DAYS 54-62

I have written and rewritten this post so many times over the past week, but seeing as it's now over a week from my last post, I decided it was time to do it. I have a bad habit of shutting down and avoiding problems when I don't want to deal with them. You'd think I'd have learned to be better about it by now, but I'm not. When I started this, I promised full transparency regarding my eating and exercise habits, but I didn't anticipate that it would also force me to be honest with my emotions. But today marks 2 months on this journey, and I knew I had to write something. Anything. So, here it is.

After coming home from an amazing trip in San Fransisco (two days of which I didn't even write about but will summarize by saying I wish I could go back immediately), I was forced to deal with a major life change: the end of my year and a half long relationship with my live in boyfriend. I'm not going to discuss the why or the how because that's not really relevant to anything, and as much as I'd love to air my feelings out through my writing, that's not particularly fair to the other party involved. But what I will admit is how hard it's been.

Our fitness schedules had been synched up, and to realize that it might not be the best idea to continue going to the gym together gave me an excuse not to stick to my exercise plan. On Monday I did a medium intensity cardio session on the stationary bike in my apartment complex gym (aka, three machines in the basement). On Tuesday it rained and I gave myself the day off. Wednesday I forced myself to do the hike I'd originally planned for the day before, and after being bed bound with food poisoning on Thursday, I allowed myself to take the rest of the week off.

Deep inside, I knew my excuses weren't super valid. On Tuesday instead of my hike I could have easily gone to the gym instead. And instead of hanging out at home like a lump on a log or trying to distract myself, I could have put my frustration and energy into my work outs. But I didn't. Instead, I hid. This was also made more difficult by a slight change in my work schedule. While I was in San Fransisco, the woman I was working for underwent some medical emergency and told me she needed to hire an RN for full time care, only to come back four days later and ask if I could work full time again. I had resigned myself to the fact that it was a sign, and maybe I was meant to focus on my health this summer right before she asked for me back, and it felt a bit like whiplash. With my emotions already all over the place, I wished for consistency, so I said yes to full time again. But now I'm having my original doubts all over again. Will I have enough time to exercise? What about food prep?

I will say that I have remained on my food plan this week. With one notable exception. I was actually pretty proud of myself. I stayed within my calorie count, I didn't overindulge in sad breakup food. The most I did was to order Thai food on Wednesday night (not even an unhealthy curry or noodle dish...), and of course was struck down by food poisoning for all of Thursday.

On Friday I finally forced myself to get out of the apartment. After four days of sitting at home and sulking, I was ready to see the light of day. But as soon as I was out, I found myself plagued by anxiety. Then the though of returning home doubled that anxiety. The truth is, my motivation has had to take a backseat to some bigger things this week. It's been rough. I haven't weighed myself, I haven't come up with a new exercise plan. Nothing. I should have been so excited this week, coming up on the second month of this journey, but I had other things on my mind. Things like finding a new apartment, looking for a roommate, finding alternative ways to make money, and figuring out how to share my living space with my ex until we can find other places to stay. Big things.

I know it sounded like I've fallen off the train, but I haven't. I swear I haven't fallen off of the train. I'm merely waiting at the platform, hoping to catch the next one (terrible metaphor but I'm running low on brain capacity). Because my health is so important to me, and I don't want this journey to take a back seat. It can't. I just have to figure out how to make the brain space for all of it. And I know 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 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. 

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 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 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 5

I woke up determined to make today a better day, and I’m proud to say that I did. After a long successful day of watching more episodes of Daredevil on Netflix, meeting a friend for lunch, and wrangling three dogs (during hiatus my apartment has turned into a puppy hotel), I finally got ready for my hike at Runyon Canyon. 

Though my dog, Rory, used to be able to do this hike with me, with my weight gain I’ve noticed she’s progressively gotten lazier. She now huffs and puffs up Runyon and refuses to walk without tummy rub breaks after every hill. Since I was feeling more determined than every to nail my hike, I decided to bring Milly with me, one of the spryer dogs in our care. Geared with my heart rate monitor, water bottle, and cellphone, and Milly with her harness and leash, I felt ready to conquer my hike.

I should admit that Runyon is considered an extremely easy hike by most in LA. In fact, the place is crowded on Saturday and Sunday mornings with hungover hipsters who are looking more to socialize than exercise. However, I’m able to add an extra two miles to this hike by walking from my apartment. Five miles, door to door. My boyfriend and I joke that this means there’s a hike to get to the hike, and I nearly killed my mom making her walk with me last year. But Milly was jazzed, and I was jazzed, and we were going to do this.

It started off okay. The hike to the hike was broken up by crosswalks and Milly’s multiple potty breaks, as well as a few seconds to pause and take pictures of the motivational art that leads the sidewalks up to Runyon. 

But once we passed through the gates of the park, I realized how incredibly out of breath I was already. I wiped my brow, which was dripping with sweat, and I cringed as I watched the picture perfect girls walk by me as I paused with Milly on some grass, pretending like she needed to pee again (but really just in desperate need of a breather). I contemplated turning around. This was so much harder than I remembered. I used to be able to do this walk with no breaks, but here I was, not even at the start of the hike and I’d already felt the need to sit down.

I resisted, though, and instead turned my iTunes radio to the 90s Pop station, put my ear buds in, and continued trekking. Fueled by the synth beats of NSYNC, Savage Garden, Ace of Base, etc…I began my climb. The first thing I needed to accept during my hike was that it was okay to take breaks. As I looked down at my heart rate monitor and looked at the number rise from the 170s to the 180s to the 190s to finally crossing 200, I resigned myself to the fact that resting was necessary. I couldn’t let my heart beat that fast for too long, not if I didn’t want to go past my maximum heart rate (I’m not sure what danger there is in going past that besides working my heart too hard, but I figured I should be cautious regardless). But it was actually okay. Resting for a minute gave me an opportunity to really appreciate my surroundings, let Milly say hi to a passing dog, and center myself. 

Though the hike was long and hard (while I used to be able to make the hike in 40 minutes, it took me nearly an hour to get to the top). But the view was entirely worth it. Because of my slow pace, I had unintentionally arrived at the top about ten minutes before sun set. I sat on a rock and drank the rest of my water bottle and smiled. For the first time in a very long time, I took a picture of myself smiling. It was a good feeling. Drenched in sweat and hugging a dog who I’d have to return to her owners in another day, I let my grin take over. There’s something really amazing about working up a sweat outside. Something innately freeing and calming. Maybe that’s just me, but when the view is this beautiful, it feels like an amazing reward for my hard work.

Milly and I took the steep way down in an effort to keep my heart rate up and get home faster (since the sun was setting and the sweat soaking through my clothes and skin was starting to make me a bit chilly). This was the result. And I’m proud. 

Three work outs done this week. One more to go. And I think I’m going to kick butt at that one, too. For more updates and pictures, I'm always posting to instagram and Twitter as charincharge. I have loved every interaction I've had with you guys and I can't believe the amount of support I've received. As always, let’s keep doing this. 

DAY 2 & 3: SANTA CRUZ

Of course one day after starting my new health mission, I went on a road trip up to Santa Cruz with my little sister. A six hour road trip, to be exact. Six whole hours of sitting on my butt and thinking about all the exercise I was not doing. But I reminded myself, my first mission in this journey was trying to eat better and having a healthier relationship with food, and I shouldn’t panic, when I have time to exercise two times again after returning back to LA. 

So, to prepare for our trip, I bought two prepared Trader Joe’s salads (one for lunch on the ride up, one for the way back down), an apple, a banana, and a bunch of raw almonds for snacking purposes. I felt ready. And to be fair, the trip up was pretty successful. I had no desire to eat crappy food and no berating thoughts. But as soon as we arrived in Santa Cruz, I was tested for the first time. 

Dinner! I had forgotten about dinner. We needed to pick a place in town to go out, and I was feeling nervous. My head reeled with a roller coaster of thoughts. Should I go somewhere I wouldn’t be tempted to eat unhealthy food? Was I allowed to treat myself? I was on vacation, after all. Those calories didn’t count, right? Or should we go somewhere with terrible food where I’d eat very little and not have to worry about temptation. What about counting calories? How could I track my macros out at a restaurant?!

It took S (the little sis) and I about…an hour and a half…of walking around Santa Cruz to finally concede to going to the most popular place in town—a quaint Italian bistro by the water with only 12 tables and a small but specific menu. I hadn’t anticipated eating out so soon, for some reason. I thought I’d be able to control my intake and feel confident in my food choices for at least the first week. But here I was, day 2, and feeling frayed already. 

The restaurant put out a plate of bread, olive oil, garlic, and balsamic vinegar. S reached for the bread immediately, and I sighed internally. I warred with myself. Could I have a piece of bread? What about the oil? Bread without oil? But ultimately, I denied myself, convincing myself I had to save my calories for a delicious dinner. As I looked over the carb and fat heavy Italian menu, I grimaced again. Could I just ask for a piece of grilled chicken with steamed vegetables? But as S commented that the truffle gnocchi in a tomato cream sauce looked like what she was going to get, I reassessed. What could I eat that was high in protein and veggies but I would still WANT to eat. That I wouldn’t beg her for a taste of pasta and then feel extensive guilt after? I ultimately decided on a NYC strip steak with mushrooms and spinach in a garlic white wine sauce. I contemplated asking for it without the sauce, wondering how much butter or oil they used in the cooking process, but decided against it. I would enjoy my steak just as much as S enjoyed her truffle pasta. (steak pictured below)

And I did. I’m not going to lie. It was delicious. I even allowed my self a glass of rose wine with it (followed by club soda with lemon). But I couldn’t help but feel guilty that night as I plugged my food into my calculator. I hadn’t gone over my allotted calories for the day, but my fat content was too high, and my macros were all off. I was up for the better part of the night wrestling with my decision to eat that one freaking steak. And that sucked.

Today has been better. I had a latte for breakfast (thanks, S for bringing it to me in bed!) and picked some Meyer lemons off the tree our hosts had in their front yard. Excited and ready to continue, I had my second salad in the car as we headed back to LA. Though I still felt a twinge of jealousy as we stopped at Subway for S to get a sandwich (I swear, I could smell the mayo with such clarity I was impressed with myself), I was able to remind myself that I was satisfied with my food intake. My Trader Joe’s salad was just as delicious with its ripe currants, pesto vinaigrettte and light smattering of asiago cheese! Halfway back, we stopped in Solvang, which I thought would present itself with a whole barrage of emotional complications - the abundance pastries, chocolates, and sausages around every corner - but I was able to feel completely fine treating myself with a microbrew Danish red ale and heading back onto the road. It was so enjoyable, drinking peaceful in the company of my sister, the beautiful scenery, and the incredible weather, it didn’t even phase me that nearly everyone around me was consuming something I “wasn’t allowed” to have anymore. 

As I sit in the passenger seat thinking about the past two days, I realize I have much more to deal with than I initially prepared myself for. My mind is a bit of a muddled place when it comes to my health, and I am still figuring out how to work things through one step at a time. This journey is just beginning, and I guess I somehow thought that putting myself out there would magically change the way I see myself. Sadly, it hasn’t. I still look in the mirror and see that stranger looking back at me, but I have been overwhelmed by the amount of support I’ve received from all of you. Truly, I feel so incredibly blessed to have such a support system at my ready that I didn’t even know existed. The messages and encouragement have humbled me and ignited me in my pursuits. I have nothing but extreme thanks for everyone who has gotten in touch with me and provided me with positivity as I embark on this challenging path. I am more grateful than I can ever really express. 

One day at a time, though, right? 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?