Tag Archives: health

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NEW DAY 397: Delululemon

My eyes are glitching, and it’s breaking my brain.

In a casual conversation with a coworker last week, I mentioned in an offhand way that I’m “still a big girl”. When she began her reply to that part of the conversation, she opened with, “First of all, no one sees you as a big girl. You know that, right?” It blew my entire mind hearing that.

No one sees me as a big girl.

…Except me.

I do double and triple takes in store windows and mirrors when I catch my reflection unexpectedly. It doesn’t compute that I’m the person I’m seeing in there. But at the same time, when I look at myself deliberately, all I can see are the parts that I’m still not happy with — or I’m newly unhappy with.

Stomach still big.
Fingers still chubby.
Upper arms and inner thighs carrying loose skin.
Ass shapeless.
Chest saggy.

Maybe lifelong fatties are destined to never be satisfied with how they look. Yet somehow, I’m still thrilled with the results from a data standpoint.

The night I came home from work after that conversation with my coworker, I realized that I’d lost more than 35 pounds in the time my coworkers have known me. This means that not only have they never known me not in transition, but they never knew me as THE big girl.

I further realized that no one who meets me from this point forward will be meeting an obese person.

Now that it’s full-on summer, I find myself without comfortable sleepwear that fits. In one of my periodic wardrobe culls yesterday, I found some old t-shirts and tank tops that I have had forever and never been able to wear… except that they’re loose in the upper torso. That’s when it hit me that I hardly ever wear anything other than sports bras nowadays, and it hit me that actually, I haven’t been filling out my regular bras lately.

This prompted a bra shopping trip where I tried on exactly a dozen bras, just trying to identify my size now. I was truly shocked to discover I’ve lost another cup size and TWO more band sizes, depending on which bra you ask of the two I came home with. All told, I’ve dropped from a 44DD to a 38C/36D. What. I have some bras in those sizes lying around at home from when I was in high school. HIGH SCHOOL. Between those and the two I bought on clearance yesterday, I should be covered (ha) for a while. I don’t want to invest in a whole new suite of bras until my body is done recomposing itself — and that’s still a good 30+ pounds away. But I am not at all processing the itty bitty titty sitty situation.

Then this morning, for my weekly weigh-in, I clocked a new lowest-ever (adult) weight: 172.0 lbs.
I’m not only on the 160 side of 175; I’m on the 150 side of 175: I’m closer to 160 than to 180, and closer to 150 than to 200.

Losing 100 pounds and getting below 200 were huge milestones, but this? This has me shook in a way neither of those numbers did. Not because I didn’t think it was possible, but because for so long it wasn’t — and now it is.

One hundred and twenty-nine pounds down, and within spitting distance of the 160s. Within sight of The Finish Line beyond that. After all the running, the lifting, the self-coaching, the right choices, the meal prepping, the showing up when no one was watching and I didn’t feel like it… I’m here. And as they say, I didn’t come this far to come this far.

In a way, I’m glad I’m not seeing myself clearly right now, whatever that even means. There’s work to do, and nobody but me is gonna do it. Eventually, my eyes will probably catch up with reality, and maybe even with the eyes of others. Until then — and even after then — it’s go time.

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NEW DAY 370: GLP-none

Over the weekend, my mom treated us to mani-pedis at a salon I’ve been going to for years. The owner, who often staffs the front desk, has the same name as me, so we’ve been making prolonged chit-chat every since our first encounter when we figured that out. She hasn’t been around much lately, so when I saw her on Saturday, she complimented my weight loss and seemed struck by it. Then she asked, “are you taking one of those GLP-1s?” When I said no, she was even more floored. “You’re the only person I’ve asked recently who isn’t!”

I ran into another person whom I hadn’t seen since last August — before I even started 75 Hard — at the end of May. He took a moment to recognize me. Once he did and we’d gotten through the small talk portion of the conversation, he also asked me if I’ve been taking “Ozempic or something”. I awkwardly responded, in front of the friend who was there with me and is on a GLP-1, “no, I’m doing it naturally. I run all the time.” (Really, what is the etiquette here?)

It’s no secret that plenty of people are losing weight with the help of glucagon-like peptide-1 drugs. As mass-market appeal grows, so will their use continue to grow. Anyone who is using them for legitimate reasons, and is doing so safely and responsibly, has my blessing — not that they need it! I hope their GLP-1 experience is effective and 0% harmful. I have no problem with them as a general rule. They’re just not for me.

My weight loss has been rapid and drastic. I’ve lost 126 pounds since February of 2025, 106 of which have been since this time last year. Body recomposition has been further changing my shape, defining my muscle tone, and highlighting my facial bone structure pretty prominently for the past 3-4 months. Almost every time my dad sees me, he says something like “my daughter is disappearing!” My brother literally didn’t recognize me when we saw each other at the end of April for the first time since Thanksgiving. Hell, I even had a moment a couple of weeks ago when I was looking inside a storefront window I was passing by, saw someone, and thought, “that thin lady looks like me! …WAIT.“

Given the prevalence of the weight-loss wonder drugs and how prominent my transformation has been, it’s no surprise at all that people would assume I’m one of the 12% of the adult American population who’s on one. There’s a part of me that feels indignant about that. I don’t want just partial credit for my careful nutritional architecture, my self-coached running and strength training, my sweating through challenging YouTube workouts, and my newfound addiction to the pleasurable low-key torture that is Pilates. I deserve FULL credit for all of it. No GLP-1 has contributed to any of this. But hey, if the results are SO pronounced that the only logical conclusion people (who don’t know me very well) can arrive at is that I must be fast-tracking things with a GLP-1, I’ll try to view that as a compliment.

Again, no judgment here towards anyone using a GLP-1 for the right reasons. They’re meant to help people lose necessary weight who have had trouble doing so. Personally, I’ve found a way to better health without any pills, powders, or injections — and I’m proud of that.
I’m proud of my body.
I’m proud of my stats.
And I’m VERY proud of my mind for finding the strength to push myself through the most intense and challenging parts of the process, time and time again. Nobody but me did that.

And for the person who could barely walk 5 minutes without keeling over at this time last year, yeah, I will absolutely strut it.

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NEW DAY 307: A fruitless quest

I’ve gone no-added-sugar for the past two weeks, and am now a few days into the third. This is part of a reset I did to bust through a plateau that I realized after the fact was the result of A) body recomposition, and B) a too-small calorie deficit — but it was nonetheless effective in getting my body to cough up the pounds it was clinging to all winter. As an over-zealous twist to my sugarless adventure, I thought, let’s run an experiment and see what this “no fruit” thing is all about.

After two weeks of no sweeteners and no fruit, I can tell you what it’s all about: NONSENSE.

I’ve been at this weight-loss business for over 10 months now, and never once in that time did I have a single craving. Not once. Ever. Unbelievable, right? But it’s true! I mean, did unhealthy food sound good sometimes? Sure. Did the wafting scent of something delicious beckon to me here and there? Of course. But there was no sudden overwhelming urge that struck out of nowhere to raid the bakery section and snack aisle of the grocery store and gorge myself on everything within reach. Hell, there wasn’t even that pesky little “go on, just one little treat — you deserve it!” or “it’s a special occasion!” or “one piece of that won’t hurt” or “everyone else is having some”; because I simply didn’t want that poison in my body. Besides, after being off it for a while, it doesn’t taste like it used to, anyway. The few times I did indulge, I immediately got stomach aches. It’s the very best kind of “hits different”: a natural deterrent.

Enter No Sugar, No Fruit Experiment Weeks. GURL-UH. Now, I will say, I probably couldn’t have timed this worse if I’d tried: the two weeks of this ill-informed, self-imposed challenge were PMS week, immediately followed by period week (cuz that’s how that works). That alignment did me no favors when the cravings struck — and strike they did. It wasn’t a nonstop desire to throw down, but god damn if a Bagel Bite didn’t suddenly sound like the best thing in the world. Maybe followed by some ice cream. And hey, it’s been a while since I’ve been inside a Starbucks. White mocha, anyone?

It even infiltrated the sanctity of my dreamspace: suddenly, I was eating the literal forbidden fruit in my subconscious adventures, in addition to chocolate bars, brownies, and cookies.

The craziest thing was, I still didn’t even want to eat any of that stuff! How is it even possible to crave something you don’t want?

This is what a total absence of sugar does to a person. It flatlines logic.

But the worst part of all? Days-long stretches of constipation.

Hey. You know what’s important? Fiber.
You know what fruit is great at delivering? Fiber.
You know what you get when you cut out fruit and don’t replace it with a zillion vegetables? Stopped the fuck up.

I’m here to tell you that going sugar-free is an excellent health move. My skin is glowing. My energy is even and sustainable through long days and demanding workouts. My thoughts are clearer. Everything tastes better. My relationship with food is rational and my nutrition is in check. I genuinely, sincerely don’t miss sugar 95% of the time, and the 5% of the time I want it, I let myself have it — with no out-of-control fallout.

What is NOT a good move is eliminating an entire food group because it carries some of that stuff naturally. I already knew this; the driver behind my masochistic little experiment was a pathological curiosity to experience the My 600-lb Life diet. Why? Because.

And now I know-know.

Never again.

Fruit is back. Cravings are gone. Normal dreams are restored. Plumbing is running normally (after a major blockage was cleared — shoutout to my new BFF and personal hero, the chia seed).

Sugar is staying right where I want it, though: the heck away from me.

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NEW DAY 300: Love story

Today is my 300th day of this… thing. Nearly 10 straight months of… doing this… this.

Not “journey”. I’m already not much for euphemisms, and that one is so over-used, it’s at the living edge of cliché meaninglessness.

Journeys imply a trajectory with some amount of planning; a clear starting point with a clear destination. A trip of some length, but overall pleasurable.

My past 300 days have skewed positive, but that’s where the similarities end. My this has been meandering. At times haphazard, and at other times meticulous.

Uncharted. Arduous. Surprising. Surreal.

I don’t know exactly where I’m going. I can’t picture exactly what it will look like when I get there. I have no idea how long it will take. I’m forging a path forward by instinct and knowledge I accumulate as I go, in a self-contained world with its own rules, patterns, and logic that don’t always hold parity with anything in the larger world. The experience is changing me in every way. And I have no intention of going back to the home I left.

It’s more like an odyssey. That combination of strangeness, adventure, movement, and purposeful quest.

I’ve learned how to nourish myself well.
I’ve learned how to move my body safely, in ways that push it to new heights and help it strengthen.
I’ve learned how to channel my positive emotions into healthy pursuits.
I’ve learned how to process my negative emotions through healthy outlets.
I’ve learned how to honor the commitments I make to myself, even — especially — when it’s not convenient.
I’ve learned how to take up more space through taking up less space.
I’ve learned how to say yes.
I’ve learned how to say no.
I’ve learned how to challenge myself in the right ways.
I’ve learned that movement and self-care are gifts, not punishments.
I’ve learned what I’m really made of, because I gave myself the chance to shine in the dark.

That’s not a journey. That’s a love story. A self-love story.

The 115-pound (and counting) weight loss, the 6-size (and counting) decrease in pants sizes, the rings that fall off fingers and necklines that slip off shoulders and shoes that slide off feet… details. Minor plot points. Background noise. The main character is still venturing forth, ready to meet the future.

Will she live happily ever after? I don’t know. I certainly hope so.

More importantly than hoping, though — I believe it’s possible. Because she’s making it possible.

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NEW DAY 293: Slow burn

My weight loss has been crawwwwwwling for the past 3 months. Yes, a slow-down is normal in drastic weight loss after months of quick drops. And also yes, I’m undoubtedly in body recomposition right now. And yes again, 23.8 pounds is still arguably a respectable amount to lose in 12 weeks. Yeses and valid justifications aside, this glacial pace is not my jam.

It got to the point that for the first time since June, I lost a DietBet. Like, it wasn’t even close; in 3 weeks, I only lost 3 lbs and missed my 4% goal of 187.5 by 4.9 lbs. I hadn’t even broken into the 180s.


Unfortunately, I was on a bit of a DB sign-up spree at the time I signed up for that March Mayhem Kickstarter, so two more were a week from closing — and I was even further from those goals of exactly 187.0.

Ugh. Now I was losing more money than weight.

What could I do but lose graciously? I thought of it as rebalancing the sheet of me taking other people’s money these past 10 months. Can’t win ’em all.

What I did not do was use this VERY minor setback as an excuse to go off the rails. The thought never entered my mind. I stuck to the plan.

What was the plan? The plan was to thwart this sluggish plateau-adjacent nonsense which has overstayed its (never-really-)welcome. Historically, my body has responded well to a bit of healthy, intentional upheaval, so I decided to mix things up with a zero-sugar week — not even any fruit (RIP reliable breakfast staple). In the process of designing that menu for this week, I noticed that I had never adjusted my daily calorie intake down to account for my body’s smaller size. Since I’m being honest, I’ll confess one more cardinal sin: I haven’t been tracking my calorie intake at all. My plates have been filled with balanced whole foods and I’ve been training my body, so I never stopped to question if the food could be behind the stalling weight loss. It’s no wonder that until this moment, I didn’t realize how small my deficit had become. After crunching the numbers from my past several weeks’ worth of meals, the fact was inescapable: I was just barely outside of the maintenance zone. Honey, we are not in maintenance yet! That my body had been allowing me to burn any fat at all was a bit of a miracle. (THANK YOU, BODY!) I also decided to pump the brakes on intense cardio this week — a dubious call with a half-marathon less than a month away, but hey, I live on the edge — and switch to post-meal digestion walks coupled with a focus on strength and core work.

With all this in mind, I dutifully refined my week’s menu to stay within a daily deficit appropriate to weight loss, compiled my grocery list, made the haul, and batch-prepped all 3 meals in full on Saturday. My exercise plan shifted immediately, even with erratic temperatures and weather conditions throwing wrenches left and right. With two impending DB weigh-ins with windows of Monday-Tuesday and Tuesday-Wednesday, it wasn’t looking good when the scale spat out 191.2 at my Sunday weigh-in — a measly half-pound down from the previous week.

As someone who ignores the scale at every other time, it was a major departure when something possessed me to check that cheeky appliance on Monday morning.

And it was an even more-major departure when that little imp showed me 187.2.
As in, 0.02 lbs away from both DB goals, literally overnight.

I am not a fan of this type of suspense. I can barely tolerate it in a cozy mystery. I arguably can’t tolerate it at all cinematically. In real life, forget it. I am not built for drama.

This was a real test of mettle. I could go extreme and over-exercise and under-fuel and wring my hands for the ensuing 24 hours, or I could honor my commitment and trust my body and the process to respond well enough to result in DB victories. After all, this whole thing is about so much more than a few DietBets. Winning/keeping money is great, but it’s in no way healthy to go full nutcase at the possible expense of the broader arc. That type of compulsive behavior is the ugly cousin of what got me to over 300 lbs. So I chose responsibly and made my peace with the fact that the die was cast already, and all I had to do was stay the course — my body had just given me a loud and clear signal that it was happy with what I was doing. This was a moment to listen, not to hijack the convesation.

And, well…


I just love a story with a happy ending, don’t you?

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NEW DAY 291: Still Bad

Sometimes stuff just hits.

I’m spending more time outside now, taking as many opportunities as I can to walk outside and maximize my time on my feet now that we’re inside 30 days before the half marathon. As I learned during 75 Hard, being outside lifts my spirits almost instantly — even when I have to drag myself out the door for it. On an evening walk today, I got caught in a light rain, which happened to coincide with Spotify serving me an irresistible bop. So naturally, my walk turned into a strut, which turned into a flat-out dance.

My uphill party of one went on for the remainder of the 10-minute walk between where I was and my front door, even as passing cars sporadically sped past. With about 5 minutes left, “Still Bad” by Lizzo came on and it was almost too on the nose to bear. As my boogie-ing took off into the stratosphere, a big fancy SUV started coming up the road behind me. It slowed down as it approached a stop sign, and I saw the driver look my direction as the car pulled even with me. With a slight moment of hesitation as he continued to roll forward, he gave me a couple little horn blasts. And I don’t know exactly why, but it absolutely made my day. And I… gave him a big cheesy grin and WAVED as he drove away.

Maybe I should be more self-conscious about my physical behavior in public. But you know what? I spent my entire adult life being self-conscious everywhere, with everyone, all the time. Add to that the fact that at this time last year, trying to make it up that incline would have taken me all the way out. Now, I can dance up it, for the multipleth time that day, in the rain.

Damn right I give zero fucks what anybody thinks.

This is healing.



Plot twist: I’m doing great
I make that been-through shit look sexy anyway 
🔥

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NEW DAY 283: Big back and a side of thighs

It’s the last day of my Power 11 challenge. I’ve been consciously tracking quite a few metrics throughout the past 11 weeks to monitor my changes, but there have been some I couldn’t have predicted. Today, an unexpected moment cemented a trend I’ve been lightly observing over the past week, and I’m… still wrapping my head around it.

Earlier this week, I casually scooted my carseat when I got into the car. There was no thought involved. I got in the car, felt too far from the steering wheel, and moved the seat forward. Only once I’d started the car did it hit me how weird that was; I’m the only person who drives my vehicle, and my seat position hasn’t changed in… ever? Why would it? My height hasn’t changed, so why should an adjustment like this suddenly be necessary?

Oh. Because there’s less cushion behind me, forcing my body forward and out from the seat. The disappearance of that natural padding has required me to sit farther back in the seat, creating more distance between the wheel and the rest of my body. It makes sense… but it also makes no sense at all.

Later in the week, I took myself out for a walk through a touristy area near my office. I happened upon a t-shirt I liked and decided to buy it — but I spent several minutes debating what size to get. The XL looked huge. The L looked right. I ultimately opted for the XL, rationalizing that it’s better to have something be too big than too small, I could wear it over something else if it actually was too big, and it might shrink in the wash anyway.

Then today, my package arrived of the 2 maxi dresses I ordered as options to wear to an upcoming event. I tried them both on immediately, and just as immediately, saw that they were too big. Not just kind of too big; too big as in the elastic band under the bust on one of them wasn’t even making contact with my skin. That one is going back where it came from. (I’m keeping the other for a swimsuit cover-up.)

The kicker about those dresses is that I pored over the size chart for each one before choosing the size. The smaller size matched my latest measurements, but once again, I rationalized that most brands run small (in my experience), and I’m inept at taking my measurements, so I didn’t fully trust the numbers. I erred on the side of bigger, just to be safe.

On my walk today, I caught a glimpse of my lean-looking shadow moving with relative ease up and down the hilly terrain. It sent me onto a thought spiral of the way the skirt I wore earlier this week wasn’t clinging to my hips like it used to, the way my red pants swished instead of hugging the length of my legs the other day, and the way I can feel and see new contours in my thighs both in motion and at rest. (Seriously, all the divots and indentations and little bulges — the topography of my legs is a totally new frontier to me.)

This is all inescapable evidence that there is some serious recomp happening here. And even though I expected it, it’s messing with my head. Hell, even expecting it to mess with my head has not curbed the messing-with of my head.

It isn’t squaring for me. Does not compute. That’s why I keep catching myself hedging. I negotiate with reality in real time, just like I did in all 3 instances above where I was confronted with my physical changes.

I’ve watched myself get smaller. I’ve felt myself shrink. I’ve put in the work; it’s not like it’s a surprise, or something I didn’t very much want. Why am I resisting the evidence? Why so skeptical?

It’s a simple answer: this shit is crazy, and it can make a person feel crazy.
Just like going to the gym when I’m already exhausted —
Just like staying on the run when I’m out of breath —
Just like choosing the healthy food option over the convenient one —
This is a mental game much more than it is a physical one.

I’ve been a big back forever — since before “big back” was even a term. Someone who’s moving closer to the steering wheel, comfortably wearing size L clothing, and finding more power in her legs even as they shrink? That doesn’t sound like me.
I can see it. I can feel it. It makes sense… but it also makes no sense at all.

When I do my weekly weight check tomorrow morning, the scale may or may not reflect what I’ve been noticing since our last encounter. I don’t necessarily need it to. Either way, it will be capping off 11 weeks of a particular kind of focus. My weight loss from the past 10 weeks has actually not been that impressive, so I’m not expecting any remarkable drop to suddenly show up tomorrow morning and buck that trend. What I do think I’ll see tomorrow are some jaw-dropping side-by-side photos contrasting day 1 and day 77+1.

Regardless of what I see in the metrics or in the pictures, what I’m feeling now is a whole new level of embodiment. I struggle to articulate exactly what that means, and attempting to process it all internally is proving just as difficult. It’s hard because change is hard. But change — this kind of change — is also very, very good. Hard isn’t always bad.

I’m changing. A lot.

And I love that for me.

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NEW DAY 281: Legwork

I haven’t always been the kindest to my legs.

In addition to — and in no small part because of — the heavy load they’ve had to haul for nearly the entirety of their load-bearing lives, I’ve derided them for their too-wide-for-boots muscularity and unfeminine appearance. Disrespecting them for the appearance they took on as a direct result of the abuse I inflicted on my body, which became their burden. Classic insult to injury.

Since I’ve been losing weight and training for a half marathon, the demand on my legs has anything but lessened, even as my body mass has. The musculature is even more pronounced as my calves slim down. My knees have taken on a knobbiness they’ve never had before. There’s definition and shape developing as the muscles, tendons, and ligaments in my thighs develop and strengthen. My ankles are popping, and not in the injury-adjacent way the normally do.

My legs don’t look different, exactly; they look more unabashedly themselves.
And I’m learning to love them.

They’ve done a thankless job for decades. They may never look conventionally attractive. They may never fit into a cute autumn boot. They may never stop a speeding cab with their irresistible curvature. But they have always held me. They supported me. They carried me.
They are strong, and they are tireless.
They are perfectly mine.

Before? Hide the legs! Keep them out of others’ view! Pants year-round!
Now? Electric blue workout pants. Highlighter pink tights. Dresses. Skirts. Dare I say, SHORTS… coming soon.

This is the type of change that matters the most to me. I’m getting healthier mentally — and that’s been the entire purpose of all of this.

If I can learn to love my legs…

.

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NEW DAY 277: Spring refresh

Spring is here! Appropriately, I am springing into a new phase of this whole health revolution of mine.

I know myself well, so I have known from the beginning that I would need to keep things interesting so I could stay engaged with the process as time went on. That’s been the philosophy behind my medium-term challenges, like 75 Hard, half-marathon training, and Power 11. As the half approaches and Power 11 draws to a close (7 days left!), I’ve also reached a new level of fitness: I feel motivated to start targeting new muscle groups to keep improving my strength, and my body is physically capable of doing more.

With that in mind, I have started getting more experimental, exploratory, and expansionist with my exercise. I’ve begun incorporating core work into my cross-training. I’ve meandered new paths on my local trails, which led to the discovery that I can walk to them from my house — a total game-changer that I will be taking full advantage of now that the weather is becoming more favorable. I’ve invested in an adjustable kettlebell that will turbo charge my sessions by combining cardio and strength for a full-body workout. In the coming weeks, my gym will begin finally offering the pilates classes I signed up for back in January when they first announced them. All of this serves the important dual purposes of giving me variety so there is no physical complacency and providing novelty so there is no mental complacency. I am genuinely looking forward to getting into all these new activities!

It feels good to be this far into my Big Change and still be enthusiastic and committed to the process, which was exactly the point of planning against boredom. It’s been 9 straight months of intensity that was always hard work — even when it didn’t feel like it — because I’ve ensured there would be fun involved. The same goes for meals: I’m eating healthy food, but I’m not eating anything I don’t like. In the gym as well as in the kitchen, you don’t have to sacrifice flavor. Keep it spicy, fam. 🌶️

A week from today, all of my Power 11 results will be in. I’ve already laid out the clothes I’ll be wearing in my final progress pics that day: the same pieces I wore in my day 1 photos and have not put on again since. I’m looking forward to seeing the outcome across several metrics of what I’ve been tracking since January 11th!

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NEW DAY 274: No rest days for the weary

I’m coming off of 2 successive nights of, to put it mildly, suboptimal sleep. Taken together, I’ve netted a cumulative single night’s worth of in twice that amount of time. I’m in the middle of a (self-conducted) multi-week experiment where I’m closely monitoring the variables that may be impacting my sleep and I’m very much anticipating the results, but until then, the erratic restfulness has me dragging ass.

Today was rough, but it was a prescribed Power 11 rest day that seemed well timed to help mitigate some of the fatigue from my sleep deficit. Instead of taking it easy, though, I racked up 5 (leisurely and spread-out) miles on the treadmill work station at the office today before coming home and completing a 15-minute core workout video.

It’s not just that I want to keep up my physical activity.
It’s not just that consistency matters more on high-exhaustion, low-energy days.
It’s not just that restoration comes in many different forms, including an alternative type of movement.
It’s that this is what my body told me it needed today.

Counterintuitive? Sure.
But I spent decades ignoring my biological and physiological signals. My body is working hard for me, and it deserves better care than a return to that nonsense.

Crucially, yes: I am physically depleted. My eyelids feel like they weigh 10 pounds each, almost every part of me is sore, and I have spent the day having elaborate fantasies about my pillow. I am T.I.R.E.D.
And yet…
I am not tired of this.

Taking care of myself, noticing changes in the mirror, feeling new muscles and shapes emerging from my physique, fitting into new (old) outfits, effortlessly moving in ways that were impossible 6 months ago, nourishing myself properly, and caring enough to do things like track my behaviors so I can repair my disrupted sleep? It’s work. It takes time, focus, commitment, and thought.

And I choose it every day — thousands of times a day — because it matters. Right now, nothing matters more.

True exhaustion was being twice the size I should be and still having to participate in life like a fully functional, healthy person. This right here is a bump on the road to regulation. Healing isn’t linear. Recovery isn’t smooth. Change isn’t straightforward. This is messy.

So I know it’s working.

Rest days will fall by the wayside. Sleepless nights will strike. I can handle that; I know how to care for myself now.

But I will not go back there. I will never return to true exhaustion.