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 30 & 31

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

A whole month.

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

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

This is me, ten pounds lighter than last month.

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

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

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

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

Let's keep doing this.

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 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.