And so it begins...

About two years ago I lost 30 pounds. I wish my story ended there. I wish I could say that I stayed dedicated to my diet and regimented in my workout routine, but I can’t say that because unfortunately, somewhere between the Velveeta and Double Stuffed Oreos, those 30 pounds found me again. Yep, I’m just another statistic. I’m just one of the millions of Americans who have lost weight only to gain it all back (and then some.)

Fuck.

How could this have happened?! I mean, after you lose all the weight you can eat whatever you want right? I earned the right to eat crap because I lost weight? Right? RIGHT? Wrong.
Apparently becoming thin and staying thin requires “life changes.” Apparently you have to stick to a regular diet and exercise program. FOREVER. The thought of draggin’ my ass to the gym at least three times a week for at least a half hour every week for the rest of my life is scary enough, but the thought of giving up late night McDonalds runs for 50 cent apple pies and eating an entire bag of peanut butter filled pretzels while watching Bridezillas is fucking terrifying. It’s more than terrifying, it’s overwhelming; it’s daunting; it’s something I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for. Hence the regaining of the weight.
You see food is my crutch. Much like people drink, smoke or do drugs to relieve stress, loosen up or just kill time, I eat. I eat really bad food and a lot of it. I eat bagels smothered in full fat cream cheese; I eat hamburgers, French fries, glazed donuts, processed turkey sandwiches, mac and cheese, PB&J’s, overflowing bowls of sugar coated cereals, bags of caramel coated rice cakes, pancakes with maple syrup (OK, we get it you eat everything.)Basically, I love sugar, flour, trans fats and artificial flavors. These foods make me forget my problems, they ease my mind while the melt in my mouth. Food is my drug.

I’m really not sure how my addiction to food started. My therapist (yes I see a therapist about food) believes that it stems from my childhood or some Freudian bullcrap like that.

The immediate joy and comfort that my love of food brings is short lived. A binge is usually followed by intense feelings of guilt and, of course, the imminent weight gain. As the scale goes up my self esteem goes down; as I get bigger I feel so much smaller. At 26 years old I’ve never confidently strutted down the beach in a two piece. I've never been in a size that didn’t incorporate two numbers. I've never felt good about my body.

I’ve tried and failed at this weigh loss shit before and I’m terrified to try only to fail again. SO, this blog is my last ditch effort at the journey to become who I want to be; not just physically, but emotionally as well. I imagine if I publicly put myself out there I will feel more accountable for my actions. Perhaps my writing will bring out some answers inside myself as to why I am the way I am and how I can change it. I want to help myself and maybe help others along the way.

“A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step.” So let’s get goin’.