I'm a loser

For the first time in a really long time, I feel confident, capable, and ready to tackle life. A big change from my last post, right? There are lots of things that I can attribute to this dramatic improvement, but the most noticeable difference is my weight. I am down to the lowest weight I've been in the last four years, and only five pounds away from my pre-wedding weight (for some reason, that seems like an important benchmark). At this point, I've lost just about 25 pounds since the heaviest I've ever been in my entire life. Ironically, the heaviest version of myself will forever be immortalized in a documentary I was part of. I think it will serve as a permanent reminder of where I never want to be again. Though it is slightly embarrassing to see myself like that, and it's very easy to use the old excuse of the camera adding 10 pounds...so do pizza and fried foods. The food choices I was making were pretty horrific, and just plain unthoughtful.
When I was younger, I was blessed with an amazing metabolism. In high school, I was extremely active with ballet. I was dancing at least two hours every day, sometimes much longer. Even then, I was not making the best choices with what I was eating. On my way home from dance, my dinner of choice was usually McDonald's. I would easily put away a quarter pounder with cheese and super size fries. With all of the dancing I was doing, I never really gained the weight I should have with these calorie-loaded meals - but imagine if I had instead eaten some grilled chicken and vegetables.
About the time I headed off to college, my body started to change. Not only had I reduced the amount I was active, but I was continuing to eat whatever I felt like eating, whenever I felt like eating it. In addition, I experienced some pretty high levels of stress and depression my freshman year. All of these factors resulted in the significant weight gain, really the first time. Like many young women, I started to have a very negative body image which resulted in dabbling with anorexia, then swinging like a pendulum into binge eating. There was actually a point when I had a jar of peanut butter under my bed which I would mindlessly eat with a spoon. It's a little astounding to think back to that point. While I've had a few other low points and difficulty coping at times, that was pretty much the bottom for me.
Last summer, I really thought we were moving back to Oregon. I had successfully navigated the interview process for a position with the Department of Education, and I was convinced the next call I received would be a job offer. When I opened the e-mail which read, "...we have selected another candidate", I was devastated. But for the first time in my adult life, I used the negative feels to fuel a fire. I slowly started to discover the difference between what I can and can't control in my life, and I started to exercise again. I really wasn't too consistent, but the fact that I had started moving helped some of the weight to begin melting away.
It wasn't until October 2012 that JC and I really started to make serious changes in the way we ate. Since I had tried the South Beach Diet in the past with some success, we decided to use that as a guide for improving our food choices. While we both have a great appreciation for delicious, decadent food and tend to eat out quite a bit, we've really started to make better decisions, focusing on moderation and portions. I'll admit, we definitely could be more committed to the diet, but we've made great progress. Ultimately, I am much more aware of what I'm eating and conscious of what I'm putting in my body than I've ever been. This is definitely a step in the right direction.
Rediscovering zumba was also a game-changer. I love zumba. It has become such an addiction, partially because of the fantastic workout, but also because it helps me connect with my inner dancer. Dancing is such an important part of how I identify myself, and it is so gratifying to have found that love again.
I feel amazing. While I know there is still progress to be made, I finally know I'm heading in the right direction. I'm figuring out what works and using it to my advantage. Ultimately, I am proud of myself, and that in itself is a great accomplishment.

Saying goodbye...

I don't know what to write. I don't have the words to say what I want to say, in the way I want to say it. I'm sad, frustrated, angry, depressed, disappointed, yet filled with the most pure feelings of love, comfort, and hope. It has become completely draining to range from highs to lows in a constant ping pong match of emotions over the last few months, most particularly the last three weeks. Almost every aspect of my life feels like it is in complete disarray. It's hard not to fall into a pity party, though it feels so unproductive and brings on feelings of guilt.

It all seems to stem from the realities of life - life as an adult. While I greatly appreciate the freedoms and experiences of being an adult, I am extremely envious of my younger self who was blissfully unaware of just how much it hurts to age. I feel like I have much to celebrate. Just one week after my 29th birthday, I officially completed my second Masters degree and added a school principal certification to my professional tool belt. Unfortunately, that same day, my Yaya was diagnosed with an  aggressive cancer that began a rapid decent in her health. Early this morning, she passed away in her sleep. As much as it hurts to lose my grandma, I am beside myself with worry about my own mom. The last few years, it has been difficult to live far away from my parents, knowing they are essentially alone and, like everyone else, dealing with the effects of age. I have taken such comfort knowing my mom and Ya-Ya had each other for company. Their weekly culinary adventures have been a highlight for both of them, and for me to hear about. This connection and bond between them has provided a much-needed filler for my mom with both of her own children living in distant states with visit few and far between. Not only will my mom experience the pain of losing a parent, she and my dad will once again be alone.

Of course, the age-old advice of taking comfort in the happy memories helped me through the day, reliving some spectacular times that I shared with my Yaya. She truly was an amazing woman, one I always looked up to and who truly lived life to the fullest. My sister wrote a wonderful blog post, and I'd like to share some of my own memories which will probably not make any sense to the outside world but will (hopefully) prompt a laugh or two from family.

• Yaya was quite the avid smoker in my early years, and I remember happily climbing into her lap as she'd puff away, often commenting on how much I enjoyed the smell of smoke. I remember my mom was horrified that I would perhaps become a smoker myself, but I've actually never put a cigarette to my lips. And today, I am very repulsed by the smell.
• I don't know if I have an actual memory of the "stepford parties" or if my memories are merely aligned to the multiple video viewings over the years. I do know that Yaya was always quick to partake in the silliness of these parties, putting on lip sync performances with eccentric costumes and choreographed dance moves. 
• Yaya always lived near the beach, and often had access to a pool. It took me a while to overcome my fear of water when I was young, and I never really was a swimming enthusiast, but I remember finding much comfort in Yaya's arms while splashing around in the pool at her apartment. 
• When we moved to Oregon, Yaya would make the long drive up to visit every Christmas, timing her visit with my annual performance in The Nutcracker. Over the years, she would come bearing many gifts wrapped in beautiful paper, earning her the name "Yaya Claus". She would also pack a cooler and grocery bags filled with the flavors we craved but couldn't find in Oregon - Marie Calendar's potato cheese soup and jalapeno-flavored refried beans.
• One year while visiting in Oregon, she made an impulse-buy that forever changed our family. Maggie. I wish I could find a picture of this puppy who later grew up to be a monster dog, full of love and energy. I know Maggie's passing was extremely difficult for Yaya, though the void was soon filled by Buddy, the most loving cat I've ever met. Buddy and Yaya were quite the pair, and I know he brought much joy to her, even in her last days. The truly exemplified an unbreakable bond between pet and owner.
• When Yaya moved to Oregon a few years ago, it was almost like a rebirth for her. She was more active, more involved in the community than I could ever have imagined. She has seen more of northern Oregon than I have, and I am so thankful to have shared in her adventures via all the photos she's posted.

I don't think it's really hit me that she's gone. I'm still struggling with the constant realization that JC's father has been gone for over a year. I'm tired of cancer interrupting...and ending...the lives of people I love. 

I am very thankful to have many memories to hold on to, but memories will never replace the laughter and hugs from Yaya.