DAY 10

Health and travel are not usually synonymous. Especially not for me. For a few reasons, actually. First, I get frustrated with my packing and inevitably the sneakers and workout gear is the first to get left behind. Then there’s the travel itself. Airports and airplanes filled with junk food, fast food, and disgusting food. And then, when you arrive at your destination you’re tempted with new exciting restaurants, and the last thing in the world you want to do is make time to exercise! 

But today begins my three week trip to visit my family (first stop Chicago to visit my big sister and my new nephew, then off to CT to spend two weeks with my momma!), and I wanted to make sure that my travels weren’t going to compromise my fitness and health goals! Flying before has always been treacherous on my health. Mostly because I’m afraid to eat the bad food around me, but after hours of starving myself, I inevitably give in to something unhealthy on the plane or in the airport. But not today! In order to prepare for my trip, I loaded myself up with healthy foods for the plane - an apple, some almonds, and a prepared Trader Joe’s salad. Though I had anticipated getting up early to eat breakfast, I only had time for my cup of coffee before heading to the airport. I figured I would just eat my salad early, and it wouldn’t be a problem, but then I did some calculations - and if I ate my lunch as I got on the plane, it would be another seven or eight hours before my next meal was prepared for me! So, I did a search for the healthiest option available. Luckily, there was a newly installed Marmalade Cafe in the United Terminal (thanks for being so fancy, LAX!), and I was able to get an egg white scramble with mushrooms, spinach, and a slice of swiss cheese on top. I was surprised, though, when the plate came out with not just the scramble. There was a side of potatoes, and toast and butter. UGH. My greatest nemesis. White carbs. I’m not going to lie, I had about three pieces of potato after my scramble. But I knew that I’d regret going down that path if I had anymore, and I had already filled up on much better foods. So, the processed carbs got trashed. It was a small victory, but I documented it anyway!

Just before boarding my sister let me know that when I arrived in Chicago there would be a healthy dinner waiting for me at her apartment. So I just want to take a minute to express my thanks to my family. Yes, my friends have been extremely encouraging and helpful, but my family has been on another level. Their love and support has helped me from breaking down, and I look forward to being able to visit them without feeling awkward about asking to go to the gym or for healthy food substitutes. My mom told me to think of my trip to her as a spa vacation. Rest, relaxation, and focus on my health. And my sister has told me we’re going to walk the baby all around Chicago (3 mile walks every day!) as well as using her apartment gym. I come up from a family of disordered eating. As I mentioned before, my father reached just over 400 lbs at his highest weight, from an uncontrollable addiction to food and alcohol. My mother once told me she was anorexic for a time in her youth, and at 5’8” was only 120 lbs on her wedding day. My sisters have both experienced stress related anorexia, coping with being out of control by over-controlling with their daily intake. And obviously, I have swung between binging and starving. My sisters have received the help they needed and become extremely healthy individuals, and now it’s my turn. Though they’ve wanted to help me for many many years, I had to come to a point where I wanted to do it myself. And I’m incredibly grateful to them for not losing hope that I one day would come to that conclusion. 

An incredible support system is one of the most important parts of this journey, and I’m so glad I have one. So, bring it on Chicago! Let's do this. 

DAYS 7 & 8

This entry is brought you by the letters P. M. and S.

I once read an article that said most diets that start on a Monday are broken by the end of the week, and for some reason that's always stuck with me. I think the actual message of the article was that people who view their food intake as a "diet" are the ones who give up and fail, but I have always taken it literally (if you were wondering why I started my journey last Tuesday, that's why).

Yesterday, I was thoroughly enjoying my day off from working out (and heading over to one of my best friend's apartments to spend some time writing), when a sharp pain stabbed into my lower stomach. It subsided quickly and then struck again a few minutes later. Fuck, I thought. Was it time for my period already (or as I've started calling it thanks to a clever co-worker, my moon time)? In all my excitement about starting this new healthy life, I failed to remember that my period was on its way, which is kind of insane because as my close friends and family know, my period turns me into a sad baby overwhelmed by the crippling pain of stomach cramps and lower back pain. These symptoms have only gotten worse with my weight gain. According to my extensive internet research (trying to figure out at home remedies for cramping), I learned that my extra fat actually has an estrogenic effect on my glands. This excess estrogen creates a myriad of problems including emotional upheaval, irritability, sadness, and last but definitely not least...debilitating cramps. Sounds like fun, right?

So, as I circled looking for a spot, getting more and more annoyed, I turned the wheel in the opposite direction and made a bit of a detour to a corner market where I grabbed a bottle of wine and looked for something chocolate. I knew it wasn't the best decision, but I felt like I NEEDED it. How would I be productive if I was miserable, I reasoned with myself. The options were limited, so I grabbed a bag of Milanos and a bottle of red wine and continued on my way.

Upon arriving, I inhaled the bag of cookies. Only sparing two for my friend, because I knew otherwise I would eat the whole thing. 14 cookies and two glasses of wine later, I was still unsatisfied. The wine had relaxed my muscles enough that the cramps no longer felt like a demon baby was trying to claw its way out of my uterus, but the cookies had only satiated my emotional hunger, not my desire for real food. I input the cookies into my nutrition tracker and gasped. I had consumed almost a thousand calories worth of empty food, making me almost 500 calories over my approximate limit for the day. And I hadn't even had dinner yet! I felt guilty. How could I have done that to myself? I continued sipping on my wine, hoping I'd be able to do without dinner, but as the evening continued and the hours passed, I knew I needed dinner.  Luckily, I remembered I'd left some Trader Joe's ravioli in my friend's freezer a few weeks ago! Not the best choice, but better than ordering takeout. Unfortunately, she'd eaten the ravioli, and I finally gave in. I needed to order food. The only restaurant open was a Thai place down the block, so I ordered my favorite curry and a side of rice. I ate all the rice with half the container of curry in record time (yet again), and immediately regretted it. I felt completely bloated, filled way too far, and immediately the guilty and berating thoughts appeared. "You're such an idiot," I thought. "This is why you're so fat. You'll never succeed at this rate. You're such a disappointment."

I couldn't sit there anymore stewing in my shame and discomfort (plus, by this time it was about 1 am), so I took off. As I was outside and walking to my car, a gross thought entered my head - "You could make yourself puke," I thought. "No one's around. No one would ever know. You don't have to feel this full." I'm not going to lie, this wasn't the first time those thoughts had appeared. And I'm loathe to admit that I've done it a handful of times, just wanting to forget about the food I'd gorged on earlier. But I stopped myself this time. Yes, I had eaten too much. Yes, I didn't feel well. Yes, I'd made bad decisions. But making myself throw up was not going to help, and it most definitely wasn't the way to a happier and healthier life. I had to acknowledge that and accept that. Berating myself wasn't going to change the fact that I'd eaten too much. And it certainly wasn't going to make me feel better. In fact, if anyone actually talked to me the way I talk to myself, I would have cut them out of my life a LONG time ago.

So today, as I wallowed with my heating pad in day two of my heinous cramps, I realized the first thing I really need to do this week. I need to say goodbye to that terrible voice in my head that tells me I'm worthless. That voice sucks. She's mean and a bully. She's toxic, like that terrible girl from high school you always wanted to impress but knew she'd never give you the time of day. I think by working on getting rid of her, it will free my head to think in a more positive direction without fear of being reprimanded for failing. Because the truth is, I'm going to fail. There are going to be shitty days, days where I can't get out of bed, days where I will fall down and miss the mark. But that's okay. In a week of successful eating and working out, one bad day (even if it's really really bad) isn't the end of the world. And it certainly doesn't warrant me treating myself poorly. I need to stand up to that voice and tell her to fuck off. So, that's what I'm going to do. Today is a new day, and I've lived through it successfully.

On a separate note, does anyone have any suggestions for making it through your period cravings in a healthy way? Are there any tricks of the trade? Next month I want to be as prepared as I can be. Because, as always, I'm going to keep doing this.

DAY 6: Food Log

DAY 4

I once told my big sister that I wasn’t sure if I was a morning person or night person. I certainly wasn’t an early bird, but I couldn’t classify myself as a night owl either (this was many many moons before my insomnia kicked in). She replied, “Charlotte, you’re a sleep person.” And it’s true. I’ve always been big into sleeping. I was definitely one of those kids who always slept through the night, and when I got to college, I made sure none of my classes started before 11AM, to ensure that I’d actually go to them. 

However, with my weight gain, my fatigue has become out of control. I’m exhausted more often than not. Waking up each morning is a huge debacle, and during the work day I tend to crash mid-afternoon. There was one weekend where I felt so sick that I slept for nearly three days straight - 63 hours in slumber. That’s only 9 hours awake in three days (for those of you bad at math, like myself). I scrounged WebMD after that, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Cancer? Heart disease? Liver failure? And then I stumbled upon it…obesity. This was the reason for my endless need to sleep. But despite my desire to fix it, exercise was the last thing I wanted to do when I was feeling tired.

After dropping my boyfriend’s mother off at the airport on Friday afternoon, I promised myself that I’d go for a hike. I’d already taken two days off for my road trip, so I knew I needed to get back into it ASAP. But as soon as I stretched out on the couch, I didn’t think I could get back up again. I explained my discomfort to my mother, and to my shock, she was completely unsurprised. “Well, you have 100 pound to lose, Charlotte,” she said (as if I were unaware, haha). “Can you even lift 100 pounds?” (Nope.) “I’m not surprised you’re exhausted from carrying around that much weight every day for months.” And then as she left me speechless, she turned into the worrying Jewish mother she is and asked how my knees were doing (which reminds me, I thoroughly regret mentioning my knee pain in my original blog post - I swear they’re fine, mom). But to be fair, her point is completely valid. I have a hard time lifting the 45 lb bar in the squat rack, and that’s less than half the amount I’ve put on my form. 

I’m not going to lie. I probably should have gone hiking. I had made a plan, a promise to myself, and then I broke it. That’s something I’m going to try my very hardest not to do in the future. When I make a plan to work out, it’s just like any other date and I shouldn’t cancel. I know I might not always be able to follow through, but that's a challenge I'm posing to myself. I've decided to make a calendar with specific workout days, and those appointments are unbreakable. We'll see how that goes.

As always, 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?