Then Meg and Now Meg

As I worked out with M. the Reasonable this morning, it hit me that I'm approaching a very important anniversary. It was three years ago this week that I made a very important, life-changing decision, then set out to get over years of pride and defensiveness about my body to sit down at a trainer's desk in my gym and say three little words that are so very, very difficult to say sometimes:

"I need help."

Then Meg, as I'm calling that lady, weighed 221.8 pounds, had very little idea how to exercise, and had never uttered the words "athlete" and "I am an" in the same sentence. I knew I was tired of being tired all the time, tired of being overweight, tired of having a hard time finding clothes I felt good in.

Me in 2007, near San Francisco, CA.

I had always vaguely thought that yes, I could lose weight. I just never did it, and B. the Sadist would be my ticket to finding my way to a better body. I signed up for training on February 19, 2009, and had my first appointment on February 20. I've already told the whole story of my Wild and Absolutely True Adventure through three years of weight lifting, habit-changing, you-want-me-to-WHAT?-ing and whining about Sadists and Meanies and what do you mean, you want me to run?! I don't run! This post is to reflect on how happy I am that Then Meg decided to tell the little devil on her shoulder to piss off so she could try out this whole lifestyle change thing.

When I think back on it, I'm not sure I really, truly believed back then that I could do this. Then Meg had no idea just what she was getting into...but she was, as the Facebook status posted above shows, willing to try. And for that, Now Meg is very grateful.

Nothing about my "odyssey" has been easy. There is no miracle diet trick (no matter how many people ask me, the answer never changes). There is no miracle exercise that blasts fat off my abs or makes my butt look great. It's a process, and it's a long one. It's a hard process. I often laugh and tell people, "I'm on the Complete Lifestyle Overhaul Plan" when they ask me what my secret is.

A year or so ago, I noticed some new signs around my gym, coyly telling me that I should ask the personnel within what "The Truth About Fitness" is. As I checked in that morning, I asked the kid at the front desk, "So, what is the truth about fitness, then?" He laughed and said, "I don't even know." I laughed at his frank reply and whispered to him, "I can tell you. The truth about fitness? It's fucking difficult!"

We laughed, but honestly? What I said that morning is 100% truth.

There has been pain. I have dropped a 25-pound weight on my ankle, and I have thrown up from running hard. I have had sciatica from stretching too hard and more mornings where I wake up half-frozen from the soreness than I can count. I have had days where walking is difficult, or sitting down to go to the bathroom downright painful. I have suffered shin splints, cramps, and various pains and blisters and bruises that have left me wondering just why I put myself through this. And then I step on the scale, or look at a new picture of myself, or walk into a Lane Bryant and realize that nothing there fits me anymore--it's all too big--and I realize, "Yes. There is a reason."

I stave off a panic attack by going for a run, or I help lift something heavy while the burly-men around me clutch their backs and groan, and I remember that for every moment of pain, there have been so many more moments in which Then Meg has quietly crumbled and from her has emerged Now Meg. Now Meg is capable, strong, and confident.

This morning, M. hauled a 70-pound dumbbell off the rack and brought it to me for some dead lifts. We had just been discussing my recent weight loss success--I weighed in at 153.2 this morning, which puts me one pound shy of being down 70 pounds since February 2009. Now I'm dead lifting the weight I've lost, and M. is looking forward to getting me to lift 100 pounds one of these days. I gazed at the dumbbell this morning and thought about how far I've come. I looked straight at M. and said, "I've decided I'm the person who keeps the weight off. There is no going backwards for me."

M. just smiled. "Nope. You are a changed person now." He believes in me.

And more important than that, I believe in me.

Getting there! Loving my curves (and the cat butt) in this picture.