The Cold Hard Truth

I'm working out in the morning with Dennis Austin doing aerobics. I have also tried pilates and yoga for the first time ever. None of it was pretty. I've been thinking of going running in the mornings but I live down very narrow country roads and I'm afraid I would go squish by some ass-wipe in a jacked up truck with extra big wheels sporting those ridiculous KC lights on a chrome roll over bar with rusted out wheel wells.

As far as the exercise - it feels like I'm back in the military doing PT (physical training) waking up at 5 a fucking clock in the morning to go to muscle failure and torture myself (you can't have all the fun now can you). I don't want a repeat of basic training, so I've been taking it easy, breaking myself back into the routine, to the walking around like an old lady but keeping the benefit of being able to lift my arms to wash my hair (which is a good thing).

In relation to food - you must understand something. I'm anorexic. I'm the only fat anorexic I know, but once anorexic, always anorexic. I never really obsessed about my weight until I joined the military. They had a scale - something I never really got on, and they said I could only weigh so much - and I weighed 4lbs over that when I joined the Army. They sent me to "Fitness" - basically a fat camp and it shamed me. It shamed me to the CORE. The Drill Sergeants were hoovering over us at all times, making sure we weren't eating anything we weren't supposed to and smoked our asses 3-4 times a day (definition of "smoked" - making a subordinate soldier do so much exercise that they would often physically collapse from muscle failure). I stayed there for a bit and finally proceeded to basic training, where I slimmed down considerably but gained more weight from all the muscle. I met the taping requirements with no problems (this is where they get a tape measure - like the one's used for sewing - and measure your neck, wrists, hips...and something else, I forget ((different spots for men))) and they measure your body fat. I moved on to AIT (advanced individual training) and was able to relax a bit, however, I was still not making the height/weight requirement and had to get taped - a stigma of the sloppy female soldier that I DID NOT want, but didn't know how to go about doing what they wanted done.

I met another female soldier, Shay, and she advised me to skip a couple of meals. I took her advice, got off the tape, and was so pleased with my results, I continued to not eat. I'll give you an idea of how much weight I lost - I went from a size 14 to a size 10 in 6 months, most of that size change came in the last 2 months. I moved on to my Permanent Duty station and one of the high ranking section Sergeants made a remark that he didn't think I heard. He said "Why does the Army have to send us FAT females" After that, it was on. I ate about every 3 days or so. I'd have a slice of pizza - a small one and be so full because my stomach had shrunk to half the size of my fist. The only person who had a clue (including my hubby) was the First Sergeant. Why did he know? Because the scales were in his office and I would often sneak in his office to weigh myself - EVERY DAY. He caught me a few times and made a remark that it seemed I had a problem with my weight. I laughed it off and never went back. That left me bereft of scales. I didn't dare have them in my room, some one might become suspicious because I was so thin. I did without - and it didn't do me any favors.

I now had to GUESS how much I weighed. Can you say MENTAL TORTURE???? During this time, I was doing the required PT in the morning and additional PT in the afternoon they also required. Basically, I was running about 8 miles a day or more and working out my abs, my upper body, and any other muscle group I could. When I got to go back to the barracks for the evening, if my room mate was out, I would exercise MORE. Always more. MORE MORE MORE. It was never enough. I couldn't tell how much I weighed. I couldn't take the risk of having a scale. I plummeted to a size 8.

I looked like a walking skeleton. My spine protruded, and it really hurt when we would do sit ups on the concrete at PT. I lost almost all fat stores. It didn't click with me that it shouldn't hurt to sit on cushioned surfaces, or that I looked sick, even when a couple of people commented to me that they thought I looked sick. I chalked it up to them seeing things and continued doing what I was doing. My chain of command was happy. I wasn't another fat female, I did PT with the males and I was Air Assault Qualified (I jumped out of helicopters). My numbers made their numbers look good, I didn't cause to much trouble, and they left me alone.

How did I get this under control?? Well, I didn't really, but when I found out I was pregnant with Lauren, I stopped this cold turkey. The only problem was, I no longer knew how much to eat and it be okay. HOW MUCH WAS THE CORRECT AMOUNT????!!! I didn't have a fuckin clue. I was terrified of not giving her what she needed, so I over ate and gained 100lbs while I was pregnant. I lost all but 30 lbs of that weight (NOT doing the anorexic thing), which was a good weight for me, and gained it all right back with Connor.

I finally went and sat down with a Nutritionist after I got pregnant with Connor. Problem still there, still not fixed, but much, much better. Charles gives me "the eye" if I say I'm not hungry, and I don't want my daughter thinking it's okay not to eat.

Yeah, I have food issues, but hubby keeps his eye on me and I want to live a long long time. I want to grow old with my man and watch him dandle our grandbabies on his knees. I want to be there for Lauren when she needs that shoulder - that mommy shoulder, even when she's 30.

So don't freak out - I'm being good. Charles is helping me do this the right way, again.