Have you ever thought about being a fitness and health coach?

Last week I booked a ticket to see my cousins on Easter weekend and I’m SO excited. My mom, who is understandably sad about me leaving, told me she wasn’t going if I wasn’t going, because it was my last month in Boston before I fly south. I am thrilled to be moving to Florida, but leaving my family and friends is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Leaving my mother is the hardest. 
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I've never been someone who travels a lot. I LOVE to, but because of heavy duty grad school loans and a penchant for fine dining and boots, I’ve always felt bad spending the money. I’ve done it, but only occasionally.
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This Easter trip will be on the last weekend I’ll have in the northeast, and I’m so happy that I get to spend it with my family. And it occurs to me that I wouldn’t be able to do this if I didn’t have the extra money from being a health and fitness coach so I am SO thankful for this opportunity.
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I never ever in a million years thought I could help people improve their health and fitness. I never thought I could help people with something I’ve struggled with my whole life: feeling comfortable in my own skin, and having a healthy relationship with exercise, food, and my body. I thought I needed to be this perfect example in order to help people, in order to be in this industry… But I was so wrong. I don’t need to have perfect nutrition, fitness and mindset -- or a perfect physique -- to help people.
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If this is something you’re interested in, I would love to talk to you. You can dedicate as much time as you want to it. I started by giving it half an hour a day, but I gradually upped my time because it’s honestly SO fun and SO gratifying to be part of such a positive community. I love my team smile emoticon
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If you have questions, get in touch! Comment, message, or send me an email. Ask me anything smile emoticon

Mindful eating, aka how I stopped eating my feelings.

Mindfulness is about being present in the moment, focusing on being here, now, and absorbing and enjoying and interacting with your surroundings, instead of worrying about what happened yesterday, or what’s going to happen (or not happen) tomorrow, next week, next year.

Now I could go on and on about mindfulness and how practicing it has helped me recover from a lifetime of binge eating, anorexia and bulimia, but there are people better versed in it than me, so I’ll leave it to them.

I will, however, tell you my biggest takeaway:

The problem isn’t that we eat crap and feel bad. The problem is that we eat crap, feel bad, and are overcome with shame and guilt, which often leads to eating more crap, feeling more shame and guilt, and so on.

I never understood how people could eat crap, feel physically blech, and then get up and live life the next day. I would always let my sluggishness (because let’s be honest, my “crap” is ALWAYS carbs, thus the malaise) compound my shame and guilt. I’d eat more crap. I’d set a date 3 days in the future to stop eating crap, some arbitrary date because “It’s Monday” or “It’s February first” or “It’s 3 months exactly until bikini season.”

The arbitrary start date is a blog rant for another day, but you get what I’m saying.

Then I planned my cheats.

Actually, let’s call them indulgences. I hate the negative connotation of “cheats” and I hate the sound of the word “splurges.”

When someone offered me cupcakes, I wondered, “ Are they worth it? I am going to Friendsgiving this Saturday and I really want to splurge on sweet potato pie with marshmallows on top. Do I really want these cupcakes? Are they that important?”

Then I thought, “I’m going to wait 10 minutes and reevaluate my need for these cupcakes.”

Later that night, someone offered me a drink and I said, “I’ll see how I feel in a little bit,” and I meant it. Then I forgot about it entirely because as it turned out, my body wanted a buttload of seltzer, as it usually does.

What began as a single-minded goal of only indulging when I planned to slowly helped me be more present. I thought about things more. I indulged less frequently. When I indulged, I ate less because I was actually enjoying it, rather than scarfing it down. I noticed when I was full. I ignored this and kept eating, but I stopped before I was uncomfortably full, and definitely before I was Louis CK full.

Suddenly I was a person who could indulge for one meal and get back on track. In the last week, I also became a person who could indulge for one meal that wasn’t planned ahead and get back on track.

I’ve been trying to figure out how it happened. I know it started with my goal of losing weight while still enjoying refined sugar occasionally, but it turned into something bigger, something that I apply most of the time now.

Then it occurred to me: It’s not about carbs, calories or crunches. It’s about being in control and aware of your mind and your emotions. Then you can think over your options carefully, and make an informed decision. Even if it’s a decision that involves far too much bourbon and/or onion rings, it’s a decision you made thoughtfully and mindfully, after considering the consequences.

By making thoughtful choices instead of impulsive ones, you eliminate (or significantly reduce) the shame and guilt. Without that shame and guilt, you can move on without eating crap for the next 5 days. The cycle ends there. Wait. There is no cycle.

You can only do this if you’re fully present in the moment that you’re in.

That is how I took control of my emotions and stopped eating them.

That sentence sounds really strange now that I reread it, but I kind of like it so I’m leaving it.

The weirdest thing is all the mental airspace that’s left now that I’m no longer feeling guilty and ashamed of every time I’m not 100% on point with my nutrition and exercise. In fact, I’m far from it. But I no longer feel awful about a missed workout or eating too many carbs. I just think, “Well, I’ll make healthier choices starting now.”

Sometimes I say things I used to say, like, “Ugh I’m so fat I shouldn’t have eaten that ____,” but I don’t really mean it. I'm not happy with my body right now, but I’m no longer actively shaming myself about it. It’s a body that I have as a result of thousands of tiny decisions I made and DNA, and I realize that it’s going to take a few thousand more tiny decisions to make it into something I’m prouder of. What’s a couple of onion rings in the grand scheme of things?

I’m going to Florida in 16 days and I thought I would be 15 pounds lighter by now, but I’m not. I can still see all the cellulite on my legs. But I’m so much happier that I almost don’t care. I trust the process. I know that I’m fixing my brain and my thighs will follow, and for the first time in my life I realize that my mindset is more important than my body fat percentage, and that, my friends, is huge.

Below are some tips on mindful eating from this website that I found extremely helpful!

BODY DYSMORPHIA: I'M MESSED UP. Are you? Let's discuss.

I just read this beautiful, haunting, honest, and hilarious piece by a writer who recovered from anorexia. It came in the middle of an internet rabbit hole I fell into, one of the negative-body-image-fierce-lady-writer variety.  As usual, I emerge from the reading binge, bleary-eyed in my underwear, wondering what it all means for me: as a writer, a woman, a daughter, a friend, a teacher of adolescents, and a lifelong disordered eater.

Confession time: My weight never dipped below 100 pounds. 

Here's the thing: not all anorexics and bulimics are thin. Many of us look quite normal. At my smallest, I looked a bit bony, arms and legs dangling off a normal-looking, even slightly soft midsection. Both times... At 16, eating 300 calories a day, downing half a dozen horse-sized diet pills, and running track... At 26, eating 890 calories a day, working out endlessly and never leaving the house... I looked good. 

I was never hospitalized. I came close once, after going four days without eating and passing out during a final exam, but never quite made it there (thankfully). 

No one ever staged an intervention. There were no doctors, nurses, treatment centers, support groups, or anything of the sort. Only crash diets, gym memberships, vomiting halfway through a 10 mile run on an empty stretch of highway, and years of feeling unhappy and uncomfortable in my own skin. 

At my thinnest in recent years, I was 127 pounds, and looking back I'd sacrifice a few relatives to get back to that weight, but at the time I felt pudgy. I remember vividly how, even with so little fat on me, when I laid down to tan in my bikini the skin on my hips fell out of my bikini at an unattractive angle. It's gotten to the point where I don't know what I look like at all. I can't tell. Nothing fits. My body appears stretched out, loose, misshapen, and weird. My face looks good, not fat like before when I was crash dieting, but my body... I guess you can only bounce back from so much. 

I go through positive phases. I'll see myself naked in a mirror, lift my arms above my head, and think, "You know what? I'm actually pretty hot." Looking at my stretch marks, I'll think, "Damn... those are awesome stretch marks. They're badges of honor, battle scars to be worn with pride... They are marks of survival, not failure..." 

Then I remember that nothing fits, and I want to cry again, I want to give up, I want to crack down and get back in shape I can be proud of, I want to lie down and do nothing at all... 

AND IT'S JUST A BODY. Before you even think about saying it, realize that I've said it to myself a million times, and I'm saying it right now as I write this: What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I let this take over? Am I that vain and self-absorbed? Is there nothing else that matters to me? What does it say about me that I'm so obsessed with how messed up my relationship with my body is? I hate it. I hate it. I wish I could stop it. Part of me hates you for judging me, but part of me is right there with you, making a face at myself. 

I don't know what to do next. The whole thing makes me extremely uncomfortable. But I have to find some meaning in all of this madness, or else what will it have all been for? There's no way I can just wake up one day and not agonize over my body, right? That ship sailed in elementary school. I was never going to be normal. Maybe I should set my standards lower and learn to cope. 

CONFESSION TIME: I hate myself. Not who I am, but my physical self. I think it has always been this way, and the periods in my life when I thought I was coping were actually denial. I don't know if I know how to NOT hate myself. 

RELEVANT EXAMPLE: My legs look great still, but all I see when I look at them is how much nicer they would be if I hadn't tortured them with years of yo-yo dieting. All I see when I look at them is the fact that they don't fit into my pants and I refuse to buy new ones because new ones are failure. All I see when I look at them is that they are 3.5 inches greater in circumference than they were 1 year ago and I HATE that I know that, I HATE that I have the measurements of my thighs logged from this week last year. I HATE THAT I'M THE KIND OF PERSON WHO MEASURES MY THIGHS, LET ALONE WRITES THOSE MEASUREMENTS DOWN WITH DATES. 

Part of the problem is the fact that I'm afraid to talk about it. I feel self-absorbed, selfish, superficial, obnoxious, and like a total jerk because there are people everywhere that have real problems bigger than being 20 pounds heavier than they should be and not feeling confident naked. People everywhere yo-yo diet, cry in fitting rooms, and count calories, and we shouldn't talk about it because people are in real pain out there and every time we talk about our self-indulgent self-proclaimed self-hate, we're marginalizing the real problems and wasting time that might otherwise be spent solving them, or making our lives better and more fulfilling so we aren't self-indulgent assholes who worry about ourselves all the time. 

Today I'm going to take a stand in the opposite direction: I am genuinely unhappy in my own skin. Regardless of what that says about me as a person, it's the truth, and it's awful. I know the vast majority of the problems in this world are far worse, and that millions of people would love to have this be the worst problem they deal with. But to me this is a big problem, and for myself, I won't let it be marginalized. 

I'm hoping that if more of us talk about disordered eating and unhealthy body image, we'll start to feel better. It doesn't need to be sensational to hurt. Every time I walk down the street behind a thinner woman and find myself searching for a physical flaw on her, just one thing I can claim to "beat" her at, it hurts. She's probably a lovely girl who has important things that matter and she's not preoccupied with the fact that maybe her legs could be slightly more muscular because she's a good person who has better more meaningful things to fill her time with. She doesn't deserve my critique, silent or not. Every time I think back to this mythical time when I was thin with despair -- which is even stupider because I know that at that time I was just as unhappy as I was now, despite being much lighter and fitter -- it hurts. Every time I see someone eat just one portion of something indulgent and I remember gorging myself on Doritos in second grade because even then I couldn't moderate ANYTHING -- it hurts. It hurts to realize you've spent your whole life failing at something. It hurts to admit all of this. It may not be poverty, hunger or abuse, but it hurts, and it's real, and you can judge me all you want for writing about it in such excessive detail, but I need to do something. 

I have battled eating disorders, body dysmorphia, negative body image for most of my life and it feels as if it's eating me alive. I need help. And I'm going to talk about it. 

What about you?