I really thought that the post title would be a riff on "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" and I was going to talk about weight. But then I realized that it sounded lame, hence the vague title.
I used to "joke" (like in high school and college) that I could never have an eating disorder...I like food too much. Ha, right? But looking back, I've flirted with eating disorders, in minor forms, in various times in my life. I'm what I call a "stress starver". When I get REALLY stressed out, don't eat. Literally. I can go for days eating maybe 100-200 calories a day, if that. I don't feel hungry, I can still go about my "normal" routines (keeping in mind that during these times, I probably wasn't working out, playing soccer, or doing much of anything physical), and I sleep just fine.
In addition to all ^that^ my waist defines, my hip bones become prominent, my collarbone, always jutting out, becomes razor-sharp against my skin. I revel in the fact that I can feel my vertebrae through my t-shirts, and I feel... Light. Ethereal. Transcendent.
However, I look...not so great. My face becomes gaunt, my hair is dry, and my eyes, which I consider the best part of me, become lifeless.
When I met Babe, I was coming off of the divorce to my son's father. While Ex and I are friends now, the demise of my marriage wrecked me, and I was around 110...a "healthy" me is 130. After Babe and fell in love, moved in together, and became a family, I started putting the weight back on. The size 2's and 4's that I bought because my 6's and 8's were falling off of me quit fitting...and I was okay with it. I called it my "happy fat". I was happy, so I ate--that's a good thing, right?
I wasn't, however, working out (thanks soccer injury and subsequent 4 surgeries!) and then I got pregnant with the girl...I had a healthy pregnancy, only gained 20 pounds, and it was gone by my 6 week post-partum check up.
Crap, I've totally lost the point of this post. Lemme see if I can find it...
<pause while I check>
Okay, here it is. Prior to joining getting serious about getting healthy, I was weighing in at 140, I think my highest non-pregnancy weight ever. I'm 5'3", so I was looking a bit heavy. I have an "hourglass" figure and I'm built, from the waist down, like a brick shithouse--my legs are usually pretty muscular while I've got big boobs, but I'm small framed up top. (My 2 year old daughter and I have almost the same-circumfrenced wrists...)
Somewhere in there, I started playing soccer again, but was eating like crap. Then, I found the "My Fitness Pal" food/calorie tracker on my Droid Market, started tracking calories, then found the actual website. Since then, I've started doing Turbo Fire, yoga, eating better, and feeling good.
The downside? I'm starting to feel that ethereal feeling creep into my brain... As I walk to use the restroom that's down the hall from my classroom at school, I look into the HUGE mirror, and revel in the fact that over the course of the school year, my waist has gotten smaller and smaller. This morning, Bay pushed up my shirt (she likes to look at my tattoos there) and she kept saying "What dat?" while she poked my vertebrae. It's become a contest with myself to see how many days in a row I can stay below my calorie count.
I need to remind myself that food=fuel. I tried to do a 55 minute Turbo Fire workout the other day after not eating breakfast--I was hydrated, thanks to the 40 ounces of water I drank that morning--but I half-assed my way through the workout because I was light-headed. (I still burned over 400 calories, though...whoopee!)
I need to figure out a way to not go overboard with my desire to lose 10 (a mere 10!) pounds and remind myself that it's about getting stronger...not light enough to float away.
I used to "joke" (like in high school and college) that I could never have an eating disorder...I like food too much. Ha, right? But looking back, I've flirted with eating disorders, in minor forms, in various times in my life. I'm what I call a "stress starver". When I get REALLY stressed out, don't eat. Literally. I can go for days eating maybe 100-200 calories a day, if that. I don't feel hungry, I can still go about my "normal" routines (keeping in mind that during these times, I probably wasn't working out, playing soccer, or doing much of anything physical), and I sleep just fine.
In addition to all ^that^ my waist defines, my hip bones become prominent, my collarbone, always jutting out, becomes razor-sharp against my skin. I revel in the fact that I can feel my vertebrae through my t-shirts, and I feel... Light. Ethereal. Transcendent.
However, I look...not so great. My face becomes gaunt, my hair is dry, and my eyes, which I consider the best part of me, become lifeless.
When I met Babe, I was coming off of the divorce to my son's father. While Ex and I are friends now, the demise of my marriage wrecked me, and I was around 110...a "healthy" me is 130. After Babe and fell in love, moved in together, and became a family, I started putting the weight back on. The size 2's and 4's that I bought because my 6's and 8's were falling off of me quit fitting...and I was okay with it. I called it my "happy fat". I was happy, so I ate--that's a good thing, right?
I wasn't, however, working out (thanks soccer injury and subsequent 4 surgeries!) and then I got pregnant with the girl...I had a healthy pregnancy, only gained 20 pounds, and it was gone by my 6 week post-partum check up.
Crap, I've totally lost the point of this post. Lemme see if I can find it...
<pause while I check>
Okay, here it is. Prior to joining getting serious about getting healthy, I was weighing in at 140, I think my highest non-pregnancy weight ever. I'm 5'3", so I was looking a bit heavy. I have an "hourglass" figure and I'm built, from the waist down, like a brick shithouse--my legs are usually pretty muscular while I've got big boobs, but I'm small framed up top. (My 2 year old daughter and I have almost the same-circumfrenced wrists...)
Somewhere in there, I started playing soccer again, but was eating like crap. Then, I found the "My Fitness Pal" food/calorie tracker on my Droid Market, started tracking calories, then found the actual website. Since then, I've started doing Turbo Fire, yoga, eating better, and feeling good.
The downside? I'm starting to feel that ethereal feeling creep into my brain... As I walk to use the restroom that's down the hall from my classroom at school, I look into the HUGE mirror, and revel in the fact that over the course of the school year, my waist has gotten smaller and smaller. This morning, Bay pushed up my shirt (she likes to look at my tattoos there) and she kept saying "What dat?" while she poked my vertebrae. It's become a contest with myself to see how many days in a row I can stay below my calorie count.
I need to remind myself that food=fuel. I tried to do a 55 minute Turbo Fire workout the other day after not eating breakfast--I was hydrated, thanks to the 40 ounces of water I drank that morning--but I half-assed my way through the workout because I was light-headed. (I still burned over 400 calories, though...whoopee!)
I need to figure out a way to not go overboard with my desire to lose 10 (a mere 10!) pounds and remind myself that it's about getting stronger...not light enough to float away.
No comments:
Post a Comment