The wardrobe evolution

Don't ask me why it's taken so long to do it... I've progressively been "de-cluttering" the wardrobe and bedroom of clothing as I've progressed the last few years, particularly the last six months.

Even more so when I was given the 'challenge' to try new colours, new styles and reinvent 'Amy's style' a few months ago - which sparked an almost 'mass onslaught' sorting of my misspent clothing accumulated over the years...

Bulk of it ended up in a HUGE (and I mean HUGE) pile in front of the wardrobe - and I've progressively been selling it off bit by bit via my online clothing facebook page (here) OR ebay - whichever works to get rid of my goodies! Bit by bit they were going back out the door to new owners, and I didn't really think much more of it... There was still so much there, that the pile was STILL literally two big base drawers high and the entire width of the front of the wardrobe long...  with more in the cupboard itself, left to contend with!

Meanwhile, I've been finding new bargains and creating my basic essentials as I've gone, but with so many changes in such a short space of time (this year in particular I've dropped from about a size 20-22 down to a size 16ish) - even the "new" gear has had to walk back out the door!

So, despite my plateauing up and down within the same five kilos the past few months, I've been pushing my fitness goals through the roof - and my body (despite the skin issue) is STILL changing. My shoulders have more definition, my back has changed shape, my legs are more toned... as much as it pains me with the excess skin (of which I can do ZERO about right now) - there ARE changes happening, and physical benefits. My losses may have stagnated, but the body is still doing something.

It was the other day when I was staring myself down in the mirror during my Pump class - in my hot pink fitted singlet top - with all my wobbly-arm-bits and belly-bulges (again, of which I can't do anything) STILL hanging out there... I kind of just didn't care! I AM fit and my body is trying it's freaking hardest to keep me happy - so it's time to stop negating what I've done and give it some sodding acknowledgement!

It was time...

Let go of all those "old faithful" clothes that had been sitting there in my bedroom as my safety net. At my heaviest, I really have no clue what size I was. I didn't fit conventional clothing AT ALL - I was roughly a 32-34+ but as I carried bulk of my weight in my very round belly, there was few clothing brands that actually catered for a great big walking balloon - pants and skirts rarely fit. I was smaller in the top, so was always out of proportion to my belly. Any skirts I DID find that fit, I'd have to "wear in" just so I could wear them regularly.

I had a MASSIVE load of clothing in size 26 - after all, that was literally all I could buy "off the rack" in places like Autograph (my favourite shop!) - and the amount of money I'd spent on expensive "better fitting" clothing (let's face it, Big W, Target, Kmart - all those 26s were even smaller in sizing than these higher range brands - I had to fork out serious cash for even the basics on the branded-gear just to get it to even slightly fit!)...  Anything I could get on sale, I'd buy. Anything I really liked, I'd buy. Ofcourse, it was rare that it even fit, but I'd still buy it "in the hope I'd fit into it one day"....

And so began my obsession with buying whatever I could find, stashing it away "for one day" and hoping I'd actually get a chance to wear it! To be honest, I was so revolted in my size, I wore the same thing day in, day out. It was the only thing I was comfortable in - black tshirt, denim skirt.

People mock me now about the denim skirt - but try being 190kgs when you feel TOTALLY conspicuous and the only clothes you have that fit your very bloated body, is a stretch skirt (that you'd stretched well beyond its make) and 'black' to "hopefully" camouflage you into the background.

Every day I'd try and aim for something different to wear - but it always looked the same. Dark brown tops, denim skirts in a couple of styles... that's about as adventurous as I'd get. Nothing else fitted properly, and anything else made me feel even more huge, more "obvious", I'd get really anxious about being seen in it and just want to hide...


SO when I actually DID start losing the weight, all this mass load of clothing I'd accumulated over the years was still sitting there in the 'one day' pile. I'd flick through occasionally and find something that fit my (somewhat) smaller body, but for the first year, despite 30kgs down, I was still hiding in my old "fat clothes". It was my safe zone...

Come the start of this year, and 75 kilos down, bulk of this gear was now well and truly too big for me! Despite still fitting into 20-22s, my really big gear (the few denim skirts, the one pair of black pants) - had been put away "in hiding shame"...  They were my reminder of where I'd been, but was far too ashamed to actually pull them out and torment myself with them.

That was until the Commando Challenge - and when I went to the photoshoot thereafter in May, bearing my black pants (re-sewn multiple times just to hold them together...) - and near burst into tears the moment I pulled them out of the bag and held them up in front of me - least of all then fitting into ONE LEG!  THAT was a pivotal moment for me... but it was only the beginning.


I haven't really had the courage to venture down that road again since - there's been lots of changes and shrinkage this year, and my head has struggled to contend with it. It might be easy for some to pull out their old clothes and run around in joy that their pants are falling off, or their tshirts are falling off their shoulders (... I DO love that too incidentally...) but bulk of this is often too confronting for me to deal with rationally. I get upset... and it derails me (slightly) from staying brutally focused and having this steely resolve to keep pushing day after day. I have to limit my self-indulgent upset-edness (!!!) - "damage control" if you will?

.... until the other day. I knew I was going to get upset, but it was time...


Walking home from the gym in my hot pink singlet top, my arms hanging out, not caring if someone saw my wobbly tummy in my very fitted gym-outfit - I was on a mission! Opened the front door, threw off the shoes, hit the bedroom and started sifting through the mound of clothing on my floor.

One after the other... tops, skirts, jackets, underwear...  SO MUCH CLOTHING!!!   Bulk of it with tags still attached, or barely worn. Bulk of it in size 26.

By the time I hit the floor (hallelujah, I see the floor!), my bed was missing under a sea of 'black' (that was really my staple colour), and I'd lost half my loungeroom and sofa to all this mass load of clothes.... and I wasn't even finished!

Opening up the wardrobe, I found the next wad of stuff - cardis, jackets, blazers, pants, brand new skirts I'd hung up for 'one day'  (that had very much come and gone - somewhere along the line...)... and it started to hurt. THESE were the things I'd go and buy - NICE clothes - clothes I aspired to - things that I'd intentionally put aside!  They were embroidered skirts, and long-line jackets - gear I'd never even been BRAVE enough to wear, irrespective of not fitting into them.... and the tags were all still attached.

It HURT to realise how ashamed I truly was - it HURT to see so much waste sitting in that wardrobe. Not money (though that pained too!) - but wastage for ME. Wastage in the form of the confidence I SHOULD have had wearing these gorgeous skirts... The compliments I never received... The self-respect of a girl "I should have been" hidden in the dark of the wardrobe... The occasions I never got to wear any of these things to because I was too ashamed to be seen to ever go out...  It freaking HURT.


Off to the loungeroom I went - camera in hand.  Taking the photos and going through these things piece by piece... I winced - often - when I'd pick up one of my "old faithfuls" - there was a few of them - my poor little heart was aching.

It's one thing to hurt because of "what should have been" with the new gear I'd found....  but these were what WAS - the things I DID wear - and it was much more real and much more obvious. Tops and skirts from when I was at my heaviest - and I still remembered wearing them! It pained me to say goodbye... ridiculous as that sounds... but these were my 'camouflage' for so long, and I was saying goodbye to another chapter?!

Listing them all up on my site (here) - I had this overwhelming sense of RELIEF!  This wasn't just me trying to recoup some cost (though that was a part of the incentive to do all this - so I can put the funds back into the time I spend on everyone else, and start my surgery fund!)...  But I just wanted these things to go to ladies who needed them now - who are struggling to find nice clothes and step outside their comfort zones (like I did)...  To stand up and dress nicely and be PROUD of themselves!

... not to hide away in their over-worn black tshirts and faded denim skirts that are fraying at the seams because they literally can't bring themselves to wear anything else...


It's funny how a few key pieces can really bring it on home... As I dug down to the bottom of the pile, I found a chocolate short-sleeved top - I'd worn it ONCE.   .... given I didn't dare show my arms, it was the 'once' off top that prompted me never to do it again! ... and formed one of my most hated photos to date...  I'm pretty sure I sighed a huge sigh of disgust when I picked it up - instant flashbacks of wearing it, thinking I looked nice - only to see the photos and BAM, come crashing down... 

I threw it on the pile and walked away... but curiosity got the better of me. I couldn't help it - I needed TO SEE. Aside from the fact the top was now too big (yay!) - it just helped reinforce the changes in my physical appearance - my arms and torso in particular - that despite the saggy skin, I STILL look and feel better with those issues than I ever did before... My body IS trying it's damnedest to appease me!!

Getting past the emotions of all this - I wanted to turn this baby around! Negatives be gone - it's time to celebrate!!   ... and what better way, than to celebrate the evolution of my wardrobe with a bit of tongue-in-cheek humour (Amy style!).

The evolution of my denim skirt.... 

I did have to chuckle when I took this shot - despite having reservations to actually pull the old faithfuls out of the bag hidden under my bed...   The smaller I've shrunk, so has the size of the skirt (naturally), but it's also become noticeably SHORTER too!!  haha...  THAT makes me laugh!

I still wear these babies - my denim skirts are comfortable and I'm confident in them! These are still my 'trusty friends' and what I'm ok wearing - but as per the pic below, it's not about "hiding" anymore.  I'm STILL developing that inner-confidence to strut my stuff in whatever it is I'm wearing... denim or not!!  ... but at the moment, my denims still give me a little false-confidence when I'm often lacking.

So I shrug off the sentiments of all my denim-haters - it's one of the things that have kept me clothed for half of my life - and for THAT I am eternally grateful!!!   (... and so is everyone else, thank you very much, haha!)

SO - right now my entire loungeroom floor and sofa is covered in clothing that's listed up for sale (here) - and what doesn't sell is off to Vinnies!  I'm REJOICING in the fact that my ENTIRE existing wardrobe now starts in 1s  - not 2 and 3s!!  It's the FIRST TIME I've allowed myself the freedom to know I WILL NOT GO BACK to that sizing, and therefore BE GONE the burden of fear that I "need" to hang onto these safety blankets of mine...  I am NOT the person I used to be! 

VIVE LA REVOLUTION... err... EVOLUTION!!!

So just when I thought it was safe to let the wardrobe air out for a while... a GORGEOUS friend of mine throws me a loop!  Off on our Mount Panorama walk with my local group of 12wbters this afternoon, one of the ladies gives me two GYNORMOUS garbage bags filled to the brim with clothes!

... and they're all around my current sizing!!   I spent AN HOUR going through and trying them all on - it was like playing dress-ups!!!   Choosing what I wanted to keep, and adding things like SHORTS (I haven't worn shorts since high school!) and capri pants, short-sleeved fitted shirts and a GORGEOUS DRESS to my new wardrobe!  (... I couldn't help but self-indulgently model this one for you guys.. hahaha!)

It was like Christmas - and I can't thank Allison enough!  It was just the most beautiful ending to this little story I could have had - and I didn't see it coming (...which made it all the more lovely!)  

.... though NOW I can't find my hallway for all the clothes covering the floor...   hehehehe!

C'est la vie!


I do have to confess - that girl that used to buy straight off the rack, never try anything on, and then hide it away... SHE would be so envious of what's happening right now - and as much as I regret what's already passed (and for which there's nothing I can do now but let it go...)  - it just reinforces why I do what I do, and why it means so very much to me to choose the changes that I have.  Moments like these - despite the hurdles and heartache, and the frustrations when things aren't going the way I want them to - ARE the cherry on top, and I'm SO very grateful for them.  They keep me grounded....

The weight of it all...

When you're nearly 200 kilos, it's more than just carrying the burden of an "extra person" that weighs you down….  It's the emotional baggage that drags you further, that never seems to lift - making ordinary tasks seemingly impossible.

“Three years later”, and approaching the final phase of my mission, I get asked NOW how things ended up so out of control, how I could let myself fall into that pit, and what this change means to me… but, I’m still somewhat at a loss to explain it.  

Will I ever fit into my gold bikini again?!

Those that already know me, know that I'm a pretty jovial person - I have a great sense of humour and am a bit of a giggler - don't mind taking the mickey out of myself, and can generally go about life with a cheeky resolve...  I do that because I choose to be that person (NOW) - but let's put the jokes aside for a moment, and get real...  

In retrospect, yes, there were times when I let myself down through self-neglect, but there were also a lot of influences outside of my control that shaped me into the self-destructive person I used to be…

Chubby 4-year old me

I remember way back in primary school, when I was about 6 years old, that first push over the edge that I was ‘different’. I can’t quite remember how it came about that the kids were teasing, but I copped it – the chubby kid in the class, quiet, unassuming and didn’t fight back - I may as well have been wearing a bright red target on my back, because the teasing never did go away. It’s funny how vividly you can remember an emotion or feeling – and I remember that first feeling of embarrassment, trying not to cry because I was the brunt of the laughter - but not understanding why…  

Dear Santa, please make me skinny...

I was designated the nickname “Fat Amy” in primary school by kids who thought it was somehow incredibly hilarious to associate my weight with laughter – and the name never did go away, nor did the humiliation. The word ‘fat’ is so derogatory to me because of this - I refused to key the term in ANY context, until recently, because it stung so viciously in my ears…  

Fast forward a few years into high school, and a string of failed ‘diets’ through the back end of primary school was only leading me into even worse habits and more hatred about my body later…  High school – the breeding ground of insecurity - and I was already predestined to suffer.

Men's shirts and home-made skirts
were all that would fit...

By now I was the fattest girl in the class, extremely shy, introverted and most days, hoped I’d somehow just blend into the background and not be noticed at all. Every morning I was anxious about walking through the school gates – so much so that I couldn’t stomach breakfast (enter foul eating habits here) and suffered anxiety attacks, which I didn't understand at the time (it's more publicly understood these days). My chest would feel like it was caving in, I could barely breathe, I’d be in so much pain that I’d want to cry – if I wasn’t already wanting to cry from the sheer torture of having to go to school anyway – and I was late.  Always late. By the end of high school, it was the running joke that I was never on time for school. I don’t know what people assumed, but whatever it was, it would have been wrong…  I was a good student, did my work, kept my nose clean, never wagged or caused issues – but I was always late, and I was laughed at for it.

The ‘fat girl’ that I was, I was too embarrassed to eat my lunch during school hours, so I simply didn’t…  I couldn't bring myself to eat in public - ever - was far too ashamed, and had it in my head that people were always watching, judging, laughing... “oh there's that fat girl, she's such a pig, she never stops eating...”  - so I didn't eat. No breakfast, then no lunch meant by the time I came home from school, I was so ravenous that if it wasn’t nailed down, I’d eat it. Food at home was “family food” – and I acknowledge now that in taking what wasn’t mine deemed me as selfish – a stigma that’s carried through since.  There were threats of having the fridge and cupboards padlocked, and “stealing food” labeled me a thief - the retribution for the crime was carrying the shame of the title. I was the family embarrassment, and labeled a poor excuse of a 'role model' for my siblings.

Home-made Yr12 formal
dress, covered from neck
to floor in the middle
of summer...

I was so ashamed of my body, that I’d wear my school jumper over my uniform, even in the middle of summer in our blistering 35-40 degree heat, people repeatedly telling me to take it off before I passed out – but I’d refuse, and pretend I was fine… thank god for air conditioning! 

I avoided sports – the “fat girl” couldn’t keep up. I wasn’t agile and was far too uncoordinated, and always picked last for teams – humiliating for anyone, but always a reminder that I wasn’t worthwhile for anything. I found solace in music, and let that be the voice that I didn’t have. It became the only thing I enjoyed during school and the passion that kept me walking through those gates when I’d rather have stayed home and stayed invisible.  

By the end of my HSC and Year 12, I was well and truly head-first into the decline. I now saw myself as mute, battered and bruised, self-loathing, humiliated and lost.

Being prodded by your peers that you’re somehow a ‘misfit’ is one thing, but being told your weight would mean you’d never have friends, a job or a boyfriend (because you’re too much of an embarrassment to be seen with) is an entirely different thing. A failed statement that was probably made as an unconditional love “reverse psychology” scare tactic at the time to try and encourage weightloss and avoid all the hurt of being overweight growing up…  it still rings in my ears today. It became the measure that I’d self-judge from there on in, and ofcourse self-loathe when my weight obviously meant I wasn’t fit for any of the three categories.   

Add now friendless, lonely, unemployable and not worthy of being loved.

The photo that haunts me - could I
look any more miserable?
First year at Uni, living on my own
at the ripe old age of 17.

… then I went to Uni.  I was 17, brutally shy, had never been away from the family before and ended up nearly 7 hours from my hometown. For lack of accommodation on campus, I ended up living on my own – in hindsight, a really bad move.

By the end of my second year, I was well and truly into the downward spiral. I was a loner, too shy to interact with people at uni and living off-campus (and besides, I was too much of an embarrassment for them to want to befriend, right?!) - it was far too easy to became a hermit. 

Without a job (because I was unemployable right?!), my funds were scarce – so I was a burden on my family, didn’t have the money to socialize, no transport (and being as big as I was and humiliated in public, preferred taxis than walking to and from uni) and my groceries were dismal and poor.  My eating habits ranged from boredom through to stress eating, and everything in between. It became an ‘effort’ to go to classes, I couldn’t face being seen in public, and hid myself away behind a computer in the corner of my house instead. Again, I found solace in something that let me have a voice without needing to speak – talking behind a computer to a world that wouldn’t pre-judge me and “friends” that treated me as an equal (despite them not seeing my face) when there was noone else.

A slow, painful decline – I’d cry myself to sleep every night, breakdown at the thought of having to leave the house for a lecture, and then the “bad thoughts” started to infiltrate…

Surely if God was good and cared so much, he’d just let me go away… he’d find a way to stop me hurting so much, take the pain away.  A fatal lightening bolt perhaps?  Or maybe a bus would hit me?  What about if I just fell off the edge of a mountain somewhere, where noone would have to find my revolting body?  Anything, as long as someone else didn’t get hurt in the process…  Suicidal thoughts are one thing, but finding yourself standing at the kitchen sink with a knife in your hand is a whole other matter…  The only block between thought and action was knowing how much shame and upset I’d bring my family - I was already the family embarrassment because of my size, did I really need to cement it in history?!… so I suffered on in silence.

My 21st birthday in 2000 - my family
and neighbours were the only people
who bothered to attend...

Over the next few years, I failed subjects, repeated subjects, always under the pretence that everything was ok…   I tried. I always tried… but I knew I was failing…

Add now failure, useless, worthless, burden, selfish, cowardly and revolting.

2002 Uni grad - finally
felt like I'd achieved
something...

After uni, I managed to land a job – which proved beneficial in helping create some semblance of self-worth in a business environment, and as it turns out, was the catalyst for unearthing my passion for graphic design – I found a new ‘voice’. I didn’t know I was a designer or photographer until I was given a rare opportunity to redesign the company brochure – and the rest flowed on from there…

However, despite working and finding a sense of worth in that - over the course of the next few years, the story just repeated itself – and quite frankly, there’s actually very few memories I can recall, it’s just like one big blur, as though my memory shut itself down in self-preservation mode??  

One of the most brutal experiences in this bracket, however, was an “internet relationship” which went horribly wrong. Given my size and my assumption that I was simply too revolting for any guy to be interested in me – no surprises that it was easy to fall for the attention of an internet admirer. When you’re a girl whose been told you’re not worth being loved, and there’s a guy who treats you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread – it’s not hard to see why the blinkers were up to all the lies and deception. I’d have believed anything for just that one minute of feeling like I meant something to somebody….  except it was the beginning of something brutal...  not beautiful. 

It was one lie after another, one excuse after the other – couldn’t phone him but sms was ok; no address to send letters to but he had both my home and work contacts, etc – and I let them all slide just to feel wanted. When I questioned him, I’d be verbally abused – I’d be told he’d tried to harm himself because of my inability to trust him – repeatedly – a bullet, an overdose, slashed wrists, drunken abuse, you name it….

As someone who struggled with suicidal thoughts myself, I felt instantaneous remorse for inflicting that on someone else – I’d blame myself for his cruel actions – the guilt would break my heart and make me beg for forgiveness.  It was a foul cycle that lasted 18 months – with all the hurt, pain and emotional baggage that goes with a “real” abusive relationship, and not one speck of reality to it.

During the middle of all this, my Nana died – the only person I believed loved me “just as I was” was taken away from me. When the family traveled down for the funeral, all I wanted was a hug from my ‘guy’, but instead was told that in trying to get to me, he’d been physically beaten by his father for taking his car, and hospitalized instead, and that it was my fault…   It wasn’t enough that I was grieving for the loss of my Nana, but now I was shattered guilty that I’d caused that too…

Add now cruel, intolerable, harmful and evil.   

Cycling on, it was when he “cheated” on me and ended up getting the girl pregnant, then not allowing me to be part of their life… and me questioning the validity of any of it at the baby's birth (yes, I'd waited through that too) – and then being told he’d shot himself at the thought of me leaving him when the baby was born, and I wasn’t to make contact anymore because *I'd* caused too many problems…   NOW it was time to call it quits. Enough…

He didn’t exist, never met him and yet I bear the brunt of his cruelty every day – the scars on my body and mind are a constant reminder of the useless patch of my history that I’ll always regret.  It hurt less to carve into my skin than the pain that was shattering my heart inside….    I let someone abuse my trust, all because of my inability to love myself – trying to seek some semblance of self-worth in a source that wasn’t even real.  The scars on my body became the reminder that I wasn’t worth loving “in the real”, that my body was revolting and unwanted, and the heart within didn’t deserve anything but this pain...   I was obviously not worth loving - I wasn't worth reality - and I clearly wasn't worth the truth. 

Add now rejected, remorseful, ashamed, heart broken, damaged and exhausted.

Christmas 2005 - had I really
become this person?

One of my defining moments was the night before my 26^th birthday. I’d simply had enough…  I’d put my emotions and my body through enough torture, and I wanted out.  If not out, then I needed to shut up, step up and get over it…  They were my only options.  Finish it, or finish it.

It broke my heart, the prospect of upsetting my family because of my selfishness in suicide – and is probably the only reason why I didn’t go through with it that night.  I had a birthday party with my ‘friends’ (some work colleagues, who I gratefully acknowledge made the effort to celebrate with me) – that was my final fan-fare. Ofcourse, they didn’t know it at the time, and luckily, it wasn’t the end of the story….I cried myself to sleep and woke up the next day.

I chose to “live”…  but I barely made it through day by day. It’s all I could handle, one day at a time. In my mind, I had no future - I had no thoughts of weddings or babies, lovers or career progression, no holidays or celebrations…  nothing.  No week ahead, least of all a year or decade ahead!  I was simply walking and breathing.  Still here, because I simply couldn’t go through with the alternative.. but not living.  Every day was just another day with nothing and noone in it…

Well before I'd
hit my largest -
but well and truly
on my way there..

So I guess that's when I started to really unconsciously eat my way into the grave…  Didn’t care what I put in my mouth – was addicted to fast food (easy, cheap and nasty and VERY addictive) – and my laziness reigned supreme.   In hindsight, I guess that was my way of doing what I couldn’t do by my own hand – an easy out, an easy excuse…  and on went the kilos. One after the other after the other…on top of my, already, huge body...

Add now enormous, lazy, glutonous, detached and spiraling.

Skip ahead to 2008 – the day I truly decided to live.

Enough was enough. I’d had enough. I was enormous – my body was NOT something I could live in.  I was repulsed by my own skin, wouldn’t let anyone touch me for fear of repulsing them equally as much. I literally had it in my head that touching my skin made people physically ill, so would baulk if anyone ever tried to hug me, or even at the smallest gesture of a hand on my shoulder... I very much regret this now - basic human contact is a necessity and something I'm still trying to overcome. 

I was ashamed of everything – the shame written all over my fat face. The constant ache of craving all the beautiful things that I was so enviously watching everyone else experience was too much… I had no self-respect, was consumed with self-loathing, couldn’t breathe for the hatred and envy, and so gutt-wrenchingly broken and desperate for ANYTHING that would free me from this hell I’d put myself in. Anything…

I hear people talk about their “lightbulb” moment often on the weightloss forums, and always ponder the thought…  I didn’t think I had any lightbulbs go off at the time – all I had was sheer repulsion for what I’d made myself into… (but perhaps that WAS the lightbulb talking?!).

I didn’t know it at the time, but the choice I made in starting my new ‘lifestyle’ was “THE MOMENT” that would shape the rest of my life…  My sheer terror in a future fueled by hate and a broken heart was enough momentum to force the changes, but I would have put money down that I’d have failed within the first few days, and I never once believed I actually deserved it…   and I still question myself NOW whether I’m capable of pulling this off (old habits die hard!!).

Starting at nearly 200 kilos (my first official weigh-in was 188, but that was after I’d already started, and had to wait to find scales that weighed high enough accurately)…  It was the most daunting task imaginable.  Completely overwhelming… I would sit and cry tears of sheer terror and pain at the prospect of trying to piece my worthless life back together.

How do you slim down an elephant?!   ............. One freaking day at a time, that’s how!

There’s so many other aspects to my story that I haven’t even touched on here – things that I’ll probably ponder on “later” in other blogs, or as I recount different experiences parallel to new ones along the way.

I don’t put this out there to pull sympathy cards – but more for empathetic appeal to those who may be going through something similar.  I UNDERSTAND the hurt and stigma that comes with being as large as I used to be.  It’s taken me three years to drop down in size, yes, but it’s taken me those same three years to rebuild myself from the inside out, too.  I don’t propose that I’m “rebuilt” just yet – I still have a long way to go both on the mission and on the healing… but I’m still going, and I don’t plan on undoing all this hard work!

Add now: strong, driven, motivated, positive, resourceful, sympathetic, empathetic, excited - and the big ones…   I have hope and WANT for the future!   

It hurts that I’ve lost the last ten years through all this… I lament losing my 20s buried in so much crap, when others seem to have been off on adventures, learning curves and established their lives (oh how envious I am of them!)...  but I believe that I’m a better person for it NOW than I ever would have been without it.  I question my ability to see this mammoth mission through – but there’s definitely no signs of giving up anytime soon – and my will for a future dictates that I’m not allowed to! 

What is done is done and we can only learn from our mistakes. They shape us into who we are, and if we let them, help us rebuild into something even better and more sympathetic to those who are blind to their own life-lessons…  

So, I guess the next time someone asks me how I let myself get to that state, and just what it means to me now to have changed it, I guess they’re in for a really long novel-style read…!!   It was never as easy as “oh I just stuffed my face and sat on my arse all day…” – which is what the ignorant would have us believe!

Nov 2010

Writing this has been a cathartic experience in releasing the haunts that I’ve spent so long hiding behind (because they’re predictable)…  I’m giving myself permission to embrace the person I’ve become and learn that I actually DO deserve all the beautiful things that life has to offer too – whatever and whenever they decide to appear in my future.... and if nothing else, the photos of me NOW show a different person on the inside than the ones from before. The smiles are actually real now, because the heart's smiling too, and I need to acknowledge that change, in the very least!

Seriousness aside, I reckon that the final ten kilos of my mission will undoubtedly be ten kilos of emotional baggage that I’ve been carrying around with me my entire life!  Try to shove that on an airplane and I'd be done for 'excess baggage' - SO, it's time to release it!!    Get rid of the unnecessary baggage, find my wings and fly! 

Right.  Pity-party over.  Back to work, these kilos won’t lose themselves…. !!!

Aim to Change

So despite being the private girl that I am, I've decided that I actually DO have alot to say - albeit straight from the fingertips to the screen - and have initiated this Blog to keep me in check for the year ahead!

Starting weight:
188kgs Jan 2008

I've been on the mission of my life... literally.  Sitting at nearly 190kgs at my absolute heaviest just three years ago (Jan 2008) with no will to live or self-respect left, I somehow found it in me to give it one more shot to change - to find something (anything) that would break the downward spiral I seemed destined for, and let me breathe again... 

So much has changed in the three years following that sometimes I forget that it's ME whose taken back the control and changed the direction of my future entirely.  

It's not enough to go about my challenges on a day to day basis anymore (which it very much used to be - all I could do was one day at a time, one foot in front of the other) - now it's time to self-acknowledge what it is I've done, and gear myself up for the final phase of the mission - and all the crazy changes that lie thereafter! 

I started off the year with a 'recap' (below) that I posted on the weightloss forums that I'm part of (the tool that's supported me the way through this mission of mine) - to help me focus on my next set of goals, and somehow push it into my head just what I've overcome in a year (the previous two years were equally as powerful) - and in the process, it's given me the courage to bring this a little more public - as I've always been too ashamed to talk about my weight issues so 'publicly' outside of a dedicated (and safe) weightloss arena - and dispel some of the fear I've held onto for far too long. In doing that, it helps me continue to forge ahead, but may also give someone else the courage to face their own weightloss and life demons (which are still raw in my own head).

So, welcome to Aim to Change!  Here's to yet another amazing year of changes, and all the benefits and possibilities that lie beyond!  No hiding anymore... let's see what the universe has in store for me this year!!

-- Amy   xx   :)

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Reflecting on 2010...

2010 has been a really trying year for me, but I thought I’d note down a bit of a ‘recap’ for myself, so I could acknowledge the things I HAVE achieved throughout it - then realised it was actually quite a victorious year after all!

There's lots of us out there that forget what we've done over the course of the year, or what obstacles we've actually overcome... sometimes taking a moment to reflect and acknowledge can actually be the catalyst for more motivation!  It's certainly reignited my drive to make this coming year equally as productive - so thought I'd share it with you, for those that need a bit of insight into their own!

Jan 2011 - 77 kilos lighter!

In total, off came another 22.1 kilos, bringing me to a closing total of 77kilos lost over the last three years, equalling 40% of my original bodyweight GONE!  NEVER thought in my wildest dreams I’d ever be able to report having lost the weight of the average female!!

I’m also celebrating 156 weeks of NO junky fast food takeaway at the close of my third year, and something I’m not at all interested in breaking anytime soon!   Even with the lack of structure with my last few weeks in Sydney with dad in hospital, and the takeaways being an ‘easy option’, I’d still find something more beneficial than a hit of Maccas or a side of KFC…!  

2010 has also been a really big year of change for me.  It’s taken a LONG time for me to be comfortable in my own skin, enough to brave ‘public’ exercise – but 2010 proved to be a big year for pushing those boundaries even further.  Walking in public in a singlet top – baring my arms to the world for the first time since I was a kid – HUGE moment of transition!  That’s now just part and parcel of my routine – singlet top exercise wear – and just last week, I bought a stack of new bright pink and blue ones in a size 16!!   (never did colour before neither… always black – the “hiding colour”). My normal clothes are now a size 16 top (with colour!) and a size 18-20 skirt (though, I'm finding that too big now too...!).  Yes, the body is out of proportion, but I couldn't care less - I'm still transitioning!!


2010 I discovered ZUMBA – where I bounce and jiggle and carry on with all the other crazy flailing arms and legs – and I’m totally hooked! NEVER been brave enough for a group class before in my life – always far too ashamed of my size – but it’s become such a joy to do, I’m kicking myself I didn’t do it sooner!!

I’ve also started running in public – RUNNING!  Well, it’s probably more of a slow paced waddly jog at the moment, but it’s something I’m working on!  The knees and I have come to an understanding that I’ll be doing these things irrespective of whether they like it or not, so if they play nice, I play nice too!!   Here’s to picking up the pace and going harder, faster and stronger in the near future!

This year also gave me a huge jolt to the health of my system – literally.  I went through a ‘toxic’ phase – which my naturopath put down to my extensive weight loss and the burden of toxins released from the fat cells.  (*may or may not be super accurate, so don’t take it as gospel or medicated advice!!).  My body was suffering major fatigue, dramatic hair loss, crazy dizzy spells and just an overall feeling of decline…    The hairloss and my increasing vanity sparked action on this one – and after working closely with my Naturopath, worked at overcoming these yucky health issues over the course of a few weeks.   Then I hit ANOTHER dreaded plateau….   (the third in three years)

Ugh.

I don’t have it documented, but all up I think I lost about 5 months from when my weird health issues started right through to about mid November when I seemed to have broken the up and down yo-yo of Plateau-land.  The final 3 months of that, I’d worked really hard with my Naturopath on all manner of things to break the bloody thing – but my plateau was proving to be as stubborn as me!!!!   Eventually had a breakthrough and a few consistent losses thereafter, and was really pleased to see my body and I were back on the same page again!

THEN December hit – and it was off to Sydney with my dad for his neurosurgery  (another hospital stint this year, has been a huge 12 months for him and a lot of stress for us…)  - and all the rigid structure of my previous few months of plateau-busting went right out the window….   I thought all my healthy eating and dedicated fitness routines might as well have counted for nothing - but ohhhh how wrong I was!!!   That structure has kept me pretty much on par - despite the blowouts over Christmas and not having access to better food choices all the time - opting for sporadic innovative exercise sessions when I could (like taking the stairs at the hospital, doing laps of the oval nearby, utilising the kids playground at the nearby school!)...  the small gain I clocked in this morning has got NOTHING on a month's worth of crazy - and I gratefully acknowledge my awesome established behaviours for that!!!

HOWEVER, the story doesn’t totally unravel at the end…!!! 

Look at me paddling!!

 A couple of weeks ago, in the thick of my hospital stay with dad, a gorgeous friend of mine whisked me off on the adventure of my life – an unexpected trip to Port Stephens for a few days before Christmas.   Broke through A LOT of my demons this few days – produced a whirlwind of changes for me!

Can she snorkel? Yes she can!!

 I went for a massive beach walk, kayaking, tobogganing, snorkelling and swimming in the ocean  - all these amazing PHYSICAL things I’d have NEVER done in my life ‘before’ my weightloss…  and all took me very much by surprise that I was capable of doing them!   (once I got over the initial fear..!!)

Added to that was the attention from this male friend of mine (who seemed to have no issue with my size or my warped body!) – which was a total shock to the system and totally unexpected…  and I seem to have walked away from this a totally different person.   Maybe living in this body isn't such a bad thing after all?!!! 

Was one of the most profound moments of my life – a huge transition year that was capped off with things that showed me I AM capable and deserving of all these awesome changes – and by god, I LOVE LOVE LOVE this person that I’m growing (yet shrinking) into!

SO having noted down all these amazing changes in 2010 – I’m starting 2011 in a VERY good mindset, ready to tackle the final phases of my mission.

Aiming for a solid 15 kilos loss by mid this year – and then I’m heading into the final chapter thereafter…   Looking at upping all my activities, joining a gym/getting a PT to really rev it up - and getting brutal on the food front.  I've always been pretty flexy with this whole thing - but this year, it's time to unleash the beast..!   Scary prospect, but I’ve overcome all my other hurdles this far, I’m armed and dangerous for whatever wants to get in my way now!  

Bring it on 2011 – I dare you!!!
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Before and current progress shots - just so you can see what it is I've been doing for the past three years!!