One year ago today, I decided to make some big changes.
On January 22, 2017, I weighed 206 pounds. I’m embarrassed to admit that. I have never had an easy time maintaining a healthy weight, but 206 was the highest I’d ever been when I wasn’t pregnant.
I was miserable in January last year. I was coming off the worst year of my life. A brutally hard winter was keeping me largely housebound with three kids at home. I was trying to shepherd my oldest kid through his own major life changes (and not doing a terrific job, I have to admit). I was a size-16-pushing-size-18, and I knew I had a lot of outdoor events coming up during the year that would be very difficult for an out-of-shape 47-year-old if I didn’t make some changes. To top it all off, I was dealing constantly with pretty serious negative thinking–some hideous mental spirals, major parental guilt, self-talk that I would never say to my worst enemy, that sort of thing.
One year ago today, I was a terrible person to be around.