Been having a bad day.
Have been thinking a lot lately. I have been incredibly frustrated with my weight loss recently, but . . . putting things in perspective both helps and opens my eyes up to how bad I truly was when I started my journey.
I knew I had to lose weight when I started, but I don't think I truly comprehended how badly I needed to. Maybe that has been a blessing and a curse.
I started on June 2nd, 2007, just a month after my father died from a heart attack. He was 5'11", was a bit over 350 pounds, and had a BMI of a bit over 50. He was 52 years old, had been an alcoholic for almost ten years, threatened to end his life several times in front of me, my mother, and my sister, and he had many conditions as a result of his obesity - diabetes, sleep apnea, reflux, the works.
When I started my journey, I was 256.4 pounds. I'm not sure if I'm 5'0" or 5'1", but if I'm 5'0" then my starting BMI was 50, exactly. A BMI of 50 classified me as SUPER MORBIDLY OBESE. I'll write that again. SUPER MORBIDLY OBESE. That's right, I was almost as bad as those people you see on TV and shake your head at thinking "how did they let it get to THAT level?"
I'll tell you how - I had no idea I was that bad.
I was just about the same BMI as my father and I didn't think I was anywhere near as bad as he was. Part of it was, I guess, youth. Even at my heaviest weight I did not have diabetes. Sure I had been warned for years and years that I could very well get it any time, but I never developed it.
What I did have were the beginnings of sleep apnea. I had poor sleeping habits. I loved to sleep but it was often very difficult to sleep well. I never felt rested or refreshed. My snoring was an issue with every single college roommate I had. In fact, I drove roommates away with just my snoring.
But I never thought I was as bad as my father. Even when my feet swelled and it was hard to walk, I never thought I was as bad as I was.
If I had known a year ago how bad a shape I was in I don't think I would have gone on this journey. I don't know if I would have tried to go the weight loss surgery route, either. I think I would have just continued to gain weight until I finally got the diabetes I deserved and I think I would have gotten a heart attack and died just like my father.
I may have never reached 300 pounds, but I am short. A person who is 5'0" or 5'1" carrying around 256 pounds is the same as a 5'6" person carrying 300.
I may bemoan the fact that I have ONLY lost 7o pounds, but I lost this weight by myself without surgery when I was so so far into a ditch I had dug for myself.
According to the at-home scale, an 8 year old Tanita Body Fat scale mind you, I am 40% body fat. 40%. That had me crying for an hour thinking "holy crap, I think that's ACCURATE". I NEVER took that as being even REMOTELY accurate. I exercise a lot, I think I have muscles under all this fat, how could I be nearly half made of fat? It didn't seem possible to me. But now that I am accepting that it is true, I'm wondering what my body fat percentage was in the beginning, because I don't remember.
I want to do a test in one of those fancy bod pods at school, but it costs $50 and I am told Tanita scales are pretty accurate, even if this one is 8 years old.
So my point is . . . I was at death's door practically and I have turned myself around. I still have a long way to go, but I REALLY need to give myself credit for what I've done.
As much as I loved (and still love) my father, he gave up on life and died as a result. He died many years before his body finally gave up. I didn't want to be death walking. I didn't want to give up. So here I am, fighting my way out of the grave I dug myself. It seems impossible, but it's a reality.
The cold hard truth is--even though I have lost 70 pounds, I have a long way to go, but you know what? Where I am now compared to where I was really means something.