To tell the truth

It’s time for me to come clean about something that is REALLY hard for me to admit.

It’s time to reveal my weight.

*Puke*

Why now, you ask? Why rip this band-aid off at all, when it makes me cringe to even think about it? Because it’s what I do here.

Because this blog is a place where I tell the truth about things. It’s where I lay it all out, open myself to mockery and laughter and criticism, but more importantly, I open myself to you. I know I poke fun at myself and at others, but it’s not out of meanness (not totally. There is at least a small percentage of me that is nice). It’s out of honesty. I say what I’m (and probably alot of you are) thinking and talk about what I’m doing so that others can say “THANK GOD I’m  not the only one who wants to stab the Crafty Moms at Christmas.” Or to say “I really suck at alot of things. Please tell me you do, too.”

And I always tell the whole story. I don’t gloss over the bad parts or change things around to make me look better. Because then I would be writing fiction, and I like to leave that to the experts. Plus real life is usually messed up enough on its own that no embellishment is needed, amIright?

Anyway, enough stalling.

The reason I’ve decided NOW to throw out numbers is because finally — FINALLY — I’ve reached a major weight loss goal of mine. I planned to meet this goal SIX FREAKING MONTHS AGO, but no, that wasn’t happening. So for six months, I’ve woken up everyday and stepped on the scale and sighed. I’ve logged my calories. I’ve been to the gym. But nothing was happening.

But as of this morning, I have hope. I have reassurance that all this work is paying off. I believe that I really will get to where I’m going.

Today, I broke 200.

I am now back in the 100s, albeit by a few ounces, but I’m there.

And OHMYGOD, I am so glad.

Physically, I am absolutely no different than I was yesterday. But mentally? This is a whole new ballgame.

Numbers can be a real bitch when you are overweight. Nobody wants to be an 18. They want to be a 10. Nobody wants to weigh 200-some-odd pounds, they want to weigh in the 100s. Even if that means 199.8.

I didn’t own a scale for years, so I don’t know exactly when I crossed over to the other side, but I would imagine it was the end of college. I do remember thinking, though, that 200 was just BAD. BOYS weigh 200 pounds. GIRLS don’t. Girls weigh 199 or less. Always. We also don’t fart, poop or ever smell bad. Just for the record.

Weighing over 200 pounds (and at times, I’ve been WAY over) meant that I knew people that I literally weighed 100 pounds more than. That is a painful realization. It’s not like looking at an 8 year old and thinking “Hmm, I’m 100 pounds more than they are.” It’s looking at a 30 year old and thinking that. Like, a fully formed adult. No one should weigh 100 pounds more than a full grown adult.

But I did. Alot more.

At my highest weight, the day before my lapband surgery, I weighed 260 pounds. There are professional football players that weigh less. I’m 5 foot, 5 inches. That is literally TWICE my ideal weight.

And it was shameful.

I didn’t live in denial of my size, but I sure as hell would not have admitted it to anyone. I don’t know what I thought would happen, mockery? Someone would jump out and start yelling “FATTY FATTY 2 BY FOUR”? Who knows. I just know I HATED that number. And pretty much every number since.

But not today.

Today, I love 199.8. I love knowing that it may have taken six damn months longer to get here, but I know I got here the right way. I love that I got so sick of my own bitching at how long this was taking that I finally said “DO SOMETHING AND STFU,” and I committed myself last week to eating clean, healthy food and cutting out as much processed crap as I can. I love that I’ve stuck to it, that I feel great because of it, and that my family is eating better, too.

I love that after all is said and done, losing weight and keeping it off is actually really simple. Eat better. Eat smarter. Move your body more. That’s it. That’s the million dollar answer everyone is looking for. You know it, too. You don’t want to believe that there’s nothing more to it, that you really do actually have the ability to get where you want to go. But if I do, you do.

And I have the numbers to prove it.