Not to mention it’s been raining literally nonstop for the past several weeks. Summer? What summer?
But lo and behold! It’s a miracle! This little garden is sprouting up like a weed…see what I did there?
Tomatoes! Those are actual real life tomatoes! And carrots, turnips, peas, two kinds of lettuce, spinach, butternut squash, cucumber, zucchini, and green beans. All that little space!

And then there’s our other garden…the stepchild of gardens, I guess? Kale and thyme on the windowsill…
Basil, parsley, garlic chives, and chives. Baby red potatoes in the ground.
And finally: bell peppers and jalapeno peppers.
I am so excited to harvest all of this nutrient-packed, fibery goodness. And save a bunch of money on produce to boot!

I’ll keep you all posted on my green thumb progress this summer. Hopefully I’ll even have some new veggie-packed recipes to share!

Do you have a garden? What did you plant this year?

Deep breath.

Throughout this whole life-making journey of mine, I’ve been told over and over again how brave I am. How my honesty with the process is so refreshing and appreciated. And I guess I haven’t really seen it that way just because this is me being me. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t have much of a filter. I have an opinion about everything. I over share constantly.

The one aspect of my life where I’ve typically exercised a great deal of discretion, though, is when anything in relation to my weight is brought to light. Before the last year or so, I never would have felt comfortable dressing the way I do now (hello, tank tops!) or sharing the size of my clothes (XL tops and dresses, size 18-20 pants). And I especially would never, ever, ever times infinity disclose the actual amount I weigh. That not-so-little number has remained sacred between my doctor(s) and me.

I mean, when you can watch contestants on The Biggest Loser bemoan their numbers and you think, “Uh, that’s not even that bad,” you know you have a serious problem.

The significance I have given to that number is staggering. And now that I’m finally just starting to feel like I almost fit into other normal standards of society (shopping at “normal” stores, fitting into chairs, getting side-long glances from cute boys), this number is suffocating me.

It remains my biggest unflinching demon.

It hasn’t gone down in months.

It consumes my thoughts, if I let it.

It mocks me right in the middle of every new accomplishment. You can run a mile, but you can’t lose that number. Ha.

It defines me.

But no more.

My hope is that by putting this number out there in the public realm, by allowing this number to say its peace and have its moment..maybe then it will finally lose its hold on me. Maybe then I can move past. And maybe then I can get that number to shrink.

(I literally just had to stop and take two deep breaths. My heart is racing. Holy shit, I’m doing this..)

On January 17, 2012, the day I began this journey, I weighed 380 pounds.

Let that really sink in for a moment…

Today I weigh 317 pounds. Some days a few pounds less, some days a few pounds more.

My goal is to lose half my body weight, and then reevaluate from there. So, 190 is my goal weight.

Am I still embarrassed by those numbers? Absolutely! I’m mortified to share them with you now, and there’s not a day where I don’t feel some twinge of shame at how badly I let myself go. And why? How? I don’t know how I was living at that weight–that’s like scary, have to weigh you on the freight scale, nearing having to cut your out of your house living. Though, I mean, I know I wasn’t living living. I was alive–blood plumping, lungs breathing. But not LIVING! exclamation point, you know? Thank God I’m 5’11″…

Anyway, I know that in the grand scheme of things, my number is just a number. It doesn’t actually define me or encompass my self-worth. I want to lose weight for my health, for my looks, for my future, for my everything. But a large part of me also wants to lose it to distance myself as physically far as possible from that number of 380 and all it represents in my past.

I know I’ll never see that 380 pound girl again. I know she’s gone for good and thank God for that. I appreciate all she taught me, the strength she gave me that I’m just now discovering…but good effing riddance!

And so, dramatics and large integers aside, it comes down to this: own who you are—past, present and future.

So, here are my goals for the summer, designed to get me out there…finding balance, shaking things up, making my life.

2013 Summer Bucket List

1. Run 2 miles

2. Attempt to water ski…again

3. Put myself out there physically

4. Complete a bike race

5. Go hiking in a state park

6. Lose 20 pounds

7. Purchase a pair of pants from a “normal” size store

8. Move everyday & spend as much time outside as possible

9. Go to a beach in a swimsuit. Swim, soak up the sun,  be confident

10. Save enough money for a personal trainer this fall

Tell me: what are you going to do over the next three months to make yourself proud and kick some booty?

The question, as of late, has made me extremely anxious. It has induced stress and anxiety. I wish I could pause time Saved by the Bell style so I could eventually un-pause and provide a better answer to it.

I long to share that I’ve lost another couple pounds. And then another few. And a couple more. I can’t wait to post those amazing photos where you stand in a pair of you old pants and hold the waist out away from you at arm’s length because they are now that big on you. I can’t wait to shout to the world that I’ve lost 100 pounds…and I’m still going!

Internally, my response is that I am still here. Still stuck at 60 pounds. I still can’t run more than a mile even though I’ve been trying for over a year. I still shop mostly in the plus-sizes, I still make poor food choices and don’t always work out consistently. I am still very, very overweight. I feel guilty when people tell me how good I’m looking because at some point, that will all stop if my weight loss doesn’t start back up.

Externally, though, I reply that despite being very, very stuck right now, it’s all going pretty well, actually. I mean, I know I’ve got to figure out how to get unstuck. And I know my journey is far from over. In fact, we’ve probably got ourselves a lifelong thang here, me and the weight loss.

But, as my frustration with that question and the stagnant scale has reached a boiling point over the past few six months, I’ve slowly begun to notice myself becoming more and more accepting of what’s going on with my body.

Is quitting an option? No, never. Not once on this journey have I even contemplated throwing in the towel. It just doesn’t cross my mind. Sure, I cry about the pounds not coming off. I go on weeks-long binge benders where I revert to old comfortable habits. I stress myself out worrying that I’m running out of time, that I’ll never get this right, that I’ll never really succeed at making my life, that I’ll  have to face that damn question for the rest of my life.

Eventually, though, my brain clears and I get back on track. I reclaim the small pieces of confidence I’m slowly accumulating. And these past few weeks have felt even more different.

I actually feel good. Some days great, even. I am confident more often than not. I feel mostly worthy of other people’s time and attention. I am aware and conscious of my moods, my cravings, and my triggers and I know I can choose how to acknowledge them. I’m getting more fit—certain moves are easier in my group fitness classes, and I no longer getting winded walking up a flight of stairs. And my body does look different, even though it weighs the same—I see my collarbone, I feel muscle and definition in my arms and torso, my calves are much leaner, more muscular. Hell, I’ve even looked in the mirror a few times recently and thought my butt looked cute. My butt, of all things!

I’m making peace with my here and now. I’m making peace with my body, with myself, as is. Flaws and all. And that is the first step to welcoming future change and love into your life. It brings with it a deep sense of calm, too. Like, no matter what does or doesn’t happen on the scale, at work, with that cute boy… it’s okay because you know it will eventually work itself out. And in the meantime, it’s all good.

So, ask me again. Ask me how my weight loss is going. Because it’s going great. I’m losing pounds and pounds of mental baggage.

It’s a beautifully freeing thing, this self-acceptance.

I received a comment from a “friend” recently that pushed me a bit too far and I snapped.

I realized that I’m so sick of all this. Of everything.

I’m sick of people commenting and offering unsolicited well-meaning opinions and advice on a topic they’ve never had to deal with.

I’m sick of having to deal with all of this.

I’m sick of worrying whether I’m too late, of whether this will all actually eventually work out.

I’m sick of not making any progress on the scale.

I’m sick of the mood swings, hives, and tummy problems that come with my new medication for PCOS.

I’m sick of my body not responding. To anything, to everything.

I’m sick of having to try something new every day to see how it will or will not effect my body.

I’m sick of not being happy.

I’m sick of being in between clothes sizes.

I’m sick of being fat and out of shape.

I’m sick of having to try so damn hard.

I’m sick of half-assing everything in life.

I’m sick of this weather.

I’m sick of my routine…day after day after day after…

I’m sick of binging in response to a lack of progress.

I’m sick of sharing my failures and struggles with the world.

I’m sick of feeling accountable.

I’m sick of letting everyone down.

I’m sick of letting me down.

I’m sick of still being exactly where I was over six months ago—literally and figuratively.

I’m so sick of it all.

Again, I’m so appreciative for this blog and the response it receives—I’m so glad to be an inspiration to so many people. But these days, I’m not feeling like much of an inspiration to myself. This all feels so cumbersome, so discouraging. I need to refocus on me and why I’m truly doing this. I’m not here to build a website where I receive free stuff and make an income. I’m not here to gain new Twitter followers or up my unique pageviews. I’m not here to feel bad about myself as I scroll through my Twitter and Instagram feeds, catching snapshots of other people’s constant progress.

No. I’m here to make my life. I’m here to put myself first. I’m here to build a future for myself. I’m here to break out of this small little box I’ve packed myself into. I’m here to fix me.

And I need to remember that, above all else.

So while I am eternally grateful for all the support and advice I’ve been receiving especially lately, I’m going to be paying less attention to all the white noise around me, put my head down and focus. Work on me. Do what I need to do for me. I’ll still be blogging regularly and on social media as I can tolerate it, but…it’s a distraction. And I’m in the business of eliminating distraction from me life. I need to get back to meal prep and planning, two-a-day workouts, spending time not thinking just doing, being with friends, finding balance in it all…and if the Minnesota weather cooperates, spending copious amounts of time soaking in the sunshine, vitamin D and happiness.

Last May, I was about 40 pounds heavier and a bunch of inches thicker. I was four pant sizes and two-three (depending on the store) shirt sizes bigger. I couldn’t dream of shopping in “normal” stores, save for the maternity section or the occasional tunic or dress that I fashioned into a form-fitting shirt (Yes, really. I did both).

Last May I was uncomfortable wearing t-shirts and wouldn’t dream of wearing tank tops. No one wants to see all that flab flapping around. When I did finally start to wear tank tops, it was the biggest deal. I remember calling my mom as I stood at the big box hardware store wearing a sleeveless dress. I was nearly in tears I was so proud…and so terrifyingly self-conscious.

Last May I didn’t leave the house without my hair and make up done, my outfit acceptably perfect. Why give the world another reason to judge me? I may be The Fat Girl but I would never dream of being The Ugly Fat Girl.

Last May I struggled to run for 30 seconds. I stuck mostly to the elliptical at the gym, because I was afraid of how unattractive and out of shape I’d look trying something new. I didn’t make eye contact and I stayed in the back row of my darkened spin class—the only group class I would attempt.

But now?

This May, I’m still stuck in a seemingly never-ending weight loss plateau, but I’ve lost over 60 pounds in about a year, I’ve tightened and toned my body to the point where I sometimes like what I see in the mirror. I haven’t given up. I regularly shop at normal stores in mostly normal sizes. Sometimes, I even need to grab a smaller size.

This May, I cry in dressing rooms because I can’t believe I fit in the size 14 shirt not because I have to grab the 3X.

This May, I’ve run a 5K race, with a goal of doing five more this year (three are on the calendar!). I’ve gotten my heavy body up on a paddleboard…while wearing a swimsuit. I’ve taken (and love!) a boot camp and a weights class—where I’m constantly uncomfortable and pushed to my physical and self-esteem limits.

This May, I rarely wear makeup when I’m not at work or going out socially. I’ve stopped caring what I look like in the best possible way: I still want to look cute, obviously, but I no longer spend an hour getting ready to go to Target on a Saturday afternoon.

This May, I wear t-shirts. And tank tops. And dresses that show off (most) of my legs.

This May, I explore the world around me. I try new things. I put myself out there socially (something, I admit, I’m just starting to feel out). I’m less afraid of others, less afraid of myself.

This May, I’ve mostly made peace with myself. As is, right now. Fat and all. The scale doesn’t define me, your opinion of me, and what fat girls should and should not do, doesn’t define me. I define me. And I like me. I’m proud of me.

This May, I can’t wait to see who I am next May.

The whole thing took me only a little over 30 minutes, but I felt like I had been working out for hours! Definitely a good option when you’re short on time and resources (i.e. traveling, no gym) but want to make a big impact.

Since variety is the spice of life, I shook it up a bit and did different variations of each move to make it a full body thang. And if you’re unfamiliar with a particular move, look it up online. They’re all easy to find!

Here’s what I did:

Manda Kay’s 100 Workout

100 jumping jacks

90 crunches -

• 30 standard
• 30 bicycles
• 30 pulse

80 squats -

• 20 standard
• 20 plie with calf raise
• 20 plie
• 20 pulse

70 leg lifts -

• 20 left side
• 20 right side
• 30 back

60 jumping jacks

50 crunches -

• 25 bicycles
• 25 standard

40 squats -

• 20 plie with calf raise
• 20 plie

30 leg lifts (back)

20 jumping jacks

10 minutes on the bike on the hardest resistance

My mom usually doubles this recipe and freezes half. I’d recommend you do the same, so that way you’ll have soup on hand for when the snow flies on Memorial Day…stupid winter…

White Chicken Chili
Makes about eight 1 1/2 cup servings

Ingredients
1 tbsp butter (I use light butter)
1 1/2 C celery, chopped
1 C yellow onion, diced
1  green pepper, chopped (when doubling the batch, Ruthie uses 1 green and 1 yellow/red/orange pepper)
3 cloves garlic, minced
28 oz. reduced sodium chicken broth
2 cans great nothern or cannellini beans (look for reduced sodium varieties)
1 C chunky salsa (I use Mama Ruthie’s salsa because it’s the best, duh)
3 C chicken, cubed (about 2-3 chicken breasts)
2 tsp cumin
2 bay leaves
1/2 C fat-free half & half
2 tbsp cornstarch
salt & pepper

Directions

• In a large dutch oven, melt the butter and add the celery, onion, pepper, and garlic. Add a dash of salt and pepper, and saute the veggies until softened.
• Add the chicken broth, beans, salsa, chicken, cumin, and bay leaves. Stir to combine.
  
• Place the half & half and cornstarch in a bowl and whisk to combine. Slowly stir the slurry into the soup.
• Bring the pot to a boil and cook for 2 minutes or until slightly thickened.
• Reduce heat and continue to simmer for 10 minutes or longer. Season to taste with salt and pepper.