Last night I found myself pulling up my 'before' pictures to show a friend. You know, like, my before-before pictures. The ones that are embarrassing to think about, to look at....the ones that make me cringe a little. The 55+ pounds ago pictures.
You see, she never knew me like that since we're newish friends within the last year. And we were talking about weight loss and stuff, and I was trying to explain my history a little bit. How I really struggled. How I was large. Like, not just 10lbs overweight. A lot overweight. It's my hard-knock story and sometimes I feel like it's kind of a big piece of my past that helps explain my present, if you know what I mean.
Seeing those pictures still shock me. It's a hell of a difference and I know people do quadruple that (I watch Extreme Weight Loss, guys), but it was a huuuuge feat in my life, and still is. It's something I work at on a daily basis and sometimes, while I wish food and fitness didn't have to be a top priority in my life, I'm actually glad it is most the time.
It helps me practice a form of discipline, keeping myself in line--in check, when it comes to healthy choices and getting myself to the gym.
It's been over two weeks since we've revamped our household food choices. It's insane what just two weeks of that will do to your perspective (and your body), but seriously. I cannot look at food the same, I just can't. I'm almost wrecked when it comes to all the good (bad) stuff. I've been diet coke free for over 2 weeks, which was a habit I just didn't know I was capable of breaking, among other things.
What's crazy is how my body already responds poorly to the very few cheats ('treats') I've had. Just a few days ago Declan and I had a date night. At dinner we both made really decent choices, but we had white potatoes (mashed) as a side, and then a latte for 'dessert' (mmmm starbucks). We went into it knowing that this would be our first time straying a bit, and that it was ok. Everything was delicious and felt very worth the small splurge at the time.
But when I got home, my whole body broke out into a fiery itchy light rash. Something, whether it be the dairy from the drink, or the potatoes made my body respond and be all NOOOO you don't eat this, anymore, fool. Declan ended up feeling nauseous and on-edge of puking the entire night. It kinda sucked, actually. Especially because I've never been 'allergic' to anything before.
It's almost weird to me that I'm now one of those people who actually wants to avoid those foods, who wants to exercise. Like, I feel antsy and irritable if I don't get to the gym or my favorite classes. (Don't get me wrong, I still think about pizza errrry day.)
Even though there's a part of me that wants to wear a shirt to the gym that says, "I used to be fat" (ok, maybe worded a tad bit better than that) or, "I've been there, sister!", something, anything that (barely touches the surface) shares my story so I'm more relatable to other women, so they don't just think that this lifestyle came easy to me or something. But, this is me now. And I need to move on from those before pictures, you know?
Yea, they're good for a motivation boost. Yea, they're a testament to my hard work. Yea, they may even inspire people that hard work pays off and whatever.
But the me-now doesn't have to live in that past picture anymore. I'm just...different. It's definitely part of my story, but it's sure as heck not all of it.