A year ago today I weighed 162.2 lbs. I could barely run a half mile. I probably hadn't lifted any weights (unless big bags of cat littler count) for the past several years. I ate a crappy diet, felt tired all the time, had "grown out" of a lot of my clothes and could only comfortably fit in my sweats. I got tired after climbing a flight of stairs and had convinced myself many times that my "diet would start tomorrow".
So I picked a day. A day that wasn't special in any way so that I wouldn't anticipate it. I picked that day on that day so I would have no "last supper" syndrome. And I started. I started just because I knew I needed to.
Here's the scary thing though. As good and healthy as it may have been for me to do this, it ended up having some serious consequences. As I've mentioned before on the blog I've struggled with anorexia since I was a teenager. I've had bouts of severe restriction, followed by bouts of "giving up/not caring" and binging. The back and forth has been terrible for my body and my psyche. That's why losing weight is so dangerous for me. In talking to several doctors and psychiatrists I have learned that restriction of calories can ignite the "disordered eating" part of my brain. The part that says that perfection is just one not-eaten meal away, that to be worth it I need to be in control, that control comes only from doing something challenging -- like starving, and that I must be in control at all costs. It's hard to starve. It's hard to be hungry. My body hates it. My brain hates it. But something inside of me, some switch flips, and I feel compelled to do it. And this becomes more and more likely the less I eat. So dieting is very dangerous for me. I toe the line between trying to get to a healthy weight and trying to stay out of that dangerous mindset.
And it worked. But only for the first 3 months or so. Then something flipped. I saw myself getting faster in my running, feeling better in my clothes, looking better in the mirror. And I wanted more of that. So I cut down on calories a bit more. And I ran a little further and a little faster. I stopped taking days off. I stopped the once-in-a-while treat. Everything became black and white. Good foods. No bad foods. Lots of filling foods. No sweets. Always running. It became an obsession. To beat my previous day's numbers. To eat less and run more.
I finally reached a breaking point. I was eating too little and asking my body for too much. Fortunately for me, I had shortly before this, found the most amazing man I've ever met. He saw what I was doing with my body. He knew it was dangerous. But he took a slightly different approach to helping me. Instead of telling me it was "bad", that I was "doing it wrong" or that I "needed to eat more", he asked me to join him in the weight room. He got me started lifting weights. He started cooking for me. Of course I wouldn't let him cook what he would normally make, but slowly I started trying other foods and eating them. He showed me that in order to lift better I had to eat. That the numbers that were more fun to focus on, the ones that really meant I was strong and in control, were the numbers in the gym. And then he let me figure it out. That I had to eat more carbs and more calories. That I had to figure out pre and post lifting meals that would help me prep and recover properly. He also encouraged me to eat (gently but firmly) when I was having anxious moments about deciding whether to or not. And every day he assured (s) me that I'm beautiful and that my body is amazing. Disordered eating has a life and a mindset of its own, and although I've seen many doctors and psychiatrists concerning this, no one has gotten through to me like he has and no one has come close to helping me as much.
So here I am. Exactly one year later. I weigh 111.6 now. But more importantly, I squat 155, DL 145, and can almost do a pull up. I run because I love it, because my body now has the energy do to it, instead of merely using it as the most efficient way of burning calories. I haven't weighed myself in a week before today and am currently eating a bowl of ice cream without binging on it. I love the way my shoulders look, I have a visible six pack (in the mornings only :-) ), and I've stopped worrying (for the most part) if I can pinch "fat" on my waist.
It sounds like you have a very lucky boyfriend. Drive, intelligence, humor, and looks all in one pretty little package.
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