So many things should have been my wake-up call that I needed to do something about my health and weight.
Clothes not fitting should have been a clue. (No! It’s that they… they shrunk in the wash!) Not being able to button the waist on my jeans (Bah… It’s just that my belly is sensitive… I just got a tattoo there, and a navel piercing!) Shirts not fitting right on the arms. (Stupid clothes. The sleeves are cut funny!) And besides, when I tried to wear Spanx-type undergarments, they didn’t compress anything. If I was really fat and blubbery, they’d suck me in, right? Right?!
And maybe that I had to stick my neck out like a crane in photos so I wouldn’t have fourteen chins should have been a clue. And that I had fat rolls on my back… I had bigger back-boobs than I had front boobs. I still don’t understand where they came from. I swear they were secretly snacking while hiding behind me.
And the time the dog got out of the yard, and I had to run to the park, just a block away, to retrieve him. I gasped and wheezed for hours and had to take a hit on Fritz’s asthma inhaler.
And going to my 20th high school reunion weighing 50 pounds more than I did when I graduated. Granted, I was a little twig back then. And I also didn’t know I weighed 50 pounds more. I didn’t get on a scale. I thought I weighed maybe 40 pounds more. Plus, I wore five inch stilettos, so while I might have been a little overweight for someone 5’5″, I was in perfect shape for someone 5’10”!
But really, I didn’t feel bad about my weight. I felt like I looked perfectly fine for a 38 year old woman. Especially one that didn’t exercise at all and ate DiGiorno Pizza three times a week, and Hamburger Helper or Rice A Roni the other days of the week. And besides, every time I tried to lose weight, I failed, so what’s the point, really? This must be my body’s happy weight.
So what was the tipping point?
The Warrior Dash.
I was at a party, drunk as a skunk (Pinnacle Whipped Cream Vodka!), when a friend showed my niece pictures on her iPhone of the Warrior Dash. It’s a 5k race with obstacles like scaling walls, wading through a lake, crawling through mud and under barbed wire, and leaping over fire. Then you celebrate with a Viking hat, a turkey drumstick, and a beer.
I always considered myself to be a bit of a badass, even though I was the biggest wuss on the planet and as already mentioned, I couldn’t run one city block without almost dying. But.. mud, sweat and beer! How awesome is that?! I had to do it. It was exactly six months away… I had six months to go from wuss to warrior.
And that, my friends, is what started this crazy roller coaster for me. I didn’t care about gaining or losing weight. I didn’t care about going to my reunion chunky. I didn’t care that my clothes were getting too tight. I didn’t care about being out of shape. But get me drunk and tell me about an opportunity to get dirty and leap fire, and I’m there!