boggins
Silver Member
I'm not going use this to list everything I've eaten, or what exercise I've done. It's going to be more about general thoughts and experiences, which I hope will inspire others, and me.
Bit of background: I'm 32, and feel like I've always been fat. In fact, looking at photos of me in my early teens, I wasn't. But I thought I was, had problems with my knees so disliked exercise, and kind of gave up on myself. I gained steadily, and was a size 20 by age 16. Whilst I've gained and lost since then (not deliberately) I've never been under a size 20. In my head, I AM fat. I mean, I just embody fatness, I am fat, fat is me, I'm the fat girl, always and forever. I felt that at size 14, as much as size 20, 24, 26....they all looked equally gross to me.
The past couple of years have been tough (bout of severe depression; cancer in the family), and I have eaten like a pig- my weakness is pizza. I would have a pizza delivered every week, sometimes twice a week. I also ate a lot of ready meals, and if I did make my own meals I would have about 3 servings of pasta in one go, thinking that any less wouldn't satisfy. I ate at McDonald's one or two days a week. I knew it was bad for me, but if I tried to resist it would take over my brain until all I could think about was fries and milkshakes. I knew something was seriously emotionally wrong.
Earlier this year I bought a book about emotional eating, which talked about not depriving yourself, learning that you can have what you want, and "intuitive eating". I'd heard about it before, and decided to do what it said. I stopped the little policing I was doing, and went wild. It was only a few months ago, so I clearly remember running amok in Tesco buying everything I'd ever dreamed of, in stupid quantities.
Well, the inevitable happened. I got fatter than I've ever been. I'm not sure, because I never weighed myself, but I think in May this year I was over 22 stone. I started to feel really ill. I had trouble breathing when asleep, and worried constantly about my heart. At that point I knew that "intuitive eating" wasn't going to work for me. I have that book to thank for one thing- it pushed my weight so high I hit breaking point.
On May 30th, I got on a bicycle for the first time in about 18 years. Wow, what a wake up call. The pain in my quads was excruciating. I couldn't make it up even a tiny slope. I had to stop every minute or so, even on flat ground, to catch my breath. The next day I was in agony. And that was it.
I have not had a single pizza since then. Or any take-away food, in fact. Not a spoonful of Ben & Jerry's, not a swig of Pepsi. No crisps, either. Not one solitary ready-meal has passed my lips. I'm simply not doing that to myself anymore.
I bought a new swimming costume, and have built up from 1 to 4 consecutive lengths of front crawl. I dug out my old yoga DVD. Three weeks ago I started Couch 2 5k. On day one I managed about 15 seconds of jogging. I'm now up to 2 minutes at a time.
I gave up dieting when still in my teens, as I realised I was starving and then bingeing, and it was unhealthy. I can remember making elaborate charts of goals, detailed diet plans with each meal mapped out; and then never following any of them. This time I have no goals as such, and no charts, but, after depression and therapy and trouble and whatnot, I've finally got to a place where I'm prepared to put effort in, and stick at it, and not want it all now now now. Oh I admit I wish it would come off faster- don't we all- but a year's not so long to wait, and in a year, while i might not be in the "healthy" BMI range, while I might not be in the green on a weight/height chart, I will be the smallest, and fittest, that I've been since I was at school. Only this time, I will love and appreciate what I see, and not hate The Fat Girl.
Bit of background: I'm 32, and feel like I've always been fat. In fact, looking at photos of me in my early teens, I wasn't. But I thought I was, had problems with my knees so disliked exercise, and kind of gave up on myself. I gained steadily, and was a size 20 by age 16. Whilst I've gained and lost since then (not deliberately) I've never been under a size 20. In my head, I AM fat. I mean, I just embody fatness, I am fat, fat is me, I'm the fat girl, always and forever. I felt that at size 14, as much as size 20, 24, 26....they all looked equally gross to me.
The past couple of years have been tough (bout of severe depression; cancer in the family), and I have eaten like a pig- my weakness is pizza. I would have a pizza delivered every week, sometimes twice a week. I also ate a lot of ready meals, and if I did make my own meals I would have about 3 servings of pasta in one go, thinking that any less wouldn't satisfy. I ate at McDonald's one or two days a week. I knew it was bad for me, but if I tried to resist it would take over my brain until all I could think about was fries and milkshakes. I knew something was seriously emotionally wrong.
Earlier this year I bought a book about emotional eating, which talked about not depriving yourself, learning that you can have what you want, and "intuitive eating". I'd heard about it before, and decided to do what it said. I stopped the little policing I was doing, and went wild. It was only a few months ago, so I clearly remember running amok in Tesco buying everything I'd ever dreamed of, in stupid quantities.
Well, the inevitable happened. I got fatter than I've ever been. I'm not sure, because I never weighed myself, but I think in May this year I was over 22 stone. I started to feel really ill. I had trouble breathing when asleep, and worried constantly about my heart. At that point I knew that "intuitive eating" wasn't going to work for me. I have that book to thank for one thing- it pushed my weight so high I hit breaking point.
On May 30th, I got on a bicycle for the first time in about 18 years. Wow, what a wake up call. The pain in my quads was excruciating. I couldn't make it up even a tiny slope. I had to stop every minute or so, even on flat ground, to catch my breath. The next day I was in agony. And that was it.
I have not had a single pizza since then. Or any take-away food, in fact. Not a spoonful of Ben & Jerry's, not a swig of Pepsi. No crisps, either. Not one solitary ready-meal has passed my lips. I'm simply not doing that to myself anymore.
I bought a new swimming costume, and have built up from 1 to 4 consecutive lengths of front crawl. I dug out my old yoga DVD. Three weeks ago I started Couch 2 5k. On day one I managed about 15 seconds of jogging. I'm now up to 2 minutes at a time.
I gave up dieting when still in my teens, as I realised I was starving and then bingeing, and it was unhealthy. I can remember making elaborate charts of goals, detailed diet plans with each meal mapped out; and then never following any of them. This time I have no goals as such, and no charts, but, after depression and therapy and trouble and whatnot, I've finally got to a place where I'm prepared to put effort in, and stick at it, and not want it all now now now. Oh I admit I wish it would come off faster- don't we all- but a year's not so long to wait, and in a year, while i might not be in the "healthy" BMI range, while I might not be in the green on a weight/height chart, I will be the smallest, and fittest, that I've been since I was at school. Only this time, I will love and appreciate what I see, and not hate The Fat Girl.