Putting the weight back on.

When I started flipping through photos from a time when I was so, unbelievably insecure, I put back on the figurative weight of all those old feelings of inadequacy, of not feeling important, of loneliness, of self-doubt. Of high school and the years surrounding it. It's bizarre how fresh those feelings are just looking at pictures and remembering even fragments of what I was going through emotionally. Among the photos was one I actually liked--the day I got my first car, my beloved '93 Explorer Sport that I unfortunately wasn't able to maintain as much as I would have liked in its later years.

But this made me realize something: This was as "big" as I ever got in high school.

I don't see "big" when I look at this photo. I see tall.

And really bulky sandals.

Friday night, I literally put the weight back on--in the form of a bunch of things we had in the house. I had a sticker with the month and weight loss and attached it to each item. I paced our side yard, which is the length of the house, one up and one back for each month and dropped the item that represented that month. Like Biggest Loser's version, but less grandesque. The Hubs had to laugh at my items because evidently we have a whole bunch of weights in the garage somewhere that would have been a lot more compact. (So I plan to have a re-do and perhaps lengthen the course.)

Anyway, carrying around the extra weight wasn't fun and I'm not quite sure how I didn't seem to feel it when I weighed that much, but I guess I did, which is why I feel so much lighter now. I just don't know how I did it.

Allow me to present what 55 pounds (June-May) looks like:

That's:
1 8-lb hand weight
2 bags of flour (5 lbs each)
1 96oz milk container filled with water
2 5lb hand weights
1 container of vegetable oil
2 containers of olive oil (well, about 1 3/4)
5 boxes of pasta, 1 lb each
1 bag of uncooked rice (2 lb)
3 containers of cleaning products--about 32-36 fl oz each

A really bad self-portrait before starting. To carry all of the above, I wore a backpack, carried a cross-body style messenger bag, and lugged a gym duffel.

While it wasn't fun, I don't feel like I got the whole experience. I think I need more walking time for it to sink in how much I weighed before, how much weight that's been to lose, and that I will never be that weight again. Like I said, I'll do a repeat maybe at goal weight.

All that said, I did put a little weight back on this week. And I'm irked about that. I told myself I'd do better on the weekends so I could lead up to a good loss on Monday. Well, I was lurred by the sushi rolls on Saturday and the spring rolls yesterday. I ate through the "wall" of being full because it was so. unbelievably. delicious. It still wasn't enough to explain a 1.6 pound gain this week. My lower (but still good) water intake and the fact that it's my TOM probably explains that better. I hate backtracking. I hate falling short. That 60 lb milestone is right there and I just can't seem to reach it. That psychological milestone is right there and I can't grasp it. Yet.

It's not a great attitude that I begin this week with, but I'll fight my way back. I'll get there. I look at that picture of the 17-year-old girl who hated having her picture taken, who constantly fumbled with her clothes and fidgeted because she was so uncomfortable with herself, who never spoke up about anything, who was a doormat, who could so easily be pushed aside, and I realize a few things:

-I hear these lyrics and I think of the girl I was:

Hold on, baby, you're losing it

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go... and no one knows

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

and it makes me sad to think what a sad girl I was and for years.
-I'm not that person anymore. I want to shake her and tell her she's so much more than she gives herself credit for. That she's giving too much power to people who don't really care about her at all. She needs to speak up for herself. She needs to yell and scream if that's what it takes to be heard. That people who don't want to listen aren't worth her time. That she needs to enjoy life and not constantly worry that she's going to make a fool out of herself.
-I owe it to her to feel good about myself. Not okay, but good.
-I owe it to her to not let things hold me back, including my own self-doubt.
-I owe it to her to face my fears.
-I owe it to her to stand up for myself and be heard. Because I have a voice. What I feel is important, what I say is valuable. I never felt that when I was 17.
-I owe it to her. I owe it to me. I will finish for us, two versions of the same person.

On a lighter note, I dumped Weight Watchers. Not really that heartlessly...okay, maybe I did. I was swayed by the endless database on My Fitness Pal, the easy access to my full nutritional picture, the reports and tools, and the fact that it's FREE. I like to see what my sodium and fiber intake is, along with everything else. WW simplified things to the point that I didn't know any of that. Also, when I was tracking both, but aiming more toward staying within my calorie range instead of points range, I lost more weight. Weight Watchers in fantastic and I credit it for really helping me to eat better food and getting my fruits and veggies (to earn a smiley face for the day), but I'm liking MFP. I've already recruited a few members to the site.

Oh and a different gauge of my weight loss? The jeans I wore on my first date with the Hubs--the juniors, slim fitting, low-rise jeans? They fit. I had all but given up on fitting into them again because my body shape changed so much with pregnancy, but for kicks, I pulled them on and sure enough, zip! That was so much fun that I pulled on a few other jeans I didn't think would possibly fit. Yep, yep, yep. It's easier to justify not fitting into something because clearly dryers have it out for all of us, but it's hard to deny when jeans that have been sitting there twiddling their thumbs fit.

So, time to get on track for this week. I have a few challenging weeks ahead with getaways (and free cocktails--when I never drink), Disney, and traveling. I can handle it. I can be smart with food choices, hydrate, and Lord knows I'll get plenty of exercise walking around Disneyland. Oh and I'll be checking in next Tuesday instead of Monday.