My story (Frustratingly long, read only if interested. Pictures included)

DaniMedina1 wrote: »

Hello everyone,

I have to admit, before starting, that it's taken me a long time to feel prepared to share my story in detail here on MFP. But I feel ready now so here I go:

I am a 28-year-old girl originally from Buenos Aires, Argentina, but currently living in the UK.

I am 163 centimetres tall (I think that's 5"3") and have been slim (almost) my whole life. My dad is the kind of man who can eat as much as he wants, and he's still gonna be thin. And so are all my relatives from that part of my family. They are the kind of people who actually need to make an effort to GAIN weight, not to lose it. I think I got some of that. My mum could be considered as "normal" when it comes to weight. She's been struggling with a few extra kilos over the last couple of years, but nothing considerable, more like normal for a woman her age.

I have always been in my normal weight, and have never really worried about calorie consumption and the way I look that much. I never followed any special diets either; I just... ate when I was hungry and kept my mouth shut when I wasn't. I've never thought twice at the time of treating myself with the foods I like the most (pizza, lasagne, massive chocolate bars, nutella, ice cream, and the list is endless, really) whenever I felt like it. On the other hand, I have to admit I've always been a really active person, even without realising that I was! Never a big fan of public transport so I would walk to school or work, never been able to sit still at my desk for long periods of time so I would take short walks around the block or use my lunchtime to take strolls, etc. Gym memberships were never a part of my life and I never really worked out when I was young (apart from P.E. twice a week in school) but I was still, you know... moving.

At the age of 22 my circumstances changed dramatically. Between work and my studies I was busier than ever and I barely had time to get some decent sleep. That monstrous workload at the office was stressing me and my responsibilities as a University student took all the "spare" time that I had after work. It was insane and all the time that I used to have to take my strolls just... vanished. And I had to stop going to work by foot, since it would take a good half hour and I needed that time to study instead. So I started to take buses, and spend my lunchtime at my desk preparing things for my lectures. I became sedentary all of a sudden, but still ate the same amount of food I used to (and even more, because of anxiety). I started to make poorer food choices. Caloric snacks became a part of my diet, mostly as by-products of my high stress levels. I became addicted to sugar, coffee and fizzy drinks.

To be honest, I look back at those times now and I can't understand how I let myself go like this. How I didn't realise I was eating unhealthily and that diet was taking its toll on my body. It just happened! and the weight piled up on me so quickly that I didn't even have time to notice it. I know my diet had never been "ideal" but I had been eating way better before: a fair amount of fruit, veg, grains, wholemeal bread, beans, lean meats and the occasional treats or beers at the weekends. Suddenly I was trapped in an endless sequence of pastries, croissants, cakes, biscuits, all sorts of processed foods, bread and takeaway meals (I'm looking at you, KFC!) All that made me put 20 kg on in the space of six months. 20 freaking kilos. In six months' time. Unreal.

Because of my "small bones" I have always weighed between 49 and 54 kilos, max. (I know it may sound low, but it's the normal weight for my height and my small body) But after six months of a really, really, really bad diet and terrible (non-existent?) sleeping habits (and, of course, the fact that my bum was stuck to a chair 90% of the time) I stepped onto the scale and saw a number that alarmed me: 70 kg. 54 had been my highest before that. Now, suddenly, I had hit 70.

That's when I decided that I HAD to do something before the situation got (more) out of hands. It wasn't only the terrible shock that number in the scale triggered in me; I was really uncomfortable in my own skin. I had stopped wearing jeans and pretty clothes I once loved; baggy dresses were all I wore. People on the street would call me "fatty", "whale" or "African elephant" (horrible Argentinean custom of yelling things at people publicly) and I would NOT believe they were talking to me. My self-esteem was at its lowest. I was terribly embarrassed of my body and it got worse whenever I randomly bumped into an old acquaintance of mine that I hadn't seen in years! "Wow, you've put a lot of weight on, haven't you?" or "What happened to you?! You're HUGE" were the meanest things I've heard during that time. They would literally send me home in tears. From all those experiences I had during that time, the most important thing I've learnt is that the way others look at you and judge you can be even more hurtful than your own criticism over yourself. And I tend to be really harsh with myself in that sense: I knew I had a problem. But the way people looked at me? the way they made nasty comments and jokes, and didn't care if they'd hurt me? That was something I didn't know how to handle. Especially because back at that time I was really young and still didn't know how to deal with external judgment. (Not that I'm an expert now, but I've become rather thick-skinned over the years. I had to.)

Long story short: I stopped using my busy schedule as an excuse to eat whatever rubbish I would come across with. I started to say NO to Pizza Thursdays and BBQ Fridays with colleagues more often than before. I quit fizzy drinks for good. I learnt how to make wiser choices while grocery shopping, to try new and healthier ingredients, to pay attention to what I feed my body. To nourish it like I love it, until that love became real. It came back to me as soon as I started to see the first slight improvements, not only in my body shape but also - and most importantly - in my health.

Instead of going for the easiest options available (ordering pizza, or buying greasy ready meals) I would use a few hours of my Sunday afternoons to do some meal prep for the upcoming week. Nothing too fancy: roasted chicken breasts, salad, beans, a few pieces of fruit. I left all fizzy/sugary drinks behind and started drinking nothing but water (with the occasional beers on Saturday nights, of course!). The first weeks were torturous of course. I was really tempted to go for my favourite large pizza or destroy a blueberry cheesecake on my own, especially when my stress levels were high up over the clouds. A few times, I cheated on this new diet I wanted to have. But overall I stuck to it, and I am so proud of it! It turns out, all the healthy food was making me feel better and more energised than before. And water!! Being hydrated helped me a lot to feel healthier and determine whether that funny feeling in my stomach was actually hunger or just ... thirst. Or plain anxiety. Or something else, like a random temporary craving that would pass in a matter of minutes.

Those extra kilos I had put on disappeared rather quickly. I started to feel better, to regain my confidence and happiness. To feel "myself" again. After eight months of healthy eating habits and going for 1-hour-long walks three to five times a week, I was back at my normal weight. I bought new jeans. Pretty fitted t-shirts. Skirts. It felt good.

And it was then when I decided to make sports a regular part of my routine. I took up running. I started going for long hikes at the weekends. To do online workouts at home. Cardio, pilates, yoga, HIIT. And eventually I also started lifting, activity that makes me feel so strong and empowered that I am sure I'll never quit it. Up to that point, I had never been the sporty type of woman... at all. And I think even now I'm not, just because I lack that competitive nature of many. But I learnt how to find an activity that I enjoy, how to set myself goals and work towards them. How to enjoy sore muscles and the feeling or nearly dying after a 50-minute-long HIIT routine. Nowadays, I enjoy that feeling I get whenever I'm finally done with my daily workout and I find myself lying on the floor, my heart pounding like crazy and my body covered in sweat. It took some time to learn how to like it, but it finally happened. And it wasn't overnight. It's a long path, that one towards responsible and enjoyable fitness.

I've never been as fit as I am now and whenever I have a particularly good day in one of my lifting sessions (not that I lift really heavy weights though, I'm still struggling to improve!) I remember those moments of my life when I used to be completely out of breath after walking for 10 minutes or was unable to perform even the simplest of physical tasks. This experience has taught me health is the most precious thing we have, and we need to take care of ourselves every single day. It takes effort, that's true, but the rewards are priceless and feeling strong, energetic and healthy is the best feeling ever.

I thought I'd share this story with you because I myself like reading about other people's experiences in this matter. I know how encouraging it can be. Feel free to add me as a friend if you need motivation! I still struggle to eat as "clean" as I can. To be honest, that's my weakest point. I have a massive sweet tooth that is really difficult to ignore but I am learning a few hacks to make healthy foods taste like glory I hope I didn't make this story too long or boring.

I'll insert a few pictures of my before and after.