Bronze Goddess

It's no secret that I have very fair skin. When I was in high school, I hated when people commented about my fair complexion. I desperately wished I had that year-round tan that most of the girls in my grade had. Since my family didn't have very much money growing up, we never had the typical "spring break trip to Florida" like everyone else did. So, the spring break of my 8th grade year, I went to my first tanning salon. I was determined to finally have that ever desired bronze glow. From that day on, tanning became a regular thing for me. I went tanning at least 2-3 times per week up until I was 22. The risk of skin cancer never really crossed my mind, even though every magazine I read had some article bashing anyone who didn't wear SPF 50 every single day. Ironically enough, I have had an extreme fear that tanning may eventually cause wrinkles. For years, buying the latest wrinkle-reducing serum has been a top priority on my shopping list. In the last 7 years, I have religiously applied wrinkle cream and eye cream nightly. I'm not sure if I hoped that obsessively applying these products to my skin would off-set the risk of wrinkles or if it just became habit.

After my 22nd birthday, I started to feel guilty while tanning. It seems crazy that being tan is something that I would feel guilty about, but maybe those magazines finally got to me after all the years of reading about skin cancer. I remember going tanning and saying "this is the last time I'll go," but eventually, I would give in and go again after a couple months. Then, I started thinking about all the extremely tan girls I've known growing up. And, then... I looked at pictures of their moms. All of their moms have skin that literally reminds me of leather. With that being said, it's been a year and a half since I've visited a tanning salon. I also made a vow to wear sunscreen every time I leave the house. When I go to the pool, I'm covered head to toe in SPF 50 and my pale skins blinds half of the pool patrons. As hard as it is, I have to remind myself that being really tan now would do absolutely nothing for me in 20 years when my chest is covered in dark brown sun spots and my skin resembles the latest chocolate brown Coach purse.


Me and my pasty pale skin :)

a pretty face

When I was little, people used to tell me all the time "you have such a pretty face." I guess they were trying to tactfully say "you would be MUCH prettier if you lost weight." I was always overweight growing up. My parents never really taught us about good nutrition or healthy eating. My mom was swamped with 5 kids and a full-time daycare and my dad was never around. Regardless, I grew up overweight and didn't have the slightest idea what to do about it. In 8th grade, I tried my first diet pill. I saw an article in a magazine that claimed 'significant weight loss results,' so I gathered up my detasseling money and ran to Walgreen's to buy the magic pill. Naturally, it didn't work.

When I was 13, I remember babysitting for a little boy, Ian. I hated babysitting for this family because they always had such good food around and I could never stop eating when I went there. I remember having "binge" sessions where I would eat so much and feel absolutely awful after doing it. One night, Ian had a fever and I was rummaging through the medicine cabinet to find his Tylenol. While doing this, I came across a bottle of "Syrup of Ipecac." I had no idea what this was, but I started reading about it and it said it would make you throw up 20 minutes later. It was a medicine given to people who had been poisoned by something to make them throw up the substance. I was scared to take it, but I felt so guilty about what I ate that I wanted to get rid of the food as soon as possible. I took the medicine and started vomiting shortly thereafter. That's how it all started. Bulimia.

At first, I just took the Syrup of Ipecac to throw up after I would eat, because I didn't know how to make myself. I started off doing it once a week or so, because after taking the medicine, it was horrible waiting to finally puke. I remember sitting there as spit gathers in your mouth, waiting for the medicine to finally relieve me of the food. I got so tired of waiting that I tried sticking my fingers down my throat. At first, all I did was gag. But after time, I was able to do it so easily. It became such an addiction. I remember driving to Dairy Queen one time and ordering a large mint Oreo blizzard. I sat in the parking lot and ate it with guilt, but knew I would throw it up as soon as I got home. When I got home, I specifically remember eating 6 bowls of Captain Crunch, 2 donuts, and a few other snacks. I felt disgusting. I ran upstairs and puked 5 times. At this point, nobody knew my deep secret. I eventually told my boyfriend at the time, Mike. He loved me, but didn't know how to help me. I told him that no matter what, he couldn't stop me so he might as well just accept it. One morning, I remember talking to him on the phone and asking him to hold on so I could puke. He heard the whole thing. I knew it was tearing us apart, but I couldn't stop. Eventually, my bulimia did drive us apart and things got even worse. I always had a sore throat from the stomach acid, I was absent 42 days of school my senior year, and I was depressed beyond explanation. My mom did eventually find out and begged me day after day to seek help. I went to an eating disorder clinic in Peoria, and saw two counselors here, but I still couldn't stop. I felt so misunderstood. I didn't believe anyone could help me. My mom was an emotional mess during this time. She pleaded with me and cried for hours to stop and try to get better. The day I finally realized I needed to change was the day I thought she gave up on me. I threw up in the bath tub and instead of her usual crying and pleading, she simply said "If you're going to throw up in my house, clean it up." This tore me apart. The one person who I thought would never stop trying to help me, had given up. That day, I vowed to change.

Ironically, I actually gained weight during my years of bulimia. Little did I know that no matter how much you throw up, your body still absorbs some of the calories you consumed. I'm sure I was eating thousands of calories during the binges. I started Weight Watchers soon after and learned about healthy eating habits and exercise. It was a long process, but eventually I lost 40 pounds. I did have a few times where I relapsed and threw up after a fattening meal, but I'm proud to say it's been almost 3 years since I've binged and purged. I've been able to maintain the weight loss, until I got pregnant. I gained a little less than 40 pounds during pregnancy and have been back on Weight Watchers since 4 weeks after she was born. I'm down 26 pounds and have 13 pounds to go to reach my pre-pregnancy goal weight. I will be posting pictures and updates as I continue on this long journey :). Below are a few pictures I thought I'd share. The first two pictures are before I started Weight Watchers and after I lost 40 pounds.







This next photo is my progress so far after having Emma. The first picture was taken 2 weeks postpartum, the next 4 weeks, 6 weeks, and 9 weeks. It's been a hard journey, but I know I will get back to my goal weight and all this hard work will be so worth it!