The 5 Stages

This is one of those blogs that I don’t want to be writing. Because it’s no fun to admit that you’ve failed. To be honest, It’s downright humiliating, but I know I need to get this huge weight off my chest, thighs, butt…wherever it has distributed itself.

Yes, that’s right folks, I’ve allowed 30lbs back into my life, and onto my body.

I’m sure it’s been pretty obvious to those closest to me; I have been struggling. A lot. I am stuck in a rut and have been dealing with a lot of stress. I’ve generally been sucking at life these days.

As I was chowing down on a fast food burger, a dear friend inquired, “What’s going on with your eating?”

That’s a good friend right there. It’s good to have people in your life that keep you honest, even though sometimes I’ve been struggling to be honest with myself.

So, what’s eating Jill, when she’s not eating everything in sight?

I have allowed my life to become so consumed with worry, anxiety, stress, anger, and sadness, that I put myself on the back burner, and stopped paying attention to what I have been putting in my mouth.

And poof! Just like that.. 5lbs…10lbs..20lbs..

30lbs…

Hello again. Not so nice to see you.

Despite the “poof”, It didn’t happen overnight, this screw up was a year in the making.

I have been battling a lot of emotions in dealing with this weight gain, so allow me to share with you…

The 5 Stages of Weight Gain

Denial

I didn’t gain 30lbs of fat…I’ve been working out lots…it’s totally muscle!

The scale is broken.

These jeans feel a bit snug…must have shrunk in the dryer.

It’s totally water weight. I DO drink a lot of water!

Maybe I’ll be on an episode of “I didn’t know I was pregnant”…with a food baby.

….oh shit…what If I AM pregnant?!

(As you can see, I’ve spent a lot of my time in the denial stage!)

Anger

How could you let this happen to you?! Do you want to go back to the way you were?! You like being able to tie your own shoes don’t you?! SMARTEN UP!

What are you stupid?! You didn’t gain muscle! You gained cake!!

Bargaining

I went swimming and did CrossFit today, that deserves some cake!

If only I would have managed my stress in a more healthy way…

If only I hadn’t taken that one bite…two bites…three bites…

If I eat this salad, I can have fries too! It’s a balanced diet…right?

I’ll eat really good during the week…and then eat my face off on the weekend. OK?!

Depression

You’re hopeless. How could you think you could change?

Once a fat kid, always a fat kid.

You’re such a disappointment.

Might as well stay in bed today…at least that way you won’t eat. That pillow looks pretty tasty though…like a marshmallow.

I’m so depressed that I gained weight…so I’ll eat this bag of chips to feel better.

*face palm*

Acceptance

It is what it is. 30lbs. It happened, and it sucks, but it could have been much worse. I can drown my sorrows in cake, or I can wipe of the crumbs, get off my ass, and fix this. The first steps to making a change are awareness and acceptance. And in the grand scheme of my weight loss, it is a bump in the road…a rather big bump, but a bump nonetheless. I need to remind myself that I have still lost 120lbs overall, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. It’s easy to get so wrapped up in the little struggles, that you lose sight of the big picture. I am on a lifelong journey, and it can’t be smooth sailing all the time.

This whole experience just drives home the fact that eating habits play a HUGE role in weight loss. I have been pretty consistent with exercise, even when I was on vacation. But if I’m eating like crap…well…you know how that turned out. I can give myself 30 reasons to put down the fork and get off my ass. You cannot out-exercise a bad diet, because you will lose gain every time. It’s not like this isn’t news to me, but obviously I needed the reminder as my common sense appears to have gone out the window and made a beeline to the nearest buffet.

It was also an important reminder that weight loss is something that needs to be worked at every single day. I know what works for me, and what doesn’t. I know what foods I am better off avoiding, because they just lead towards a slippery slope of overindulgence. I know that when I eat healthy, I feel better.
I know all of these things, but I just got sidetracked. But that’s OK.

I’m here now.

Tomorrow is a new day, filled with opportunities to make healthy choices. I refuse to let this setback discourage me from moving forward. It’s an opportunity to learn from my mistakes, pick up the pieces, and carry on.

Home is Where the Habits Are

I am currently on a vacation in my hometown in New Brunswick. It is always great coming home but I have noticed a lot of my memories of this place I call home revolve around food.

From my favorite convenience store to buy treats when penny candies actually cost a penny, that has since had several transformations, from a strip club, to car dealership, and now an Insurance establishment. I have a vivid memories of buying strawberry marshmallow candies and sitting on the side of the King George Highway and throwing them onto the road, watching them get sucked up into passing vehicles (which now that I think about it I’m not even sure that’s mechanically possible…but away they went). My sincerest apologies to those vehicles I may have wrecked with that marshmallow-y goodness.

To the old bowling alley that held countless birthday parties and fun gatherings where I would indulge in snacks and concoction we called “Swamp Water” (a mixture of all flavors of pop) and play Street Fighter and Pac-man video games that has since transformed into an all you can eat Chinese buffet/Mattress Store/Call Center (How’s THAT for diversity!?).

To the frozen yogurt place in the mall that served my favorite chocolate frozen yogurt with sprinkles, that has long gone and now stands a cell phone kiosk in it’s delicious shadow.

To the Greco Pizza place that is now headquarters to the Progressive Conservative Party. Many a party pizza were consumed from that establishment.

Though some favorites are long gone, some remain; the Cunard (Chinese food), Pizza Delight, and a grocery store with ample supply of Peanut Butter Fudge Crunch Ice Cream, to name a few.

It’s funny that none of these establishments were known for their salads. All the pieces of my childhood and lifelong obesity are coming together!

Home is where the heart is, but home is also a place where my bad habits and dysfunctional relationship with food began. Food has the ability to elicit vivid memories of time spent with family and friends, but it also reminds me of the amount of comfort I sought in my old friend food. Looking back at old childhood pictures, my dysfunctional relationship with food was as obvious as my multiple chins.

The challenge is to not fall into old dysfunctional habits. It can be a slippery slope, and the “When in Rome” mentality kicks in; “When in Rome, eat your face off!”. I am trying to maintain a balance of indulgence with other healthy food choices and exercise, although these last few days have been a bust, with Halloween Candy, Cunard, and Pizza Delight, oh my! I realize it’s okay to indulge once in awhile, and I need to cut myself some slack, but knowing my addictive personality if I don’t reign things in soon, things could get ugly. Or delicious, depending on how you look at it…

I’ve also been struggling with mindless eating, as my normally busy schedule at home has been replaced with a LOT of down time. You know what they say about idle hands; they’re good for holding utensils. I have parked my arse (here comes my east coast twang) on the couch and have become a seasoned pro at 19 Kids and Counting and could probably recite all of their names without much thought (Jim bob, Jimmy Jim Jim, Jeremiah Jim, Jim-ella, Jim-a-lama-ding-dong…am I close?). Don’t get me wrong, this time away was much needed as I was running myself into the ground with my busy schedule and not handling additional stress well..or at all, but I need to remind myself that this vacation is to take care of myself and give myself a mental break, not to sabotage years of progress by reverting back to old habits.

Being home is sweet, but I don’t need to give myself diabetes in the process.

Me vs Myself vs I

A few weeks ago I completed in my third CrossFit Competition at Machine Fest in Edmonton. Last month I also competed in the Bridge City Beat Down in Saskatoon. Compared to the Battle on the Border in February, my nerves weren’t nearly as bad leading up to the events, as I knew what to expect this time around. Once I got over my initial fear of “They’re all going to laugh at you!” going into my first competition, the following competitions weren’t so nerve wracking. And to recap, there was no pointing, no laughing, and no pigs blood dumped on my head a la Carrie. THAT’S a relief!

There was a time in my life when the only event I felt I should be competing in was a pie eating contest. Lets face it, for a long time, eating was pretty much the only thing I was really good at. And it’s no coincidence that many photos of “old Jill” that I find on Facebook involve me shoving food into my face.

I’m not even kidding.

 I’d like to claim my gold medal now!

Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be competing in anything fitness related. My track record for fitness over the years has been pretty sketchy. I was in basketball in elementary school until I tripped and fell and didn’t want to play anymore. I was in dance until the instructor told me I had no rhythm. Phys. Ed. was a joke, as I was just an easy target for dodge ball and one of my Phys. Ed teachers even laughed at my attempts at running. Phys. Ed was fun for most kids, I just wanted to crawl into a hole in and hide. There is a long list of things that I have tried, failed at, and quit. CrossFit has been the only thing I have really stuck with over the years, other than Zumba (take THAT dance instructor!!).

While these are technically competitions, I never go into them expecting to win. It’s not me against everyone else; it’s me against me. It’s me against the expectations I have of myself. In Saskatoon I exceeded my expectations, and even finished a workout that involved sprinting under the time cap. In short bursts I can haul ass, I just need to work on the long distances. This past competition I was incredibly hard on myself due to a failed lift that left me rattled, so I completely choked and didn’t try again. There’s something about almost dropping 110lbs on your head that ignites a little healthy fear in a person. I was mad at myself, because I KNEW I could do better, but fear took the wheel and for that moment my old friend “I can’t” crept in. I was disappointed in myself because I didn’t do what I knew I could. It was quite a different scenario since I’ve spent a large chunk of my life believing I couldn’t do ANYTHING. In the grand scheme of things that failed lift didn’t matter. The only person giving me a hard time over it was me. I allowed myself to have a pity party, brushed myself off and the rest of the events went by without a hitch. I am grateful to my partner Karla who cheered me on and kept me going through both competitions, through the good times, and the not so good times.

Time and time again I have heard from people that they are too scared to try CrossFit because they are worried that they will suck and people will laugh at them if they are the last one to finish a workout. Honestly, it’s the exact opposite. I am living proof. I am often the last to finish workouts in my classes, and competitions are no exception; the audience cheering me on is just bigger. Rather than be embarrassed or dread having the longest time, or lowest reps or lower weight on the bar, I’ve learned to embrace finishing regardless of all that, because it means I had the courage to start in the first place. And even if you are the last to finish your workout, people will cheer you on even more than they do for the first person who finishes. There is no one waiting to boo you, or humiliate you, or tell you you suck, and I can attest to the fact that there is absolutely no one waiting with a bucket of pigs blood to dump on your head. The amount of respect athletes have for each other is incredibly inspiring. Strangers are always willing to offer high fives and hand shakes, words of encouragement and well wishes to fellow competitors. While I was the last to finish a run in Saskatoon, and the speed I was going may have resembled someone trudging through molasses in the dead of winter, some onlooking competitors cheered me on saying “Just keep moving!”

Everyone is in your corner. Whether you finish first or last.

Whether it’s your first competition or your 3rd, it is always an incredibly humbling experience. While it’s an opportunity to exhibit your strengths, your weaknesses tend to show through, reminding you that there’s always something that needs to be worked on. For me, it’s just about everything…including math. If there are any lessons I’ve taken away from CrossFit, one is to always always ALWAYS stay humble. There is always room to improve. We shouldn’t strive to be better than anyone else. We should focus on being better than ourselves. To continue to learn, grow and become a stronger person than you were yesterday.

I may not be the fittest, fastest or strongest person, but I will continue to show up. And for someone who has spent the majority of her life hiding, that’s a victory in itself.

Tough Love

There comes a time when you need to have people in your life who tell it like it is. A healthy dose of reality is an important motivational tool, just as much as positive feedback is. It keeps me humble, and attuned to the fact that there is always room for improvement. While it’s great pat to the ego to hear “great job!” on a regular basis and to have accomplishments celebrated, sometimes I really need to hear “good job, but you can do better.”

I’m not saying I want to be spit on and called scum, but I am grateful for those in my life who keep my ego in check and  keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. There is a huge difference between being an asshole and hurling insults to cut someone down and constructive criticism to help someone grow, although for a long time I would assume they were both the same. If someone told me I didn’t work hard enough, and that I could do better, I would feel like I wasn’t good enough to even continue trying and would probably quit altogether. But now it’s feedback like this that increases my drive to succeed, and not necessarily prove them right, but to prove to myself that I am capable of much more than I give myself credit for. It is a new perspective to see your abilities as seen through the eyes of someone else. Suddenly the impossible seems possible. Their belief in me pushes me to believe in myself. A lot of the time that little voice in my head is screaming “YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” so loud that it completely overwhelms me and I give up.

(I’m sensing a theme here…My former motto should have been “if at first you don’t succeed…give up, cry and have a nap.” but then where would I be?)

It is great to be reminded by others that yes, I CAN do it, and it’s just the fear in my head that’s stopping me, not my strength or abilities. I need to ignore my internal voice and listen more closely to those ones that are outside of my head, who are brutally honest and encourage me, with a cuss word or ten.

I am fortunate to have a few people in my life that aren’t afraid to tell it like it is and call me on my shit. Sometimes they are hard on me and the truth may be a bit hard to swallow like a bucket of sand (mostly because everything they say is true…and sand is really dry and gritty, don’t ask me how I know…) but their feedback and guidance only ends up in positive growth, both mentally and physically (growth of muscles, not my ass…well I guess that’s technically a muscle!). I truly appreciate their honesty. It’s much like a friend who tells you you have a piece of spinach in your teeth, rather than not tell you and let you walk around all day looking like an idiot. While it may be awkward for them to watch me sit there and pick my teeth “did I get it? Did I get it? How ’bout now?”, it’s better to tell the spinach like it is than to tip toe around it in efforts to be polite. 

My life is full of learning opportunities and I have no shortage of teachers to guide me through them, both in and out of the gym. I am reminded of Randy Pausch’s “Last Lecture” when he spoke of his football coach who was incredibly hard on him during practices. His assistant coach reminded him “when you’re screwing up and nobody’s saying anything to you anymore, that means they gave up.” 

Some days, as much as I pretend to hate the criticism, I don’t ever want to get to the point where it stops, because that means I’ve been given up on. I’ve spent the majority of my life giving up on myself, and it’s not a great feeling. I realize at the end of the day, the only relationship that matters is the one I have with myself, but the encouragement, criticisms and feedback I get from others is an important building block in that relationship with myself. I’ve gotten to the point where I can actually accept criticism and not cry. OK, that’s a lie. I don’t cry ALL the time, but I’m much less sensitive than I used to be. I’ve come to recognize that a lot of criticism comes from a place of caring, and is not intended to hurt me or my feelings, but there are the occasional times when I am just a wuss.

I am grateful that I have people in my life that will share their honesty with me. It is an invaluable gift. So my dear friends, keep the feedback and criticisms coming, because I will no longer aim to be “good enough”.

I will aim to be better.

And if you’re looking to be inspired, take the time to watch Randy Pausch’s “Last Lecture”. 

Perspectives on Body Image

Positive body image is something that I, along with countless others, have struggled with for a long time.

The time we devote to hating ourselves because society has warped our views of acceptable self image is ridiculous. Why should I hate myself because somebody thinks I should? Because somebody views my extra weight as a weakness; as ammunition to be used to hurl hurtful words towards me in an effort to prove…I don’t even know what..That you’re a dick? 

 

Why should women and young girls all over the world starve themselves, purge themselves, hurt themselves because they can’t measure up to these unattainable idols that grace the cover of a magazine? Why should they sell themselves short and give themselves away in an effort to give themselves value? Why are we placing our value in the hands of other people anyway? I base my worth on my character and integrity, not how I look in a bikini (trust me, it’s not good, but that’s OK!) I strive to be a good person, not necessarily a good-looking one. Beauty radiates from who we are on the inside. If you happen to be blessed with outward beauty, you are fortunate. But in time, all things fade. We need to start placing more value on who we are, not how we look.

 

Allow me to put things into perspective…

The fact that you exist at all is an incredible feat of billions of years of evolution. That you have the opportunity to experience life at all is AMAZING! You may be “too short”, “too tall”, “too fat”, “too thin”, or whatever “too” you may lump yourself in with, but you are HERE. You are ALIVE. Go you!

And it’s not enough that you won the existential lottery and have been given the jackpot called LIFE,  but you also get to live in this amazing machine of a body; a complex accumulation of cells, DNA, organs and tissues that work together to keep you functioning. That is BEAUTIFUL! The amount of work that our bodies have to do to sustain us is amazing. There is a lot of work that goes on inside that we don’t even think about, and often gets taken for granted, but it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Even the simplest task, such as typing these words, is a complex relay system of neurons firing in my brain, forming thoughts, relaying messages to my muscles and down to my finger tips. How cool is that!? Our bodies work around the clock, even when we sleep. How on earth can we hate this beautifully efficient machine? But here we are, living in a world where we hate our bodies and ourselves. 

 

Doesn’t it seem incredibly futile to waste what precious time you have hating yourself for what you’re not, rather than loving yourself for the amazingness that is one of a kind YOU? 

 

I thought so too. 

 

My body is not perfect. It is body that was once so full, cut down bit by bit. Deflated like a balloon once the party is long over. Gravity takes its toll; Skin may sag, hang and fold. Stretch marks litter the landscape, where skin has expanded and retracted. Far from perfection, imperfectly so. Unable to fit in any cookie cutter mold of what a woman “should” be. The terrain of my body tells a story. It is a result of my choices, both good and bad. My body may be deflated, but I am not defeated. My flaws do not define me. My body is what it is; from my breasts that have shrank due to weight loss, to excess skin on my arms and legs and my tummy that gives me a round of applause every time I run. Some people can’t understand why I refuse to get surgery to “fix” myself. 

 

The answer is simple. I’m not broken. 

 

I don’t need to change myself or the shape of my body because it makes other people uncomfortable. I have nothing to prove and nobody to impress. At the end of the day all that matters is that I love myself for who I am. If you can’t get on board, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. 

 

At the end of your life, will you wish you had spent  more time worrying about how you looked in a bikini, trying to erase those pesky stretch marks, or your squishy love handles? Or will you have regretted the time you wasted on something that now, once it’s all over, really didn’t mean all that much in the grand scheme of things?

 

Don’t change yourself because society says you have to. Take care of you. Make positive changes in your life to improve and preserve your health, for YOU. Not for anyone else. This journey I am on is not about changing the way I look, although it is an inevitable result of the changes that I have made. It is about making the most of my existential jackpot. 

 

The fact that you exist at all is an incredible gift. You can squander the gift by worrying about how you look, or you can move beyond the superficial and make the most of it. 

 

Your body is amazing. Start treating it that way. 

I Don’t Know Where I’m Going, But I Know Where I’ve Been

One question many people have asked me on my weight loss journey is:

“What is your goal weight?”

I honestly don’t have an answer for that question. I don’t think there is a magical number that I will get to and just stop. This journey is more about health and fitness and how I’m feeling rather than the numbers reflected on the scale, or the “Shame Machine” as I have been calling it lately. 

To be honest, I can probably never say my goal weight is “X” pounds, because I don’t even know what that would look like. While doing weigh-ins and measurements for participants in a nutrition challenge at the gym, I learned that I have no idea what particular weights look like. People who weighed 190 looked like what I thought someone who weighed 150 would look like. I’ve spent so long tipping the scales at over 400lbs that I have no comprehension of what a goal weight would even be for me, although Google says that according to my height my ideal weight should range anywhere in between 150-178lbs, so I still have a ways to go before I’m considered “normal”. I won’t put too much stock in “normal”, as I’m the furthest thing from it, and that’s okay with me! Weigh-ins were a difficult experience for someone who has personally battled the scale, to see person after person disappointed with the numbers that flashed on the screen. We place so much value and self worth on these arbitrary numbers, and less on how we are feeling on the inside. Every woman who stepped on that scale was beautiful in that moment, regardless of their size, shape and numbers that flashed between their feet. But I of all people understand the need to make positive lifestyle changes, and it usually starts with a hop on the scale, though we need to get away from that. I reminded a lot of people that the number, even though they may not like it, is just a starting point. If they make the right choices, they will never have to see it again. 

Some days when I feel like I’m making absolutely no progress, and the numbers on the shame machine are not reflecting what I feel (Or I’m just in denial about the cheese cake that it may be reflecting. Cheese cake is not a food group…cheese cake is not a food group). I look back through photos and see how far I’ve come. While the wavering of the scale in the short term can be incredibly frustrating and discouraging, the physical and emotional transformations I have made over the years is undeniable. A dear friend had made the comment that as she looked back at my photos they made her uncomfortable, because it wasn’t me; she wanted to peel back the layers and uncover the person I have become.

It’s a statement that made me laugh,feel really awkward, and pause to reflect, but there is a lot of truth behind it. 

My extra layers were hiding a lot of things, from shame, sadness, grief, depression, anxiety, crumbs of food in my bra, and the list goes on and on. I took the term “thick skin” to a whole new level, yet things were still able to permeate my defensive shell and cut me deep. Most people put up walls to protect themselves, I put on layers of visceral fat. The person I was underneath it all was an incredibly sad and broken individual, and I see that in every photo, even though my smile may have been as huge as my ass, I was hurting. 

I’m not sure if it was a matter of “I’m fat because I’m sad” or “I’m sad because I’m fat” or some vicious cycle of the two. I DO know that a lot of poor choices in regards to overeating and inactivity lead to where I was, and as much as I would love to believe I just magically woke up fat one day from no fault of my own, I take sole responsibility for what I’ve done to myself. There are a lot of underlying issues that built the foundation to my dysfunctional relationship with food. There are a lot of “Whys” in between forkfuls. Sometimes I ate disgustingly obscene amounts of food, and the reason was very rarely “I’m hungry”. Only when I was able to address the various “Whys” was I able to finally make any progress. 

I spent a lot of time hiding, which is kind of a ridiculous thought considering my size. I would avoid any reflective surface, mirrors, windows, or the distorted reflection in my spoon in between mouthfuls of ice cream, and I hated having my photo taken. Until this journey began in 2010, I didn’t own a scale and a tape measure didn’t even fit around me. If I didn’t know the number, then the problem didn’t exist. I am a master of denial. But I couldn’t keep it up forever, and eventually the truth came crashing down and Jill came tumbling after and I really had no other choice; keep going on the path I was on, and eventually die. Or, make healthy lifestyle changes and…eventually die…but maybe not as soon. 

My journey is far from over, and at the end of the day I may not not know where I am going, but I know where I have been…

And I certainly don’t want to go back. 

Mission Impossible?

This article was recently shared on the local medical clinic’s Facebook page along with the comment “Do you struggle with your weight?”.

Why yes, yes I do. Thanks for asking!

According to the above article; long term weight loss is virtually impossible, as most people who lose weight fail to keep it off 5 years later. I had such a strong reaction to this article, and I was actually quite angry about what it had to say. Not only was I going to fail, but the only “cure” to obesity is surgery; a statement I feel is incredibly misleading. My feelings on bariatric surgery are quite well known (I have previously blogged about it here and here). It is a tool used to lose weight, just like diet and exercise are tools that I carry in my spiffy utility belt along with my batarang and grapnel gun. I know a lot of wonderful people who have chosen to have surgery as a tool in their own weight loss journeys, and that is their personal choice, as it is mine to not go under the knife, but my problem lies in the fact that it is advertised as a permanent solution. Nothing is permanent; life, love, social acceptance of the mullet, and surgery included.  Surgery is not like the RonCo Rotisserie oven; You can’t “Set it and forget it”. 

A great deal of work still has to be done post-op to achieve and maintain optimal results.

Maybe a bit of my angry reaction to the article was laced with a little bit a lot of fear?

Fear of failure. Fear of letting myself, and those who have supported me along the way, down. 

It’s difficult enough to lose weight. I’ve worked my ass off (literally) for each and every pound that I have lost. But for there to be this dark cloud of scientific research looming over my head that basically says myself and everyone else who has lost weight is destined to fail, unless you’re a very teeny tiny percentage of people who possess superhuman willpower…The odds are clearly not in my favor. 

Do a quick Google search of long term weight loss, and the second result is “impossible”.

Not exactly the most motivating results. Thanks for the pep talk Google! 

If I were old Jill, that information would be enough to make me throw in the towel and hit the nearest buffet. Why bother working so hard if science says I will fail anyway? It seems like a waste of time, sweat and energy only to end up where I was at the beginning. But new and improved and stubborn as hell Jill wants to make the “impossible” possible. I want to be that tiny percentage that possesses superhuman abilities to refrain from eating my face off and sitting on my ass, and I want to encourage others to believe in themselves that they can achieve the exact same thing. 

Weight loss is a journey that will never be over. Even when you reach your goal weight, whether that is 10, 20 or 100lbs from now, it still takes a LOT of effort to maintain that loss. I truly believe that hard work and determination is the recipe for success in the battle against obesity. Arm yourself with a positive attitude, surround yourself with people who will motivate and support you, and prepare to fight. 

I’m up to the challenge. Are you?

Only time will tell if I will be successful. 

Insult to Injury

I hurt myself doing CrossFit.

There. I said it. I haven’t really advertised my injury to avoid the “Oh you hurt yourself doing CrossFit?!” in an “I told you so” tone. CrossFit has gotten a bad rap for being an injury prone sport, and it seems like people jump at the chance to bash it.

“DOCTORS WARN EXTREME WORKOUTS HAVE DANGEROUS SIDE EFFECTS”

“DOES CROSSFIT PUSH PEOPLE TOO HARD?”

“CROSSFIT’S DIRTY LITTLE SECRET”

“CAN CROSSFIT KILL YOU?”

With headlines like these, no wonder people are so scared of Crossfit!

Dr. Google has diagnosed me with a pectoralis minor strain. I believe pull-ups were the culprit. I have been resting from CrossFit for the past 2 and a half weeks and I am absolutely miserable. I never realized how much of a difference CrossFit has made in my life until I’ve been forced to take a break from it. The difference in my attitude is quite noticeable, so much so that a dear friend mentioned that I’m really bitchy when I don’t exercise, and my own loving husband says that I am a huge dick. I admit it, it’s true. I can’t deny my crankiness and I know it is a direct correlation with the absence of CrossFit. That hour of sweat a day makes a huge difference in my mood. I will openly admit that I have cried on several occasions because I’m unable to do the activity that I love. It is really hard to be on the sidelines when I want nothing more than to be leaving sweat angels on the floor. It’s is incredibly frustrating to have an injury and to be limited in my mobility. I had to teach a few Zumba classes where I looked like an injured bird because the range of motion in my right arm was severely affected. But the show must go on. I remind myself that it could be much worse, and that if I don’t rest and heal I will be out of commission even longer. But I hate not doing anything. Laying on the couch the other day I was telling my husband that I was getting too good at doing nothing and I didn’t like it. Which is quite a change considering I used to be a professional lazy ass.

For the sake of everyone in my life, I hope to return to CrossFit next week.

So yes, I hurt myself and I am well aware that there is risk associated with participating in CrossFit, but there are plenty of other opportunities for injuries to arise in any sport, or as I’ve learned all too well, in regular day-to-day life.

I recall one incident that I had when I had a brief stint as a house keeper at a local hotel many years ago. I tweaked my lower back while lugging around a vacuum up and down the stairs. I couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep in my bed so I thought I would try sleeping on the floor. I soon realized the error of my decision. I attempted getting off the floor in the wee hours of the morning to go to the bathroom and each time I tried a jolt of pain would shoot through my back and down my legs. I was stuck. A whimper turned into a cry, then turned into a full out scream. “I’M STUCK!”. I flailed around on the floor like a beached whale while my husband tried to help me up without hurting me further. It would have made a nice commercial for a Life Alert Bracelet; “I’ve fallen and I can’d get up!” I don’t quite recall how I got off the floor, but obviously it happened by some miracle, as I’m not still there flailing about. I was both surprised and thankful that I didn’t end up peeing my pants. I ended up quitting my job shortly after that.

And let’s not forget the incident that led to my lifestyle change and started my weight loss journey; my fall down with the stairs.

My husband also suffered a knee injury in a freak Cotton Candy making accident; even though he tells people he sustained it while running into a burning building to save orphans, or fighting crime, or something nobler than preparing enough Cotton Candy to put children into sugar comas. This injury has resulted in not one, but TWO knee surgeries to repair the damage. He still doesn’t have great range of motion and suffers from occasional pain. All because of Cotton Candy.

Look at it…Pure sugary evil.

Despite the nature of our injuries, there won’t be any sensational headlines warning of the dangers of the offending activities.

“SHE’S FALLEN AND SHE CAN’T GET UP; VACUUM TAKES A TOLL ON WOMAN’S BACK”

“STAIRWAY TO HELL: SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE ELEVATOR”

“COTTON CANDY DESTROYS KNEE”

I’ve hurt myself far more living a sedentary lifestyle then I have done in the last 3 years of doing CrossFit. Yes, while there is risk associated with CrossFit, it is up to each individual to educate themselves and be vigilant in monitoring their form, realizing their limitations and listening to their bodies. It doesn’t matter if you have the best Coach in the world, if you aren’t in tune with your own body and it’s abilities you’re bound to come across some form of injury down the road. If something hurts. Stop. If a weight is too heavy, scale back. Don’t be a hero; life is more than the numbers on the board.

Sometimes accidents may happen and serious injury may occur, but as I’ve learned that can happen at any place at any time, in or out of the gym. If I let fear of injury run my life, I would never leave the house.

…and then I wouldn’t be able to do CrossFit.

…and then I would have no friends because I would become unbearable to be around.

Nobody likes Jill when she’s off her Rx.

 

Taste Your Words Before You Spit Them Out

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

“You’re fat.”

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

“You’re lazy.”

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

“You’re ugly.”

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

“You’re worthless.”

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words cut the heart and leave scars that no one else can see.

Fat shaming has become the most accepted form of bullying in today’s society. Children spew off “Your mama’s so fat” jokes with the greatest of ease, without pausing to reflect on the wounds their words could inflict if aimed towards the right person. Sometimes even their own “mama’s” would be considered fat by today’s standards. Children are being taught that obesity is something to point and laugh about, that self-worth is measured by waist size and the number on the scale, not by goodness of character. I’ve had my fair share of bullying throughout childhood and as an adult. I’ve been pointed at, mouth agape like I was Godzilla about to destroy a Tokyo neighborhood; “Mommy, Why is she so FAT!?”

….I ATE! Now excuse me while I destroy this building…

It’s hard to blame kids for what they say, when the vast majority learn from example. Just because people get older doesn’t mean they grow up, and as adults we need to realize that our actions and interactions with others are teaching opportunities and learning experiences for the next generation.

I should mention that the mother in the above situation didn’t say anything to her child, no “that’s not nice”, or “shh” or….anything. Just silence as she scurried off with her kid in tow as I stood there turning various shades of red in the frozen food section of the grocery store after my drive-by bullying. A completely missed teaching opportunity.  

But while kids are bullying in the playgrounds, adults are bullying on the internet. The internet is a battleground of the war society has waged against fat people, or anyone who is different, for that matter. Bullying the obese has become an acceptable form of prejudice and discrimination.

Any article  online regarding the obesity epidemic or any weighty matters are met with public disgust and disdain for “those people”. They are referred to as “Obscene” rather than “Obese”. To these people an obese person’s mere presence is enough to disgust and inconvenience others. How dare we even leave the house…

One common thread weaving through the comments;

“How could they let themselves get to 400,500, or 800lbs!?”

Last time I checked it was never my intention to weigh over 400lbs. In school when we discussed what we wanted to be when we grew up, while other kids wanted to be doctors and lawyers, I didn’t want to be “a fat person”. It wasn’t my intention, but I accept responsibility for every action that led me to my excess weight, because in reality I have no one to blame but myself. No one forced me to eat. No one hog-tied me and stuffed food in my face. My excess weight was the result of choices I had made in an effort to deal with life’s circumstances. Upon reflection, they weren’t the best choices by any means, but that’s how I coped. Food was love. Food was comfort. Food was a friend. And damn it, food was good.

There are countless reasons for a person’s weight gain, but the end result is the same; Obesity. Painting everyone with the same fat brush does a disservice to each individual and their struggles. Everyone has a story if you take the time to listen to it, but in this day and age of insult first, ask questions later, or maybe never, obesity is the target. There is an obesity epidemic; therefore everyone must be a lazy pig.

It’s as if every ounce of compassion and empathy a person has goes away as soon as they get behind a keyboard. Hurling hateful words behind the anonymity of a computer screen has become all too common. It never ceases to amaze me the hate filled words that can spew from peoples fingertips. So long filter, welcome to the world wide web where very little forethought goes into a statement before people click “send”.

Rather than help to educate those battling issues with their weight on the value of proper nutrition and exercise, people instead, shame them.

When you have a problem, what is a better approach? To have someone support you, educate and help you? Or to have someone tell you how stupid, fat and lazy you are and that you deserve to die. That you killing yourself with food is natural selection in progress. So long tubby, it’s survival of the fittest!

Yeah, I didn’t think so either.

But here we are.

How has this become an acceptable way to treat our fellow human beings? Yes, obese people may be bigger than you, and look different, but underneath it all, they are still normal people deserving of compassion and respect. I’m not sure what it is about being different that equates to being scary, intimidating, or misunderstood, but at the end of the day we all have the same blood flowing through our veins.

Every day we have the choice to be positive, helpful and compassionate. But there are still people who wake up, jump out of bed and choose to be hateful. They make a conscious effort to hurt others with their words and with their actions, and in turn, teach others that this is acceptable behavior.

All of the energy put towards waging war against fat people should be put towards waging the war against bullying. We should lift people up for wanting to make positive changes in their lives, not tear them down because they aren’t doing it “fast enough” or to meet someone else’s standards of how it should be done. When an obese person goes to the gym, they shouldn’t be mocked and made fun of, they should be encouraged for taking that first step and walking in the door, because trust me, it’s far easier to just stay home than risk embarrassment. We should encourage each other to live healthy lives, and help one another reach those goals. We should work towards accepting people for who they are, and not shaming them for who they are not. We should build each other up, not tear each other down.

Choose to be kind. Choose to be compassionate. We should use our words for good, because sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can inflict much more emotional damage, and speaking from experience, it takes a LOT longer for those wounds to heal.

So let’s choose our words wisely.

(C) Beatrice the Biologist

 

Balancing Act

Confession time.

Yesterday I ate a Donut.

Okay, I’m lying. I ate two donuts.

Okay….full disclosure, I ate 3 donuts. In about 5 minutes, or 30 seconds. I’m not entirely sure. It was just a blur of chocolate, cream, jelly and sugary goodness. I’m so ashamed.

As you can probably tell, I am struggling with nutrition. The Whole Life Challenge is over and I am somewhere in between Paleo

and

Now the flood gates are open, the restrictions have been lifted, the food possibilities are endless!

A friend was in town for the day and he wanted to go to the bakery, since their homemade with love donuts are better than Tim Hortons, hands down. I went in with the plan for one donut. Each morning as I go to work the smell of the bakery taunts me. It was time to indulge.

“One chocolate cream filled donut please.”

The cheerful baked goods dealer chirped back: “Would you like half a dozen?”

I almost went into a cold sweat. I don’t know why the word “no” never crossed my mind. I didn’t want to be rude I guess. So I told my friend to pick the rest and I would just have my one donut. Yes, that’s the plan.

One donut.

So I ate my one glorious donut.

And then peered into the box at the sugar coated jelly filled one. What’s one more?

Down the hatch.

But then there was a chocolate toasted coconut one. “Eat me”, it whispered.

Gulp, Gone.

And as I wiped the chocolate, jelly and sugar off of my face I sighed;

“I only wanted one donut.”

Something I have learned about myself over the last few years is that nutrition is better when I have structure. I feel better when I am eating Paleo. My sugar cravings are next to none. When I stray from that, I am in trouble. Once grain and sugar come back into my diet I act like a strung out crack head and my self-control vanishes.

For those who think food addiction isn’t a real thing…Dip yourself in chocolate and sprinkle yourself in powdered sugar and I will probably eat you and not think twice. Go ahead, try it. *licks lips*

I am incredibly disappointed in myself for allowing myself to slip, but it’s not the end of the world. I know what works for me. A treat once and awhile is fine, but when treats start to outnumber real food, then there’s that slippery slope again. This seems like Deja Vu. I go through these cycles every once and awhile, but time and time again I come out on top. I just need to acknowledge the elephant in the room that I’ve been trying so hard to ignore and admit to myself that I am struggling.

You know when you get 10 compliments and one criticism, how it’s easy to focus on the one criticism? That’s been me lately. I would have a great day of healthy eating, and have one treat and then focus on the nutritional slip up and feel like a failure.

I constantly remind myself: Everything in moderation….everything in moderation.

Well my dear inner fat kid, 3 donuts is not moderation.

I used to justify eating a whole bag of chips or a tub of ice cream with the reasoning that if I eat it all at once, at least I’m not dragging out my cheat for several days. At least it’s gone all at once. That’s some pretty dysfunctional reasoning right there..No wonder I weighed over 400lbs.

What the hell am I doing?

I’m still at the gym every day. But if I don’t get my nutrition under control I’m wasting my time. And who wants to do burpees for nothing?

Nutrition is a HUGE part of weight loss (and gain). The Whole Life Challenge was incredibly successful for my husband who lost over 40lbs based on nutrition alone since he didn’t have much time for exercise. It’s hard to argue with results like that. It was successful for myself as well, I lost a few inches and around 15lbs but I wasn’t as compliant as previous challenges and it showed in my results.

I hear of a lot of people who go to the gym, work hard, don’t see immediate results and end up quitting. But the one thing many people miss out on is the nutritional piece of the delicious pie. It doesn’t matter how much you work out at the gym, if your nutrition is not up to snuff, you’re only cheating yourself from the results you’re walking, running, swimming, zumba-ing, cross fitting or (insert exercise of choice) towards.

It’s all about balance. Nutrition and exercise have to work together to achieve optimal results.

Every day I have to consciously work on this balancing act. I am a clumsy person to begin with; balance is not my forte. I trip and fall, sometimes a LOT. It is incredibly difficult to NOT be so hard on myself, but I have to look on the bright side; I wouldn’t appreciate my successes if it weren’t for overcoming my failures. And in reality, they’re only failures if I choose not to do anything about them.

So I’m brushing off the sugar, kicking myself in the ass, and cleaning up my nutrition. Again.

Mmmmm….Moderation….