After a couple of rough years health-wise, both mental and physical, I found myself suddenly a whole lot heavier than I’d ever been previously.
It’s not that I ever ate a ton of junk food or takeout, but even if that delicious cake is made from scratch in your own kitchen, eating it all yourself over the course of a few days is going to be a problem.
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Between the mental health tipping me into comfort food cravings and a thyroid that decided to quit without notice, I gained about 60 pounds over five years.
It wasn’t all at once and I even got back on track a few times and shed a bunch of weight before life kicked me in the teeth again and the scale began to creep back up.
For now, I’m in a pretty good place and have so far shed 20 of those extra pounds.
However, for the sake of my sanity, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll never be thin again. Or at least, the definition of “thin” that allows for boobs and hips, because I come by those naturally.
I’m not on any sort of strict diet, either.
I try to limit the amount of junk in my grocery lists to 1-2 items per week, and keep a selection of relatively healthy, easy-to-cook options on hand for when I struggle with the energy to make good choices.
Does that always stop me? The leftover pizza in my fridge says no, but perfection is the enemy of the good and I’m okay with the occasional mistake. It’s all about balance.
