This past Monday (August 5) my blog turned one year old. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year, but when I look back and think about it, so much has happened. I started this blog with the intent to document my journey through weight loss. At some point, I realized it was more than weight loss. It was about me, and changing who I was on the inside and out. I felt like if I only talked about losing weight, I was doing myself a disservice.
I never thought I would have people who wanted to read my blog. “You should write a blog,” she said… She said it several months before I actually did it.
What has this done for me? Well first, I’m not done with it, I think this is something I will continue to do, as time allows. I learned that I really enjoy writing, and I want to thank those of you who have read every blog (and welcome those who have never read one). I know they can be long, but you have to remember, I do this for myself, and if I can help someone else along the way, then that makes me feel amazing. I want to be able to come back in five years and read these and remember this head space, good or bad. Some of these blogs have been incredibly raw and are just purely me. Thank you for allowing me to share with you all.
Today’s primary topic is about my obsession with a number. 209. 200. 199. They all have significance to me. Until a few months ago, I never owned a scale. I never really knew my weight unless I went to the doctor. It was a fun surprise to see -30 lbs from the previous year. When Matty and I started dating, I would weigh myself on his scale, just for fun to see where I was. I never thought it would get so far into my head that I would become one of those women I hated.
I didn’t realize I had become this way until the past few weeks. I knew it, but one day I stopped and looked at myself from Matt’s point of view, and he’s so laid back and accepting, he would never say this to me, but if I were in his position, hearing the things I would say, I wouldn’t have kept quiet. In the past, Bestie has told me, “Oh, I gained two pounds,” and every time she said it, it would grate on my nerves. I hated it (and I’m sorry if I’ve never told you this before now, there’s a point to this. I love you). I always told her she was ridiculous, but having been overweight, it’s like, “really? I’ll show you two pounds, it’s called my dinner.” My former best friend used to do the same thing, holding her stomach, talking about her “pooch” and she was like a size 10. I was just like, “bitch, please, I weigh 300 pounds. I’ll show you a pooch…” So those kinds of comments used to really bother me.
I bought a scale from Bed Bath, the store run by Satan himself. I intentionally never purchased one. In the store, I literally said to myself, if you buy this are you going to become obsessed? “No, never! I’m stronger than the scale.” -_- I don’t know how much time went by but I weighed myself every other day, then every day, then every time I went in the bathroom. I would stand on the scale and if i didn’t like the number and I would get off, reset it, and do it again. It actually became a compulsion. I would say things to Matt like, “I just have 8 more pounds to lose,” or “I’m up 3 pounds,” and he never really said anything… what is he going to say to that? He’s no dummy. He knows when fire is being thrown around by me and knows when to stay away from it. This never bothered me. I never said it with intent to start crap with him or to even have a conversation. Sometimes we just say what we’re thinking and I was thinking about that a lot. My weight was/ is hovering. Im not doing anything to lose the weight, (i never have and still lost) I would just watch it, all the time. When I realized it was actually affecting me mentally, I told Matt I needed to take my scale off my bathroom floor. Even after saying it (last week), I didn’t do it. I don’t know why.
Last night I was watching Extreme Weight Loss Makeover and the girl was 22 and more than 400 pounds. She lost 100 pounds in her first three months. She mentally wasn’t ready for that. I wouldn’t have been. In her second phase (months 4, 5 and 6) she developed bulimia. She talked about being obsessed with the number, she would get on the scale, it wasn’t what she wanted to see, and she obsessed over it. She was an over eater, even with healthy food, and she thought the way to lose the weight was purge. I have never been bulimic… I think it’s wasteful, I hate throwing up, (I know, weird, but true) and I’m stronger than that, the food doesn’t control me. I know some people aren’t as strong. I’m not judging anyone. When I saw what it did to her mentally, I got off the couch, went and picked up my scale, and put it in my coat closet. I knew it was unhealthy to feel how I was feeling, but she really showed me how extreme it can get. I’ll take it out when I think I can handle it. I know it can’t be in a convenient place, or I’ll continue the cycle.
School is almost here. I’m stressing about it. I told Matt today that I was really stressing about my major and basically after talking it out with him, I felt better about it. It’s too random to be random. It’s meant to be. I won a $1,000 scholarship so I can now pay a huge chunk for summer school. The ball is officially rolling at this point. I start August 21, so we’ll see how it goes.
Thanks for a wonderful year! Here’s to may more and to celebrate, some pictures!
Pretty self explanatory. Those pants were too tight. Before and after of those are coming.
Drinking games, The one on the left was July 4 weekend the summer Bestie came home and the one on the right was Saturday night.
My friend from ages ago, Matty. We used to work at the Depot together.
Blaire's Journey 