It was going so beautifully. You finally got over the keto flu, you figured out the meal planning, you were even learning to like avocado mousse. Every morning you woke up to thrill of another pound down on the scale—you finally had this weight thing figured out—and then it just stopped. You went from losing a pound a day, to a pound a week… and then painfully, only a pound a month. It’s a common story with the keto diet, for many of us it can only get us so far and then we stall out. You have a few options at this point: stubbornly cut your carbs lower and lower until you’re living on cream cheese, decide that the weight you’re at is good enough (at least you finally feel good, right?) or introduce a fasting schedule.
I have been in the 200’s for the bulk of my adult life, but I finally crossed the threshold into “Onederland”—which is 199lbs or less—six months ago. I have to say though, it wasn’t as big of a deal as I thought it was going to be. Apart from sending an all caps text to my husband with a dark picture of my feet on the scale, there wasn’t much fanfare. Angels didn’t sing. My life wasn’t suddenly sparkly and new. It had felt like such a big goal to attain—and of course I was very proud of myself—but I couldn’t help but feel like I had already arrived in Onederland long before the scale ever said 199.
It took me two long years to get pregnant after suffering a miscarriage with my first pregnancy. When I finally held my first child in February 2010, he was everything I had hoped and prayed for. More than anything, I wanted to be a mom. My brother and sister-in-law had kids before us, and while I really loved being an auntie, I was so happy to finally have my own child to raise and do fun activities with—like going to the zoo; It should have been one of the happiest days. Unfortunately, at 5 months post-partum, I pulled out my summer clothes and found that nothing fit. I had gained a lot of weight with the pregnancy and weighed an all-time high of 299lbs. I squeezed into the largest capris and a nursing-friendly t-shirt and set off to meet my parents and brother’s family, baby in tow.
I was discouraged and miserable. I had made so much headway, but here I was again, waist-deep in the muck at the bottom of the pit. How did this happen again?! How did I get here? Why couldn’t I just DO what I knew to do? Why did I keep slipping up? Why couldn’t I just resist the temptation? I knew in my head I was free—but why wasn’t my heart free? No one knew the depth of my shame. It was a deep dark secret concealed by carefully hidden candy wrappers and forgiving clothing choices. I held the shame in my heart, berating myself for every perceived failure with my eating. It was my penance, the only weapon I held against the fear of losing control completely.