Oh to be hated again

WARNING: The following post contains the ramblings of a vain woman who feels fat.

When I was a teenager, I was a little bit of a hot-n-tot. I can admit that only because, well, facts are facts. Fact one: I had a 34-24-34 figure. Fact two: I routinely lied about my age so as to "seem" older. Fact three: I always preferred less clothing to more. You get the idea. Anyway, I often heard "You're so thin! I hate you!" And I won't lie - I didn't mind. I was a size 0 or 2 but I didn't need to do anything to have that figure. I ate whatever I wanted (and in large quantities - I am from Wisconsin, afterall); I drank; I shunned exercise for the sake of exercise. (Actually, I'm starting to hate my young self, too.)

When I turned 20, my metabolism started to shift. I joined a gym but never went. I was up to a size 4 or 6 for the first time in my life and felt like that was probably still alright. I moved to LA when I was 21 and suddenly felt like one of the fat girls. I knew that I needed to lose weight or I was only going to be cast as "the friend" instead of the leading lady. I half-assed worked out, but I never altered what I ate. The year I was 22, I started waiting tables at Spago and I gained ten pounds in about an instant. That was twelve years ago and oh how I wish that even that would've kicked my ass into the gym. But sadly, no.

There have been another ten pounds that I've put on and taken off and put on and taken off and put on and taken off since then. I know that counting calories and getting regular cardio exercise is the key to what works for me but man I hate that crap. 

I had just embarked on losing that ten pounds when I got pregnant, which was not ideal, but whatever. All through my pregnancy, I was told to make sure I was eating a lot and getting enough fat in my diet, etc. And my doctor even told me that I only needed to exercise if I felt like it because, being pregnant with twins, it was important that I keep my energy levels up and not stress my body. So...I didn't really exercise while I was pregnant. I went for slow strolls and sometimes did a few laps in the pool, a few prenatal yoga classes. People, I am 5'4" (on a good day) and by the time I had those little pups, I weighed about 185 pounds. THAT is a lot.

Then came the big breastfeeding myth - "If you breastfeed, the pounds will fall right off!" It's a total lie. I'm serious. There was even a recent study that shows this. And the whole time I was nursing, I was told to make sure to drink whole milk, eats lots of nuts and seeds, blah, blah. This stuff = FAT. The pounds were not falling anywhere. They were staying put. 

Then the dreaded happened. When the girls were about six months old, some woman thought I was pregnant. It took everything I had to hold back the tears at that moment. Oh but how they came when I got in my car. To say my body image was low is an understatement. I felt like I was walking around wearing a fat suit. A big, stretched-out fat suit. Looking in the mirror was something I avoided and I felt like I mentally understood how one heads down the path to an eating disorder.

I stopped nursing when the girls were nine months old and immediately started counting calories. I had some quick success and this spurred me on. But then we were moving and it was the holidays, etc., and it was just too dang hard. So I decided not to beat myself up over it and get back on track in January. Which I did. And the Lose It! app on my iPhone totally makes it even easier.

I'm currently back down to my pre-pregnancy weight (meaning that I still want to lose another 10 pounds or so) but my body is SO different. I'd say that overall, everything is saggier - especially the midsection - except my biceps are the biggest they've ever been (thank you, Belly and The Bug). I'm going to the gym a couple times a week and working on putting my abs back in place with a heinous class called "Ab Blast." It all sucks, but I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm going to be a terrible example for my girls if I'm so, so, so unhappy with myself. I have to get rid of the weight and be done with it once and for all. And it DOES feel good to not be trapped in a fat suit anymore. Progress is being made. I'm not there yet, but progress is being made.

Meanwhile, Valerie Bertinelli is on the cover of People magazine in an effing bikini. What is that? Good for her! But I don't find it particularly motivating. Unfortunately, without the assistance of a little cosmetic surgery, that will never be me again. I think I hate her.

Thursday, April 02, 2009 | Labels: , , |

 

3 comments:

Erika said...

You've been working so hard, and it's paying off! I'd love to get within 20 lbs of my pre-pregnancy weight...feel good, it has only taken you 17 months; I'm coming up on 16 years. :)

April 4, 2009 at 6:30 AM  
Mary K said...

I think I hate your hottie teenage self, too. But you should be proud of your adult-motherhood self for working so hard to lose the weight. I think after baby #2 it is going to take all my determination to get back into the same galaxy of weight as I was pre-motherhood. It sure makes that c-section and tummy tuck combo tempting.

April 5, 2009 at 6:05 PM  
joujouvoodoo said...

“So, I learn from my mistakes. It's a very painful way to learn, but without pain, the old saying is, there's no gain. I found that to be true in my life. You miss a lot of opportunities by making mistakes, but that's part of it: knowing that you're not shut out forever, and that there's a goal you still can reach.” ~Johnny Cash

I'm proud of you Rachael! Can't wait to see the results of all your hard work when I visit in the fall.

April 16, 2009 at 10:01 PM  

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