i don’t remember the first time I actually stepped on a scale. I do remember being a chunky kid. My little brother could eat enough to feed an army and he was always skinny. He would harass me the way that little brothers do and had a whole arsenal of fat names to hurl at me at a moment’s notice. I would do my best of fulfilling my sibling duties and making fun of his shortcomings, but I could not ever really hurt his feelings enough to match how bad the fat jokes broke my heart.
My parents divorced when I was young, and we spent time with our Dad during the summer. One summer we were at the lake, and we had a covered tube used for pulling behind the boat. We were taking turns trying to stand on it like a surfboard and see who could stand the longest. I remember it was my turn and as soon as I proudly stood up on top of the tube, my Dad yelled out, ‘Be careful Tamara, you might sink it!’ I jumped off the tube, and never spent another summer with my Dad.
In Jr. High and High School I started playing sports and even though I was not ever skinny, I was able to transform my pleasantly plump body into a more athletic one. I went to college and quickly discovered how lucky I was that my grandma had cooked dinner for us every night. Without her there, I fed myself on typical college freshman cuisine of fast food and take out.
Papaw was my biggest fan, and also the most honest critic I have ever had. He would always shoot me straight and tell me the things that I did not always want to hear. One weekend when I came home, I walked through the door and he said, ‘Good Lord Tam, if you’re not careful you’re going to be big as a house! Do they not serve healthy food in the cafeteria?’ I told him yes, and sometimes I even ate it. He handed me an apple and said, ‘ Well maybe you should start eating it more and stop eating so much crap.’ I had gained the dreaded Freshman 15.
Fast forward nine years to when I had my first child. I was a non-traditional college student in my last semester of college. I was taking 18 hours, did a yoga class, taught fitness walking, and did 30 hours a week of professional development in a P.E. class. I gained 25 pounds with that pregnancy and it took me almost a year to lose it all.
Two years later I got pregnant with my son. I was then working full-time, with a toddler at home, and I was just tired. I gained a whopping 75 pounds with him. My man child. I had a c-section, and I was not prepared for the physical toll that it would take on me. It took months for me to be able to walk around the block, and that hurt so bad. Simple core exercises hurt like giving birth. I had not ever been so physically weak in my life.
The hardest part of my weight battle is that I love food. I love to buy it, cook it, and eat it. I love to eat when I am happy, sad, mad, tired, bored- you name it. I have always wished I could be one of those people who food does not appeal to when they are stressed out. I am totally opposite. Food comforts me, and if I am stressed, I am in search of chocolate. And a lot of it.
This last year I have lost 41 pounds. I am down 80 pounds since the day I delivered B a year and a half ago. I get stopped by women pretty often that say, ‘Wow! You look great! How did you do it?’ I am always surprised at their reaction to my response. I always say some version of the same thing- I work my ass off and try to watch what I put in my mouth. They usually can’t hide the look of disappointment. It is like they want me to say that I took a magic pill or I drink a special drink and the weight just falls off. No, those things do not exist. It takes hard work. HARD work. After we get the kids to bed, I am in the garage logging miles on the treadmill and doing strength training. I fight my cravings every day and try to eat more protein and vegetables and less chocolate and cookies. I drink water instead of wine. I try to put in 6 days of work outs every week. I set goals and try to stay motivated on the days I want to quit. It takes dedication, sacrifice, patience, and time.
My husband found a website http://www.dietbetter.com where you make a bet to lose a certain percentage of your weight in a certain amount of time. I signed up a few days after Papaw passed away because I knew I would need some extra motivation to stay on track. Money is a great motivation for me. A few weeks ago I had my monthly weigh in, and I weighed in at the weight I was after gaining my Freshman 15 fourteen years ago. It was one of those times that really made me stop and appreciate my journey. I thought about how devastated I had been years ago when Papaw called me out on my weight gain, and how good it felt all these years later to be back at that weight. I went from barely being able to walk and sit up, to running and lifting weights. I feel strong and healthier than I have probably ever in my adult life. The difference is the amount of work that I have put in to get to this point. Anything worth having is worth the work. I have goals that I am working toward, but I am proud of my journey, and I know he would be too.
I am not short on motivation. I do it for myself, to feel better in my own body. I do it because there are things I want to do while am I still physically capable of doing them. I don’t want to look back on my life and wish I would have done certain things like run a 5K or compete in an obstacle race like my husband always wanted me to do with him. I thought about when I was single, and I wanted to look good. When I was dating, I would want to lose weight to be more attractive. I realized that a lot of times after we get married, we get comfortable and that drive stops. I don’t agree with that. I think that I should want to look and feel my best more for my husband than I did for the guys I was just dating. My husband has loved me at all sizes and fitness levels, and he deserves the best version of me.
One of my biggest sources of motivation is my children. The ‘F word’ (fat) is not allowed in our house. I do not tell my daughter that I am trying to ‘lose weight’. I tell her I am exercising so that I can be healthy. As parents, I believe one of the greatest gifts we can give our children is to live our lives as an example of what it means to be healthy. To instill in them self-confidence, and teach them that their body image and self-worth is so much more than a number on a scale. I want to be here with them as long as I can. I only have a limited amount of time to build them up before they head out into this self-conscious world and insecure people try to tear them down. I will make the most of this time. I will take peace in knowing when that time comes, that I did everything I could to encourage them to be the best version of themselves.
Encourage someone. Love someone. #livethelifeheinspired
The Life Inspired 