Honesty

I never thought I had self esteem issues until recently. Since losing weight, I've noticed that dressing to go out is ridiculously hard. Not only because I can pull off all my jeans without unbuttoning them, but because I realized that for the past couple of years, I've avoided anything remotely girly. Apparently being a jeans and t-shirt girl was just another way of saying I'm uncomfortable with my weight.

Lately, every time I go to my closet or my dresser, I'm frustrated that there's a lack of range. For instance, one night Husband's big boss was in town and wanted to take us both out to dinner. I thought that perhaps my Save the Tatas shirt might have been a little inappropriate, so it was time for a wardrobe change. Thirty minutes and half a dozen aggravated screams later, I managed to get dressed.

In all actuality, I used to hate going out, especially after work because that meant I wasn't able to sit around in comfy draw string pajamas, eat vats of ice cream and pass out with Mandie. Going out meant I had to put on clothes that had the potential to show the rolls that were a result of the constant workings of my bread machine and could possibly become tighter if I dared to even think about eating. But when you're married to Mr. Social, you can't avoid going out in public. I also avoided makeup, doing anything with my hair beyond a ponytail and bathing suits. I loathed bathing suits.

I thought I was happy. Happy, go-lucky in fact. Apparently, I'm a big fat liar. I truly believe I was very close to depression, even though outwardly I seemed to have everything I could ever want. A handsome man, darling dogs, a place to lay my head; however, I didn't feel good. I had no energy, felt sick all the time and was often cranky. There were even times that felt like an out of body experience-I reacted in ways to situations that were totally uncharacteristic for me. It was a little scary, as I've always been considered a rather stable personality.

Participating in the Biggest Loser Challenge helped. Having an avenue to channel all my crankiness, anxiety, need to eat the entire contents of the refrigerator was exactly what I needed. I developed new habits, both in the kitchen and in my life. Running has taught me that life isn't about the immediate goal; it's about getting to the end, panting, sweating, wearing ridiculous outfits and knowing that the reward at the end is in direct proportion to the work you put in. I don't mind so much catching a glimpse of my naked body and neither does Husband (as if he ever did *eye roll*). There are still some soft, fleshy areas I wouldn't mind firming up but they no longer define my outerwear. But I should probably invest in some new jeans before I get pantsed in public. Again.

Thought I'd wear my wedding dress again on our anniversary. Wish I had looked this good on the actual day...

Heartbreaker

So far, in my short life, the scariest words uttered in the same sentence were "your mom" and "heart attack," which were then followed by sentences including the uber frightful phrase: "quadruple bypass." And while hearing  this is actually really easy, it's the processing and trying to concentrate on the subsequent utterings that will send you into a tailspin.

It's also the realizing that you are some three thousand miles away and barely a week into your brand new position. Nothing makes you feel more helpless than only being able to offer encouragement instead of hugs. I asked Maternal Unit if she needed me there and her response? "No. There's nothing for you to do here." Well I wasn't planning on scrubbing into the surgery Mother. Sheesh.

I only cried once during the whole ordeal. The day of Maternal Unit's surgery (which ended up only being a triple bypass), I received some coupons that she had cut out and sent to me. Maternal Unit is always worried about whether or not I'm eating and/or using soap. Considering I've been married three years, gained nearly twenty pounds and smell like baby powder, I would say her fears are unfounded. I also know that there is no convincing her differently and that is what had me dissolving into a sobbing pubble of mess. One minute I was considering if I seventy-five cents off Tide was worth it (it's not by the way) and the next I had Melodie in a choke hold, blubbering into her fur. It happened so fast that Husband had to do a double take to make sure he was seeing his normally overally composed wifey having a breakdown. Hugs and shoulder pats ensued and the tears stopped as quickly as they started because if there's one thing (out of the zillions) that Maternal Unit and I share in common, it's that, while crying may make you feel better, it won't actually solve anything. Unless the problem is a contact that has worked it's way up under your eyelid, then crying is the perfect solution.

It's been over a month since everything happened. I call two, sometimes three times, a week to check on both Parental Units. The doctor said that Maternal Unit's heart is very strong and other than being trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey (she has a wire holding her ribs shut) and a loss of stamina, she's doing very well. All of the running (yes running!) she did when she was in her twenties and thirties and then the bike riding in her fifties definitely helped save her life. She has always encouraged me to be active, run hard, walk the dogs, do something to maintain a healthy lifestyle. And with heart disease being the number one killer of women, I don't think I need anymore motivation to lace up the Reeboks and take on the road, always with Maternal Unit's voice saying, "Good for you Poopy! Now, have you eaten today?"

Perspective

RunnersWorld.com recently ran an article called "Running on Empty". As a female, I've been preached to on the hazards of eating disorders since I started wearing big girl underwear (which, in my opinion may be part of the issue. We focus so much on the problem and how to identify it than trying to prevent it in the first place). Paternal Unit is a therapist and I can't tell you how many times I caught him hovering, seeing how much food was on my plate. He needn't be worried as I have a love of all things alfredo and chocolate.

"Running on Empty" states that disordered eating doesn't always end up in a full blown eating disorder but eating disorders begin with disordered eating. To quote the article, "Manipulating one's food and body offers a sense of control and perfection, a substitute for happiness that may be absent when they're not laced in running shoes." I think that anyone even vaguely familiar with eating disorders is well aware of this. The article also states that disordered eating "refers to less-severe abnormal behaviors: eliminating food groups from your diet; regularly replacing meals with energy bars or coffee drinks; excessive weighing and calorie-counting; and tacking on extra miles as punishment for, say a cheeseburger the night before." It's more physical than mental or emotional.

While I don't feel that I am participating in any of these behaviors, I can see how easy it would be to slip into the mentality that the article is about. At one point it mentions how someone might begin to think "if a 1200 calorie diet get's me these results [less body fat, faster times], than a 500 calorie diet would be better." Running itself can feel almost like an addiction (and believe me I'm hooked), so to do anything to become a better runner makes sense. If you ask me, I will freely tell you that I have addictive tendencies. I probably wouldn't be as aware of that if Paternal Unit hasn't used psycho-babble on me and if there weren't a long line of addicts in my family, but I am and I live every day making careful choices.

Even those careful choices, though, can turn into their own form of addiction, so I can definitely say there are no easy answers. Information, though, is key and education is a powerful tool, at least it is to me, as I'm not the type of person to ignore either. This article made me look at my choice to be a part of the Biggest Loser Challenge and make sure it was in line with the other choices I'd made since then to lose weight. Because of that I've started to make food choices that are healthier and filling instead of what falls exactly into my little 1200 calorie bubble and I'm okay with having a rest day (or two). My mood has definitely improved and my tummy is way happier too. I'm more interested in a healthier me, rather than a skinnier me. Although, I'm hoping the healthier me can rock a bikini.


What kind of choices to you make to be a healthier you?