The Weight Loss Chronicles – 1

Nobody told me that when my clothes started to get too big that I’d get frustrated. 
I know, I know! How on earth could that be frustrating? It means all your hard work is lying off and you’re seeing physical results! 
Yes, and it also means that the clothes that I bought are now things that make me feel frumpy. It means that I don’t feel as confident in my clothes as I did when I was heavier. 
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not enough to make me say, “screw this! I’ll just stay this size!”, but it does affect you mentally. 
Weightloss is always made out to be this grand thing, but no one wants to talk about the down side – and oh yes, there is a down side! This blog series is going to be about the ups and downs of weight loss. How it makes you feel mentally, physically, and emotionally. 
This is my weight loss story. 

  • My name is Jenni
  • I’m almost 28 years old
  • I live in a small town
  • I’ve been heavy all my life
  • I struggled with anxiety and things that go along with it almost all my life
  • I’m single
  • I’m currently down 15lbs
  • My starting weight was 249
  • I’m a size 18 pants and XL tops 
  • I’m on a 2030 calories a day diet
  • I also hate the word diet
  • I love yoga
  • I can touch my toes!
  • I’m lactose intolerant 
  • I love cheese 😩
  • I’m 5’5
  • I’ve run out of things to write 

Day 5 of my weight loss journey ✌🏻

It’s 6:35am. 
It’s also raining and I’m standing outside writing this because being outside calms me. 

I started my weight loss journey on Tuesday, February 21st. My Fitness Pal tells me I need to stay around 2000 calories a day to lose a pound a week. Of course, I could eat less and lose more weight more quickly, but this is a lifestyle change for me. 

No quick fixes here. 

Tuesday was actually pretty easy, surprisingly. I followed what I should eat and even began working out – I haven’t worked out harder than yoga in years, not that yoga can’t be hard, because it is. But the kind I was doing wasn’t. 

Wednesday was also pretty good. I was sore from my workout, but still stayed in my calories and felt pretty darn good. 

Thursday – eh – could have been way better. It was a big day at work and I started my day by falling down the stairs. 

Graceful, I know. I now sport a scrape on my foot and a huge bruise on my shin. 

It was also the first day that I really felt the lack of my normal caloric intake and caffeine. I also worked out Thursday and to my surprise, the workout was just a tad bit easier. 🙌🏻

Friday was the day from hell. I was hungry, grumpy, in pain, and sleepy. I was hungry because I waited on my sister to come over before I ate supper – at 7pm. I normally get up between 4-4:15, just to give a reference. 

So now it’s Saturday. I’m feeling better than yesterday, but it’s early. 

But I feel good, at the same time. I feel like my body is already rejoicing, so hopefully I can hang onto that feeling, because it feels dang good. 

I don’t have any concrete goals. I haven’t weighed myself in over a year and I honestly don’t plan to for a while. This isn’t about a goal weight, this is about my life and wanting to live it to the fullest. For so long I focused on what I thought I should weigh, but now I see it’s truly about how I feel, my health, and the way my clothes fit. 

Well, I guess that’s all for this early morning ramble. 

Judgment

I normally don’t get in the middle of politics and religion (unless you’re someone I trust) and I’ve debated on this for, gosh, a week or more now. You see, I don’t normally like to throw my two cents in unless I feel that my two cents is needed, and I’ve been questioning if I knew enough about this topic to add my thoughts. 
Then tonight I keep feeling like there’s a weight on my chest and that there is something I need to do – this usually means God is knocking me on the head and telling me to act. 
So naturally, I trust Him and act. 

After He knocks for a while, cause ya know?
This picture sums up my frustration with this country right now. 

And no, not because I agree, but because I wholeheartedly disagree. 
How dare anyone question any other persons faith. How dare you assume you know so much that you know the heart of those who are Christian and voted for, now president, Trump? 

Don’t get me wrong, we all have that very human and sinful side of us who question others about their choices and how it pertains to their faith, but hopefully we realize our error and pray about it. 

Not for the other persons sin, but for our own. 
I could handle being called racist, homophobic, etc because of who I voted for. It irritated me and hurt, because I know it’s not true, but it didn’t affect me down to my core. 
But insinuating that I’m not following Christ is a whole other ball game. 


My faith is hard won. God found me when I hit the lowest of lows and He loved me when I wasn’t even sure if I loved myself. I strive to live as closely to how He wants me to live as I can. I have learned to forgive those who hurt me. I have learned to accept those who differ from me. I have learned to turn to Christ in anger, instead of allowing the emotion to consume me. 
Jesus died for me on that cross, not because I’m so faithful, but because His love for us transcends anything we could ever comprehend. He died for me when I was so buried in sin and I was living only for myself. He died for me when I went weeks without praying. He loves me. He loves you. 
For someone to group every Christian together  who voted republican and assume that we are all horrible people is so hypocritical. You judge us because we apparently judge others? What? You can judge and it’s acceptable because you’re liberal? No. Wrong. No one can judge. 
Do we though? I’d be lying if I said no. But you’re just as guilty. Never start pointing fingers unless your own hands are clean. 
But because of my faith, I forgive you. 

Because of my faith I love you and want the absolute best for you. 
Instead of passing a judgment on me, try and get to know me. Ask me about my views, my Christian walk, my story, my friends. Learn about who I am. 
You’d be surprised to see that I’m nothing like what you assume. 
Truthfully, if you want to know, ask. That’s how we all grow. 
I’m sure there’s plenty we don’t agree on, but that’s the beautiful thing about the USA. 

Dear Girl Who Only Posts Pictures of Her Face 

Dear Girl, 

I get you. For years I didn’t post or even take full body pics. I felt like my face was way better than the rest of me and if I showed the world what I looked like no one would want to pay attention to me. 

I see people who have so many pictures from high school and how they lovingly look back on them. I, however, have very few pictures from that period of my life. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have a few, but I spent that time avoiding the camera from the chest down. 

Why do we do it?

We are trained to think that unless you look a certain way, you aren’t attractive. We see pictures like this splashed all over the internet and magazines and we think this is the norm. 


Or maybe we feel that our chest is too big. Maybe it’s too small. Maybe we think we look too thin and are afraid people will make fun of us. Maybe we hate our stomach. 

There’s a million reasons we don’t like our body and I couldn’t even begin to name them all. We also forget that it’s not just curvy girls that feel self conscious. 

All women feel that way; big or small, tall or short. 

But that’s the thing – if we all feel that way at some point, then why can’t we just be accepting of each other? 

Your body does not define you. Your skin color does not define you. Your clothes do not define you. Your hair does not define you. 

You define who you are. 

Take control of who you are and go on a journey of learning to love yourself. Take those pictures. Post those pictures. Life does not wait for you to decide you’re good enough, so live each day. Enjoy your friends and family. Wear that bathing suit to the beach. Wear the leggings. 

Don’t hide everything but your face. Be proud and unapologetically so. 

Eating Disorders, Anxiety, and Depression. My story of overcoming mental illness and gaining true happiness. 

This is my life journey. I haven’t sugarcoated my story. As the title states, this deals with mental illness. Please read with caution. 

Weight has been something I’ve struggled with my entire life. 

I can remember being in the fourth grade and comparing weight with my friends and realizing that I weight at least ten more pounds than they did. 

I remember my mom calling the plus sized clothing I wore in the kids section “half” sizes so I wouldn’t feel bad. I remember being made fun of because I “was too fat” to wear l.e.i. And mudd (the cool brands of 2000). I remember not trying out for cheerleading because I thought I was too big. 

I remember being in high school and being disgusted with myself because my arms would rub against my stomach when I sat down in my desk. I remember being called fat behind my back by people in my band class. 

These moments all formulated in my head to convince myself that I wasn’t worth love or acceptance until I lost weight. 

The summer before my senior year in high school I lost some weight. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough for it to unconsciously click in my head how to lose weight. See, I had gotten super busy over the summer and as a result I didn’t snack early as much. I lost weight and I knew it was because I hadn’t been eating normal. 

The way to lose weight was to not eat. At least, in my head it was. 

It didn’t trigger right away, but in February of 2007 my nanny passed away from a heart attack. My life was thrown into chaos over night and I found myself feeling completely out of control. I couldn’t control when someone died. I couldn’t control my emotions. I could control my life. 

But I could control what I put in my mouth. 

From that moment on I ate just enough to get by. I would go to the gym to work off what I had eaten because I wanted to consume as few calories as possible. 

I remember having to hang on to my desk when I got up because I felt so faint from lack of food. I remember keeping otc migraine pills in my car because I always had a headache at the end of the school day. 

Oh, but I was losing weight. People noticed. I noticed. Who cared if I felt like death? I was losing weight. 


Winter 2006 or early 2007 above and spring 2007 below 

The hardest part, looking back, was that I felt so huge to begin with that no matter how little I ate, I still felt like I was failing. I wasn’t losing weight fast enough and it ripped me apart. 

I’d love to say that I woke up one morning and opened my eyes to what I was doing to myself, but I didn’t. I settled into a toxic relationship with food for the next five or so years. I’d feel better and eat, only to be followed by weeks of eating every little. Sometimes I’d be so filled with anxiety that I would binge and eat whatever I could, followed by extreme guilt. I never felt like I could talk about it because the perception of someone with an eating disorder is skeletal and sickly. I still could have been considered “fat” for lack of a better word. 

My first year of work led me to passing out at work twice and my mom used to sit and watch me eat breakfast. Honestly, I don’t know if she actually knew, or what, but I remember being practically forced to eat toast. 


April 2008

I had several bad relationships because I never felt like I deserved better, or could even get better. I’ve had ex’s that I told some things to call me fat behind my back after we broke up. I’ve been told that there are people starving and I’m so selfish that I’m upset because I did eat. 


2009

I never felt good enough, thin enough, pretty enough. I struggled with anxiety, depression, and excessive OCD. I’ve coped with alcohol and self harm. I stayed with a man who lied to me bacause I thought he was the best I would ever have. 


2011


2012


Jamaica 2013

  

2014


2015

Then I woke the eff up. 
I began to live my life and gained the best friend I could ever imagine. Concerts, music, shopping, and fun became my life. Little by little I began to start loving myself. 

I still had feelings of not being good enough, until August 2014. 

My. Life. Changed. 

I know not everyone is religious, but I tell you, the day I left my last ex I felt God. I felt him with me, guiding me. I felt him show me how special I am to Him. I’ve been moved to sobbing tears because of His presence. 
Since 2014 I’ve been on a path of self discovery. I’ve been broken down and lifted up. I’ve learned to see that I am good enough. 

Because isn’t that the root of my problems? I never thought I was goood enough. 

I can’t say I don’t struggle with anxiety or sometimes have a bad self image. I’m human and you are too. Sometimes life with be a daily struggle. Sometimes you may feel you’ll never be good enough. 

You are good enough. 

Mental illness, to be honest, is a lifetime struggle. What helps me may not help you and vice versa. We need to take charge of our lives and find what helps us. It is possible to be happy. It is possible to look in the mirror and see someone you love. It is possible to wake up and be so thankful that you’re alive. 

I’m rooting for you. I’m rooting for us all. 

I don’t know if this made sense, or if it will help anyone, but I feel called to share my story. My past may help someone change their future, and if that’s the case then it’s all worth it. ❤️


October 2016