I’m about to get real personal and extremely vulnerable here. For the past 20 years, I have struggled with my weight. I have refused to share this story of struggle because I thought this was my story. Nobody else needed to know about it. I would deal with it on my own, fix it on my own, and one day, people would see my miraculous transformation and never need to know how deeply I struggled with this problem.
But recently, it occurred to me. This isn’t my story. This is the story of every single person on the planet who has ever struggled with his or her weight. This is why I decided to share it. Before I tell you how I got to the healthy mindset I’m in now (and one I pray to God I can maintain), I will tell you how my story looked…
Binge eating when nobody was looking. Stashing snacks – my car (I was good at finding nooks that nobody knew about), my dresser drawer (under my socks), behind all the kids’ snacks in the pantry (I stood on a chair to reach them. I was never without a secret stash of some form of chocolate or cookies). Eating in the middle of the night after getting up to pee. Driving through (mostly to get cookies…I’ve never been a huge fan of fast food) and throwing away the evidence before anyone knew I went (and spending cash so there was no trail of me driving through Carl’s Jr.!).
The other part of my story? Trying to hide my weight. Wearing clothes that were too loose to hide the fat. Buying bras that would cover as much back fat as possible. Wrapping towels around my body whenever I was in a swimsuit.
What did I experience from all this sneaky eating and hiding beneath my clothing? Shame. SO. Much. Shame. I started saying awful things to myself in the mirror. All I thought about from morning till night was what treats I was going to have that day. If I ordered my favorite salad from Luna Grill, I made sure to order a side of fries. I literally became afraid of eating “healthy” without having something unhealthy to go with it. I was afraid of my body feeling that sugar crash, so I just kept pumping it with carbs and sugar. And, alas, my fat kept growing and the weight kept pouring on.
Now, let me take you back 20 years. I was a dancer. I danced at least three nights a week at my local dance studio in Arizona, at least two hours per night. I did jazz and I was an avid tapper. I was in love with dance. I was not in love with working out and I never felt like I was actually working out. Even though the first 20 minutes of every dance class was the equivalent of what someone these days would call a hardcore boot camp class. I had a 6-pack that I didn’t even work intentionally to get. I had toned arms and legs and I was extremely thin and strong.
With this body, I was also an avid water skier, snow skier, rock climber, hiker, swimmer, you name it…if it was active, I was good at it. And I did it effortlessly because of this body I was living in.
I realize that some people who struggle with weight never had the luxury (or curse…I’ll get to that in a minute) of having a thin body without trying. A lot of people have struggled with weight since childhood. On one hand, this was a luxury for me. Weight was something I never had to worry about, so it was not something I never had to think about. I ate what I wanted (I could down a half gallon of ice cream or eat an entire row of Oreos without putting on an ounce). I would just burn those calories right off with the activities I did. Some might say, “Ahhh, youth,” but really, some people never had that luxury.
And on the other hand, like I mentioned, I think that this easy way of living was also a curse. I never thought about weight, so when I hit my late 20s, started having babies, growing older, slowing down my exercise, and continuing to eat as though I was still dancing four nights a week, I still wasn’t thinking about my weight because I never had to and it wasn’t something that was even near my radar….Until I got bigger and bigger. I denied it for a long time. I called it “chub” because I no longer had a six-pack, but then that chub turned into fat.
I had three kids, headed into my late 30s, and my weight struggles hit me hard…that’s when the reality set in that I would never have a healthy body again without working for it…I mean, really working hard for it. Because, by then, I was a good 40 lbs. overweight with the mentality of a 20 year old dancer.
So, I needed to make a change. And boy did I make changes. Over the past 10 years, I have tried almost every diet, every fad, I’ve lost some weight, I’ve gained it all back. I’ve beaten myself up. I’ve become lethargic. I’ve gotten on blood pressure medication. I’ve hired trainers. I’ve quit the trainers. I’ve bought bigger clothes. I’ve struggled with becoming depressed about it (and I am not a depressed person by nature). My brain chemistry changed and I had a “What’s the point?” attitude. Then I’d look down at my three kids and think, “They’re the point, you fat idiot!”
But it wasn’t enough, somehow. And it scared me. So I coped by eating…
And then something shifted. I can’t say that I had some sort of epiphany or that there was some magic moment when I decided that, “today is the day!” There was no declaration. There was no big “aha!” moment. I just decided that I needed more energy. I needed to be more present with my kids. I was tired of them playing with my “wubble bubble” (the cute name they gave my fat gut). I was tired of telling them to play without me, that I would sit right here and watch. I was tired of my oldest son worrying about my weight and lecturing me when I would reach for a sweet. I was tired of thinking about my next food “fix.” I was tired of feeling like an addict. I was tired of focusing on junk food 24/7. I was tired of feeling like giving up at the age of 40. I was tired of making excuses.
So, as I’ve done a million times before, I cut WAY back on carbs. I cut out sugar. The first three days felt like I was going to die. But, alas, I didn’t. The next few days after that were easier. There are still days I want desperately to eat a piece of toast with my morning eggs or drive through somewhere and buy a cookie. But I refrain. I keep refraining. I put an image of my healthier self in front of my mind’s eye (sometimes I even close my eyes so I can really visualize it) and I focus on that person. That person that I want to be. Not the person who wants to stuff her face. That joy only lasts a few minutes. The pain lasts much longer. The internal pain. The inflammatory pain my body feels. The pain of knowing I’m on high blood pressure mediation when I could prevent it. The pain of knowing I wasn’t being the best mom I could possibly be.
To date, I’m down 12 pounds, and I have about 30 to go. Please keep me in your thoughts and wish me well because, as I recently told my husband, I am fragile right now. I am strong in every other way. I finish what I start. I am a strong mother to my children. But I am a weak, sad person when it comes to food. This will be a fight for me until all the weight is gone and healthy foods sound better than junk food 100% of the time. I’m getting there. I can honestly say that I am satisfied snacking on almonds rather than cookies. But I can’t say that I don’t struggle every single day to give in to my cravings (because I still have them).
But I have been satisfied before. I have spent long stints of time transitioning away from junk and into a healthy lifestyle, just to let it all go and regress. I’ve done it more times than I can count. I hope this isn’t one of those times. That’s why I started out saying that this post would be vulnerable and extremely personal. I hope that by putting it out there for all to read, that it would help me to hold myself accountable. My closest friends and my family encourage me all the time. But I have realized that it has to be me that does the work. Nobody else can do it for me. I only have myself to blame if I fail.
So, friends, for now, I am not failing, and I hope to never go back to that toxic, dysfunctional relationship with food that I have always had. I think that sharing my story is the first step in the right direction.
Thank you for reading.
XO,
Rachelle
Mid-LIFE Reinvention 