Small steps. Lasting change. A life that fits.
I’ve been singing the same tune for years.
My weight goes up, my weight goes down. I make a dramatic life change, I lose more than 100 pounds, I have a child, and all bets are off
Losing over 100 pounds in 2012 and 2013 was one of my biggest accomplishments ever. I didn’t just run 5Ks — I ran a half-marathon. I didn’t just drop 18 pounds — I dropped 118 pounds. That time in my life was transformative, and I’ve been proud of it ever since.
But as the weight has slowly crept back on since becoming a mother, I’ve carried something heavier than pounds: shame. I’ve felt like people look at me and think I gave up. Like they’re silently disappointed that I couldn’t stay skinny. I’ve avoided photos, ducked out of conversations, dreaded showing up places where I think someone might remember what I “used to” look like. I’ve felt like a fraud in my own skin.
Back then, I was convinced that counting calories wasn’t a diet — it was a “lifestyle change.” I logged every bite into MyFitnessPal and told myself I’d found the forever fix. But here’s the truth I see clearly now: calorie counting was a diet. A more sustainable one than most, sure, but a diet all the same. And like most diets, it had an expiration date.
Because what I didn’t change was my head. Mentally, I’m still the same food-loving, anxious person who turns to sugar for comfort. Logging food doesn’t undo that. And eventually, I burned out. I got tired of measuring portions, tired of pulling out my phone to eat dinner, tired of turning every meal into a math problem. I couldn’t — and didn’t want to — do that forever. Especially not now, as a full-time working mom with two kids and no spare time.
So here I am, again. But this time, I’m doing things differently.
I’m not going back to drastic. Because drastic only lasts so long. It works… until it doesn’t. This time, I’m doing what I can, where I am.
Where I am is a place where I want to feel better, but I also need to be realistic. I’m not training for another half-marathon right now. I’m not spending an hour at the gym six days a week. I just can’t — not in this season. And that doesn’t mean I’ve failed.
Because I’ve finally realized something important: I don’t have to do it all. That old mentality — that if I can’t go big, I may as well go home — that’s the lie. That’s the trap. And I’m done falling into it.
Right now, I’m making small changes — changes that actually feel possible, that I can sustain. Swapping granola for cookies at breakfast. Choosing grilled over fried. Cutting back on nightly desserts. Taking walks with Caleb instead of crashing on the couch. These aren’t revolutionary acts… but they are something. They are the start of momentum. And that’s what I need right now.
I’ve been doing these little things lately. And slowly, I’m starting to feel it: that shift. That quiet pride. That flicker of hope. I catch glimpses in the mirror, in the mirror of my mind, and I think: “Hey… my body is doing this thing I once thought it couldn’t do.”
And maybe that’s the most important part. That feeling — the one I had all those years and a lifetime ago at the very start of my weight loss journey — it’s back. That familiar spark, that sense of possibility, that whisper that says: “You can do this. Again.”
I know now that I don’t need to be perfect. I don’t need to make massive changes to make meaningful progress. I can do small things. And I can do them right here, where I am.
I can give what I have, even if it’s not all I once gave. I can move forward, even if the steps are small. I can live in the in-between, in the imperfect, and still be proud.
This time, I’m not aiming to change everything. I’m aiming to change what I can — and to finally believe that it’s enough.
Because I am enough. Just as I am. Just where I am.
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