Finding what I lost (Unfortunately)

After my competition, I granted myself a short refusal to enter the gym. I was exhausted. I had pushed my body to its limits. I deserved a break. A week later, Robyne called and wanted me to come back to the gym for a final work out with her. I still had strength, and I still loved lifting.

On the way home from the gym, I sobbed. I had spent an entire school year taking charge of my life and my body and had surpassed my highest expectations of my body and myself. I had built a great relationship with my trainer and had fallen madly in trainer-client love with her. That day, I felt as though we had broken up. I felt as though I had just lost a huge part of me. In a way, I had. 

For a month, I cried any time I thought of Robyne. I still tear up thinking about her. It’s not as creepy as it sounds—I swear. I just love her and love what she helped me achieve. 

After that work out, I stopped lifting. I didn’t want to lift without Robyne. I didn’t think I’d know what to do. Plus, with Steve out of the military, my only option was 24-Hour Fitness. I had never utilized their weights area, and I quickly had flashbacks of my one-day training in college and of those glove-clad judgmental guys. After nine months of incredible experience lifting, I rebuffed the idea of feeling judged and incompetent again. I quit cold turkey. 

I continued to go to zumba and a few other classes here and there, but over the summer, my participation in those waned too. Oh and that strict, food-weighing diet I was on? That died the night I went to Red Robin.

I was back to the eating habits that had kept my body image in the pathetic state it had lived for so many years. 

Gradually, over nine months, I found all but ten of the pounds I had lost in my training. None of the clothes I bought over the course of my weight-loss journey fit me. I’m back to wetting my waistbands and legs of my pants with washcloths to disguise my muffin-top. I’m not only cooking Steve his mac’n’cheese, but I’m eating half of it. 

I look in the mirror and hate what I see. I’m by no means obese. I’m probably not even over weight for my height and build. But I’m not happy. 

Today is January 10, 2012. This Friday is the first day of my school’s biggest loser challenge. Not only do I have my title to keep (of course I won last year, I had a trainer!), but I have my self-image to regain. This Friday also happens to be nine months to the day past my competition. 

This is my new beginning. 

Will I go crazy? I don’t think so. I won’t weigh my food, and I probably won’t go running at 5:00am. But I will be a size six by the end of this challenge (I’m currently an eight), and I will win this challenge. The challenge at school, duh, but also the challenge to get and stay where I can look in the mirror and think again, “Damn, that chick is hot!”

This is my new journey…