Hi everyone! It’s been awhile since I updated my blog, and it’s been purposeful for the most part.

This month has been crazy, but I’ve so missed writing to you all. Today I’m here to give an update on my 8-week weight loss journey.

Since January 1, 2013 (8-weeks ago), I’ve lost 13.2 pounds. That equates to about 1.65 pounds per week, which is pretty darn fantastic. In my ideal world, I would have lost 10 pounds a week and be DONE, but alas, that is now how weight loss works.

Picture: Taken 2/1/13, my first day of Turbo Fire.

I’ve been counting calories on My Fitness Pal, which is by far my most favorite and FREE way to lose weight. Feel free to friend me on there, I don’t bite.

It blows my mind that My Fitness Pal is so amazing and costs me zero money. The first 4 weeks of my weight loss, I lost about 10.2 pounds with Turbo Jam doing the advanced rotation. In February, I switched to Turbo Fire and have only lost 3 pounds. Turbo Fire is essentially Turbo Jam on crack. I’ll do more in-depth reviews of both in an upcoming post.

I never thought I’d be able to do Turbo Fire, and it’s quickly become my most favorite workout of all time. It’s so fast-paced and you never do anything for a super long time, so it moves by so quickly. Yet my weight loss has totally slowed down since I switched programs. I’d like to say I’ve kept measurements, but alas, I have not. I suck at taking measurements because I half-way suck it in, or I don’t know if I should measure between rolls or above rolls.

Complicated, I tell ya.

I did take before and after pics, and I don’t see a huge difference yet. Hmph.

As soon as I am done with this blog post, I am going to take measurements just for my sanity. My pants feel a little looser every week. It’s funny because before I started on my weight loss journey (for the 1.8 billionth time), I was like squeezing into my pants. Like, shimmying them over the hips, laying down, sucking it in, doing squats to make those suckers fit. Now, straight out of the dryer, they fit loose. Progress!

However, I am fairly certain my weight loss may go faster if I totally gave everything I had with my eating habits, but I told myself I wouldn’t force myself to be a saint knowing very well that it wouldn’t be something I could do forever. I still eat out. I still drink. I still eat sugar and carbs. But I do eat less of those things I love. I cut my restaurant portions in half. I have switched from margaritas with salt over to beer with lime. A donut is a once-every-2-weeks treat rather than a 2-3 times a week occurrence. Moderation is the name of my game. I also don’t eat 1200 calories a day…I eat closer to 1700-2000. I know if I cut out all those things, I probably would have lost more weight by now. But I’d also be very grumpy and ready to cave at any second.

So, 13.2 pounds down, about another 85-90 pounds to go. This is going to take awhile, and maybe that is the most discouraging part on any given day. The fact that although 8 weeks have passed, I probably have another 60, 70 or 80 weeks until I reach my goal. But if I stop now, eventually that time will pass, and then I’d have to start over again.

I’m not going to let that happen. I look forward to week-9 because it brings me my 28th birthday next Friday, March 8. One of my 30 before 30 goals is to finally be at a healthy weight. I think I’m going to get there this time.

Hope you’ll stick along with me on these pages for the ride.

The next few posts will be about some awesome fitness headbands (see photo below), a cool desk I made, and maybe I’ll finally finish the damn master bedroom makeover and take photos.

Progress.

Picture: Taken 2/20/13, after 20 days of Turbo Fire.

Me, 70 pounds ago, at my bridal shower in 2009.

Sometimes I feel like the hardest part of weight loss is waiting. And waiting.

You get started, and you feel like you’re constantly waiting until your next snack or meal. (Hell, I am at this very MOMENT.)

You wait to step on that scale to see if your success will be reflected with a number. (Don’t- also take measurements!)

You wait for weekly weigh-ins to turn into monthly losses that will lead to visible changes that you can see, and hopefully others, too.

You wait to see that magical goal number on the scale at the end of months, possibly years, of hard work.

Well, no wonder most of us fail. We’ve been conditioned to get instant gratification. To want it. To need it.

This might explain why I fork out money for Amazon Prime. I want my stuff in 2-days, gosh darn it.

I’ve also learned after trying for a DECADE now to get to my goal weight (shameful, I know), is that if you try to rush the process, it just doesn’t work out in the long term.

I think a turning point for me wanting to buckle down for the umpteenth time is BlogHer 2012. Sure I chose not to go because the flights were very expensive for me, and because I do have a new job, but the main reason I chose not to go to BlogHer 2012 is because of my weight.

And it’s taking me so much courage to put it out there, but I hope others can relate. Last year at BlogHer I was about 30 pounds lighter. BlogHer is the type of place you have to feel confident at or else you’ll just kind of get lost in the midst of swag and bloggers.

As I did last year. I left San Diego having had a fun time with those I hung out with, came home with cool swag, but I didn’t really accomplish anything in terms of my blog. I didn’t gain readers, sponsors or fans. I got to giveaway some Riceworks coupons and some coffee creamer coupons.

Nothing glamorous mostly because I lacked the confidence to go up to companies and sell myself.

I saw plenty of bloggers that were larger than I was, rocking their sleeveless shirts and showing armpit and talking to companies. Now they have HUGE blogs with great connections, and I am just kind of at slightly a higher level than last year.

So, one Saturday morning in June, I decided to just not go. Just like that. I sold my ticket, transferred my hotel room, and decided I just couldn’t do it. Why spend all that time and money when I knew I felt even worse about myself than I did last year?

And something else.

I hate being the fat girl in the group of pretty girlfriends at these things. You all know what I mean, right? It’s like your friends like you and all, and you’re super funny and witty, but when it comes time to take cute Instagram photos to post on their FB wall, you’re not in them because you’re the DFF (designated fat friend). I felt like that a few times at conferences/events this year, and let me tell ya, it sucks. I realize I am not a gorgeous, svelte, flawless girl, and honestly I don’t want to be in any photos unless I have to be…but…it’s hard. We don’t want to feel less than.

And so I’m not going to BlogHer because I am fatter than I was last year, and because it’s expensive and I have a new job.

I’m 27 now, and have been fighting this battle for a decade, and I just want to achieve my goals. Weight goals, career goals, blog goals. I want confidence in myself, yet can’t ever really summon up some.

Monica Wants It.

But I just have to wait.

This past weekend, my best friend Candy and her daughter Caylee came over to partake in egg dyeing. While it was my first time EVER dyeing eggs, it’s something that Candy and Caylee do every year. I know, can you believe I’ve never dyed an egg? I apparently live under a rock. A rock without Paas dye.

Caylee adores me, so she was super excited to help me dye my very first batch of eggs.

Isn’t she adorable? Yes, yes she is.

We got all the stuff prepared, and honestly, I didn’t know this project required so much vinegar. And honestly, my house majorly smelled like farts for a few hours afterwards. I imagine its what a house full of teenage boys would smell like. Perhaps?

The dye gets all fizzy and the colors are so bright and gorgeous. This project also requires lots of cups…

Candy used the time to bond with her daughter as well as chat with me about the Fifty Shades of Grey book/novel that I had already given up on. I got bored, but she got me intrigued enough to keep reading it. We decided that Zac Efron would make a fabulous Christian Grey. It’d also help us forget he was ever in those High School Musical movies. We also decided that we had no clue how on earth it could get away with a rated R rating unless they took out 70% of the book. But I digress.

Minutes later, we had a bunch of bright eggs. It almost seemed kind of magical. How does a little dye tab the size of a Sweet-Tart + 3 tbsp of vinegar= bright eggs.

We also used a tie-dye egg kit with GLITTER. It was heaven. Lots and lots of glitter everywhere. And the best part? You can make really gorgeous eggs. Look at this one that Caylee made. Love.

Mommy and daughter look happy. :-)

It may seem like this whole egg dyeing thing was just an activity. But really, it meant so much more than that to me. I am blessed to have a best friend who wants me to partake in traditions and projects that I never got to do. It means a lot that Candy made it a point to ensure I got to stain my hands a variety of colors and smell a plethora of farts all at once. Even sweeter than that is watching Candy with her daughter. I am the friend that gets to tag along with them a lot, and it often makes me wonder if I truly don’t want children like I always tell people. I’d like to do this sort of thing with my daughter someday. I’d like to have memories that are sweet, innocent and precious. I am sure my mother has those of me, and well… it just makes me wonder.

Do I or don’t I want one of these beautiful little girls to call my own someday?

And then the very next day I went over to my in-laws for Easter lunch. My 2.5 year old nephew was present and in a sour mood. He was just tired and whiny. I kept wanting to take a photo of him and he said, “NO!” Oh goodness. I gave up. Eventually, he got totally fed up with everything and let out a tantrum that I miraculously caught using Instagram.

And now I am more confused than ever. Sigh.

• Do you have any fun/meaningful traditions that you built with your friends? Did you ever not want children and change your mind?

It really is. And honestly, the past 3 years have been me yo-yoing up-and-down, and I am so up right now that I can’t even see the floor where I started from.

I think I’m doing this all wrong. I feel like I’ve tried everything. Count calories/points. Do low fat/low calorie. Cut out carbs/sugar. I just cannot seem to find something I can stick to unlike the fat that has no problem situating itself on my mid-section.

And I’ll be honest: I want to lose weight to look good. Plain and simple. But they say to be successful at something, you must want the end result more than the immediate satisfaction. Much like saving money for a vacation. It is much easier to go out to eat every night than it is to eat at home everyday and eventually go on a vacation.

It is also said that you should never give up something that you cannot go a day without thinking about. Granted, you have to follow the cliché in a logical manner. If you can’t go a day without thinking about possibly winning the lottery…you should probably get a new hobby and stop wasting money on lottery tickets.

Right?

So, for over 27 years now, I’ve wanted to be thin.

I sit here, 27 years old, at the highest weight I have ever been. I’m fatter than I was 30 pounds ago when I thought I was really fat. OMG.

Last week I was at the mall getting my wedding rings inspected for this dumb warranty thing I have. Sad to say, I didn’t even wear the wedding rings into the jewelry store. In fact, I haven’t worn my wedding rings in months. Not because I am going through some turmoil in my marriage, but because it’s that I have gained so much weight that to wear my wedding rings is impossible unless I want them to have to be cut off.

Wow.

While chatting it up with the lady at Gordon’s Jewelers, I joked that I gained the weight due to marriage and that eventually I’d be back to have them sized back down again.

And she laughed.

Hysterically.

I need to prove her wrong. I cannot go to BlogHer 2012 and be about 25 pounds fatter than I was at BlogHer 2011. I’d sooner just not go. I want to at least break even by then. I want to feel good about myself and not dread family functions due to my weight. I want to not avoid my childhood best friend because I’m so much larger than I was last time I saw her. Insanity.

But how?

I have a fabulous list of excuses, but none of them really get down to the root of why I am so unsuccessful at losing weight and maintaining it.

Oh lord. Maybe I am just lazy.

But maybe, just maybe, I’d really love to be this cute, thinner, happier lady again.

Man I had great hair back then. And no rolls. Sigh.

Oh thin Monica, how I miss thee.

Today marks my 27th birthday. Or as I like to call it, “Baby Monica Day.”

On this very day, 27 years ago I entered this world ready for all the sparkles and glitter and tufted furniture that the world had to offer.

I also entered the world with super curly hair…that I still hate.

Ever since I was little, I’ve had a love of things that make life a little more beautiful. In the picture below I am convinced I am marveling at some sort of tufted chair in the corner. Perhaps. It’s the same expression I make now when I watch Candice Olson on HGTV. It’s sheer terror mixed with sheer admiration. Impeccably Monica.

And I’ve always loved posing with things I love. Honestly, I have no clue what that stuffed animal is. And this is as close to seeing me in my underwear as you all are gonna get. I keep it klassy, folks.

And I’ve always been the type of girl who is up for a great party, frilly dress and breaking things.

So for 27 and onward, I hope to be happier than I was in my teens:

Smarter than I was in college:

As health obsessed as I was when I was engaged:

As gorgeous as I felt on my wedding day:

And a better person, inside and out, everyday.

My how time flies. I’m getting teary eyed just writing this post… like I’m saying goodbye to myself or something. But I am saying goodbye to 26 and hello to 27. I wish I could say I am like a fine wine that gets better with age, but honestly I feel like as I am getting older, I am spoiling. I guess maybe I treat myself like I am past my expiration date, when in fact I have a long shelf life ahead of me.

My gift to myself this year is me: as is, constantly improving and hopefully a little bit happier. And ready to get her hands dirty by playing with glitter.

What I wish my gift to myself would be:

Gotta love Kate Spade, gotta hate her prices. That lovely bag is $458.

And I have a bathroom reno to finish, so on my wish list she stays.

So in honor of Baby Monica Day, remember that you are fabulous, you are beautiful and you are special.

And remember to smile today. I surely am.

Happy birthday to me. :)

Hi everyone! Today I wanted to take a break from tutorials/party stuff to feature a post by my very dear friend and BlogHer 11 roomie, Carolyn. Her blog is amazing- it chronicles her life as a mom to her 3 beautiful girls. Always an entertaining blog to read, and I think you should definitely check it out. Lucky for us, Carolyn is an interior designer and she has some tips for all of us today. I’ll be back on Monday with a pretty, simple flower project to dress up those boring throw pillows we all have lying around. But tomorrow, my Coffee Mate Natural Bliss giveaway ends, so as soon as you’re done here go enter!

But today is all about Carolyn’s lovely, heartfult post telling us all to let go of our design issues and do what we want. So what I want to do is giveaway some of my BlogHer 11 swag to one lucky person who comments on THIS blog post. So, read the post below, leave me your thoughts and you’re entered to win! I’ll keep it open from now until Wednesday, September 21 at 10 pm CST.

Carolyn and I at BlogHer 11. This was at the Sparklecorn party. Good times!

When I was a little girl my father built me a dollhouse. This wasn’t just any dollhouse, but a huge mansion of a dollhouse. I proceeded to fill it with all kinds of nifty furnishings and became quite the miniature expert at the time. My kitchen had forks and knives and food in the refrigerator. My bedrooms had sheets and curtains and vanity accessories. I never got tired of re-arranging the rooms. There was always some way to make it better… more practical, more comfortable, more liveable.

I don’t think anyone was surprised when I became an Interior Designer. It was a natural progression. It was the only thing I ever wanted to do. Still today, when I tell people what I do they ask me if I actually went to school for design. Well, yes, as a matter of fact I have a Bachelor of Science in Interior Design from a well respected and accredited school. For some reason, people seem surprised by this. I think it’s because there are so many decorators out there who just pick up a yard of fabric and a paint brush and claim to be a professional.

I don’t begrudge them, really I don’t. I think when it comes to design either you have it or you don’t. The “it” being the creative eye to see what others don’t see. I can walk into any room and immediately see the possibilities. Most people can’t do that. It’s a blessing and a curse. I usually walk into homes or restaurants or hotels and immediately think of all the things I would do differently. It drives my husband crazy. I am never happy with my own house – although I have no problems at all telling other people what they should do with theirs.

Despite all the design background I have, I have never really been a DIY person. I’m getting better at it. I can paint a room like nobody’s business, but I wouldn’t know the first thing about laying down flooring or installing new pipes or appliances. The people that can do that? I so admire them. Some of the projects Monica has worked on have blown me away. I’m just not that crafty or hands-on. What she can do with a can of Krylon!

I think every client I have ever had has asked me the same question, “What are the rules?” Rules? What rules? The rules of design? The rules of color? The rules about what can be put in a bedroom… or kitchen… or living room? I hate rules.

I’m going to let you in on a huge design secret. There are no rules. None. There are things some designers do… and others don’t. There are some colors designers would never think of using… and others would. When I graduated with my degree, I was not handed a rule book of design. If I was, I think the first page would say, “There are no rules.” That’s the way I like to design. I take what you like (or don’t like) and work with that. Like purple? I can do that. Like black walls? I can do that, too. There is no color that is off limits.

The best part about design is that there is something for everybody. Your home, your style… it’s a reflection of YOU. And why would YOU want to be anybody else?

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Thanks so much Carolyn! As a person who takes months to pick a paint color, pick a sofa or pick the perfect curtains, I can safely say it’s because I feel I have to follow certain rules or principles. Instead, I should focus on making my home a reflection of my family and I. What scares you about making design choices in your home? Rules? Trends? Other people’s opinions? Let’s chat about it in the comments!

Well, the title says it all, so peace out.

I kid.

As of last Saturday’s weigh-in, I’ve lost about 26 pounds. This week I am super stressed, so I am pretty sure it’ll be about 24 pounds total after Saturday’s weigh-in. Which leads me to my update.

I feel like a car who is stuck in mud: spinning wheels, lots of effort, yet no movement forward to progress out of the dirt. The awful dirt that is being a fat 26 year old girl.

And I am trying. Like honestly, I’d get an A+ for effort. I stopped doing my 100 days challenge because I really, really hurt my knee and had to take time off. I just had to. Between Zumba and Turbo Jam and strength training, my knee hurt. Going to pee was a mental pep talk because bending down sucked that much. For reals.

Thank goodness for Arctic Ease wraps. I was fortunate enough to receive 2 of them to try out, and lucky for me because both knees were hurtin’. I’ve had ankle and knee problems ever since I can remember, and I’ve tried SO many different wraps and braces and ziploc bags of ice to try to mend quickly. I won’t bother with that stuff anymore. Arctic Ease wraps offer the coldness of ice packs with the mobility I like/need to move on with my day.

I wrapped up my knees just like the picture above. It stays in place! I hate having to fidget with stuff repeatedly. I kept it on for hours while reading or doing housework, and I even wore one while installing crown moulding. And guess what? My knee is doing a lot better, which shows that rest + a good wrap helps me bounce back from a bit of a setback. No weird odor, no sticky residue. I don’t know how they make these miracle wraps, but they work, they’re affordable and THEY WORK! Can’t emphasize that enough. If you need more a spot healing kind of thing, they do also sell patches instead of wraps:

 

They’re sold at plenty of places online, but I think Amazon usually has the best price. They’re reusable, so don’t discard the nifty pouch they come in! Two thumbs up for Arctic Ease. If you have any questions, the company is fab at social media, so just tweet at them or find them on Facebook.

But, overall, I am still actively trying to lose weight. This time seems a lot harder than usual (I am a professional dieter, remember). I am exercising more, eating less and I still feel like the results I have to show for it are kind of lackluster, and plenty of people on Twitter tell me such (bummer). A blogger I follow has been using a program for about the same amount of time I’ve been counting calories and she’s lost almost 60 pounds. That is over twice as much as I have lost. Stings a bit (ok, I am green with envy…), but I told myself I absolutely wouldn’t do anything I couldn’t maintain for the long haul. Nothing crazy, nothing drastic.

And that’s what I’ll keep doing.

26 pounds down, about 70 more to go.

I just want to feel beautiful.

When people write about body image, weight, self-esteem I think back to my days of blogging and starting the Exposed Movement: http://exposedmovement.wordpress.com/

You see for the past 10+ years I have been on a mission to lose weight. I have successfully kept off around 90lbs.

I was lower at one point in my life, by about 40lbs, and I was spiritually freaking miserable.

How does being skinny = miserable?

Well, it’s all how you approach your weight loss and how much you respect your body. After getting to my lowest, I started to full.on.binge. Jars of almond butter, pans of brownies, puking in the shower. I was miserable. The weight crept on. Over 2 years I gained 40lbs.

During this time I started to think about my body. I started going to counseling to find my center of control, to find the spring in the step that I had lost…I went to find my spirit.

In our quest to become ‘thin’  in life and to HATE the way we look we hold our spirits in bondage. We sit, wallow, starve, over-exercise, and punish away the one thing that many of us are chasing..LIFE. LIVING!

I can’t say that there was an epiphany of sorts in my life. It wasn’t an over-night change, it was the slow progression of making peace with food. Making peace with the weight I was at and realising that I am more than a calorie, point, or pant size.

Three things which have helped in over-coming my issues with food, balance, and my weight:

1. Admitting where I was, what was causing me to numb my pain
2. Seeking help: Counseling, “Women Food and God”, “A Million Miles In A Thousand Years” and my faith
3. Focusing on today..and ONLY today. Give each the best that you can give it.

The past two years have been exhausting and the most life-giving thing that I’ve done. I never refused to give up.

“The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be, and the work is harder than you imagined. The point of a story is never about the ending, remember. It's about your character getting molded in the hard work of the middle" ~ Donald Miller "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years"

~Michelle @ http://exposedmovement.wordpress.com/

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Thanks so much to Michelle for her inspiring words about loving ourselves no matter what size/shape we are. How we look doesn’t have to define us, and though we obsess about it, it’s not all of who we are. Remember to leave a comment to be entered for a pair of earrings to help you feel a little more lovely.

This Tuesday evening/night was absolute hell for me. Now, I’m not going to go into what happened that evening that caused me to lose sleep and feel shitty about myself because I simply don’t want to go there again. The only final words I have to say in reference to that debacle was that my questions were NOT meant to offend anyone. I was NOT trying to be sarcastic, insensitive, rude or any of the other names I was called. I was trying to learn about something I’ve been terrified to ask about because of fear of getting the type of hateful reactions I received on Tuesday. I’m sorry I even tried- I should have just stayed quiet and oblivious.

Or Googled it. Because Google is always accurate, right?

Wednesday, the feeling of being a terrible person just loomed over my frizzy head all day long. I was pissed off. I kept thinking about Tuesday evening over and over in my mind. I told my co-workers and friends about it. Then I decided to go to Facebook and unfriend people. I know that at first glance it doesn’t seem like those 2 things really correlate. How does feeling bad about yourself equate to wanting to go crazy unfriending people on Facebook? Yeah, I don’t know. It was cathartic though. Truly. Like I had control or the upper hand.

And inevitably, the awkward thing happens when you go to unfriend a specific person and they’ve already unfriended you. That moment of “What the hell?” rushes over you, and frankly, you’re just angry you didn’t dump them first. And then I pondered about why they unfriended me. What did I do? Was it something I said?

Then I went on a deleting rampage of about 20 of my 200 or so “friends” on Facebook. Friends is a term I use loosely in regards to Facebook because there are chicks from high school on there. Now, if I call you my friend on Twitter, you’re golden.

But back to being unfriended on Facebook by someone you know IN REAL LIFE (sad that I have to emphasize that, but you know) that you used to be friends with- or so you thought. That you used to talk to daily and then they just cut you off. CUT YOU OFF. Out of nowhere. After you were there for big moments in their life, after you shared intimate secrets with them, after you did things to help them, after you were there for them in their time of crisis and heartache…what a slap in the face. I’ve never confronted these girls about why they just completely cut me out of their lives because I feel fragile right now. I don’t want to hear, “Well, Monica, you’re whiny.” Or maybe, “Well, you don’t have kids, so therefore, we have nothing in common with you anymore. But nice knowing you!” Perhaps, “Well, Monica, we just don’t want to be your friend anymore. Bottom line.”

Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

I don’t want to hear any of that. Who would? Really.

After moping a bit, I tried to think of what truly bothered me about the whole situation. Was it that I felt bad for losing good friends? Felt dumb for thinking they were “true” friends to begin with? Or is it simply not knowing what I did?

All of the above.

But then, I tried to be completely raw with my feelings to get to the root of it all. I was upset that maybe…they didn’t like me. I want to be liked. It’s so vain, so self-centered, but such a pure emotion of wanting to be accepted and cherished for who I am. Whiny. A lush. Emotional. Sensitive. Funny. Curse like a sailor. Acne scarred. Thunder thighs. Over-analyzer. Quintessential dreamer. Britney Spears lover. Smarty pants. Purveyor of all things damask.

And a friend. A good, true friend.

Then on Thursday, something just clicked inside me. A glorious epiphany came to light: I was apologizing for who I am. Changing myself to try to fit in. Not being an authentic version of myself. Not being accepted.

I shouldn’t have to apologize for being who I am. I shouldn’t have to change my qualities and quirks. I am all the things I mentioned in this post on top of so many other things. There are lots of people who like, even love, who I am. As is. Nothing altered. Just me. Raw.

Today it’s Friday, and what I feel is love and empowerment for myself. Those girls that rid of my friendship, well, I wish them happy, beautiful lives. Regardless of why they chose to ditch me from their circle of friends, at least I know I am authentic.

And that’s simply a beautiful thing.

I notice a pattern with all my weight loss efforts, and it goes a little something like this:

Week 1: Motivated, determined to stick to the program, exercise, give 100%.

Week 2: Feeling good after week 1’s weight loss, maybe slack a little, usually gain. Exercise.

Week 3: Coming off of week 2’s gain, I usually am even more hardcore than week 1 and lose a lot. Usually try to stay busy to keep my mind off eating. So busy, I don’t eat or exercise much.

Week 4: Excited about huge loss week 3. Reflecting on week 3, I stayed busy and didn’t focus on food. So, how much can I lose if I become obsessive and super focused about food? Usually gain. Not into exercising at all. Nope.

Week 5: Noticed that I lost, gained, lost, gained and want to quit…because, really? What is the point? Usually kinda half ass this week and see how it goes.

Week 5 is either the turning point that I gotta stick this out and DO IT. Or Week 5 is where I quit and likely end up right back where I started.

Psychotic, isn’t it?

I am in week 4. Which means I am obsessing over everything. It’s food/weight loss in my head 24/7. It’s exhausting and honestly, depressing. I don’t know how I did it when I first did Weight Watchers in 2002-2003 and I only gained once every 8 weeks or so. I was a rock star!

I am participating in the Shrinking Jeans Holiday Hoedown Challenge, and they check-in on Wednesdays. My official Weight Watchers weigh-in is Saturday. This means my Wednesday weigh-in isn’t the “official” one I use for Weight Watchers, but it is kind of the mid-week point for me, so it tells me how I’ve done from Saturday-Tuesday. I don’t expect to lose 5 pounds during that time or anything, but I don’t expect to gain either.

I did my mid-week weigh-in yesterday and I am UP 1.4 pounds from Saturday.

It’s disheartening, heart wrenching, infuriating, bleak and overall just sucks. SUCKS. I did well on Saturday/Sunday, kept my eating in check. Monday/Tuesday I did the new PointsPlus thing. And I am UP. I’ve tracked, weighed, and counted every bit of food that has entered my mouth. Granted, I haven’t exercised formally, but I did do Just Dance 2 for 1.5 hours, plus I am still painting the living room. Yes, still painting. Lord, I can’t wait to be done with it. And I am back at work this week.

Yes, I know I don’t officially weigh-in until Saturday, so who knows what the official weigh-in will look like, but I have a feeling I am going to be up. That notion really screws with my head.

I don’t know what to do. There’s a lump in my throat just writing this post because I truly do know what I need to do. I need to keep on. I need to stay positive and lose weight. I need to be healthy. That’s what I would tell any of you all, “This will pass. Keep going. I am here for you.”

And I feel like I am doing everything in my power to do just that, and the scale is just evil. Am I still eating too much? Am I not eating enough? Do I need to exercise more?

Now comes the real reason I am writing this post…this morning my co-worker offered me 2 Dexatrim Max pills, ya know, diet pills. Something I swore I’d never do after watching one too many Dateline specials of women who have taken diet pills and died.

And I took them. Yup.

Why? Well, desperation. I want to lose weight. Not overnight, but I don’t think a few ounces or a pound a week is unreasonable of me. I want the scale to reflect my efforts, and I feel it doesn’t.

I equate being thinner/smaller to feeling beautiful and being attractive. I feel neither of those right now. I am generally feeling pretty fugly most days because I feel HUGE.

There it is- my obsessive, psychotic week 4 confession. Regardless of how I feel right now, I think going through these sorts of things helps me realize I have a destructive relationship with food. I use it for comfort and gain weight; I use it to fuel my weight loss by eating the right stuff, but then I feel hungry/deprived at times. Sometimes I reflect upon why I want to lose weight for once and for all, and it’s so that I won’t have these issues with food anymore. I know maintenance will require effort- a ton, but I feel like by working on maintaining, I’ll finally see food for what it’s meant to do- sustain me. Eat to live, not live to eat, right?

God, if you read my little blog, please help me because I honestly feel I can’t go on with this loss/gain pattern. For now, I’ll keep trying my best AND hoping for the best.

I love Twitter. I do- I honestly love, love, love Twitter. I live in a small town where friends and socializing are almost non-existent, so my tweeps mean a lot to me. I like feeling like I can connect with people who share my interests. Today, I saw the hashtag #exposed being used a lot by my diet/weight watchers/healthy living tweeps, and I started to see what the buzz was about. I was astonished, inspired and humbled by their posts. I also felt even more insecure about myself though. I’ll explain.

Mish over at Eating Journey started the Exposed movement about a year ago. I think the point of exposing yourself is to show the world you in the rawest form- unedited, unairbrushed, flaws and all to show what we love about our bodies. Positive affirmations. I read through many of the posts (you can find most of them linked up here) and felt inspired to write my own.

But no, I will not be showing pictures of myself in nearly nothing because I don’t even like seeing myself in nearly nothing. I guess maybe that’s the problem.

In reading the posts I read about how girls have felt empowered to love their bodies and have sex with the lights on. I’ve read about how they have learned to love themselves regardless of a pant size or a number on the scale. I’ve read about how their bodies give them amazing abilities like having children, giving hugs, running marathons and so much more. It’s all quite amazing. Yet if you were to ask me about my body, I’d likely complain, make a joke or avoid the subject.

My weight has always been an issue for me. I’ve always been the fat kid, the fat chick and now a fat woman. Lovely. I did manage to lose about 60 pounds from August 2002-May 2003 and I never, ever felt more beautiful in my entire life. That’s the time I met my husband, and then I gained some weight back. Then I lost weight for the wedding. And since our wedding in May 2009 I have gained back ALL my weight. Yup, I’ve gained FORTY pounds. It’s like part of me doesn’t even know how it happened, but I know damn well how it happened. I got lazy. I am lazy. I drank too many margaritas and I ate too much fast food. There’s a reason you can spell fat food by just dropping the “s”. Everyday I swear I’ll start back on Weight Watchers, and I try, but I always screw up. I am just always hungry or always obsessing over food. It kills me. No one likes feeling hungry and miserable. I complain about self-esteem issues while eating ice cream with my husband.

I have problems, people.

I think about all these things, almost daily, but again do nothing about them. It just seems so daunting to have to lose weight ALL over again. I know I need to. I would never want to be pregnant at this weight. I wear the same 5-6 outfits to work because they’re the only ones that fit. I avoid my friends’ phone calls and invitations to hang out because I don’t want them to see me and think, “Wow, she gained all the weight back.” I avoid going to routine doctor’s visits because I am afraid of being made to feel bad for the number on the scale. I don’t like being made to feel like I am a disgusting person. I am just embarrassed and ashamed of my body. My poor husband has to deal with all my issues, and it effects our marriage in many ways. I don’t feel like it’s fair to him to have a wife who never wants to do the things husbands and wives should do. I feel like I treat myself worse than anyone should ever treat a person. I berate myself, I criticize myself and I am just negative towards my body.

I hate my body.

But tonight, I am going to try to think of things that I love that I could only do with my body regardless of my weight or size.

My arms, which I am so critical of, help me carry around my gorgeous dog Pee Wee. I love him SO much.

My legs help me walk around and do all the DIY projects around the house that I enjoy.

My hips help me dance around to the rhythm of my favorite songs.

I am a wife, a friend, a co-worker, a blogger, a tweeter, and so many more things that do not involve my weight.

Maybe in one year I can add “healthy person” to that list and then I can expose myself to you all.

But for now, I just hope to be strong enough to get back on the path towards a healthier lifestyle and to love myself more. If I don’t, who will?