Read all the way to the bottom for a big announcement! 🙂
Three hundred and sixty five days ago, I g-chatted my friend Meg and told her, “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.”
As I can be prone to grandiose statements like that, I would have to think her “Oh really?” was somewhat dubious.
I had had my first session with Trainer Joel that morning. I told him I wanted to lose a bunch of weight by MaryBeth’s wedding in August in Aruba. I would.not.be.the.fat.bridesmaid.in.Aruba. I asked him how much weight he thought I had to lose. After weighing me, and seeing that I weighed 189 pounds, he said, “Probably about 50 pounds.”
I was sure that this was just his trainer-speak that everyone should be super-thin and hot. I didn’t really have to lose 50 pounds, right? I mean, I was heavyâ€¦but surely I couldn’t be so heavy I needed to lose the equivalent of a six-year old child? (Or two Baileys and a little Maltese!)
He asked what size I wanted to be. Not wanting to set my goals too high, for fear of disappointment, I tentatively said, “Um, I don’t know, an 8?”
I just wanted to be a single-digit size. I wanted to be able to share clothes with friends and not be mortified when something didn’t fit, or when, I went into a store, they didn’t have the next biggest size, because I already had it on.
“I think we can get you into a 6,” he said. “We can have you looking smokin’ in a bikini by August.” I don’t remember what else he said, but somehow I knew this time would be different. It was the weekend after my 26th birthday, and I had stuffed myself silly at Mexican Radio for my birthday, done the bitter-single-girl-drinking-too-much thing on Valentine’s Day, and decided enough was enough. Where was that getting me? Nowhere. Was that food making me happy? For the minute, sure. But then it would bother my stomach. And my clothes wouldn’t fit. So, finally, I realized the fleeting happiness wasn’t worth it.
I was starting a new job, so with that new routine, why not add a new gym and healthy lifestyle routine into the mix?
I don’t know if anyone believed I would do it.
But for the first time in a long time, I believed in myself.
I’ve lost pretty damn close to 50 pounds. I’ve worked out probably 95 percent of those 365 days, pumping thousands of pounds of weights and running hundreds of miles outside. I’ve climbed quite a few skyscrapers on the Stairmaster. I’ve watched what I eat and learned to give up most of the processed crap and breads for whole grains and veggies. I’ve seen a nutritionist as well as my trainer. I am going to physical therapy to stay on top of my running game.
I ran a half-marathon. I wrote an article in my dream publication.
I found myself. I found my voice. I found my confidence. I am so freakin’ happy these days.
As you know if you’re reading this, I’ve become pretty much obsessed with my new healthy lifestyle. I love talking about new healthy food I’ve found (and old obsessionsâ€¦hello Pump!). I love talking about fun exercises I’ve tried. I don’t doubt that this is going to be a permanent change.
But, just in case, to keep myself on trackâ€¦
I SIGNED UP FOR THE CHICAGO MARATHON. 10.10.10, baby!
(I signed up for it a few days ago but was nervous to announce it in case I backed out. Uh, that’s old Theodora.) Two of my good friends (and E!) are also running it. It’s going to be a party in Chicago! I’ll officially start training in June, probably, so stay tuned for more of my big adventures!