’t remember a time where I’ve ever been proud of my body. I realized this the other week when my mom came to visit and expressed her concern for my current weight. “Remember when you were dancing in high school? You had so much more respect for your body then. You looked so great, and you were so happy!” And while she said it with such pride and reverence, but I remember those times somewhat differently. I remember crying myself to sleep after realizing that one of my dance costumes was a crop top and jazz pants. And being too ashamed of my 16 year old body to show it on stage that winter. So, I made a change. I cut out all carbs (complex or otherwise), and forced myself to eat only lean proteins and veggies. I lost about 20 lbs before my dance show. Finally attaining the body I’d always wanted. I’m sure some of you are saying, “Wow! That’s great! What discipline!” But the truth is, I was miserable. Even when I reached my lowest weight, I insisted on wearing a nude colored leotard under my crop top because I was uncomfortable with the curve to my stomach. Before our first show, one of our choreographers made us sugar cookies in the shape of dance shoes to celebrate our hard work. I watched on as all the other girls ate their cookies happily. But a wave of fear and guilt overtook me. How could those girls eat this cookie with such little thought? It scared me. If I had a bite, would I lose all my hard work? Would I seem undisciplined? It took me about fifteen minutes to give in to taking one minuscule bite, and then I gave the rest away to a friend, completely miserable and ashamed.

This unhealthy relationship with food has continued for the last 11 years. The last two of which have resulted in an 100 lb weight gain. Yes. 100 lbs. I went from my lowest weight to my very highest - the last 50 of which have been put on in the past 6 months. When I gained the first half, I attributed it to being depressed. I was single, frustrated with my job, and had just passed the five year anniversary of being raped. I felt hopeless, and I turned to food as a coping mechanism. I remember the day I looked at the scale and realized I’d passed 200 lbs. I cried. None of my clothes fit anymore. It was torture to get dressed for the day, and I hated looking at my body. My incredible little sister managed to take me to Lane Bryant and help me buy a wardrobe that would fit my new figure. “It’s temporary,” she said, “But you still have to look good while you’re losing weight.” I tried on jeans for the first time in a year, and she burst into tears. “You…just…look…so…good,” she squeaked out between tears. I nearly started crying, too. How could I have let myself get to place where putting on jeans over leggings made my baby sister cry? I vowed to myself to keep making positive changes. I wore my jeans to work, and kept working out. I used my tax refund to pay for a personal trainer, and I was finally on my way to getting below 200 lbs.

So, what happened? How did I go from making that turn, realizing I was on the path to destruction, making positive changes, to ending up where I am now? The truth is, I gave up. Unable to maintain my training sessions after my tax money was used up, I tried to rely on myself to continue forward, but I didn’t. I “cheated” on one meal, and then continued cheating. I drank too much. I ordered too much take out. One bad week turned into one bad month, and so on and so on. I convinced myself it was unhealthy to feel guilty for eating the things I wanted to be eating, and suddenly every day became a “treat yo’self” day. My life had turned into a diet I was constantly breaking, and I had no motivation to change it.

But that really changed after the new year. I stepped on the scale for the first time in 6 months and realized I was 50 lbs heavier. I knew my plus size clothing had gotten a bit more snug, that getting dressed in the morning was a challenge once again, but I never imagined another 50 lb gain. I took notice of new stretch marks on my stomach and up my back. I didn’t recognize myself. I felt like Monica in the FRIENDS flashbacks where she wears the fat suit. Only, I couldn’t take mine off. It was a part of me. In the past three months I have a cried a LOT. I’ve tried to start my fitness routine multiple times, only to ruin it with junk food. My physical limitations are vast. My knees hurt all the time. I can barely walk up the stairs to my apartment without breaking a sweat. The movie theater seats don’t fit my hips anymore. Even sitting down for a prolonged amount of time is uncomfortable - my weight has made it hard for me to breathe deeply unless I’m lying down. My father was 400 lbs at his heaviest weight. I remember being so embarrassed of him, not wanting him to come to my shows because I was afraid he was going to break the seats in our school theater. And I can’t help but feel like I’m approaching that for myself. Below is a picture of my back as of yesterday. I asked my boyfriend to take a picture of my back because I didn't think I could handle seeing myself from the front. His reply? "I don't think you're going to like the back either." And it's true I hate it. I truly do. 

And I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to be ashamed of my body. I don’t want to flake out on my friends because I don’t have anything in my closet to wear. I don’t want to make my little sister cry because she’s worried about my weight ever again. So, today starts a new journey. I’m sure it will have its ups and downs, but I’m putting myself out there. Making my journey entirely transparent so the whole world (or whoever might stumble upon this blog) will be able to hold my accountable. 

I’m going to be posting my food intake, macro breakdowns, my exercise summaries, as well as progress photos here. It’s not going to be pretty. I know I will feel like giving up at times, but I’m finally doing this for myself. I am first going to work on my relationship with food. I can’t feel guilty about the things I eat anymore, but I also want to be healthy. That’s why, I have no goal weight. All I want to do is work on being happy and healthy. Feel free to comment and leave encouragement and positivity. I know I will be needing all the support I can get in the coming months. Let's do this, okay?