I’ve come to find that I’ve spent more time thinking, rather than doing this past year. I know, I know… Jayme overthinking… neee-ver! 😜

In the almost 1 year I took off from working out and eating right, I found that I spent more time thinking and dwelling about what I should have been doing because I didn’t like where I was at, than any actual doing.

And now that I’m almost 2 months into my reboot, I’m finding that once again I keep thinking about what I should be doing differently and what I used to do instead of just shutting up my mind and doing.

For me, silencing my mind is my biggest struggle. It’s what’s been keeping me from achieving my goals. I have to just do what’s best for me in each and every moment and not continually think about what I want or where I want to be.

So going forward, I am choosing to stop thinking and start doing. Because this little battle I’m in with my mind is clearly not working for me anymore.

I read an article this morning that hit very close to home. The Today Show was discussing a recent post on https://medium.com by a woman titled, “What it’s like to be that fat person sitting next to you on the plane”… I’ve included the link at the bottom and encourage you to read it.

I’ve been that fat person sitting next to you on the plane before and everything she wrote about I could definitely and sadly relate to. My anxiety about flying had absolutely nothing to do with the mechanics of it (ya know flying in a tin can 30,000 feet in the air and all) and everything to do with the logistics of it.

Southwest became our airline of choice, not because of price but because they have the largest seat dimensions, if by only a smidgen above the rest. Not to mention their lift-able aisle arm rests for slightly more room getting in and out of your row (bet ya didn’t know about those- I learned about them from a fellow “customer of size” who saw me fumbling with mine after seeing him raise his).

After purchasing our Southwest tickets we would always make sure to get to the airport at least 2-3 hours early, and no not because of the long lines at check-in and security. Before Southwest switched to their assigned number boarding I had to make sure I was as close to first in line as possible so that I had my pick of seats. Then I paid $10 more (now $12.50 I believe) when they introduced their early bird check-in to hopefully guarantee me Group A boarding. And of course I would always check with the gate agent to see how full our flight was so we could finalize our game plan of how we were going to sit. If it was a full flight I would take the aisle seat and my husband would take the middle… but if we knew there would be at least one or two open seats we would take the first available open row, even if it meant sitting all the way in the back by the bathroom and I would take the aisle seat and he would take the window… our logic being who would want to sit between two fat people?

That logic usually worked and when it didn’t I made sure to sit with all of my extremities as close to my body as possible so as not to engage in any “spillage” or fit that caricature of a typical fat person, “…loud, obnoxious, elbowing people, taking up space, getting cheetos crumbs all over ourselves and you…”. Ps… I don’t even like cheetos!

Another reason for getting to the airport ridiculously early, no still not the long lines at check-in and security… I needed to make sure I had ample time to take care of my business because there was no way I was going to fit in that tiny closet they call a bathroom… so thank you but I’ll pass on my complimentary beverage :-P.

Oh and let’s also not forget that wonderful seat belt extender. I had learned how to non verbally let the flight attendant know that I needed one and most would hand me one very discreetly, but unfortunately there were those few that made it a whole big production with me and my extender as the stars.

That brings me to two flying experiences I will never forget.

When my husband and I started thinking about relocating to Arizona we planned a trip out west to visit family and explore our possible new home (pre weight loss journey). Prior to this particular trip I had flown numerous times, both by myself and with my husband as a fat person and never once had an issue. While we were checking in we noticed the woman helping us seemed hesitant about something. She then went to speak with who I believe was her supervisor and when she returned she advised me of their, “Customer of Size” policy and that I would need to purchase an additional ticket. As I choked back my tears of shock and embarrassment my husband tried to explain to them that I had literally just flown, on the same airline no less, not even a month ago and I was never told I needed to purchase an additional ticket. Unfortunately, that didn’t matter and I had to purchase an additional ticket for my flight to Arizona… but don’t worry, it came with one of those blue pre boarding passes so ha… I got my pick of a seat, sorry seats, afterall!

After I collected myself and my extra ticket was purchased my husband and I made our way down to the gate where we soon learned that our flight was overbooked. What started off as an embarrassing and awful experience quickly turned into one of our best flights ever. We got bumped… but not only did we get bumped, my extra seat got bumped too… which meant we received the full cost of our tickets plus an extra $300… for all THREE seats. We made over $900 in travel vouchers in a matter of minutes…and I wasn’t told I needed to purchase an extra seat when we checked in for our flight back to Baltimore… thank you very much and way to have a consistent “Customer of Size” policy!

Fast forward a few years to our trip to Vegas (still pre weight loss journey). My husband and I flew to Sin City without incident and even boarded the plane back home without incident… or so we thought.

I had already confirmed with the gate agent that it would be a full flight. As my husband and I boarded the plane I immediately spotted a thin woman sitting by herself in the third row with an open aisle and middle seat. I quickly rushed to claim them much to my husband’s dismay- he wanted to keep looking for an open row and give that woman a chance to possibly have her own row, but with a full flight I wasn’t taking any chances.

After settling in we started talking with our new neighbor and found out we had a lot in common. However, we were soon interrupted mid conversation by the gate agent who had boarded the plane and made a beeline to my seat.

She wanted to know, rather loudly, if anyone had ever explained the, “Customer of Size” policy to me. I was speechless… you mean to tell me I checkedy luggage, handed you my ticket, boarded the plane, got settled in my seat all without incident and now you choose to have the audacity to board the plane and ask me this? After telling her yes and her confirming with my husband and our new seat mate that they were comfortable and ok she exited the plane, at which time our new seat mate AND the woman across the aisle from me called over the flight attendant to express their anger over what had just transpired. I think they were even more disgusted than I was. It felt good to know that in that moment not everyone viewed me as, “that caricature of a typical fat person”. I was a person who had just been utterly and totally humiliated by a situation that should have taken place many steps ago in our departure process, if at all.

I guess my main point about needing to share the article I read this morning, along with my experiences is to emphasize the importance of adhering to that age old adage of just be kind, “for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about”.

https://medium.com/@thefatshadow/what-it-s-like-to-be-that-fat-person-sitting-next-to-you-on-the-plane-85006e263778#.eihaq4fxm

On my way to work this morning I was driving behind a car with a 26.2 sticker. I started thinking about how much I miss running. It was something I absolutely hated when I was younger, but had grown to love as I built up my endurance. It gave me such a sense of accomplishment and allowed me to truly see my progress, both physically and mentally. I used to tell my trainer that as I increased my speed on the treadmill I felt like Forrest Gump as he ran out of his leg braces (technical difficulties trying to add the photo and even the link, but hopefully you have a good mental image of that scene!).

I had no desire to ever run a marathon or even a half marathon (and I still don’t), but I absolutely loved running in 5Ks. Not only was I running for an amazing charity, but I would continue to push myself to beat my last time… and let’s not forget how awesome it feels to pass people or pick that one person out of your group’s start time that you try to beat :-).

So as I work on getting back into a routine at the gym, I also plan to work on getting myself back into running form… complete with another pair of my overpriced, super comfy (for about a week until the novelty wears off), neon Brooks running shoes!

Until next time… I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite movies…

“Now you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but I could run like the wind blows. From that day on, if I was goin’ somewhere, I was runnin’!”

Three years ago today I did what I never thought I could do… I lost 100 freakin’ pounds! I even managed to keep it all off and then some for over 2 years. Unfortuately, now instead of being able to say, “I’ve lost 100+ freakin’ pounds!” I can only say, “I once lost 100+ freakin’ pounds”.

When I first started on my journey I followed Weight Watchers (for the millionth time). I knew how to read a label, but I only had to really pay attention to the fiber because the higher the fiber the lower the points. Their Points Plus program essentially gave you carte blanche to eat whatever you wanted. If you wanted the cookie, you could have the damn cookie, you just needed to make sure you stayed within your daily points allowance (but let’s not forget those glorious Flex Points!).

When I decided I wanted to truly learn how to eat to live rather than live to eat, I switched to counting calories and using MyFitnessPal. I learned how to “eat this, not that” and I saw my success continue.

When I wanted to try the whole clean eating approach, I had a food allergy test done and eliminated gluten, dairy, soy and processed sugars because the results told me that’s where almost all of my inflammation was coming from. I bought grass fed and organic and hemp hearts and chia seeds and watched the pounds and inflammation go down (and the grocery bills go up).

And that brings us to now… I feel like I’m just grasping at straws trying to pick and stick with something.

I have an infuriating mentality that everything has to be all or nothing. If I can’t completely do something the way I think I should, then I just won’t do it at all… because that’s better and makes total sense right? I know, it’s a warped way of thinking that I just need to get over but am stuck on. I need to get it into my head that doing just half, or even a quarter of the clean eating I was doing before combined with a little bit of convenience (and price… ie who knows what they’re eating for 1.99/lb vs grass fed amazingness for 5.99/lb) is OK… because the bottom line is doing nothing is never gonna get me back to saying, “I lost over 100 freakin’ pounds!” again.

I’ve thought about this post for a while now and if or how I would write it. There are so many things I want to say, but haven’t, mainly because I didn’t want to admit how I’m really feeling out loud (or in my blog). In truth, I don’t really want to do this post… the tears are already pouring out as I tap along on the keyboard. But I’m going to. I need to. I want to let others know they’re not alone in their struggles, whatever they may be, and that getting it out can sometimes have the most cathartic effect.

When I started on my weight loss journey I did so for one reason and one reason only… I want to be a mom. I counted my points and then calories, I did Zumba and circuit training and even Muay Thai. I lost a ton of weight and gained a sense of happiness I never knew, and of course my health too. I was feeling good, I was looking good and so it was time to finally try. And then… it all went to shit (excuse my French).

I have never gotten over nor accepted my miscarriage, and I don’t think I ever truly will (as evidenced by a recent ugly drunk cry session). It completely changes you… one minute your little someone is growing inside of you and the next they’re gone. Silence, an empty blip on the screen and a shitload of heartache and questions are all you’re left with.

Over the course of the past fifteen months I’ve become resentful and only recently have I admitted to myself and to my husband that I’ve lost hope that the one thing I want most in this world might never be. I got healthy to get pregnant, I did and then 8 short weeks later I wasn’t. I did everything right, why didn’t it work? Why is it so easy for everyone else? Why are people who are heavier and much unhealthier than me popping out kids left and right? Why? Why? Why? I didn’t want to think about it anymore so I buried my feelings, stopped talking about it and I ate. And ate. And ate some more. What is the point of trying to maintain a healthy lifestyle when the one thing you want the most is so far out of your reach and control? I chose the easy way and gave up, when most people would probably keep trying and fighting for what they want.

Now please, please, please don’t get me wrong… I AM unbelievably and truly happy for all of my friends and family who pop out their little miracles. I have only recently learned to accept that it is OK for me to feel what I am feeling, these real and oh so raw emotions that come and go in waves. But what I cannot accept is allowing myself to continue to eat myself into an oblivion to avoid feeling the pain and sadness I’ve tried to keep down and ignore.

I don’t want to waste anymore of my life being resentful and questioning why or what might be. I want to actually start focusing on living in the present and taking each day as it comes. But if I ever happen to make a snide or jaded comment or even ugly drunk (or sober) cry in front of you, please know that it’s not personal… it’s just me trying to work through all of these emotions instead of eating my way through them.

Dealt myself another hand tonight… my husband and I rejoined the gym and reconnected with our old trainer. Am I ready to play again? Not quite… but I’m not ready to fold either.

(And on that note, I think the gambling references have officially been played out 😘)

It is so strange being back at 290 pounds. Only a year has passed since I was a much fitter and healthier version of myself, but it’s the first time in I don’t know how long, that I can remember what it was like to be a better version of myself. When I was 370 pounds it had been so long since I was fit and healthy that being 370 pounds was my only true memory of myself.

I mean, I didn’t just wake up and, POOF! the weight came back. I simply turned a blind eye to it (we’ll eventually delve into the “why” later). Part of me feels like I never truly left this unheathy lifestyle and weight and the other part of me feels like an imposter now in my own body and closet because I know now what being healthy truly looks and feels like.

You could equate this part of my journey to gambling… like playing a hand of blackjack. You hit and bust and hit and bust and then BLACKJACK!!! But then, in the blink of an eye it’s all gone. All of that hard work, time and money that went into getting that win is gone because you decided to go, “All in!” on that next hand.

Ok so maybe gambling isn’t the best comparison to my journey, but I’m betting you get the point (ah you see what I did there?).

The bottom line, the further and further you get away from how it felt after that initial win, the harder it is to get back that momentum, that belief that you will ever win again.

But there’s no harm in playing just one more hand right? Afterall, isn’t it the rush of those wins, no matter how small that kept you going?

Hello… it’s me… and I believe it’s time I put my fingers to the QWERTY (sung in the key of the amazing Adele).

I’ve been struggling for some time now to get what I’ve been wanting to say down into a blog post. It’s been quite a while since I said anything, and the constant pics and status updates from Timehop and the like have made it even harder to admit out loud what I’ve known for some time… I. Have. Failed. I’ve failed all those who were supporting and following me and most importantly I’ve failed myself because I gave up.

When I look back on 2015 I see a lot of amazing memories, but I also see the loss of myself… the person I worked so hard to become. Gone are the days of beets and gymmin’ it and back are the days of bagels and couchin’ it and the oh so glorious, “Monday I’m starting over again” (and again and again and again ad nauseum).

But I didn’t… and I haven’t. What I have now is a closet full of skinny clothes, a list of things that I was able to do after I lost the weight the first time, but mostly can’t now since I’ve gradually gained a lot of it back, barely used really cute cross trainers and fierce looking muay thai gloves. I also have my thoughts… my thoughts about how it used to be.

Before when I would falter I would get right back up. But now, I’ve fallen so far off the horse that I’ve pretty much lost hope and faith in myself that I will ever get back on it. I definitely still want it, but I can want it all I want, it’s my actions, like always that are going to speak louder than my words. And right now my actions are barely even a whisper.

Yesterday is a memory and tomorrow hasn’t been written yet. All we have is today… the here and now. So let’s make choices today that will help lead us down the path we want to be on tomorrow… and the next day… and the next day…

Over the past few months I haven’t felt like myself. I lost my desire to work out and eat healthy, I’m tired all the time and… I’ve gained back about 20 of the pounds I worked so hard to get off and keep off.

In the beginning, I thought it was because I wasn’t pushing myself… but this felt deeper than just lacking motivation. I started seeing a new therapist who told me that I was in a state of constant, “fight-or-flight mode” which was causing my body to possibly have adrenal fatigue.

My therapist taught me that I needed to start looking at life and everything in it differently… that I needed to change my thoughts and my actions (hence the tone of some of my recent blog posts). It was at this time that I finally decided to make an appointment with a naturopath… one that also happened to be recommended by a few of the women in my infertility support group (might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?).

After talking with my new doctor for over an hour, I left her office with something I hadn’t felt in a while… hope. Hope that she was going to be the one to finally help me figure myself out physically, mentally and, well… spiritually (something I’m starting to buy into).

She wanted to take about 10 tubes of my blood (because I certainly don’t give it willingly, I’m a hard stick and I hate needles!) so she could run a slew of tests. Well, yesterday we finally went over the results. She said that if all she knew about me was what my blood work said, she would think that I am someone who is perfectly capable of getting pregnant, providing that I work on lowering my high cortisol levels (among other things), as cortisol and progesterone are directly related to getting and maintaining a pregnancy. She also gave me a treatment plan… one that includes no fruit or grains for the forseeable future, as I have some inflammation that needs calming down.

So, here we are… beginning another chapter in my journey from bagels to beets. Stick around… I know I will 😘