Weddingbee Blog

So, everyone around the hive seems to be talking about weight and getting healthy for the wedding, and I thought I should jump on the bandwagon before it’s too late.

**Disclaimer: This post is very personal in nature, and I discuss some difficult emotional struggles that affected my weight and overall health. I haven’t shared the details of my struggle with many people before, but I want to be honest about my journey toward healthy living, and I hope that others will find encouragement from my story. I welcome any comments, feedback, and questions; I just ask that you please be sensitive and respectful.

Also, I have no shame when it comes to photography, so get ready for some pictures of me looking ridiculous.**

Growing up, I was the skinny girl. I was the girl who ate bacon cheeseburgers, drank a ton of surgery soda, never exercised regularly, and was still skinny. I had a fast metabolism and enjoyed every sweet moment of it. Looking back, even I hate me.

Summer 2007 / Personal Photo

Practicing my ANTM poses—I told you I am shameless! Fall 2007 / Personal Photo

I always worried that one day my metabolism would slow down and that my unhealthy habits would finally catch up with me. I should have preemptively reformed my ways, but my favorite guilty pleasure foods were just too delicious to pass up. I did stay pretty active throughout college because I walked everywhere, but I still never really had an actual exercise regime. I crossed my fingers and hoped that I was one of those lucky people who would always be skinny, and I carried on as usual.

But boy oh boy, did I get mine. First of all, Mr. Parasol and I started dating in December 2007, and there’s nothing like a new boyfriend to help you put on a few pounds.

Then in summer 2008, right after I graduated from college, I sprained my ankle on a weekend camping/hiking trip. It took me a few days to notice that I was experiencing some pain when I walked, and over the following two weeks, my foot and ankle grew increasingly worse and more swollen. Pretty soon, I started taking the bus everywhere (which I never did) because it hurt too much to walk. When I finally went to the doctor, it had been about three weeks since the camping trip, and she told me I needed to take it easy on my foot for at least six more weeks.

Even though I’d never had a regular exercise routine, my disabled foot quickly revealed how active I had previously been and how much this activeness helped me keep my weight in check.

Hive, during those nine or so weeks, I grew out of my pants. Out of nowhere, this curvy butt decided to take up residence on my backside, and it literally forced me out of my jeans.

This photo by no means shows my butt at its biggest, but it’s one of the few that shows my butt at all, and you can tell that it’s getting bigger because I used to have nothing back there. Pretty soon, these jeans were sitting in my “hope I’ll be able to fit into these again one day” pile. / Personal Photo

By the end of the summer, I kind of hated where I was. I was by no means overweight for my height and body type, but I hated that a lot of my clothes didn’t fit anymore, at least not comfortably. And to be honest, I really hated the bad eating and exercise habits I’d cultivated for years. Even if I had been skinny before, I finally recognized that I was by no means healthy. So I decided to make a change.

In that following year, I managed to get exercise pretty regularly. I have mild scoliosis, which means I have a lot of back and neck pain, so running was too taxing on my body. But I really enjoyed power walking, and I tried to squeeze in an hour long walk 3-5 times a week. I also started eating a lot healthier. I ate more fruits and veggies, smaller portions, and tried to save sweets for those special occasions.

I didn’t weigh myself at all that year, so I don’t know if I lost any weight. But I felt a lot better about myself and my body, and people noticed that I looked a lot healthier. I don’t think I was as skinny as I had previously been, but I was more athletic and toned, and looking back, I was really happy with my body and where I was health-wise.

Spring 2009 / Personal Photo

I wish I could say that I kept up with my new and improved lifestyle. But then something happened: I moved to New York City and started grad school.

OK, to be fair, these events alone didn’t cause me to forsake my healthy habits and put on the pounds. But in my first year of grad school, I suffered from really severe depression. I could write a whole series of posts on what I was going through, but suffice it to say that the transition to NYC and life in the Ivy League took its toll on me. I had horrible anxiety all the time. I suffered from insomnia and was getting only a few hours of sleep each night, if that. And probably worst of all, I had an incredibly difficult time motivating myself to do even the simplest of tasks.

Case in point: eating healthy and exercising. This may be the first time I’ve said this out loud, but most days, I wouldn’t eat anything until the evening. Some days, I wouldn’t eat anything at all. It wasn’t that I was trying to starve myself. It’s just that trying to decide what to eat and then motivating myself to prepare it was so overwhelming that most of the time, I just gave up before I even started. Mr. Parasol can attest to the anxiety I developed around food and meals. Whenever he asked me what I wanted for dinner, we usually ended up in some heated argument because I felt so overwhelmed by the prospect of figuring out what to eat—it was just too much for me. Looking back on it now, it’s pretty scary to think about. The depression had such a hold on my life that I couldn’t even handle making myself a bowl of cereal. I felt completely paralyzed when it came to food.

I’m very thankful that Mr. Parasol remained so patient, kind, loving, and supportive during this difficult time. He was always there and always loved me, even on my darkest days. And most importantly, he told me it was OK to seek help. Therapy has always been a touchy subject in my family, and I grew up thinking you only got counseling if there was something “wrong” with you. With Mr. Parasol’s encouragement, I sought help. I was so blessed that my university provided all of its students with counseling and psychiatric services, and I was fortunate enough to meet regularly with a wonderful counselor who really helped me to get through my depression.

Needless to say, though, this emotionally difficult year reeked havoc on my body and health. I didn’t exercise regularly, and when I did eat, it was mostly take-out food late at night when Mr. Parasol finally saw me in the evening and could essentially force me to eat something. (And I mean that in the best possible sense—I needed someone telling me to eat by the end of the day.) Unlike others who don’t eat enough, I actually gained weight, and I know that this was my poor body’s way of clinging to any food and nourishment that went into my system. But it doesn’t matter what the specific number on the scale was; what matters is that I was not taking care of my body as I should have been, and I felt terrible. Between not sleeping, always feeling anxious, rarely exercising, and being generally underfed and undernourished, my body and health were in pretty terrible shape.

I’m sorry I don’t have a better photo, but the whole depression thing wasn’t too conducive to taking lots of pictures. Spring 2010 / Personal Photo

As I progressed with counseling and started to come out of my depression, though, I made an effort to start taking care of my body again. Having addressed a lot of my emotional struggles, I wanted to tend to other aspects of my health that had fallen by the wayside. I reinstated my morning exercise routine and started working out 4-5 days a week. Mr. Parasol took charge of our meal preparation—a huge relief for me—and stocked both of our kitchens with healthy foods that were easy to prepare. I disciplined myself to eat three meals a day, and I tried to map out my meals in advance. I also started sleeping a lot more, and I woke up feeling rested and was much more energetic throughout the day. I finally started to feel healthy again.

With Mr. Parasol in Summer 2010, when things were starting to look up again. / Personal Photo

I kept up my healthy habits for quite a while, and by the end of that summer and into that fall, I was doing so much better physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I had a solid network of friends. I was managing my anxiety. Mr. Parasol and I had finally found an awesome church community in the city. And I was taking care of my health. Life was good.

Then Mr. Parasol had the audacity to go and propose to me. And while engagement is an awesome, magical time, for us, it was also accompanied by lots of good food and lots of evenings spent cuddling on the couch. I enjoyed every second of it, but once again, my body lovingly welcomed back those pesky extra pounds.

After a particularly delicious meal, Spring 2011. / Personal Photo

Again, I want to stress that it wasn’t about how much I weighed or how much I had gained. For me, it’s never really been about the number on the scale. Whether I gained 20 pounds or 200, it  doesn’t matter. The fact remains that I was not eating healthy, getting regular exercise, or generally looking out for my health. No matter what the scale said, I needed to get back on track, and there’s nothing like an approaching wedding and the prospect of wearing a gorgeous white dress to motivate you to get healthy again. Oh, and starting a life with the man you love. And I want to start our life on the healthiest foot possible.

I don’t want to say that this time is the time that I magically got back to a perfectly healthy lifestyle. I know that’s not totally possible. But what I am doing is trying to create a healthy lifestyle that is manageable for me, a lifestyle that has room for human error.

I started slowly and found things that worked for me. I began by cutting out sugary sodas and doing Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred. Getting to the school gym was too expensive and too much of a hassle because I was living much farther away from campus by that point, and I knew I was more likely to exercise if I could do it in my apartment in the mornings. And guess what? I actually did.

From there, I added more: I cut down on other sweets and started limiting my red meats. I added new exercises to bulk up my morning routine. I made myself drink at least eight glasses of water a day and tried to eat as many fruits, veggies, and lean means as possible. Mr. Parasol and I limited how often we ate out and started cooking at home a lot more often. And I finally started to feel comfortable limiting my carbs, and now, I only really eat whole grains, and I usually don’t eat those every day.

You know what else I do? Fall off the wagon. When I went on vacation for a week this summer, I didn’t go out of my way to exercise. I stayed active, but most days, I slept in and lounged around before starting my day. And I ate good food and lots of it: burgers, spaghetti, pizza, sandwiches, and ice cream. Oh yes. But having those weeks where it’s OK to be bad makes being good the rest of the time that much easier. I don’t know about you, but being totally good for the rest of my life seems like no life at all.

Summer 2011 / Personal Photo

Right now, I’m pretty happy with where I am. I’m taking care of myself, I’m exercising, and I’m trying to eat as healthy as I can. This summer is the first time I have stepped on a scale in months (maybe years), and yes, I have lost a considerable amount of weight, and it helps to know that my hard work is paying off. I still have problem areas, and I’m working out my arms like crazy because I want them to look nice and toned for the wedding (oh you merciless strapless wedding dress!).

More than anything, though, I’m trying really hard to love myself, just as I am. Sometimes I’ll see a picture of myself, and I immediately start to worry that I don’t look as good as my new healthy lifestyle has made me feel. Sometimes I feel defeated when the number doesn’t drop on the scale. Sometimes I wish I could be that skinny girl again, the one who could eat whatever she wanted and get away with it. But then I remember that she wasn’t really that healthy anyway. And I wouldn’t change places with her for the world.

And for the record, Mr. Parasol really likes my butt. Thank goodness it refuses to go anywhere (though it has shrunk a bit—emphasis on a bit).

What has your journey toward healthy living been like? Do you have any tips to share with the rest of us?

P.S. Thanks for sticking with me to the end! I had no intention of writing a novel.