I’ve always had very poor body image – it hasn’t seemed to matter if my jeans toted a size 2 or size 16 tag, I have always felt huge.  I realized I needed to give myself an attitude makeover or risk passing my short comings onto my two beautiful daughters.  I’d managed to pack on many pounds while on bed rest for the entire fall of 2009, pregnant with my first daughter.  I’d heard the myth that the pounds would magically fall off if you nursed your baby, but this absolutely did not happen for me.  By the time I had my second daughter, I was pushing 200 pounds. Keep in mind, when I take the “how big are your bones test”, I come you with: tiny.  I have these crazy boney Skeletor fingers and my thumb extends well beyond my index finger when circling my wrist.  Additionally, I am not quite average height, which my husband is only too happy to remind me means that I am “almost not short”.  200 pounds is huge on my frame – almost twice my healthy weight.

I started eating “better” with a goal of being “more healthy” – let’s face it, those ambiguous goals are great, aren’t they? You almost have to try not to achieve a goal like that!  I cut my wine consumption down to weekends only, I ate more whole foods and fewer sweets. This, along with naturally losing some of the baby weight after my daughter was born, left me about 50 pounds over my goal weight. Hmmm. Perhaps it was time to get real.