Where The Sidewalk Ends-Ramblings of a Super Nerd: "Battle of the Bulge"

Where to start ... Where to start ... I guess I'll go back to the beginning.

I have always been an active person ... or at least I'd like to think so. I was a three season athlete in high school and played field hockey, cheering, and softball. Gymnastics (tumbling) and cheering was my main focus and I always wanted to cheer in college. I trained hard and was always looked at as one of the best. My jumps were high, I was built like a lumberjack (muscular), and I pretty much thought I was the cat's pajamas.

And then the words I'd never forget ... From one of the people I looked up to ... "You are too heavy to fly, you will never make it as a college cheerleader". How crushing to your ego. "You are too heavy" ... I can still hear the words spewing out of her mouth and slapping me across the face, hitting me with the force of a MAC truck. This was my sophomore year of high school. I was fragile and impressionable, and you can bet I took these words seriously. So I started to work out harder and eat less. My lunches at school consisted of diet iced tea, and my work outs because two a days with lots of running at field hockey practice and extra work outs at home. Cheering was important to me, being the best was important to me, and being able to cheer in college was a "life goal" at that time in my life. I tried to hide my lack of interest in food, but I apparently wasn't doing that good of a job. I remember how mortified I was when my field hockey coach talked to my mom after a game one night to tell her that I wouldn't order food at McDonald's with the rest of the team and she heard I wasn't eating lunch at school. I remember having to go to the doctor and being told that if I lost any more weight that I wouldn't be allowed to cheer anymore. Imagine my horror ... Too heavy to cheer, too light to cheer ... Where was the happy medium?

So I didn't lose any more weight. I maintained, I continued working out, and continued gaining muscle. I transferred schools for my senior year, and the cheering squad was excited to have me. They even perfected my tumbling skills and I threw my first back handspring and back tuck. It was an amazing experience and they even let me fly. I'm not sure why I was so excited about flying. I had always been a base, and a power base at that. Every one had always relied on me to be able to lift and hold up the stunts, but I just wanted the prestige of being on top. I got to be on top alright ... and fell hard out of one of my stunts. Injuring my knee and twisting my back a little in process. But beauty is pain, right? Something like that I guess ...

And so my journey continues ... I was teaching a cheering camp the summer before my senior year in high school. Even though I had transferred back to my old high school to graduate with my friends, I was invited to teach a cheering camp that summer at my new school. I was walking up into a stunt and "SNAP, CRACKLE, POP, F***" and lots of tears. I was on the ground. I tried to get up and walk twice, but every time I took a step I fell on my face. After many hours in the ER and a visit with an orthopedic surgeon, it was established that I tore my ACL and needed surgery and rehab. Now, this is not an uncommon thing for girls of age that are as active as I was, but in the eyes of a 16 year old girl, my life was pretty much over. Uh oh ... if I can't walk, I can't work out. If I can't work out, I can't lose weight. If I can't lost weight ... I was going back to the coach that had told me I was too heavy in the first place and now I can't work out. I was terrified.

Surgery came and went. Rehab came and went. I gained some weight. I stopped eating. I trained hard. I was ready to cheer by November. Although I wasn't the same person physically as I was my sophomore year, I was doing the best that I could my senior year. As time went on, I got stronger. I could work out like before, and maintain weight. As April rolled around, it was almost time to try out for the college squad. I was so nervous ... there would be a lot of competition there. I knew most of the girls from other squads around the states and admired how amazing they all were from what I had seen at competitions. How amazing they were, and how tiny they were ...

Try outs were grueling. I had never been so sore in my life. I don't think anyone noticed that I didn't eat during breaks or lunches. The other girls had 6 packs ... good grief did I have a lot of work to do. I was so humbled and amazed that the coach had already "known" me to be the power base. I worked my butt off at tryouts and was called for the team. I would be starting my freshmen year of college off as a cheerleader. I would be there for football games, running out through the field in the uniform, and cheering in front of 10,000 fans. How incredible.

I didn't worry about what I ate in college. We practiced twice a day almost every day. We ran, did pushups, sit ups, ran some more, stunted, danced, ran some more, and pretty much worked until the point of barfing. This was way more intense than high school cheering ... but it was amazing! I was working out so hard, I had so many muscles, and was burning calories by just standing. No freshmen 15 for me! Freshmen year went by, sophomore year football season was great! Everything was going great until we were practicing one day. We were doing our mile timed runs ... on my last spring to the finish line (trying to beat my last run time) I started sprinting and "SNAP"! Not again ...

My cheering season was done. I partially tore through my ACL in the same knee and ended up having surgery in my other knee to remove tissue. My knees were taking a beating, and I needed to just give up. I wasn't working out anymore. I started to get a little depressed about not being a cheerleader and I felt like a part of me was missing. I started to find that part of me again in food. I will never forget the time I binged myself silly and went in purge in the bathroom of our dorm ... The last thing I had eaten was a chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. It was a big piece of cake. It tasted the same going in as it did coming out. That was the last time I purged for a while.

As time went by, I changed (as most people do). I fell in love, got married, had ups, had downs, and through it all I found comfort in food. When I was happy, I ate. When I was sad, I ate (a lot). Family gatherings, I ate. If I didn't want to cook, I'd get take out. I'd get McDonald's dollar menu on the way to anywhere. Dunkin Donuts bagels, hot chocolates, KFC, Chinese food, pizza, Burger King, fried food, Oreos, Velveeta ... I swear looking back, it seems like my life revolved around food. I remember my mom telling me that if I wasn't careful I was going to wake up one morning and I'd be fat. I always used to think that was a mean thing to say, but now I understand. And boy, she was NOT kidding. I went from one extreme (not eating, or eating and barfing) to eating everything I could get my hands on. I went from being a 110-120 pound fit cheerleader to a 170 pound out of shape wife who was finishing her college degree, worrying about how fat I was going to look in my graduation gown.

I managed to lose some weight before graduation and got my first teaching job. I also had the opportunity to be a cheering coach. It was awesome ... I was doing what I loved every day. Teaching and cheering, teaching and cheering ... that was the way. I was teaching the girls how to do double 9 jumps. What a mistake ... I took my brace off my knee like an idiot and threw a jump and "SNAP" ... The girls had to pick me up off the ground, get me ice and I limped my way to my car and drove myself to the ER. I had to see a new orthopedic surgeon, who ended up dismissing me and telling me to go to physical therapy. What a joke ... I gave myself therapy and ended up just wearing my brace. My knee would go out every 5 minutes and swell but dammit I was determined to get back to cheering with my girls and get back to working out.

In May of 2010, my husband swore into the US Army. He left for Basic Training and AIT. He was gone for about 6 months and I wanted to look HOT when we saw each other again. I started on a new diet plan and started working out again. I was really trying not to let my knee get the best of me. I lost some weight and was maintaining a weight of 150 pounds. I still wasn't happy with my weight, but I was doing a lot better than 160+ pounds. His R&R came and went, and he was shipped off to Germany for his first duty station. We were making plans for me to join him and life was grand. I was getting in shape, we wanted to have a baby, our relationship was going great (even though it was long distance). It was almost January and I would be joining him soon in Germany. I put in my Turbo Fire workout one night after school, put on my knee brace, and went at it. During one of the fire drills, I landed a tuck jump and it felt like my knee completely dislocated and swiveled in a circle. Usually when my knee went out, I could put it back in, but there was no putting this back in. I couldn't straighten my leg. I couldn't walk. I had to crawl through my apartment to get to my cell phone and call for help. My dad came to my rescue and I had to slide down the icy porch stairs and (again) go to the ER.

After many torturous hours of trying to straighten my leg at the ER, a couple of days off of work, and a visit with a new orthopedic surgeon, I was told that this round of surgery and rehab would be about a year to a year and a half. How devastating. All of my hard work seemed to be going down the drain at the sounds of those words. I was doing so good with my eating and exercise, and then this news. *Cue eating of the double stuffed Oreos and depression*. I had completely torn my ACL, strained my MCL, and completely tore my meniscus off of my bone and it flipped over and lodges itself in between my femur and tib/fib. Disgusting. And because I had already had one ACL surgery, I had to have bone grafts put in to fill the previous drill holes. Double disgusting. This was going to be a long, long road. February came and so did surgery number one. I tackled a surgery and a full time job on my own while my husband was in a different country. Thank God for my parents. But even my parents couldn't stop my depressed eating. I had to be driven to and from work, and to and from rehab, and had to be on crutches for almost 3 months. And then the news came that my husband was deploying to Afghanistan. The grocery store probably had to order every cases of Oreos because my eating could NOT stop. And the weight just kept packing on. My doctor kept warning me about being predisposed to diabetes ... and all I could say was pass the Oreos.

And even though I went back to work after 1 week of my major knee surgery, worked my butt off at school, and changed the science program for the better, I was let go of my job because I was a "flight risk" and I couldn't say what would happen after my husbands deployment. Velveeta anyone? My husband came home for R&R before his deployment (which was amazing) and I had knee surgery #2 - a permanent fix for my meniscus, a hamstring harvest from my left leg, and a new ACL (from the harvested hamstring). And again no more walking for about 3 months. And holy crap did this one hurt! And on top of all of this, I had to find a new job and move. I remember interviewing for a teaching position a week and a half after my surgery. I was in so much pain because I thought it would be bad to interview in a Vicodin stupor ... but thank GOD I got the job. The only problem, I had to move 3 hours away from home and I still couldn't walk. Thank the sweet LORD that my parents are so amazing for all they did for me.

I moved and started rehab in my new town. What a godsend they were - they kicked my ass back to normal. They got me walking. They got be back to working out. They didn't take excuses and they pushed me. It was just what I needed. A year had gone by since this whole process started and I was pushing 180 pounds again. I needed to do something! As January rolled around, my resolution was to lose weight for good in the year 2012. My husband would be home from Afghanistan in July, and I was bound and determined to look hot for him. I started doing the Body By Vi program. Again another diet ... but I was determined. I lost about 25 pound doing this program and was really excited about the changes I was seeing. I even bought myself an elliptical. I took my dogs for a walk every day and used my elliptical. I finally felt like I was getting back to me.

By the time my husband got home I was down to 148-150 pounds and was feeling great about myself. We had an amazing time while Joey was home. We went on dates, we were lovey-dovey and ooey-gooey, and absolutely looked like two teenagers in love. We planned our move to his next duty station, made plans for houses we might have, and had dreams of what it would be like to finally live together after 2 1/2 years apart. It was perfect! I even got a new job in the district of our next duty station. On the day he had to go back to Germany, we found out that we were going to have a baby. I've never seen so much happiness in my husband's eyes. He came home my husband, and was going back a daddy. We were so excited! But about a week after he left, I had a miscarriage. I was devastated. He was devastated. And all of my hard work losing my weight went by the way-side and I started eating the double stuffed Oreos and Velveeta mac and cheese by the boxes!

From the time Joey and I found out we had lost our baby, to the time I started my job in Texas (our new duty station), I had moved my entire life in about 3 days. I was eating everything that I could get my hands on and found myself back up to 165 pounds within a months time. I was tired all the time, sluggish, had the worst heartburn ever, and my blood pressure and blood sugar seems to be creeping up. I had found out that my work was going to have a "biggest loser" competition. At the same time I started researching "clean eating" and the healthy benefits that went along with it. I knew that I had to change something, because the way I was living was not working. I had no energy and all I wanted to do was get into bed after work. So I went from having McDonald's on a Sunday, and started "clean eating" on Monday.

I drastically changed my lifestyle. I feel like that is an understatement ... I DRASTICALLY changed my lifestyle. I went through my pantry and fridge and threw out any food that was not considered "clean" and got rid of anything that would tempt me. I threw out my Oreos. What a sacrifice that seemed to me. And I went into my bathroom, got into spandex and a sports bra, and I took before photos. I wasn't going to, but I did. And I am glad that I did. I took photos every week so that I could see my progress. My skin got terrible. I've never had so many zits in my life, but after doing research I learned that all of the toxins from the bad food I was eating before started to leave my body. I started to have more energy. Even though workouts were killing me, I did them. I started to get stronger. I started to see the numbers on the scale consistantly go down. Every Monday at school I would weigh in, and I was kicking butt at the biggest loser competition. I started to get determined and serious. I wanted to win. My clothes started to get loose ... This was actually happening. And not because of some "fad" diet ... not because I was starving myself ... not because I was purging ... Because I was getting serious about my nutrition.

I started researching what my body needed, and how to feed it. I started getting serious about my cardio and workouts. I was tracking calories in and calories out. I almost peed my pants with excited when I looked down at my arms and realized I was forming muscles!!!

So now, 3 months into my fitness journey here I am ... my current weight is between 134-135 pounds and I am ecstatic. My arms are getting muscles in places I didn't know arms could have muscles. My left leg is starting to look like my former "lumberjack" legs and my surgery leg is actually starting to gain a quad muscle. My knee pain has diminished greatly since I lost weight, and my joints feel so much better. I don't remember the last time I had heartburn! My BP and sugar levels are completely healthy and I have taken my BMI from borderline "obese" to "normal" on the BMI charts. I didn't think being this weight was ever going to possible, but here I am. My husband is proud of me, and I am proud of me. One of my co-workers says "looking skinny Thurman" when he walks by me in the halls. I seriously never thought that this was possible, and the fact that it happened in such a short amount of time is mind-blowing.

Losing the weight was my "long term" goal ... but since I have already made my goal, I have decided to set some new goals. As we finish December and head into a New Year ... here are my new goals:

1. Pick out one hell of a hot homecoming outfit for my husband's return (for good) in two weeks.
2. Lose 10 more pounds of body fat.
3. Join a gym and get a trainer! (I have a serious phobia of gyms ...)
4. Work out with my husband
5. Get ripped! I want muscles, muscles, muscles!!
6. Continue learning about nutrition, eating, and feeding your body right!

I am so thankful for the competition at work for the first push to change my lifestyle. This way of living really does take dedication, but I love it. And what a good addiction to have. I am addicted to being healthy. It isn't about the weight any more. It isn't about being skinny. It's about being healthy and the way that I feel. Starving myself didn't feel this good. Puking definitely never felt this good. And stuffing my face until I fell into a carb coma didn't feel this good.

I've been told that my before and after pictures are inspirational. To the people that have said that, you will never know what an encouragement that is for me. I am so glad that I took the before pictures, because I never would have believed the change. Someone at work told me that I was glowing. That I didn't just look smaller, but that I look like I have completely changed into someone else. People are asking me for tips and advice. I am humbled that someone would ask me for that, because I never thought that I could be where I am now. I definitely have a long way to go and have so much to learn, but if my story and transformation can help anyone, I hope that it does.

If I could give everyone a little piece of how amazing I feel, I would do so willingly. If I could cook for everyone, I would do so willingly. If I could give everyone some of my dedication, I would do so willingly. Yes, this way of life can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but it is worth it, I promise. And I am never saying that I will never eat another "unclean" bagel, or a slice of pizza, but as of right now, I don't want to. Heartburn is not something I ever want to have again, and I never want to feel the way I did before. And if I go off course, I know that tomorrow is another day, and I can start over.