My Year with Jillian Michaels

      This time last year I was a week into Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred workout. I had regained 30 pounds three different times in one year. I'd get it off and it would come right back! While I feel like I looked amazing regardless, I did not feel good. My body felt heavy and my mind was beginning to feel the guilt and fear of weight gain. I had promised myself and my blog readers that I was going to wear a bikini in the name of self-love that summer and I was not going back on my word. Even if that meant I'd be wearing a bikini in a bigger body. What I could not have foreseen is the impact this decision would have on the rest of my life. 

Let me tell you about my year with Jillian Michaels. 

     I completed all 30 days of the workout and wore my bikini with pride. Those first 30 days showed me I wasn't breakable. Soreness is a temporary discomfort that yields pride and change. In 30 days I went from push ups on my knees to three real push ups. May not sound mind blowing, but it was just my Chapter 1. Everyone has a chapter one, a day one. I wore my bikini and felt like a million bucks. I do not know how much weight I lost because I never stood on the scale. If I made it about numbers, I knew it would diminish my self-pride and I was not about to hand that over without a fight. The pictures speak for themselves...it worked!


     I had no long term plan, I had a 30 day plan. I was thrilled with the results so I kept doing the workouts, rotating between levels two and three until I felt ready to move onto other Jillian workouts. I went month to month, never imagining I would do this for an entire year. Honestly, even I was waiting for me to quit in the back of my mind. That disbelief in myself is actually responsible for me not quitting. I began to enjoy my new physical abilities and I did not want to go back to my old ways...so much so that I vowed to stop quitting. When I say I vowed, I mean it in a biblical sense; I told myself from my soul that I would quit holding myself back. I wanted to see what not quitting would do for my body and mind. It's all documented on my Instagram account @newfigureforward, you can scroll from the very first workout to today's workout. 
   

 Jillian Michaels got into my head. Her workouts proved to me that with hard work, transformation is possible. My body is proof. Her empowering words proved to me that I am capable of so much more than I give myself credit for in life. My mind is proof. It's hard not to change after hearing messages of how incredibly awesome I am and how I should be proud of the work I am doing. Jillian made me feel good in my mind. She got into my head and beat down the negative voices that tortured me since fourth grade. Within a few months of daily workouts (most no more than 30 minutes), Jillian had me believing I was badass. I cannot put in words what that feels like - to have come from a dark place of depression and obesity to a place that I believe I am truly capable of anything I set my mind to! I felt reborn. 

     My love for Jillian, I thought, was something only I had. Oh how wrong I was! Facebook can be an amazing tool to connect people to other like minded souls. Imagine my surprise when I discovered a whole group of Jillian lovers called Jillian Michaels Workout Junkies, a private group open only to women that supports each other. Thousands of women from all over the world encouraging each other to keep pushing and smash goals. This group helped me no longer feel alone, I had people who understood me instead of eye rolling and thinking I was nuts. The daily workout check in and supportive messages helped keep me focused. There is power in knowing someone gets you and I have thousands of Jillian fans that get me. It's amazing the positive power these amazing ladies have had on my journey! 

     About six months into my transformation I began to smile at myself in mirrors, have a little swag in my walk, and I liked myself. I continued to lose weight and became more and more athletic with each passing month. I had a huge reduction in my anxiety. Turns out that for me, the deep conviction that I am badass turned off my anxiety. With my new mental freedom I signed up for a Spartan Race and felt beyond proud of myself as I jumped the finish line fire. Jillian's words, heard 6 days a week, rewired me. I am not the same person. The person I was settled, floundered around, and got by. I had no passion or sense of purpose. I have gotten out of bed for the last four and half months with purpose.

     I have a goal. My reason to do what I do everyday. It's a different kind of life. I decided to go back to school, at 34, to follow my heart. I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, I never had a passion. Then one day I figured it out and my heart caught fire. It's a different kind of life now. What I do now I do because someone in my future needs me to not give up. Someone will need help and I will be able to help them. I found my superpower...to not use it to help people is to waste it. I am strong, brave, and determined, all qualities needed for the next chapter in my life. I believe in myself because a lady named Jillian Michaels has told me to for the last 56 weeks of my life. It's a different kind of life now. 


     I wore a new bikini this summer, I lost 40 pounds over the year. I have an athletes body, 17% body fat. I am a badass. My training routine will change to accommodate my EMT certification schedule starting in late August. I will still have my daily sessions with Jillian, I need her to continue to whip me into shape. EMT training is only step one in pursuing my goal. You can follow my fitness journey on Instagram @newfigureforward. I post updates often of my achievements and goals. Reinvention is possible, I am proof! 

     That, folks, was my year with Jillian Michaels. I went in wanting my self-confidence back and discovered a badass! I quit quitting on myself and it changed my life. Jillian may not be for you, she's not for everyone, however be proactive about finding what you enjoy and do it! Do not quit! On days you don't want to, do it anyway. Half assing still counts. Quit quitting on yourself. The scale did not make a smooth drop down 40 pounds, it went up and down. The trick is keep doing it! Show up for yourself everyday and get addicted to personal pride. My sister once told me that you only get bragging rights after a workout if you finish it.
I still get my bragging rights. 

My Second Chance

     At one point in my life, I did not think I was worthy of much. I believed that I should be thankful for what I had because, after all, who could love me? I gained 65 pounds in the 6 months leading up to my first wedding. I almost needed a new dress but was able to have it let it out and add a panel. I look back and can see what a huge sign that weight gain was; I was not happy. I walked down the aisle anyway because having a husband somehow validated me. 

     My weight gain continued and I found myself at 300 pounds within the first year of my marriage. I found myself unable to live the life I wanted and I felt trapped. One day, after wiping tears from my eyes, something inside me snapped and I changed my life. I walked into Weight Watchers and never looked back. I fought for my second chance. I shed my weight and discovered a woman who had outgrown her current circumstances and deserved a second chance. 

     During my weight loss, I was prepared for the physical change but I was not prepared for the mental change. The true change was in how I felt about myself. I discovered love, passion, joy, and self worth.  Some of the choices I was faced with after my weight loss were not easy. After immense soul searching, I chose to start over and honor the woman I had fought to become. 

     My ex-husband and I parted with a mutual understanding and forgiveness. We each went our own ways with the encouragement from each other that happiness was worth the pain of divorce. I did find my happiness. The new me got my second chance at love. When I was not looking, I fell in love with my best friend. We have been together for 5 years and married for over 2 years now.  Weight loss changes so much more than the body. For me, it changed who I was and what I thought I deserved. I am thankful for the day I broke - the day that made me change my life and never look back.  I found self worth and truly fell in love. 

     Here's to second chances! 

Addicted to the Number

     Confession: I weigh myself every morning and have for over a year. I started after I went to my doctor seeking help when I started to put on weight, getting very close to a number I swore I would never see again. To monitor my figure, I checked in every morning, weighing myself and writing in my calendar.  That number had the power to make or break my day. It would dictate what I ate, what I wore, or even how much physical activity I would put in for the day.  

     Today I read The Militant Baker's blog post Smash the Scale Revolution. This post made me realize that I have an addiction to the number on the scale. My self-worth starts every morning in my bathroom.  It could be a good day or a bad day; it all depends on the number.  I have lived by the scale since I was 9 years old. I earned more love from family if that number was lower than before. If it went up I was put down and belittled. The lower the number the more love I could earn. This has been a lifetime battle for me. 

The following passage from the blog hit me like a punch to the gut;

"So who is Smash the Scale for?

For every girl bent over a toilet, worshiping at the altar of thin. For every teen who cries herself to sleep at night because she’s not good enough and doesn’t know why. For every child who didn't know they were fat until someone told them. For every woman who hopes that happiness is on the other side of that pill bottle. For every person who's stopped eating when they're still hungry. For every woman who hopes that happiness is on the other side of that pill bottle this time. Or maybe this time. For every woman that thinks she’ll be worthy of love if her thighs were smaller.  For every woman that holds back tears while she tries on jeans. For every child with a Weight Watchers chart on their bedroom door. For every man who's been told to put his shirt back on. For every teen who starves for a gap. For every skinny girl accused of anorexia and every fat girl that’s called lazy.

For every person who looks down at a number for so long that they forget to look up at the world.

For you.

Choose your weapon.
Smash the Scale.
And with it, all obligation, expectation and guilt."

     Look again at the line I have highlighted in red. That line hit home. The wheels in my heads started turning. I am addicted to the scale! Am I capable of not standing on the scale? It has thrown me a bit to realize just how much power that square box STILL has over me. I told myself I was doing it to stay in check and to help maintain my weight. That is only half true. My self-worth still comes from that damn number. If I weighed in less than the day before I knew I was going to have a good day because I was happy with the number. Why am I giving this number so much power? I have been looking down at a number on the scale since fourth grade. When I was losing weight family would constantly as what I weighed. That number became my definition. I am THAT number. I have to learn new places to find my self-worth! No more looking down!

     I admit to having a sense of panic over not standing on the scale every morning. Because of that panic I will be relocating my scale to the closet. I am going set myself free from the number. It will take some time to move past knowing how much I weigh. I stand for a positive body image and I need to heal this part of my own mind and heart. I am NOT the number on the scale. This addict is kicking the habit. I trust myself to care for my body like I always have without needing to know my weight. In 2014 I will not weigh myself every day. I promise this to myself. I am more than a number! Loving myself is not contingent on the number on a scale anymore!

Damn Dress. Wrong Assumption. Stronger Conviction.

How to begin?

     One evening for an event, I made the choice to wear the dress I have deemed my "I feel blah" dress. It is a size too big for me, ties in around the waist, and with a nice cardigan I still feel pretty and not stuffed into it.  I love this dress; it is my dress version of "stretchy pants" when I need to look nice. I am ok with my extra holiday fluff as it will go away and I will be back to my normal weight after the holidays. I forgive myself for the treats I have had and relax. I am strong in my convictions about my weight and how I feel about my body. At a gathering the universe decided to test just how strong I am. 

     As I said before, the dress ties in around the waist. The string is sewn in the dress. Pull, cinch, and tie. I pulled and tied a bit to tight because during the evening when I leaned forward in my chair the string broke! There was nothing I could do. In that moment I knew I had two choices: hate my body or hate the dress. I chose to hate the dress. It betrayed me. There is nothing wrong with my body. I had simply tied it too tight and unfortunately moved in just the right way that...snap...my dress now hung on my body like a moo moo.  I proceeded with my evening, pulling my cardigan around my body to try and disguise my potato sack dress.  

     As the evening went on I forgot to focus on keeping my cardigan wrapped around me, it did not have buttons to keep it closed on its own.  I was enjoying conversations with friends when the true test of my self esteem came a-knocking. I extended a pleasantry to a woman I know. I gave her a hug and engaged in small talk. She began to congratulate me, going on about how happy she was for me. My husband and I give each a look and it occurred to both of us...SHE THINKS I'M PREGNANT!!  Just to be sure I asked her what I did to be congratulated on, maybe I missed something. No, the look on her face said it all. She really thought I was pregnant and my response informed her I was not.  She quickly changed the subject to my hair, complimenting me on it, and then darted away from us as soon as she saw a way out. 

     Here is the moment. The true test to having rebuilt my self esteem.  I felt stunned. I have never had that happen before. I turned to my husband, who is an extremely supportive man, and I could see the look of panic on his face. He did not know how I was going to react and he was braced for something.  That moment, needless to say, killed my evening and I wanted to go home. We said our goodbyes and left.  I was struggling to think rationally. I know I do not look pregnant in clothes that fit me. I had to have repeated this to myself one hundred times on the drive home. My husband did his very best to remind me I am beautiful and it was the dresses fault.  Agreed, it was the over sized dress that apparently emphasized the wrong body parts.  

     I barely walked into the house and I had ripped the dress off my body, cursing at it, and threw it into the trash. I stood staring at my beautiful dress crumpled up in the trashcan and I felt confused.  I am body positive. My mission is to spread love for all bodies, yet in that moment I felt a tiny bit of dislike for my body. A tiny bit of anger for eating the cookies. A tiny spark of anger for feeling a spark of anger.  I put on the largest shirt I could find and like a child I pouted. Yup, lip out pout.  

     A few minutes later I was done.  I had successfully shaken myself back to normal. There is NOTHING wrong with my body - it WAS the dress.  Plus, she should not have assumed I was pregnant. It was a bit rude to openly congratulate me without knowing for sure if a baby was on the way. I learned a lesson from her. I will NEVER assume a woman is pregnant. EVER!! That moment messed up my head for a bit.  I was shocked and it took me some time to shake it off, though it also showed me just how far I have come. I am strong. I did not fall apart; instead I fought to build myself back up and remind myself that the assumption had nothing to do with my body and everything to do with a broken dress.  That was one hell of a test to prove how strong I am. I hope I passed! 

     I have since rescued my beloved "I feel blah" dress from the trash.  The broken string cannot be fixed but a chunky belt will do the trick and look cuter anyway.  I do have plans to wear a form fitting dress at the next event just to squash any rumors that may be milling about.  So universe, although I wavered for a moment, I am still proud of my body, and even learned a lesson.  

Fat Girl Victory

     I had a victory moment. In the grocery store today I happened to see an old boss of mine from 7 years ago. When he knew me I was 300 pounds. He and I where not fans of each other but I was good at what I did so he made peace with me.  The office staff, including him, were always on a diet. I was surrounded by health conscious gym rats and in that time in my life I was not a healthy person.
   
     I tried to fit in. I took diet advice and felt like the office project. It was the first time I joined a gym.  It was the first time I ate protein bars.  I lost a few pounds. Nothing major. When I officially left my job I was relieved to no longer be under the microscope of that office. People would make comments about my lunch, snacks, and beverage choices.  No thank you. Fat shaming does not help anyone, ever.

    Fast forward to 7 years later and 125 pounds smaller. I'm in the store with my son, looking extra cute. I had my hair cut today. I had done my make up and my outfit was rocking. As I come around the corner who do I see across the isle? A man giving me a funny look. I knew right away who he was and could tell my look on his face he was trying to place me. My heart skipped a beat and I told myself to play it cool. I went about my business. He stared, gawked, and did multiple double takes.  I think he figured out who I was.

     I was jumping up and down on the inside. The fat girl in me felt victorious! After 7 years of maintaining my weight loss just about everyone has seen my transformation. Today was a BONUS!! Thank you universe for having it happen on a day I look adorable.

I'm No Super Model. Neither are They.

 

    I swear I was promised a super model body. Every diet/weight loss commercial on TV shows the before and after of how the super model found herself underneath her fat rolls. I started my weight loss journey with a preconceived notion that when I was done, I would be a super model.  I would have cut abs, a tight butt, and perfect boobs. My journey has been five years now and I've never woke up perfect; instead I have stretch marks, extra skin, cellulite, and thighs that still touch.  Reality is hard to face, somehow at the end I still felt like I failed.  I found myself at a cross road, a very slippery slope -  I wasn't happy with what I saw but I was healthy. How could I still not be satisfied? When do I stop fighting and start enjoying?

     I took a long look at myself in the mirror. I've never been kind to my body. I've starved it, stuffed it, abused it, and loathed it. I had to call a truce with myself. I had to stop hating myself - I don't want to spend my entire life not enjoying who I am and the package I come in.  This time it wasn't about the number on the scale, it was about love for myself and my body.        

     I accept the extra skin on my arms. My wings, my flab, my wabble, whatever name it goes by. No more am I wearing cardigans in 100 degree weather because I want to hide them. My arms are strong; they pick up, work out, and hug just like everyone else's. The skin is the remnants of a person who is no longer and will never be again. My arms show a part of my story. The extra skin doesn't represent failure, they represent a journey.  The skin is with me forever and forever is a long time to not like a part of myself.

   I accept my stretch marks. I remember when the purple lines formed on my stomach.  I stopped seeing my body after that. I felt ruined. I became a blur to myself, a quick change artist.  I had to listen to my own advice. I tell my son, who is shorter than most children his age, that it is a waste of energy to get upset over something you can not change. His height does not make him who he is as a person and neither do my stretch marks.  I am not kidding myself anymore; EVERYONE has stretch marks. EVERYONE!! They come about for all kinds of reasons and all are natural for the human body. No more will I waste my energy on what I can not change and is also NORMAL!!

     My arms and stretch marks are NOT flaws - they are what makes me human. I am not the only person with extra skin on my arms or stretch marks on my stomach.  Why are we trying to convince others that somehow we are the only person in the world to have never used our bodies? To have never grown, or had a baby, or gained weight?  Our body idols have stretch marks; Marilyn Monroe, Beyonce, Kate Middleton, and everyone else who ever lived. The vernacular used to describe the body needs to change. Erase the word "flaw" and replace it with "normal" and accept the body for what it does.

     I will never be a super model and neither will anyone else. There is no such person. I like this reality; there is a lot less pressure realizing no one has a blemish free body. I am done playing dumb to a culture that assumes I don't know models and actresses are being Photoshopped.  I will not allow these fantasy images to influence the acceptance of my body.  I am human, I am normal, and my body is healthy and strong.  I choose to love myself, to value myself, and to cherish my body.  I will now be removing the "sucker" sticker off my forehead. No one can make me feel bad about myself anymore.

The Purple Bracelet

While exploring the world of Facebook to find like minded women, I discovered Beanie from her blog  Curves are Beautiful 2. As I have struggled in my life to obtain a socially acceptable body, so has she. I struggled with food, so has she. I had the most hateful inner monologue, so did she.  Now we have become two women determined to embrace our bodies and spread the message of body acceptance. Yet, we are on complete opposite ends of the body spectrum. In my eyes she is a skinny girl who could never be skinny enough and I am the fat girl who could never be skinny enough either. She has the body I was starving over and I have the body she was also starving over. After reading her story I saw the connections we had. Eating disorders hurt women of ALL sizes. 

It's not easy to come out and talk about the abuse that we, as women, put ourselves through. We are closet sufferers. The woman next to me in line at the grocery store is self conscious about her weight and only buying fat free items. The lady in the self check-out line is buying a box of cookies that she is ashamed of and will go home and eat them all.  Let's not forget the women that are not in line, they are at home, starving. All to achieve this body that no one actually has. Actresses and models are covered with make up, blasted with lights, and Photoshopped to an inhuman idea of beauty. 

From an early age I developed eating disorders and became a master at hiding them. I kept a diary durning high school, recording the torture I put myself through. My eating disorder lead me to be incredibly unhealthy. I was killing myself. Beanie was killing herself too. The fat girls and the skinny girls are walking the same path and under the surface, they are both dying. 

I feel I have learned at great deal about health and nutrition over the past few years. I take good care of my body now. I'm not perfect though; I have polished of a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Cookies a few times, or not eaten dinner because of an unhealthy lunch. Eating disorders don't disappear overnight. It takes time and patience with yourself. A svelte figure was not worth being miserable for the rest of my life, and if I didn't want to be miserable then, I had to make peace with myself. I had to make peace with my body and realize that unless I'm want to starve myself to be a size 4, it's never going to happen. I come with meat on my bones and that's ok! Curves are beautiful!

Beanie made the purple bracelet as a reminder to herself that curves are beautiful and it's ok to eat and enjoy food. She never has taken it off.  Even on her wedding day! I contacted her for one of her bracelets. She is helping women all over the world by reminding them that their bodies are beautiful. She inspired me to wear her bracelet as a reminder to myself that my curves are beautiful and I'm worth living a long and healthy life that includes dessert! 

I am wearing my purple bracelet and it makes me smile. Beanie made me smile. We need more voices to stand up for our bodies. Women, we are amazing creatures yet we treat ourselves with little respect.  My purple band is a reminder to embrace my figure -  "I was born to stand out!"
"I am learning that I do not want to be another victim of the worlds blinded definition(of beauty). I will not be another clone! I was born to stand out!"-Beanie

Never Tackled to See Size

 

     I enjoy clothes and fashion, though for many years I have not enjoyed trying on clothes.  As a kid I drove my grandmother insane in my refusal to get in the dressing room.  She would have to yell at me in middle of Penney's to get me to do it. It took a long time to let go of my distain for that small square box of doom.

     A dressing room is a box that could make or break my day. As a kid I was not excited to try on the kitty cat sweater. I did not want to look at myself in bad lighting at the end of the day, my hair matted to my head from playground sweat.  As I got older, and bigger, I did not want to look at my body or the size tag. In high school I would occasionally attempt to try on something in the stores my friends shopped (Forever 21 did not cater to a full figure when I was younger.) In these junior size stores I could not pull clothes all the way up or stretch it all the way over.  I left a massacre in dressing rooms of over stretched fabrics, busted seems, and popped off buttons.  These moments only fueled the fire of dressing room hate.

   

I wanted my confidence back! 

 Clothing stores that catered to my size where physically easier to shop in - I maintained blood circulation throughout the process. Mentally I would take a beating. My heart always dropped when I would have to reach for the eighteens, twenty two's, and at one point in my life the twenty eights.  At this size I did not feel sexy. Everyone has a different size that makes them comfortable and confident, mine was not at size twenty eight. I could have been a quick change artist; I wanted to get in and out without having to look  at the sad girl in the mirror.  The dressing room mirror seemed to zoom in on fat rolls, stretch marks, and a bad hair day.  If I looked as bad as I felt I'm sure rocks would have been thrown at the troll set loose in the mall.


     Weight loss is, in theory, supposed to fix the distain for trying on clothes. It helped. The freedom to walk into any store was liberating, though it did bring on new anxieties.  I had not been able to let go of the dread of something not fitting. I did not believe the size tag. There is no way  I was going to fit into a medium! I had my pile of clothes I was ready to conquer in the dressing room and a hint of panic starts to build.  I knew I was holding my current size but, just like in high school, I had that fear of another fabric massacre.  

      Over the past couple years the panic has subsided but it still rears it's ugly head every now and then. The perfect dress, the dress that I could not wear before, causes me to hold my breath every time I reach for the zipper.  My mind's eye and my reflection in the mirror did not always match. It felt like I was waiting for the ball to drop, I was going to wake up from the dream and be back to holding the XXL. I was not prepared to have continued fear in the dressing room. The change in size did not remove the fear of humiliation. When I put the clothes on and don't resemble the hulk after I put them on, can I finally exhale. 

     I've often felt that when the weight came off and I reached my goal size that everything would fall into place. I would slow motion run through the mall, arms over flowing with bags, with my hair and make-up flawless. Nope, regardless of size I still saw a  "big" girl because that's all I'd ever known. It took years after losing my weight to believe what I see in the mirror. I have learned that it is not the size on the tag that dictates how I feel about my body, it is how the clothes look on me and how I feel in them. Once I let go of the size I set my confidence free. It was never my body that was wrong, it was the clothes I was trying to stuff it in. I let a tag tell me whether I was worthy or not. Denying my size only contributed in my self hate. NEVER AGAIN!! If something does not fit or look right it is the clothes NOT me and I will go and get the size that fits better. When it fits and flatters my body I feel beautiful. What I want people to see is a woman who treats her body with class and respect. My clothes fit and flatter my figure, even if that means it is a large. 

No one has ever run out of the bushes and tackled me to see the size tag on my shirt.  So who cares what size I am wearing if I look amazing in my outfit?!