Just call me the cookie monster...

I am ashamed of how many cookies I ate last night. Ashamed. I even topped one off with a dollop of peanut butter. It's amazing how my self control can instantly waver if someone brings freshly baked- these ain't no Chips Ahoy- chocolate chip cookies into the house. It's like I'm superman(Henry Cavill as Superman, next week--I might actually die of happiness) and they are ooey, gooey kryptonite goodness. 

Now, you might be wondering "Hey, crazy, why are you worried about a few (8) cookies?"
You see,concerned reader. every since puberty hit like two ton truck, I have struggled with my weight. Not because I live on a diet of sugary soft drink, heavy cream and lard, but because fate through me a little monkey wretch called genetics. Change what you will about your lifestyle, but genetics can't be changed. And, despite the attempts in the medical world to do so, I doubt that any scientist will find a way to rewrite our genetic code.Now, I could go into a great detail about why I think these things and I could throw out words like nucleotides, chromosomes and alleles and most of you would probably think that I have been "taking to the sherry".( <--- I learned that phrase from a movie I watched last night. Editor's Note: Though of legal age, I don't drink. Voluntarily disorientating my mind is not high on my to do list. What is you ask? Graduation from college and grad school, becoming a mother, traveling the world-especially England and Australian just for their male population, becoming a Time Lord's companion and ultimately, going to Hogwarts, just to name a few) For a few years now, I have tried to fight against my genetics (my Dad has actually apologized, more than once, for cursing me with the same genes he had fought against his whole life) and poorer eating habits of my youth to achieve a body that I'm proud of.

My weight loss journey began a little over three years ago. I was probably pushing 160, though I wouldn't step on a scale for the life of me, and considered overweight by my petite height. Yep, that's what being petite gets you, it gets you fat. That topped with what I jokingly refer to as the metabolism of an 80 year old created a person I hated facing in the mirror every morning. So, finally at the ripe old age of 20, I got fed up and began doing something about it. First, I stopped drinking cokes (pop or soda to the Northerners), including diet and I started drinking green tea everyday for my caffeine fix, (Catherine without caffeine= Sauron without the ring) Then, I started eating better..not perfect, but better and exercising regularly. And how much weigh did these life alterations lose me? Give or take 5 pounds. Who would be frustrated, because I know that I was.

Then here came the holiday season. Say what you will about my commitment but I don't believe in diets during the holidays. I am filled up with too much Christmas spirit and turkey to care. But after the holidays, when the ham, turkey, cookies and whatever figgy pudding is gone, it's time for New Years and the traditional New Year's resolution of the masses: to lose weigh. So,  I got a gym membership and ignorantly started counting calories. I say ignorantly because of this little unknown fact. An adult woman needs at least 1200 for normal bodily function. How much was I eating per day? Around 800. That combined with the gym time I was putting in left me about 300 calories for my body to function off of. I was literally, unintentionally starving myself but I was dropping pounds fast. In a total of about 3 months (that is a rough estimate) I had lost around 30 pounds, which was great for me at least, I could wear a dress I wore at age 13. (Granted the dress was a size 8, but I was fairly average size really until I was 15.) And the kicker came when I went short shopping for vacation that May. I put on a size 6 pair of shorts! I had never been happier. I had finally squeeze by busted can of biscuits butt into a size that seemed normal.
But, like all good things, it had to come to an end and mine certainly did. Later that summer, after my vacation in May, I became a full time employee at the daycare I worked at and gone were the days of my avid gym going. I would still eat fairly well, but I wasn't eating my usually 800 calories a day diet because I was happy with my weight then- and I had a boyfriend then and we went out a lot.
Do you know what happens when you are technically starving yourself and then you fudge just a little bit on your diet? You gain weight quickly because your body is trying to store up in case you start "starving" yourself again. By the end of the summer, my size 6 shorts were cutting off circulation.
I tried dieting again that fall which was basically taking any diet pill that guarantee results, but I saw little if any. Fast forward two years and I was still the same size as I was a few years before, not quite as big as when I began my "weigh loss journey", I would fluctuate between an 8 and 10, but I was never satisfied. I had tried a few attempts to lose weigh again, I even had surgery (and was told that I would probably lose 10-15 pounds as a result of not eating) and nothing happen. So, last spring, fed up again and fueled by a bet between my Dad and myself, I began to lose weight again. And, since I apparently never learn, I tried losing the same way as I had done a couple years earlier. Eating barely 1200 calories a day and burning of 700 calories per gym session. You do the math. I was usually dropping 2 pounds a week, good for most people but bad from someone who is just chunky. And eventually I could get into my little size 6 shorts and jeans and I was happy again. I was even going to win our bet, until I became too busy to work out and discovered Nutella. That's when I spiraled backwards again. By the time my summer vacation rolled around, I couldn't fit into the little size 6 shorts that I was bought just for it. Well, I could, but that was only after stretching them out for hours and, even then, they weren't comfortable. If I had been upset the first time, I was devastated this time. I lost all hope that I would ever be happy in my own skin.Sometime that fall, I stupidly decided to step on a scale one day to see if my mental of myself was just a figment of my imagination. But when that scale read 156- I nearly cried. It was almost if I was back where I started.
So, this year, I started trying to lose weigh again. But I was determined to do it differently this time. Instead of basically starving myself and killing myself at the gym, I would do in the smart way. I researched the right way online and even downloaded an iPhone app to help. (I use calorie counter and I love it) I am glad to report that I have lost 12 pounds since February giving me a weigh of 134 (now, if you at home are trying to do the math, my starting weight was 146, not 156 as it was up there ^, now where those 10 pounds went, I don't know and I don't care as long as they stay gone) and I am comfortably typing this in my size 6 jeans that "skinny me" bought last summer and that I can feel my feet in my previously constricted shorts. (The key is whether or not I'll get into my favorite size 6 yellow dress this Sunday, fingers crossed)
Now, why am I sharing this with the world? Well, because it's my blog and I felt like sharing it. But more importantly, I want to share it to all of those who have ever been in my shoes and know the struggle I have felt or have done like me and have lost the weight only to gain it back with a vengeance.  The ongoing struggle with my weight is one of my biggest vulnerabilities and I rarely like to talk about it outside of my family and close friends. However, if my story can bring hope to one person, it will all be worth it. Maybe even now,  somewhere out there is cyber space, someone is where I use to be and is trying to start their own weight loss story. Whoever you are, I hope that my story, which is continuing every day, encourages you like others have done to me.
Catherine