Today I woke up.
I stepped on the scale and saw a number I never ever imagined I would see. It read 202. I'd been avoiding the scale basically since we moved (about 2 months ago). I'd get on after a few good days, see a number hovering around the scary number, vow to do better, then push the scale away for a week or two.
But last week I hit rock bottom. (I think. How do you know if it truly is rock bottom? I feel like I've been here before, and yet obviously not?). It got to the point where I felt like I was now completely undesirable to Nick. And I never really felt like that before. I felt insecure about myself, and didn't like certain parts of my body, but I never felt like he didn't want me. But suddenly I did. Now a few days later, I think it was about 95% projected feelings, but not all of it. He would never say it, but I feel like it's at least a little true.
It's been a rough 12 months for me. I spent over a year and half working towards my dream job, only to not be given the promotion; instead they gave it to someone who had never been in the school and who technically didn't even work in the school board anymore. All because she had a certain qualification that (although unnecessary to do the job) I didn't. (Even better, I found out just a couple of weeks ago that she in fact didn't have the qualification, she is getting it this summer). It was completely and utterly heartbreaking and it shattered me. I didn't know which way to go, career-wise. What was I fighting so hard for, if all the hard work in the world means nothing in the end? So not only did I not get the job I have been dreaming of for decades, my paycheck took a drop come September. I had little motivation to go back to supply teaching. I avoided work if possible, doing a bare minimum, finding any excuse, no matter how flimsy, not to work. I was completely deflated. They had told me I had done everything right, so I didn't even have anything that I could work on to improve. Well, short of going back in time and getting an honours math degree instead of my supposedly not-good-enough B.Sc.
So of course I ate. And the cyst on my tailbone got worse. So bad that in October I was told I would have to have surgery. So I spent a couple of months nervous (so I ate), and then spent my Christmas holidays recuperating (which involved being bed/couch-ridden, and of course, eating. It was boring!). And then spent a couple of weeks avoiding work, because I couldn't sit in a car for the hour I needed to. (Ok, so that part wasn't a flimsy excuse, I really couldn't sit). And as usual, suffered from SAD. It was a mess of a winter for me. So of course I ate.
I will throw one success in all of this. January I decided to follow Bob Harper's Skinny Rules, and lost 12 lbs, having started the New Year at 196. But then February came, and I started to follow Jillian Michaels Body Revolution, and it was really hard, and I saw very little results over the first 3 weeks, and then I wrecked my knee and couldn't do her intense, lunge-heavy workouts, so my success story petered out. And so I ate. (And my knee still isn't quite right)
Then we started looking for a house. And found one we loved, albeit slightly on the high end of what we could afford. But we went through the insane process of buying, selling, packing and moving. Which, despite all my crazy preparations, had it's ups and downs. But the hardest part came once we moved. We are now about 35 minutes away from where we use to live, so Nick drives an extra 20-25 minutes to work than he use to, but I drive about 30 minutes (on average) less. We're in a completely new area, with parents and friends no longer a 5 minute drive away. Not to mention a big house with lots of maintenance needed and new bills to pay. And me barely working, with no prospects in sight. Even 2 months in, I have no idea where some things are, and I curse, knowing exactly where they use to be in the old house. I do love our new neighbourhood and our home, but apparently I really struggle with such drastic changes. And it isn't exactly calming to know I have a summer of no work and plenty of bills to pay. And so I eat.
Government regulation came along, requiring lists of teachers eligible for long term occasional and permanent jobs based on seniority. I interviewed as required, and expected that even if I got on the list, I would be in the hundreds at least, with no hope of a job in sight. I think part of me even hoped I didn't get on at all, that way it would be an easy decision to just give up on teaching already. But of course I got on the list (thankfully. mostly) and sit at #5 for math (which is how many they are now required to interview, so I should get an interview for every math job I apply to, no question), and within the top 10 for science and biology. Last week, I had an interview for a permanent math position. I actually thought I had a chance. I didn't do great in the interview, by my own standards, but it wasn't a complete bomb, but I figured if I lost it, that was why. But when I got the call, turns out that despite the fact that they thought I interviewed well, they had someone with more experience in the school. I didn't stand a chance long before I walked in the door for the interview. So regulation or not, nothing has changed. So I ate.
Then Nick put up the full length mirror up in our nicely painted and finished bedroom. We haven't really had a full length mirror before. So I stripped down, trying to see how noticeable the extra pounds really were. And I was shocked. I figured people could tell I had gained a little, but apparently I was in a bit of denial of where exactly the weight was really going. I think I figured that since when I gain weight, it usually goes straight to my stomach, and that wasn't happening, I must not have really been gaining that much, and that it surely wasn't very noticeable. But in that mirror... my hips were wider than ever, and there was a new (unpleasant) shape to my thighs that I had only ever seen before on very large people. It was devastating. The fat had found a place to go, and I had conveniently managed to ignore it. Until now; it was right in front of me. I never thought I would see my body look that bad. But it did. And it made me feel hopeless and out of control. So I ate.
Which pretty much brings me to today. For some time now, I had been planning an intense bootcamp for myself this summer, since (did I mention?) I didn't get summer school either, so I will have plenty of free time for the next two months. I've also signed up for the 10k Zoo run again with some friends, so I started 5k training. I had some great exercise days last week, 2 days of running, and 3 days of Blogilates. I wasn't exactly eating well, but I thought at least it would mean I could start my bootcamp today underneath the horrific number. Instead, I sit 2 lbs above it. I feel hopeless and motivated at the same time, and I'm not sure where that leaves me.
So 202 is a bit of a wake-up call. But I'm not sure in what direction. Will it push me to get off my a$$ and do something about it? Or will it push me into an abyss of hopelessness, where I just give up and somewhat accept the fact that I will just always be fat? I know which one I hope for, but I still don't really feel super charged with motivation to work out and eat right 24/7. It feels so daunting to think of how much I have to lose just to not be considered obese, let alone actually look good. When I felt fat and weighed 180, losing 20 lbs was significant. Now if I lose 20 lbs (which is not an easy feat!!), I will still be obese, still look and feel fat. And so it seems like a lost cause, a LOT of hard work for not a lot of success.
I just wish I would stop eating.
