The 20 Pound Difference

For someone who doesn’t weigh myself often, I sure bring up those numbers a lot. I’ve had more doctor appointments than I can count related to this whole TTC business, so I’m acutely aware of my weight and fluctuations right now. And I think as much as I try to heal fully from my disordered past with body image and eating, there will always be an element of trouble there. That’s not some admission of weakness, it’s just truth -- and it’s one that a lot of people experience. I’ve accepted that it's how I deal with my feelings and thoughts related to this issue that's the important difference.

I’ve been sitting at 140 pounds for a while now -- seven months. I had been around 130 in the summer and for a few years after having Ada. Closer to 120-125 before getting pregnant. So, in the last four years, I’ve actually gained 20 pounds overall. Two zero. Weight is just a number, after all, but it is still hard for me to see the scale continue to climb.

At 120, I was definitely thin. Not overly so, like when I was down well below 110 in my worst days of my disorder, but I was definitely working at it . . . hard. I’d eat “clean” one hundred percent of the time. I’d run, do yoga, spinning, walk during work breaks, and basically move my body all day long. My metabolism was young and spritely. I had lots of time on my hands. I had a lot of motivation to work out. Racing was my favorite pastime, and I look back on how I was constantly running (literally and figuratively) and feel absolutely exhausted. Irony? I still never felt great about my body.

I had trouble adjusting to my “new normal” of 130 pounds simply because it was this invisible threshold I had crossed in my head. I remember thinking to myself in my early stages of healing that “as long as I stayed below 130,” I’d be OK with myself -- how awful! In other words, I was healed from the physical damage I did to my body in my teens and early 20s -- the binging, the purging, the skipping meals -- but the psychological was still catching up.


I also had trouble because most of my friends (real life and otherwise) seemed to return to their before-baby weights after not terribly long and without herculean effort. Breastfeeding did wonders for many of my friends and family, and I think it made me retain weight. I PRed at races and was eating better than ever, so it didn’t matter. I stuck with it for 17 months and wouldn’t change a thing.

After a while, I gave up the mission of getting myself “back” and was able to accept love my new mama body. I actually did reach this milestone, and it was an amazing accomplishment for me.

Then the TTC struggles began.


It wasn’t bad the first several months of trying, but after the chemical in September and then weird symptoms ever since, I decided to drastically cut back on working out. Honestly? I also felt quite paralyzed and borderline depressed about my new health problems, which is no secret to anyone including myself. The weight came on rather quickly like I hadn’t experienced before. My pants got tighter, and I even exchanged most for the next size up. But overall? There’s not some gigantic difference in how I look or feel.

It’s just that stupid number on the scale . . .

I’ve come to the conclusion that we all go through stuff in life ranging from major to minor. My last year (more like two) has been one for the record books. And our bodies go along for the ride. They’re often a symptom of what we’re experiencing. All I can do is be good to myself at whatever size I’m sporting on any given day. I’m exercising consistently and eating good foods, and my goal right now has nothing to do with shrinking back into a size 4 or shaving minutes off my half marathon PR. I’ll continue to treat my body -- whatever its size -- the right way. I’ll continue to keep my internal chatter positive and encouraging. It’s the best I can do.

Twenty pounds is nothing stacked up against the weight of all the difficult stuff I’ve made it through these last few years. And I know my size and my perception will continue to change and evolve as the years go on and on. It’s keeping my mind running smoothly and feeding and honoring my body that’s important.

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Why I Finally Ditched the Scale

You guys have been telling me for years to stop nitpicking my weight. In theory, I wanted to -- really, I did. I'd go 3-6 months at a time without stepping on a scale. Then, I hop on and get frustrated with the number I saw. It's no wonder I felt this way, especially given my history with an eating disorder. As I look back at posts I've written in the past, I can definitely see where I've defended the many "reasons" why I wanted to keep track of my weight. And some still make sense to me.

Still, it's been over 6 years since I've eliminated or restricted foods as part of my disorder. If I've learned anything from healing, it's that it's a gradual process . . . not a clearcut end. For me, the scale continued to taunt me week after week. Though I wanted nothing to do with being High School Skinny, I'll admit that for a long time I felt great at certain numbers and not-so good at others.

I think about this now especially as I approach the possibility of another pregnancy. I was at a very lean "happy weight" before getting pregnant with Ada. I look back and see how coming off marathon training, eating extremely clean foods on a predictable schedule, and having most of my free time to myself to exercise and otherwise move. It was all totally in my favor.

As a now 30-something, my metabolism has certainly changed -- noticeably, but so has my desire to spend all my free time on my body. I still look (and weigh, at least as of my last physical) pretty much how I did at 6 months postpartum. Over time, the not-getting-back has bothered me less and less. I look back at my quest to return to pre-pregnancy size and cringe. I look and feel totally fine at my current size and shape!

Instead, I like being the Ashley who can easily run 10 miles on a Monday night, not because I'm training for anything, but -- just because. I love being the Ashley who can get equally an amazing endorphin feel from simply walking an hour the next day. The kind of Ashley who can bake a batch of cookies and not count the calories or care if they have some sugar or fat in them. The Ashley who no longer labels food as "good" or "bad" or whatever else. And, yeah. I like being the Ashley who can go about my day without having it influenced by a silly number, whether the scale or size in my jeans.

It took me a REALLY long time to get to this point.

And this isn't to say I don't still have my moments. I have a closet full of clothes that are just a bit too small for me. I'm finally getting rid of them versus holding on hoping I'll someday return to my previous sizes. Lose those last 10 pounds that never stayed off my frame. It does occasionally bug me when I think about how all my healthy living isn't working quite the way it used to. At the same time, it most definitely IS working! I'm capable of so much and continue to smash PRs and keep active.

I just wanted to share because I have reached this new milestone in my healing process, and I'm excited about it. I didn't know if I'd ever get to this point. Yet, here I am!

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Postpartum Body Update

It's been over a year since I last updated you all about my postpartum fitness and weight. Partially I feel it's just not relevant to speak about my body in terms of "postpartum" anymore -- Ada's nearly two years old and I've moved on with my life. And -- also partially -- I was frustrated with being stalled at 5 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight no matter how much I was training or eating well.

I know 5 pounds isn't much. Still, I just didn't want to talk about it + generally had accepted the extra weight as new normal. My clothes fit a bit tighter, but athletically, I was still performing well. It sounds trite, but my body image did improve after pregnancy, not necessarily by conscious effort or personal growth. Perhaps by necessity, if that makes any sense.

I have decided to write on this topic again because I've received lots of emails and comments related to "getting back" or the before-baby body. How long it takes. What I did to slim down. What works when nothing else seems to, etc. I usually reply with a response about how I'm not back to normal. That each woman is different, each situation after pregnancy is different, and there's really no magic answer, unfortunately.

I still stand by these words, but in the interest of hope, I'd like to share with you that it took a long 23 months after giving birth -- and 6 months after weaning Ada -- to return to my pre-pregnancy weight. My stretched stomach is finally getting flat, the skin getting tighter again. And the magic solution ended up being TIME.

I never did any hardcore dieting or supremely healthy eating to get back to my weight. I didn't cut out entire food groups with the hope of sliding the scale in my favor. Yes, I trained for half marathons, but didn't do any more exercising than my body was used to before, during, or after pregnancy. In fact, as I read through my posts over the last several years, I'm struck with how lax I've become about fitness these days. Or, maybe to state in better words, how better balanced I've become at incorporating activity into my daily routine.

Balance is a good thing.

I read my pregnancy running posts now and feel a bit shaky about how intensely focused -- hell-bent -- I was on getting in those miles despite morning sickness or exhaustion or whatever else I was feeling at the time. I ran more then than I do now, and I'm pretty sure it's because I was trying to prove a lot to myself and to others. While I'm hoping to gain more discipline as I look to new running goals, at the same time -- I'm racing faster than ever, so something seems to be working if I'm focusing solely on performance.

Sure it's absolutely annoying when it seems like all other women are shrinking back to normal with little effort. Sure it seems sometimes that the breastfeeding + weight loss thing is just a cruel joke or reserved for a privileged few. Sure dieting and lots of exercise might get you back into your jeans faster. But as hard as it is to accept in this culture of constant comparison -- it's really is true: Each woman's body responds differently to the hormones and other jazz associated with pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, etc.


Time was all that worked for me, along with eating like I always have and exercising moderately and then more intensely at times. Weaning did seem to help. And now that I'm back to "normal" I'm already beginning to think about number 2, so the cycle will continue. At least now I know what to expect and can stop being so hard on myself.

But you, too, should give yourself a break, which I know is easier said than done.

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Lumpy Bumps

Hi! My name is Ashley. But you already know that.

I run 30 miles a week most weeks and consider myself a relatively active person in general.
You probably know that, too.

In the past decade, my weight has fluctuated between 117 pounds and 132. (The former eating mostly Lean Cuisines and 100 calorie Oreo packs and the latter, which is where I'm at currently, with more muscle, but also some sugar binges that need taming.)

I've lifted weights.
I've not lifted weights.
I've done yoga, cycled, and swam.
I've guzzled water and eaten clean foods.
I've taken time off + indulged my cravings.

And no matter what size or activity level I'm at . . . or fancy + expensive creams I use, I've had cellulite and stretch marks on my thighs since high school. I've now accepted that it's just a feature of my body that -- despite previously Herculean attemps to "fix" -- just isn't going to change.

Rather, I am accepting. It's a process.

Yup. Even here, at my thinnest the day after my wedding.

Yup. Even after running this marathon.

Anyway, I'm gearing up for two weeks at the shore. (Whoa that sounds like a lot. Teacher-families must make vacations into MEGA vacations since we can't take off during the year. It's our big hurrah!) Do entire days spent in my swimsuit all day sounds appealing to me? Definitely YES and definitely NO. But, like I said, I'm slowly accepting that cellulite isn't just a fact of my life, it's a shared experience with many.

AmIright?

This article got quite a lot of love on Facebook. I thought I'd share it here, too, because it helped me quite a bit with feeling better about my, uhm, situation: The Dirty Little Secret of the Female Athlete: Cellulite.

And this topic made me remember this gem. Can't believe it's 6 years old!


You don't want no drama. No, no drama no, no, no drama . . .

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Skinny Versus Healthy, Part II: Leading by Example

Over the weekend, I re-read my Skinny Versus Healthy post from a couple years ago. So much has changed about my body image since I wrote it, especially after my pregnancy. Becoming an athlete, seeing my body's worth as more than just looks, is what first snapped me out of the disordered eating and treating-myself-poorly cycle.

You'd think having a baby would pretty much erase all my negative thoughts.

I created life. Within myself. Within my own body. Conceived, carried, birthed, and -- now -- sustain. I'd like to say I haven't had any issues with my weight and general shape, but that would be a total lie. Gaining almost 30 pounds in 9 months, no matter the reason, and then losing it again, though not quite all of it, surely has its mental ups and downs. I've tried my best to stay positive. And I know I'm doing well slowly but surely getting back to where I want to be.

But then there's this whole question of what "back" really is these days. Is it feasible for me to be in the same kind of shape I maintained in my mid-20s? As a child, I heard many, OK, MOST women talk about how they "used to be fit" but "then had babies" . . . so I always learned to equate having children with getting heavier and stopping activity. It was one of my biggest anxieties with getting pregnant in the first place.

As much as I've carved an identity for myself as a runner, in the back in my mind, a small part of me was scared that those days would forever be over.


But back to expectations. Of course I'd like to fit into all my old clothes. For the number on the scale to dip to where it used to rest for so many years. My "happy weight" as I hear it so often referred to. Now that I'm a mom. Now that my body has gone through this incredible transformation . . . what is reasonable?

Will my stomach ever flatten again? (Maybe?)
If it doesn't, will I ever get over it? (I hope so.)
As a mom, should I really care so much anymore? (Yes? No?)

I'm still trying to figure it all out. There will certainly be more to write on this topic.


What I DO know is that I have more to think about than just myself these days. I sometimes worry that my disordered past will somehow rub off on Ada. Having a daughter is a huge responsibility in this respect. Of course, all children pick up on things/habits/etc. from their parents, but statistically girls are much more likely to develop negative body image, eating disorders, etc.

The last thing I want is for my own troubles to influence how Ada someday sees herself.

It seems silly to worry so early about any of this. But I keep reading about children as young as 8 years old (and even younger) who suffer from eating disorders. My own struggles started with anorexic tendencies when I was 12. As hard as I try, I cannot pinpoint exactly where it all began. Or why I ended up binging/purging in my later teenage years. Or continued to struggle with food and body image for years and years after that.

I know for certain my parents couldn't have done much about it. But having gone through my own issues, can I help Ada?


I want to do my best to lead by example. To help Ada by cooking healthy foods for myself . . . and now for her (she had her first meal tonight!). Moving my body each day and sharing my love of sports/running (among many, many other activities). But there's got to be more I could do.

This is another one of those posts that has no real takeaway. But I'd love your thoughts on bringing up children with positive body image, especially if you have a sorted past of your own. I think all parents want a better life for their children. For me, this is just one of those areas where I don't want history to repeat itself.


Speaking of Ada Mae: Today is her half-year birthday. You can check out her 6-month update over on Writing Chapter Three!

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