My Unsuccessful Journey

"As I told you, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable."

It's what Vizzini told Inigo Montoya in "The Princess Bride". And it's what anyone would have told you about my ability to be athletic. Until recently.

I grew up on snacks and soda. I was given well-rounded lunches and dinners. I tried and liked most common vegetables. But I never ate breakfast. My brother and I would eat a pan of oven-baked French fries, covered with American cheese, as our late night television snack. I never learned to enjoy drinking water. I rode my bike and climbed trees. Because I grew up before the internet, when not everyone had a gaming system, and when kids could still go play outside unattended, I was never an overweight child or teenager. Perhaps in today's society, with different activities and the same diet, I may have been.

My metabolism slowed during my two years of Bible college. Out of my parents house, I reveled in the new found freedom of going to McDonald's at 11pm, without having to tell anyone. I knew the coffee shop's hours, not because I drank coffee, but because I picked up my daily Diet Coke and candy bar. I sat still for hours upon hours in classes and doing homework. I didn't enjoy taking a walk unless it was to get away from my many roommates, and even then, my walk only served the purpose of finding a quieter place to sit.

I went from 140 lbs to 155 lbs during my two years of Bible college in California. I knew I should lose weight, but somehow my body manipulated those 15 lbs to still fit in my same size clothes.

Twenty years old, while picking a wedding dress, I thought that I should lose 10 lbs, but didn't care to do it. I found the perfect dress, and the tag showed a size I was still happy with. During the first year of marriage, living in Indianapolis, we ate inexpensively, with lots of frozen pizzas and dollar packages of peanut butter cookies from Wal-mart and constant Diet Cokes. I gained another 7 lbs, which required another size up in clothes.

From there, we moved back to Missouri and I gained a pretty consistent 5 lbs per year, which is the standard American female weight gain when left unchecked. Two and a half years into marriage, I was 173 lbs. I bought a calorie book and counted everything I ate. Over two months, I lost 7 lbs, down to 166 lbs just before my brother's wedding, which entailed a three week trip to California. By the time we'd eaten at every restaurant in the state, I had given up counting unknown calories. After all, it was the days before smart phones with calorie-tracking apps. Gained that back and then some.

Fast forward two years, at 5 lbs per year, and my weight was 184 lbs at my first Weight Watchers meeting, attended with my parents and sister-in-law. I lost 10 lbs. I had learned much about eating healthy, but I was not exercising at all. I also still relied heavily on food for comfort, so my weight climbed when I started sinking into my four years of infertility. (Did you catch the double meaning of my blog title? The more important definition is 'unlikely'.)

Two years later, and apparently those 5 lbs a year count from your highest weight, because now I was at 194 lbs. My new approach was to join a gym. I picked 24-Hour Fitness, which had a location close to home and near work. I'd go after work a few times a week, and while I didn't fall in love with exercising, I recognized the stress relief that it provided, both from work and from the frustration of not having the life I'd expected to have. Again, I lost 10 lbs. But this time, I was exercising without changing what I was eating. Same cycle, I kept it off for awhile, then slacked off going to the gym, and the weight crept back on.

I was only 190 lbs (up 6 lbs from most recent effort) when I had a really bad holiday season. Between Thanksgiving and New Years, I gained 15 lbs. At this point, I had the food knowledge and I had the exercise experience, but food was still my comfort through stressful and depressing times. In addition to rapidly gaining weight, I also passed out (with a crashing middle-of-the-night fall) on my in-law's bathroom floor in the middle of the night during our Christmas visit.

At my maximum weight of 205 lbs, I knew that I'd only continue to climb unless I made changes. So without recognizing it, I followed the same progression as I had in earlier years, but this time in succession. First, I counted calories to get under 200 lbs, but unfortunately, this happened at the same rate of gain, so that after a year, I was only down 5 lbs. Next, I joined Weight Watchers, this time with my husband. We revamped our style of eating, eliminating frozen pizzas from our grocery list, and spending much more of our budget on produce. I lost another chunk of weight, bringing my lowest WW number to 186.8 lbs. Finally, I added exercise by joining a higher end gym, the Jewish Community Center. My theory that nicer amenities, locker rooms and pool would inspire me to go more often proved correct. After a year and a half, I still go to "the J" on a regular basis, though I have quit Weight Watchers in order to afford personal training.

Something changed in August 2012.