It was in 5th grade that I was first told I needed to lose weight. My sisters were all blessed with athletic bodies and a far better understanding on how to maintain that. I, on the other hand, had developed a deep and abiding love for the glorious flavors that danced on my taste buds, and reveled in it. And food loved my hips, my thighs, well….all of me as well.
That story continued throughout middle school, throughout high school, and until now, I just accepted this lie that I was an overweight photographer that was lucky to get a husband. I’m not even kidding. That was where my self-esteem was at. And I don’t blame my childhood. I don’t blame anyone. I know now that what I needed was education. I had no idea why pasta and potatoes weren’t good for me—only that they weren’t. It seemed stupid that I couldn’t eat ice cream and fried oreos and gelato every day. YOLO, you know?
But you know when you shop around on Netflix, and you can’t find a good movie, and the only Liam Neeson movie is the one with the wolves and you don’t like blood, so you find yourself in the documentary section deciding if you want to see something about losing weight or watching grown men go to a My Little Pony Convention? So after you watch the My Little Pony documentary, you decide you need to bleach your brain with another documentary, so *then* you watch the other one?
That happened to us. Well, me, but TJ watched the first one with the same horrified/amused fascination that I did. The second one he watched because, well, he had already grabbed a blanket and pillow, and if there’s one thing we should know about TJ, it’s that he hates being uncomfortable, or moving from his couch, or being called a hipster, even though he’s totally a hipster. (Love you, honey! <3)
Anyways, so I watched Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead, and then the other one (Time for Change?) and I was so inspired (seriously, watch them!) that I started juicing THE NEXT DAY. And at first, it was SO. Hard.
I won’t get into ALL the nitty gritty, because this is a blog post, not a novel, and because the detox, the subsequent love-affair with Mint Tea and Wheat Grass, and the questionable juicing my husband did is really for another time. But I will say that something shifted. I realized I *could* eat without pasta and spuds all up in my diet. I *could* be okay with eating HUGE salads.
And just like that, I realized I had found my success story.
We all dream for that, right? That moment when you find “The Diet” that gets you back to your high school size? Or even lower? It’s actually not said until after you do it, until after you’ve lost the weight and kept it off, but I’m daring myself to make the commitment and stick with it. I know that if I say “this is my success story,” on the internet, in front of a ton of people who may think I’m a little hasty, I risk failing out loud, which is a huge fear.
But I also know that it gives me a reason to choose to eat my orange—instead of my cookie. And it gives me a reason to keep at it, even when I do (inevitably, by the way) mess up and sneak a Ferrero Rocher or 4. I know that by telling my friends, my family, and my brides that I’m trying something scary that’s marred with failure, I’m giving them (you) an opportunity to help me succeed.
So here’s where I tell you what I need from you:
Follow me on Instagram: @shmilyface
I’ll be sharing my meals and stuff there. And occasionally, you’ll hear back from me *here* on the blog, and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned, what I’ve struggled with, and what I want to do better.
Now, if the incentive of staring at cell phone pictures of poorly lit meals isn’t enough for you to make the right choice, I also share sneaky peeks of my photo shoots there, AND I also share pictures of Liam and Momo. And I occasionally share pictures of TJ’s beard!
So follow me, encourage me, and forgive me when I fumble, and help me to get down to a healthy weight—because even though I’m doing it for myself, it doesn’t mean I have to be by myself. ❤