Whales Cant Run

In my last post I explained my name and a little bit about my teenage years--because, you know, trying to relate to all the other chubby homies out there in internet land and all that jazz.
But of course, I didn't really go into all that much detail about what this blog is really about. So before I risk losing my audience (all one of you) I figure I should start getting to the point now.

I feel like any college girl can tell you all about the dreaded Freshman 15. Basically after graduating high school two things happen:




1) You stop doing the sporting....
Okay, for me, I never considered myself a sports person. I think that soccer is when you dribble the puck into the giant yellow fork at the end of the field.  I absolutely loathed anything to do with sports. BUT! I was still an active lady. You wouldn't think it at first, but marching band (color guard, specifically) is insanely active. I mean four hour practices twice a week, nine hour practices once a week, competitions every few weeks following a long brush up rehearsal, and a week long band camp in the summer with nine hour rehearsals daily. And rehearsals always include
marching basics--proper marching forwards, backwards, side to side, synchronization, and speed. choreography--learning the flag and rifle dance routines that required all kinds of strength and endurance.
 coordinates--learning our formations on the field and running around trying to get to them on time.
AND THEN finally putting the whole thing together at the end of the day.
It was pretty crazy and definitely counted as a sport.
Not to mention dance class every day and rigorous musical rehearsals that kept me on my feet for a while. Then there were a few brief stints of fencing, swimming, and tennis in there for a while too.
But once I got to college, all of that went away. As a film major, I spend the majority of my time sitting on my ass editing footage in a computer lab. Since I'm not majoring in sports (and who in their right mind would?) it always falls to the bottom of my list of important things to do.

2) ...and start doing the eating.
College meal plans are the coolest thing to happen to an 18 year old and also the worst. When I saw that there was cake served from 7am until 7pm daily I thought I had died and gone to heaven. All kinds of yummy delicious foods served when ever I wanted them. Of course, for a while I was like "ooh! I can be vegetarian!" like so many other people who are finally detached from the choices their food dictator mothers decided on for the last 18 years. No more of the "if you don't like what I made, you don't eat" nonsense. Now you can be a vegetarian, vegan, pescetarian, fruitarian, boozeandcerealtarian....whatever you want without starving in protest and fighting with your mom.
But that phase quickly fades when you realize every Saturday they have barbecue crispy chicken fingers. Yasssssssss.

But unfortunately for me, The less sportsing and more eating I did, I quickly surpassed the Freshman 15 to the Freshman 25.

By the end of my Sophomore year, I had gained 30 whole pounds since I graduated high school.

Since I don't have a scale and I never cared for stressing out about some number i can barely see past my stomach, I had no idea that I gained so much until I had my annual doctor's check up when they had me step on the scale.
On my ID it says I weigh 170lbs. At the time it was only a little white fib from my actual 177ish. But now its a bold face lie compared to the 215lbs that I saw on the scale at the docs the other day.

I never really cared about my weight before. Unlike lots of girls, I never stressed out about it because I've always been a firm believer of the "its whats on the inside that counts" cliche. I would share those obnoxious "big is beautiful" and "why have a six pack when you can have a whole keg?"photos on facebook and tumblr like all the other big girls who were confident with who they were. I would twerk my fat ass at parties and brag about my giant tits to my less endowed friends. I loved myself almost enough to marry myself.

But little did I know--or perhaps chose to ignore--I was on the brink of some wayy serious health issues, some of them already setting in.
I was developing some knee problems, my joints sore and achey. I even had a pretty bad scare with my left knee when it locked up and stopped moving while I was working on a sword fight for my theatre class. I ended up having to sit out the rest of the semester because my knees hurt so bad due my heaviness.
My periods got insanely heavy and painful. I didn't know this, but my doctor told me that my weight does affect aunt flow pretty significantly. More often than not I spend the first day bed ridden with cramps equivalent to a thousand years of Satan stabbing me in the vagina with a red hot pitchfork. I also barf up a lung on special occasions, too, in case you wanted to know.

Not to mention the usual friends of obesity: "diabeeetus", high blood pressure, icky stretch marks, and the inability to see your toes to see if you gotta paint 'em again.
Very quickly I could go from sexy mamacita with a Kardashian donk to riding around walmart on a rascal. I dont think anyone finds that hot.

While I did gain the majority of my weight post high school, I was still never a "skinny" person. The smallest I've ever been in the last eight years was my tenth grade year when I was able to squeeze into size 12 after doing a three month weight loss bootcamp with a private trainer who looked like a big, bulky sack of potatoes who yelled in my face too much. I was also the youngest person there by at least  fifteen years--I felt awkward and out of place because everyone there was working out to lose weight for their wedding or trying to work off baby weight. No one was there just because they were an awkward, overweight teenager trying to keep their life from spiraling out of control. And it was a huge pain in the ass because I could only go when they told me to go--if I couldn't find the motivation to haul my ass out of bed at five in the morning then where would I find the motivation to run laps, lift weights, and do squat thrusts? (hint: nowhere). While I'm sure the bootcamp style workouts work for some people, it definitely wasn't my cup of tea.

Then I tried the Zumba thing about a year later and had an absolute blast. With my dancing background it was something I was familiar with. It was all women ranging from about 20 all the way up into their senior years led by a super groovy lady with arms like Michelle Obama and mad style like Lupita Nyong who shouted nice things at you to make you keep going. It was also nice because I had options on when I could go--two classes offered everyday: one in the morning and one at night and it was pay per class so I wouldn't be wasting my money if I had to miss one. But unfortunately, being without a car or a ride most days, the 3 mile walk home was a little rough on the achy legs after I was done.  So eventually, it fizzled out and I was back to couch potato.


After that, I got myself a gym membership at my University freshman year to see if I could transform myself into your typical neon Nike wearing, machine riding whilst reading Cosmopolitan, bending over in front of guys gym rat. Thats when I remembered my general dislike for human beings in general  let alone the ones you usually find hanging around the gym. I liked the idea that I could pick whenever I wanted to go and do whatever I want, but when/if I got a machine to use, some hot tan girl clad in nothing but a bright pink sports bra, yoga pants, and fancy trainers would always hop on the machine next to mine and make me feel more self conscious than ever before. I looked like a damn fool next to her huffing and puffing in a baggy shirt and sweatpants, my hair frizzy and drippy. I didn't like the way people looked at me here. I mostly just wanted to crawl inside that giant shirt of mine and pretend to be a rock.

After my last month of membership expired, I lost hope. I almost gave in and bought myself a Hoveround. Nothing seemed to work--the more I worked out, the more I hated myself for not losing any weight. How are my friends who never work out and never count calories staying so thin? As you can tell, it got hella frustratin'.

And now we are back to last week once again, sitting in the one place where you pay someone obscene amounts of money to make you feel bad about how much sex you haven't been having with all the personal questions, call you fat, and steal your blood--the cold, sterile paper covered table under my ass letting me know that I am about to get a talking to once again. With my unsuccessful attempt at getting healthy in the past, I was ready to tune him out again. What new thing could he possibly say? "Eat your greens. No sugar. Work out five times a week blah blah blah..." I know, brah! Nobody actually thinks sugar is good for you!

But he did tell me something I thought would be worth paying attention to. It was very simple and I have no idea how it was never brought up before. "Its a pill," he says in his thick Indian accent. "It will suppress your appetite and give you some more motivation."

Well lookey here! Something new I haven't tried! But I immediately become wary. I hope this isn't like those stupid ads on tv--take this super pill for a month and drop eighty pounds! I'm highly skeptical of the promise of sculpted abs. I'm not dumb, I know those things are total rip offs and actually make you sicker.

But after having a good conversation with the doc and reading some patient reviews on some different sites, I thought "what the hell? why not give it a shot?"

"But," he warns. "It isn't an excuse not to work out and eat healthy."
I roll my eyes internally. Greaaaattt. 
"All you need is to take a thirty minute walk or run everyday."

I heard the word "run" and wanted to, well, speed walk away to the nearest couch and sit on it forever. The Great White Whale cant run. No way in hell, man. But the walking part doesn't sound so awful I guess....is that all I need to do? Walk for 30 minutes?
But there are no machines, no lines, no yell-y coaches, no memberships, no fees, no smelly obnoxious weight lifters...how is that even possible?

Just me, my feet, and the ground. Sounds easy enough. I nod and say "sign me up, doc!"

He smiles and says "Alright! We're gonna get you down 30 pounds this summer!"

30 pounds??? In three months??? Is that even possible? With my shitty track record I have a hard time believing it. But maybe it is possible. If the doc says its possible, then there's gotta be some truth to it.


(pppstttt here is the part with the purpose of this blog ;) ) 

After going over what could have gone wrong in the past I did realize something--consistency. Nothing I did was consistent. On again off again with no regiment. But now I am a lady with a plan: I will write a strict list of rules that I pinky swear to follow for at least the next three months, adhering to them as close as I possibly can. At certain check points, I will reward myself with something I want or enjoy.

 And now, I plan to document each day over the next three months until the Sunday I go back to school in August. 30 pounds in 3 months? Challenge accepted.
HERE WE GOOOOOO

~The Great White Whale