Since it is well past January, I think I’ve successfully dodged the window of this being another cheesy New Years resolution post, .despite the fact that this particular post is all about resolutions, but it’s June, so I’m telling myself it is not a cliché, but I digress… Since somewhere around the second grade, I have been on some variation of a diet, about to start a diet, or researching a diet.  I could probably write you a book filled with the loads of information I have gathered about high protein/low carb, good carb vs. bad carb, point counting, etc… I love a good diet, I can’t help myself.  There is nothing like diving head first into a new program with it’s books and loyal, almost cult like following.  There is weight watchers (probably your most famous cult, I mean diet, now led by Oprah), Atkins (beloved by Kim Kardashian), Nutrisystem (thank you for inspiring me for that brief 6 months Marie Osmond), and a myriad of others that I’ve willingly forked my money over to in order to reinforce what I already know.  Dieting is really quite simple, what is not simple is sticking to said diet and figuring out which dietary poison works best for your body.  For me, I do best on a low sugar, high protein, low carb regiment.  I am insulin resistant, and this keeps my blood sugar from spiking and keeps me away from jumping fully on board the type 2 D-train.  I do very well on diets, technically speaking I have collectively lost roughly 210 lbs over the years (of course not all at once, or I would not be on this journey now).  The most at one time was a brilliant bout in college where I lost 60 lbs, but there always comes a time in any diet where you hit a wall.  Something snaps in your body and despite your perfect portion control, carefully calculated protein intake, and your aversion to carbohydrates and sugar your body hits a number and decides to protest any further descent.  Once again, I never claim to be rational, only semi-rational, so when I get to this plateau point, the rational part of me knows it is normal.  Everyone experiences this, and so for the next week I carry on, even more dedicated than before determined to push myself so that I can push past it.  Where I take a nose dive into the irrational, is around week 2 or 3, when I haven’t pushed past it.  I am still stalled, maybe even up a pound or two.  This is historically around the time I throw my hands up in the air, wave them around like I just don’t care, and they inevitable find themselves on a frisco melt and chocolate shake, and I am left wondering:

“Where did I go wrong?”

“Why is my body working against me?”

“What is the point of not eating good food if I am not even going to lose weight?!”

It is the hysterical point that I get to, where I pull a Rachel and Ross and take a “break” from my diet.  After all, I’ve been so good, I deserve a break…what that break really means though, is that I have fallen off the nutrition wagon, down a hill of refried beans, cheese, and chicken wrapped in a fried burrito, and into a chocolate river floating down further and further away from who I really want to be.  As a lover of history, I have to ask myself:

“Where did I go wrong?”

It would be easy to blame many things, but my current theory, is that I am only dealing with one side of the battle of the bulge.  In order to win the weight war, you must realize you have two things to conquer, your relationship with food and your relationship with exercise.  Now don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of times when I would eat more than I should, or something I shouldn’t, I am no diet saint, but one thing I’ve never done well is prioritize fitness.  Sure, I would get on kicks of walking that would last a couple of weeks, I had a personal trainer in fifth grade for a while (who I loved dearly), and senior year I was even briefly successful with a short stint of going to the gym 2-3 times a week, but for me, exercise opens up a flood gate of negative emotions.  I am filled with disappointment at my limited ability.  I hate that it takes so much effort to do what seems like such a minimal amount of activity.  From the moment I tie up my running shoes, I somehow convince myself that I am going to be this:

When really, it turns out more like this:

Yes, I know, I should start out with a light walking routine, and continue that until I build up my strength and stamina, increasing my speed and duration over time, but that takes patience and dedication.  I have none of the first, and little of the latter, and I have a little thing called delusions of grandeur syndrome (not a real syndrome, just a made up thing that I suffer from) so every time I step out the door to work out I truly believe I’m off to run a marathon, only finding that I’m winded and sweating before I even make it out of the drive way.  Exercising is the opposite of instant gratification, it is instant dissatisfaction.  It’s a glaring reminder of how unfit I am, how many times I have gone up a flight of stairs embarrassed by how much I am huffing and puffing by the time I get to the top, how many times I caught a dirty look while attempting to work out at a gym, and the worst part how far I have to go before I can be a Blake Lively-esque cute boy beside me, beach runner.  Exercise is a huge mental hurdle for me, but I truly believe that a truly transformative health journey is not complete without it.  Abs may be made in the kitchen, but muscles don’t form from lifting your fork to your mouth.  You have to get out there and put in the effort in order to get to that next level.  Eating healthy is key, but exercise is what turns the key and unlocks the door into true weight loss success.  All those past efforts to lose weight, would have most likely ended in me reaching my final weight goal, but because I wasn’t willing to quite literally go the extra mile, I stalled and quit, and the weight loss was regained with extra on top:

“So why is this time different?”

I can’t explain it.  Maybe it is the conglomeration of all the failed attempts that came before this one, or maybe it is that my vision of who I want to be has changed.  My theory is, it is a good combination of both.  This was a drastic decision, the others were books and microwaveable meals, they cost money and hurt my pride when I failed, but other than that there was not much lost.  This was surgery.  It was a removal of a significant portion of my stomach.  It was sedation and weeks worth of a liquid only diet.  Nothing will ever fully be the same for me, and therefore how I act and think can never be the same.  I needed that drastic change in order to be able to put the fear of the past failures behind me and go full force only with the vision of success in mind.  In regards, to how my vision of who I will be has changed, that has been the biggest transformation.  Since I was a kid, I was surrounded by beautiful, thin friends, and I just could not figure out why I couldn’t be like them.  It was disappointing to constantly be compared to them.  Honestly, it ended up causing a touch of resentment towards them (sorry friends you didn’t deserve that).  In my mind, the only way I was going to be successful was to be like them, a size 0-4 with long hair, and the ability to run, jump, or stretch.  It was my vision, and one to this day I will never fully fit into no matter how much I try.  The part of my vision that has changed, is that desire to be under a size four without an ounce of fat.  As you get older, you start to realize a lot more about your body type, and how that will affect what you will be able to look like and what you will look your best at, so the part of my vision that has changed is not the desire to have the ability to run, jump, or stretch, it is what I will look like.  What drives me is no longer a number, not on the scale or in a clothing store (ok well as long as I can one day I can finally walk into an Anthropolgie without having a FOMO fueled anxiety attack), I just simply want to be able to partake in life without my weight holding me back. I want to be able to fly to see my best friend in Philadelphia while comfortably fitting into an affordable coach seat without fear of having to get a seatbelt extender or judge stairs from my plane neighbor as I squeeze into my seat, I want to be able to climb hills and stairs without having to stop and catch my breath, and I would like to be able to go and do fun, active things with friends that for years I would skip out on because of self consciousness and self loathing, but it all comes down to exercise:

“So now that you’ve admitted the problem, how do you intend to fix it?”

Something I’ve always found effective is goal setting, goals are a tangible thing you can work to achieve, and there is nothing quite as satisfying as achieving them.  I like to have a good combination of both short term and longterm goals, so here are mine:

Short term (to be completed within the next 3 months):

• Walk 4x a week for 30 minutes
• Work up to working two 15 min miles
• Two 15 minute strength training workouts a week

Long term (to before this time next year):

• Run a 5k
• Become a certified Zumba teacher
• Go to a fly wheel class once a week (Hayden that one is for you)

For me, the physical restriction is not going to be the issue, it will be the mental hurdle.  Currently, as I take this on, my prayer is for patience and grace with myself.  I am not Blake Lively running on a beach, but if I am not willing to put in the many miles of walking, I never will be.  Please don’t hesitate to fill me in on your fitness successes and goals, and what tips and tricks have worked for you in the past, and I hope you all have a fabulous day (also don’t forget to subscribe so you can stay up to date on the latest pretty heavy stuff breakdown).

Here’s to a lean, mean, 2017!

xoxo,

Ashley