Less of Me

When I stepped on the scale in August 2007, I weighed 204 pounds. I gasped when I saw the number come up on the digital screen. The last time I had been that heavy was when I was pregnant with Zac. I had just gone through intensive out-patient therapy for depression, lost my job, and was using food to comfort myself on a nightly basis. I knew that it had to stop. At 5'5, 204 was putting me in pre-diabetic, hypertension range.

I started losing weight very, very slowly. I joined WW briefly and then quit, but I didn't go back on Jenny Craig or Quick Weight Loss. I started trying not to binge at night when the panic and sadness found there way back to me.

In September 2007 I started my new job and was able to normalize my eating patterns for breakfast and lunch. Two packets (eventually down to 1 1/2) of weight control oatmeal for breakfast, one morning snack, and a Lean Cuisine for lunch. For dinner I usually ate what my parents made and tried to eat after dinner.

Part of the reason that I haven't written about my weight loss is because it feels like it isn't all completely under my control. In November I started a medication that had a couple of huge side effects: 1) I fell asleep all the time, including while driving a car, during meetings, at work, and while watching tv. It was like I was constantly sedated for about six months; 2) It decreased my appetite significantly. For the first time in my life, I wasn't constantly thinking about food or when I would eat next.

Over the months (and after more than a few flat tires from running into curbs while dozing off at the wheel), the fatigue lessened. I started to feel more in control of my body and what I put into it. I lost more weight and started exercising. I would wake up in the mornings before work and go for a walk that eventually turned into a run.

More than a year later, I've lost almost 35 pounds. I stepped on the scale this morning at 173. That's actually under my pre-pregnancy weight and closer to what I weighed in college while I was working out twice a day.

Now I'm living by myself with Zac in an apartment, working two jobs, and have a healthy dose of mandatory "volunteering" that I have to do and I've found myself slipping back into old habits. Those days of comforting myself with food aren't completely gone. The difference now is that I know what I'm doing and I usually feel sick while I'm eating. and let's call it what it really is. I use the term "comforting" rather loosely, especially since I usually feel sick and angry at myself for overeating. What I'm really doing is binging and I end up hating myself for it. Almost immediately afterwards I wish that I hadn't done it. I wish that I was strong enough to let the urge pass me by.

I have 20 more pounds to go until I get to my goal weight. Honestly, I weighed more than 150 at my high school graduation, so I'm not sure how realistic that number is, but it's just a number to me. I feel healthier than I did a year ago. I'm generally happier with how I look and I don't see myself going off any of my medication anytime soon so at least I don't have to worry that I'll regain the weight from that. I just wish that I had a better handle on the binging and purging cycle. The next 20 pounds by the hardest ones to lose if I don't figure something out.