At this time last year I hovered around the 212lb. mark. I stopped looking at the scale after seeing that number; I I stopped buying bigger clothes after seeing that number. On my 5'8" pear-shaped frame, I wasn't just overweight, I was obese.
Obese.
Just thinking of the word made me feel sick. I mean, I knew had put on some weight, but I certainly didn't think it was that bad. (I have always been super self conscious about my weight, considering I have always been on the "curvier" side. Thanks German and Russian genes!)
After several crying bouts during waves of mania and depression I asked my Psych Dr. if there was something he could give me, or if there was a different combo I could try to combat my weight problem and keep my crazy in check.* Turns out: check and check. Dr. Pysch changed up my meds and the transition was about to begin.
Life over the next few months had moments of stress. My husband(to-be at the time) had moved 4 hours away for work; I was planning our (destination) wedding; my job was going to be ending in the month after we returned from our honeymoon; and our apartment building was turning into a crack-house (a story for another day). Last summer was also one of the hottest I can ever remember. My guy had our vehicle, so I walked EVERYWHERE. Plus I bought a pair of those Easy Tone shoes for the extra ass-sculpting. Walking home from work, I would be drenched in sweat by the time I reached my front door. Living alone during the summer, meant I was also cooking for one. Small meals, small plates, small forks. My favorite little luxury was stopping off at the local market to pick up fresh provisions to make a caprese salad with a side of fresh foccacia and proscuitto.
The combination of the stress, the new meds, the exercise & the simpler eating helped me to lose about 30 lbs. by the end of August. (It fluctuates cause of girl reasons... you know how it goes...) By our wedding day on the 8th of September, I felt absolutely beautiful and happy with my self image for the first time, in as long as I could remember.
Since September I have lost another 24-ish lbs. I am so close to my goal of 150. Eight pounds away. Only 8 more lbs. of thigh and ass to tighten. Only 8 more lbs. of tricep flags to whittle down. I know it's only a number. But it's a healthy number. It's a safe number. It's where I should be.
Plus the other highlight is: all my old clothes fit again, so it's like I have a whole new wardrobe! Woot! Woot!
*For those who don't know, many anti-depressants, anti-anxiety meds, and anti-psychotics have the shitty side-effect of excess weight gain. We're already suffering enough madness and then we gain excess weight? How awful is that?
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