True story--I used to be skinny.
I was a very skinny eight year old.
Then I hit puberty. And moved off the farm (yes, I grew up on a farm). And ate a lot of mac and cheese.
I wasn'tterribly at all overweight in high school, although I thought I was. Please excuse the hair. It was 1990. And I was sixteen.
In college I gained more than my allotted Freshman Fifteen. More like 25-30. But I don't ever really remember weighing myself in college, so who knows. I did, however, spend my college years in the weight and diet distorted paradise that is Los Angeles (USC--go Trojans!), so it's possible that that prevented me from going too crazy. I only remember going to the fitness center once on campus, early on in my freshman year.
That was the only planned exercise I got for four years, other than walking to classes. This was a mistake.
Things really went down the toilet when I went to graduate school. It was the first time I lived alone, with no one to watch what I was eating, or comment on it. In hindsight, this was a mistake. I was also lonely. I moved to Davis (go Aggies!), a small college town in Northern California, and started graduate school without knowing anyone. Eventually I made wonderful, life-long friends, but initially it was just me and my cat. Yeah, I embraced the single woman cat owner cliche. But in my defense Grover was one rock star of a cat. And a whole lot of food. One of my favorite places to eat was Murder Burger, where if the burger didn't kill you the cheese fries would. I still dream about those fries.
So yeah, by the time I was done with my masters, I'd hung my head in shame and started shopping at Lane Bryant. I didn't own a scale (this was a mistake), and I can't find many pictures from this point in my life (strangely enough), but I'd say I weighed 240 pounds or so.
In 1999, after grad school I moved back to Denver, where two things happened. I had a roommate (which helped a lot in the accountable eating department), and I met someone (which helped with the motivation and self-worth departments). That someone was Mr. Bump.
We fell in love and got married in 2001.
Mr. Bump, as you can see, is very tall and very skinny. He literally can eat anything he wants. While we were dating, and even after we were married, I tried to keep up with him at the table. This was a mistake. Of course he rides his bicycle for 8 miles every single workday, but I didn't try to keep up with him in the exercise department.
Eventually, after a grease-soaked trip through England and Ireland in the spring of 2003, my poor little gallbladder gave out.
In May of 2003 started Weight Watchers, where I think I lost about 25 pounds, and my gallbladder limped along for about nine months, until I fell off the low-fat diet wagon. The gall bladder came out in the spring of 2004.
October 2005, I started signed up for an expensive program (to the tune of $350--serious incentive right there) called Colorado Weigh, which was run through the University of Colorado. The first meeting required the dreaded assessment, complete with weight, measurements, and body fat analysis.
I weighed in at 274.8 pounds. Let that sink in a minute. This post will explain exactly what that looks like (spoiler: it's Arnold Schwarzenegger with a third leg. Or the Oxford English Dictionary and a 2 year old). It's a good one--check it out.
Colorado Weigh was a simple program: write down everything you eat, recording calories and fat intake. Wear a pedometer, and try to hit 10,000 steps a day. Limit calorie intake to your RMR (resting metabolic weight) +/- some other factors. It wasn't a fancy diet, but rather simple math. This post explains the basics.
It made sense. Something clicked for me. And it worked. I joined the Y. I wore my goofy pedometer everywhere. I counted all my calories. Eventually through four of the classes over the next four years, I lost 50-60 pounds and kept it off. But I seemed to hang up around the 225 mark. I'd lose down to 215, then gain that 10 pounds back between classes.
In March of 2006 I started this blog, but it wasn't really about weight loss, just more a place to write.
The last class I took only met once a month, for a whole year, which was good, but left a lot of time to fall off the wagon, and then freak out and try to get back on before the next class. From March to November I'd lose some, gain some, hanging around 220.
Finally, finally, in December of 2008, I decided that I needed to finish this thing. I had three more classes until the end of the year-long class, which was just enough time to get there, I thought. I ate 1600-1800 calories a day (through the holiday season, even), and I burned 500 calories per day, every day, in exercise. Between December and March, I lost 40 pounds.
I burned those 500 calories a day by starting the Couch to 5K program, which wasn't easy, but was a gradual enough progression that I could do it. And a funny thing happened along the way. I loved running. At first I loved it for the swiftness with which it helped me lose weight. But it became a way of pushing myself. A way of setting and reaching goals.
I signed up for and completed a10k in May of 2009 (and was embarrassingly interviewed on the local tv newssobbing like a baby overusing the word like).
In September of 2009 I completed a half-marathon.
And on January 1, 2010, I signed up for the Colorado Marathon, which would take place a year after my first 10k.
Finishing that was one of the most fantastic moments of my life. One of the best things I've ever done. Marrying Mr. Bump, that's probably #1 still (and always!), but the marathon finish is a close second.
In pursuing running goals, weight loss has taken a back burner since mid-2009. I've maintained my weight through all of that, but I've got about 10 pounds (depends on the day) to go before my BMI tells me I'm no longer overweight, which is 159 pounds. According to those pesky BMI charts, I could weigh 120 pounds and still be considered "normal" weight. I have no interest in that number.
I'm more interested in losing enough weight so I can be a faster runner. I'd really like to have a sub 5 hour marathon time. I'd like to be a size 8. I'd really like to not have all this skin around my middle and my thighs (but I'm not particularly interested in skin removal surgery so I guess I'll live with it).
But mostly I'm happy to be able to use my body however I want to--run
for the bus, climb a set of stairs (or a 14,000 foot mountain!) without
being out of breath, go for a long bike ride with Mr. Bump, fit into an
airplane seat, feel pretty in a dress.
I was a very skinny eight year old.
Then I hit puberty. And moved off the farm (yes, I grew up on a farm). And ate a lot of mac and cheese.
I wasn't
In college I gained more than my allotted Freshman Fifteen. More like 25-30. But I don't ever really remember weighing myself in college, so who knows. I did, however, spend my college years in the weight and diet distorted paradise that is Los Angeles (USC--go Trojans!), so it's possible that that prevented me from going too crazy. I only remember going to the fitness center once on campus, early on in my freshman year.
That was the only planned exercise I got for four years, other than walking to classes. This was a mistake.
Things really went down the toilet when I went to graduate school. It was the first time I lived alone, with no one to watch what I was eating, or comment on it. In hindsight, this was a mistake. I was also lonely. I moved to Davis (go Aggies!), a small college town in Northern California, and started graduate school without knowing anyone. Eventually I made wonderful, life-long friends, but initially it was just me and my cat. Yeah, I embraced the single woman cat owner cliche. But in my defense Grover was one rock star of a cat. And a whole lot of food. One of my favorite places to eat was Murder Burger, where if the burger didn't kill you the cheese fries would. I still dream about those fries.
So yeah, by the time I was done with my masters, I'd hung my head in shame and started shopping at Lane Bryant. I didn't own a scale (this was a mistake), and I can't find many pictures from this point in my life (strangely enough), but I'd say I weighed 240 pounds or so.
In 1999, after grad school I moved back to Denver, where two things happened. I had a roommate (which helped a lot in the accountable eating department), and I met someone (which helped with the motivation and self-worth departments). That someone was Mr. Bump.
We fell in love and got married in 2001.
Mr. Bump, as you can see, is very tall and very skinny. He literally can eat anything he wants. While we were dating, and even after we were married, I tried to keep up with him at the table. This was a mistake. Of course he rides his bicycle for 8 miles every single workday, but I didn't try to keep up with him in the exercise department.
Eventually, after a grease-soaked trip through England and Ireland in the spring of 2003, my poor little gallbladder gave out.
 |
| My passport photo, taken in 2003. Which unfortunately was still my passport photo until 2012. |
In May of 2003 started Weight Watchers, where I think I lost about 25 pounds, and my gallbladder limped along for about nine months, until I fell off the low-fat diet wagon. The gall bladder came out in the spring of 2004.
 |
| January 2004 in Oregon, gallbladder still around, about 25 pounds less than passport photo. |
 |
| March 2005, no gallbladder but plenty of the rest of me. |
I weighed in at 274.8 pounds. Let that sink in a minute. This post will explain exactly what that looks like (spoiler: it's Arnold Schwarzenegger with a third leg. Or the Oxford English Dictionary and a 2 year old). It's a good one--check it out.
Colorado Weigh was a simple program: write down everything you eat, recording calories and fat intake. Wear a pedometer, and try to hit 10,000 steps a day. Limit calorie intake to your RMR (resting metabolic weight) +/- some other factors. It wasn't a fancy diet, but rather simple math. This post explains the basics.
It made sense. Something clicked for me. And it worked. I joined the Y. I wore my goofy pedometer everywhere. I counted all my calories. Eventually through four of the classes over the next four years, I lost 50-60 pounds and kept it off. But I seemed to hang up around the 225 mark. I'd lose down to 215, then gain that 10 pounds back between classes.
In March of 2006 I started this blog, but it wasn't really about weight loss, just more a place to write.
The last class I took only met once a month, for a whole year, which was good, but left a lot of time to fall off the wagon, and then freak out and try to get back on before the next class. From March to November I'd lose some, gain some, hanging around 220.
 |
| Iceland, July 2007 |
Finally, finally, in December of 2008, I decided that I needed to finish this thing. I had three more classes until the end of the year-long class, which was just enough time to get there, I thought. I ate 1600-1800 calories a day (through the holiday season, even), and I burned 500 calories per day, every day, in exercise. Between December and March, I lost 40 pounds.
I burned those 500 calories a day by starting the Couch to 5K program, which wasn't easy, but was a gradual enough progression that I could do it. And a funny thing happened along the way. I loved running. At first I loved it for the swiftness with which it helped me lose weight. But it became a way of pushing myself. A way of setting and reaching goals.
I signed up for and completed a10k in May of 2009 (and was embarrassingly interviewed on the local tv news
 |
| big 10k finish |
And on January 1, 2010, I signed up for the Colorado Marathon, which would take place a year after my first 10k.
Finishing that was one of the most fantastic moments of my life. One of the best things I've ever done. Marrying Mr. Bump, that's probably #1 still (and always!), but the marathon finish is a close second.
 |
| I still had the energy to smile at the Colorado marathon finish! |
 |
| I'd rather eat gelato in Italy than be 120 pounds any day. |
 |
| Never could have climbed a 14er at 274.8 pounds! |
 |
| Shamelessly lifted from Mr. Bump's Flickr account. |
