Weight a minute! (or some other bad pun that doesn't make sense)

I wrote about my weight once or twice before on this blog, so you know I've got hips for days. I probably always will and have accepted this as canon. That said, my weight got out of control when I was in college, where I replaced feeling things with eating things.

My enabling then-boyfriend didn't help matters at all, but I'm not into blaming other people for my food decisions so I'll take responsibility for this. Looking back on it, I think I got so fat because I was in denial about being fat. I'd walk 30 minutes on the treadmill at the gym and eat 20 chicken nuggets from McDonald's on the way home and act surprised when my clothes became too tight.

I mean, it certainly wasn't an act. I was surprised. In my mind, I was doing everything I could to maintain my weight and I had no idea why it wasn't working. During the first three years of college, I bought few new clothes and stopped wearing pants completely to avoid the reality of my situation. (I wore skirts and dresses, if you're thinking I ran around pantless.) My mom kept asking me if she could buy me new clothes, and I kept telling her I was too busy or too tired or too independent to take her charity.

I don't know how much I weighed at my peak fatness, but I'd say it was around 280 pounds. Before you say anything - as I know my generation is especially fond of being offended at everything, even well-timed Holocaust jokes - I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad about being overweight.

When I use the word "fat," I am directing it at myself, not others. I felt fat. I did. If you or someone you know weights 280 pounds or more, I am not calling that person fat. Fat is a state of mind, and I can't detect a stranger's state of mind.

Overweight, of course, is measurable. I realized how bad my weight was when I was too overweight to walk up a flight of stairs without my chest feeling heavy. I couldn't help but think of how I had looked and performed prior to college.

I wore a size large to extra-large. (I know this is still bigger than average, but you really need to see my hips to understand.) I could stay on the elliptical for 60 minutes without stopping. I had no problem lifting weights and I knew when to stop eating.

It was a lot to swallow when I realized that I wasn't the person I used to be anymore. My weight had taken a toll on my physical health, yes, but more on my mental health than anything. I felt fat. I felt useless. And I knew I had to do something about it.

So I started losing weight slowly the summer before my senior year of college. I lost roughly 20 pounds during that time and stopped trying to lose weight for a while, basking in holiday food and just trying to get through my last semester of college. To my credit, I didn't gain the weight back. (And I started wearing pants again!)

I didn't really talk about this publicly because it makes me nervous to tell people I'm trying to lose weight, but I started a diet and exercise regime in January. Yesterday, I went clothes shopping and was elated to discover that I fit into my high school sizes again!

I'm really, really happy about this, but not because of the way I look. I feel so much better. I can walk and run and stairs don't intimidate me anymore. I look at my reflection when I pass mirrors now. Most importantly, I feel worthwhile for most of the day instead of having confidence pop up every once in a while.

I usually hate before and after photos, and I'm certainly not finished, but for the sake of really putting myself out there, here you go:

This was my worst. After I saw this photo online, I didn't take any photos for  two years or so.

I still have a way to go, but I am so, so proud of where I am now.

I don't really have a takeaway from this, except that being overweight and feeling fat are two very different things. I'm still overweight, and I'm working on that. But most of the time - not all the time, as I am human - I don't feel fat. I feel active and happy, and I know I'm working toward a goal that I'll eventually reach.

What matters is how you feel, not how you weigh. And you can put that on my urn. (But write in Sharpie or something. Don't spend extra money to get my ash-collector engraved. That's just silly.)