try to have fun in the meantime

So I keep thinking about an exchange I had with my boss and a coworker last week that's been haunting my dreams since it happened. I hadn't seen my coworker in months, our schedules were opposites and we never see each other outside of work. I had to stop by work one day when she was working and I was excited to get to see her for the first time in ages. As I walked through the door, he jaw hit the floor and she yelled "Wow, you look incredible!" I'm a ham for compliments, so of course I ate that shit up. But several minutes later she was still at it, at which point I had to snap her out of it. She kept asking me "how did you do it, what do you eat?" and my answer was vague and humble.

"Oh you know... I run e.v.e.r.y.d.a.y. and I pretty much eat the same stuff, but less of it."

Simple truths. I've made lots of small changes over the course of six months that have accumulated into a 50 pound weight reduction. But me dear friend/coworker didn't want to hear it. "No, really. Tell me your secret. How did you do it?"

Annoyed, I did my best to calmly depict my daily routine. "Wake up, run/gym for an HOUR, shower, go about my day as usual." I get that an hour is quite a commitment, but weight loss doesn't happen on its own. It just doesn't. My poor friend just couldn't comprehend. "But how do you have time?" I make time. "Oh, no. I couldn't do that. I don't have time."

That line angers me because when I hear someone else say it, all I hear is an excuse. I used to be one of those people. I didn't have time. But the reason that I didn't have time was because everything else was a priority and being healthy was at the bottom of the list. I mean... not really, OF COURSE everyone wants to be healthy. But if you put them to the grind, sleep and TV time and being comfortable is more important than having to put in the time and work to lose weight. I get it, I used to rock that excuse like a pro.

And then today, I read this quote:
Instead of saying “I don’t have time” try saying “it’s not a priority,” and see how that feels. Often, that’s a perfectly adequate explanation. I have time to iron my sheets, I just don’t want to. But other things are harder. Try it: “I’m not going to edit your résumé, sweetie, because it’s not a priority.” “I don’t go to the doctor because my health is not a priority.” If these phrases don’t sit well, that’s the point. Changing our language reminds us that time is a choice. If we don’t like how we’re spending an hour, we can choose differently.

It almost brings me to tears how fuckin true this is. Time is a choice. I don't love the time I've spent in the gym or outside running my ass off, in all honesty I would have preferred spending that time doing something else. But as I lay in bed every night feeling the changes in my body, I know beyond a doubt that I did everything I could that day to change the way things are. Small changes over time is how the big things happen.

I overindulged this weekend. We met at our friends' condo for drinks on Saturday, I attacked a bag of white chocolate covered pretzels on Sunday, and I ate waaaaay too much chile colorado. I'm sitting at 242.5 today, and you know what? I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. Honestly, it's getting a little scary to think that I'm a few pounds away from the 230s. I don't know why I'm scared, you would think that this would be a happy occasion. And it is, but it's also uncharted territory, so to speak. The first 50 pounds was peeling off the weight I had gained since meeting my boyfriend, which is still relatively new. But the next 50 pounds will take me back to high school, and that's terrifying because I'm coming up on 8 years of post-high school life. Eight... what the hell.

I've been shopping like crazy lately. My closet was a hodgepodge of clothes in various sizes and I wasn't exactly sure what fits and what doesn't. It took me weeks to go through everything, but I finally got rid of a monster box of clothes of things that are too big, things I don't like, or things I plainly don't want (*ahem* everything my sister ever gave me). To fill the recently vacated space, I went crazy at the mall last week. And then I went crazy on VictoriasSecret.com to use a gift card that I had. And then I splurged and bought two dresses from Dorothy Perkins. I've never heard of the brand before, but I saw it on a website and I just had to try it out (free returns... couldn't hurt, right?). I bought both dresses with the intention to keep them for myself until I realized that one would be a PERFECT mothers' day gift. My mom and I are roughly the same size, she's a little smaller than me but she's distributed differently so in the end it averages out to be the same size. So I bought both dresses in a size I'm comfortable with, it's been my experience that dresses tend to be too small so going up a size is never a bad idea. Except... I think I've shrunk enough that going up a size actually means buying one size smaller than what I actually ordered. Shit.

Losing weight is a total mindfuck. I'm not entirely sure what size I am anymore.