The courage to put your goals, failures, and life habits on the internet for all to see is incredible. I admire that. I will follow. I congratulate her on her progress and her goals. I do know that what she is undergoing is difficult and sometimes will seem the hardest thing she's had to do. I know this because I've done this before.
I'm actually pretty upset with myself because I've done this before. I DID fix myself, and then I slipped. I slipped far. I ultimately destroyed the work I had done and gone beyond what I was before!
My freshman year at NMSU, I weighed 225 lbs. Obese. Morbidly obese, by medical standards. I was put under pressure by my mom to find a means to pay for college. I decided to join the Army. I met with a recruiter and was told I had to weigh 175 before I could join. I understood completely, and began to run. By the time fall semester was to start, I was in the 190s. Figuring that going to school would be a waste of time because I'd hit 175 before the semester was over, I decided not to attend and stayed home. By thanksgiving I was 180.
I got a call from Ft. Knox asking if I was still interested in joining the military and why I hadn't yet. I explained that I was, but I still had weight to lose. The guy on the phone was a real bastard and insisted I give him my height and weight to see how much I've got left to go. After telling him that I already KNEW I needed to keep losing weight, he still ran the numbers. I was prepared for the 5 pounds, but he told me that I still had to lose a "bunch" of weight. Apparently I actually needed to weigh 155. That sucked.
So I continued to run. I got a new recruiter because my first had been transferred. This one, Sgt. Ogan, was pretty retarded, I later found out. All was well at first, but then he wanted me to come in every two weeks to get measured and weighed. Eventually I got stuck at 165. Around this time, the ARMS test came out.
I was running this test myself almost daily and was passing just fine and I was totally prepared for it. The ARMS test is the physical they give the overweight recruits to determine if they're healthy enough to join. Since I was passing the test daily, I was. My recruiter was excited to get me to join and tried to slip it quietly that I still needed to lose weight in order to qualify for the test.
Why did I have to lose weight to take the fatty's test? He didn't answer that, but told me that in order to join the Army, I needed to weigh 142, but to qualify for the exam, I needed to weigh 155. (WTF) Given that the test was in a week, I asked him how he proposed I lose the weight. At this time, I was running five miles a day in under an hour, at the gym for 5 hours a day, and INCREDIBLY hot. I wasn't exactly on a starvation diet, but I wasn't feasting or eating poorly.
He assured me that it was probably just water weight and I can easily sweat it out. He coached me to wear as much clothing as I can and sit in a steam room the night before, for as long as it takes to lose ten pounds of water. I told him that there's absolutely NO WAY I can take and pass that test after losing that much water. He insisted that I only needed to be able to make weight first, and then after "We can give you a gatorade and a granola bar." I told him that gatorade and a granola bar won't make up for water, and that we were done. (There was also an issue with my MOS, which as time went on further proved that I was just a number on his bonus.)
With the Army now out somewhat of the picture, my mom began to rag on me about working more, so I picked up hours at my retail job, and continued to be active, but without my Army goals. Shortly after, I learned of an APD recruitment going on. The idea of being a police officer, like my father, was really inspiring. And, given my health, brain, and aim, I figured I'd give it a shot. (ha.) I also planned that after giving my required two years to the city, I could try for the Army again. Since the academy trains you pretty fiercely, I was bound to lose the weight that had been such a problem. Those damned 20 pounds. And, I secretly hoped that I wouldn't actually graduate the academy, just stay in long enough to lose the weight so I could go join the Army.
I met with my brother's recruiter, Sgt Aldridge, whom I should have met up with first. He completely understood my situation, and told me that when I was ready, and did it in a healthy manner, that I was welcome. So I applied for APD. I passed ALL the phsyical qualifications, and reading/math/map tests. I passed the polygraph, credit check, drug tests, TB, everything except the psycological evaluation. (I won't go into WHY, that's a different story. Very amusing.) Mind you, I was the YOUNGEST candidate that day and BEAT 150 grown men physically. Remember that.
I was physically perfect to defend, protect, and serve my city, but not my country.
I was mentally unqualified to defend, protect, and serve my city, but not my country.
No middle ground. Suckfest.
So with ANOTHER dream dashed, I was resigned to work more hours until I died. I ended up leaving my retail job for one at a call center. This job paid more, and guaranteed me 40 hours with benefits. However, it was 8 hours of sitting on my butt all day, so by the time I got home, the last thing I wanted to do was workout because somehow I had no energy. Yes, I gained weight. It sucked.
I also got myself into a very abusive relationship, which took a heavy toll on me. By the time the relationship was over, and my employment was eventually terminated 8 months later (unrelated), I had gained 70 lbs. In a year and a half.
When I lost my job, I weighed 250 pounds. I felt worthless, ugly, and had nothing going for me. I managed to almost get myself on a realty weight loss show, which never aired, and met with a trainer, Rocco, who was a complete doushebag and somewhat of a musclehead-moron. But a very successful one. I understand that much of what he did was sensationalism for the cameras. I hated training with him. I'm not his biggest fan personally, as he skipped town without telling me (but it's okay, I got a free 20lb weight vest from it. Sucka!), but he did train me hard. I lost no weight with him, as we were only together a few days.
We talked about my childhood, and he poked around to find out why I was fat when the rest of my family wasn't. What happened to ME to make me this way? I was overweight in middle and high school. I always remember being fat. I don't recall a single time where I was actually honestly happy with my body -- even during my Army training, if not especially.
My mom pulled out pictures of me as a kid and I realized, for the first time, that I was NOT a fat child. I wasn't even a chunky child. I -- I was SLENDER. Can you believe it? I almost cried, because I couldn't understand what had happened to me to make such drastic changes.
He was very specific -- WHEN did I start gaining weight and becoming unhappy with myself? We thought back and realized it was when I was 11. What happened to me when I was 11, that made me so self-aware, and start overeating and using food to suppress my depression?
When I was 11, I went out to California to babysit. My big brother had gone the year before and had a BLAST. They went all over the place, so many pictures of such fun times. I was promised lots of fun and sun and awesome times. I recall only going to beach once. In California. I went once. The zoos Dallas went to, I never saw. I felt like I had been locked up in an apartment for the summer, with a little boy who would tell me things were okay to do, only to be scolded by his mother when she came home. His mother would also be very clear about what he was allowed to eat, which was pretty much anything he wanted, in moderation. But when it came to me, she always made sure to point out that I can have the "fat fee" this and the "fat free" that.
I loved Goldfish crackers as a child. When I went to California, I saw there was a huge box. Oh happy day! When the mother found out I'd had some, she told me only the little boy could eat them, and I shouldn't because they're for "little kids" and had "too much fat in them" for me. It felt like every time she mentioned food to me, it's fat content was a huge priorety. I couldn't understand why.
Later that summer, we visited her aunt and uncle. When we entered the house, the little boy took my hand and pulled me to the computer to show me the cool games he liked to play on it. (This is when games other than Snake and Gorilla were rare.) I was SO excited because this was definitely not something I had at home. I was looking forward to enjoying that. But as my enthusiasm for FINALLY having a good time grew, the aunt, Jackie, came and told me she had something else she wanted me to see. She told me that if I was going to play the computer game, then she wanted me to spend time with This Thing first. I was excited. What could it be?
It was a treadmill.
I never got on the computer.
Why would you do that to an 11 year old? A healthy one? I was a DANCER. I was active! I was not fat! Why would you do that to me??? This beloved Aunt Jackie would make meals for everyone and give me a fruit shake. Would push salads on me while others enjoyed burgers. I was limited in my food intake. Sweets were not allowed. Because I "can't afford to get more fat."
Worst summer of my life. And that's when it started. I came home that summer depressed, weighing more than I did when I left, and somewhat dead. My mother could not figure out what happened to me. When I told her, she was FURIOUS. My dad refused to say anything to the woman whose child I babysat. The situation was avoided for years. My condition only grew worse. I felt fat, ugly, and worthless. For all of my life.
A couple summers after, my Aunt Joyce invited me to California to "make up" for what had happened to me. I had a WONDERFUL summer. I felt so loved. I was told I don't eat enough. (I'd developed a habit of eating very little in the presence of anyone outside my immediate family for fear of being judged for being fat and daring to eat.) One Sunday, the woman I babysat for picked me up and took me to church with her. Aunt Jackie was my sunday school teacher that day. (Can you believe that the people who treated me that way were LDS? Yeah. I know.) She had cookies, wouldn't you know. She passed them around the class and when I didn't take one, she told me to. I said I didn't know I was allowed to have one. "Of course you are!" (Oh, really? Because a couple summers ago you convinced me I was fat and shouldn't eat anything besides ice.) And then when she passed them around again, and I didn't take a second, she told me to help myself. (Oh really? Coming from the woman who wouldn't let me have seconds in SALAD? Okay. B---h.)
A few years after, when I managed to convince myself to pretend I was okay with my fat self and loved myself the way I was, that woman came to visit one summer with some of her children. Her delightful little daughter sat with me on the swings of my front porch and asked me if I thought I was fat. I told her I did not. She said, "Really? Because your legs are pretty big and I think they're fat." I told her that while my legs are bigger than a lot of other people's I still don't think I'm fat. "Okay, because you look fat."
I left. I later told my mom what happened, and she told that littler girl in front of her mother to NEVER ask me if I think I'm fat. The mother turned right around to her daughter and said, "You KNOW we don't talk about that!" ...Where would the kid learn it? Honestly?
Some might wonder why my family continued to interact with these individuals, or why my father said nothing. That woman was my sister.
Until that summer, I didn't know what it was like to actually HAVE a big sister. I was SO excited to spend time with her, get to know her. To start to reunite my family after SO LONG of not talking. This woman that I was so eager to be close to, to have fun with... sufficiently convinced me that I was fat, and therefore worthless. I wasn't worth her promises of fun, as we didn't have any. I couldn't understand why my SISTER would do this to me. And for some foolish, stupid reason, I let her opinion scar my self-image and destroy me.
Now I refuse to do it anymore. Yes, she was my trigger. And up until now (if she's reading) she probably had absolutely NO IDEA she did this TERRIBLE, DISGUSTING, HURTFUL, SELFISH, VAIN, DEPLORABLE thing.
So there. Now everyone knows. This is what I've been carrying around for 12 years. It's out in the open. Everyone knows.
I will now start to record my goals and progress from time to time.
I weighed 250 lbs on December 24th, 2009. I weighed 236 on January 27, 2010. I work at a gym, so if I have no clients I'm allowed to work out. My routine is heavy in cardio. I maintain a heart rate of 127-150, which is the most efficient zone for fat burn. I had that routine for the 31 days between 14/24 and 1/25, which I call Phase 1. I enter a new Phase on the 24th of every month, and do a personal assessment where I take my measurements and have my teacher do a pinch test with calipers to determine my body fat percentage. I weigh myself on Wednesdays.
Phase 1 results: a loss of 14 pounds and 3.5" overall. My BMI went from a 42 to 40. I am able to increase the resistance on my cardio equipment and keep within my target heart range. People can see there's a difference with me. My cheekbones are more visible.
Phase 2 focus: Maintain cardio routines, but subsitute one hour of cardio for an hour of weight machines. No target body parts yet, just a full body circuit of the basics: hams, quads, adductors, abductors, lats, glutes, delts, pecs. Continue to burn at least 1,000 calories a day (not difficult). I do realize that with weight resistance comes muscle growth. I will not be upset if the numbers on the scale do not change, as muscle is heavier than fat. But I'd rather be heavy in muscle than light in fat any day.
So there. Now you all have it.
