"Hi, my name is Brooke, and I have a weight problem."
The truth is I have had a weight problem since I knew what "being fat" was. My mother has an hourglass figure after two kids at almost 50 years old. My sister is one of those size 0, tall, model types. I joke that she got all the skinny and I got all the smarts. It's not far from the truth, although I can't say I got ALL of them.
I have always played sports, from touch football at the tender age of 4 until my last field hockey game of my college career in 2010. After the final whistle blew, I walked off the field, packed up my gear, and swore off all exercise for a year to allow myself to "recover" from four years of bodily abuse. As a result, as you can imagine, I gained a substantial amount of weight. FORTY POUNDS, to be exact, mostly consisting of beer, beer, Mcdonalds and - you guessed it - more beer.
 |
| See the white tent all the way to the left? That was me circa 2011. |
Most people have their "turning point" picture, the picture that makes them say "oh dear sweet Jesus who is that wearing my face!?" For me, that was this picture. I have never claimed to be small, but I had also never been so heavy in my entire life. 240 pounds was a number I did not think I would ever see underneath my feet when I stepped on a scale, and to my horror, I had proven myself wrong.
I hit the gym. I ate my veggies and drank my water. I dropped about 30 of the post-grad 40 I had accumulated. Then, I ran a half-marathon on my 23rd birthday to celebrate my success.
 |
| September 30th, 2012. 200(ish) lbs post-race, double fisting the best beer I've ever drank. |
It was the happiest I had been in a long time. I felt like me again, like the athlete in me no longer had to kick and scream to be recognized amidst the massive body it was trapped in. I had come to think the only way I could be "fit" was to continue killing myself physically in the way I'd done for four year as a Division I athlete, a fact I did not like but could not refuse given the results.
In December of 2012, I met him. Chef Daniel Hoyt, a classically French trained culinary genius with a heart of gold. The first time he cooked me a meal, it was all over. Amidst adventures, laughter, many home-cooked meals and tuck-away nights full of beer, wine and fabulous food, our love and friendship grew. Not surprisingly, so did my waistline, but I didn't care... Danny loved me for me, not my size. As a matter of fact, he even put a ring on it in September 2013.
I said yes, obviously... especially because when he popped the question, I looked like this -
 |
| August - October 2013. That woman in the photo is not a supemodel, but the average sized head coach of our Lady Seahorses fied hockey team. I am the assistant Varsity Whale - er... coach. |
This was another turning point picture for me. Notice the shorts are the same I wore for my half marathon... exept then they didn't look like spandex a year earlier. When this picture was displayed for the entire team, their parents, and my fellow coaching staff at our end of the year banquet, I was mortified. I couldn't BELIEVE this was me, that I'd let myself get to this place AGAIN!
I promptly purchased a scale and became weight obsessed. Multiple times a day I'd step on, elated when even an ounce came off and crushed when the numbers went the other way. To be honest, I was close to developing an eating disorder. I thought about hitting the toilet after meals or slipping a few laxatives into my morning coffee to speed up the process. This was something not even Danny knew (until I read him the draft of this post) but because of his unwaivering love and support I did not start down that slippery slope. Doesn't mean I didn't think of "quick fix", unhealthy solutions for weight loss every. Single. Day.
I had lost almost 20 pounds by the time I tried on bridesmaids dresses for my friend's upcoming wedding. Myself, my friend's sister and three other bridesmaids began the process of finding the perfect gown. I found mine quickly, my biggest concern being my top-half and how to contain it in whatever dress I chose. Once we'd all made selections, the nice little saleswoman measured me up and wrote down my dress size, which until then I had been clueless of.
20. I was a size TWENTY.
I set a goal for myself right there - 3 sizes in 3 months. I joined a gym, started eating "clean" (most of the time) and have been working at shedding the weight slowly. Will I make my goal of size 17 by the February fitting? Maybe not, but I am going to try my hardest.
Baby steps are how I have to work, or else I get overwhelmed and self-destruct. I know this about myself, along with a few other things. I know I love food, specifically chocolate, cheese, and fried items. I know that I would rather drink a Diet Coke, coffee, or creamy, dark stout beer 9 times out of 10 instead of water. I know that I will never be "skinny", "little", "petite" or anything remotely close to those adjectives. I also know that I am a fighter, I am determined, and I will achieve my goals in my own time. I may not be where I want to be yet, physically or mentally, but I am certain that I am well on my way.
This is my story, and I'm going to write it my way, on my time. If you take the time to read it, thank you, and welcome on the Road to 180.
No comments:
Post a Comment