Working out never used to be a passion of mine.

In fact it was something I used to dread. A dancer for most of my life, upon coming to college I quickly fell out of shape; gaining the freshman 15 (more like 25!!) due to stress and late-night pizza runs. Realizing I was out of shape was the first step, but actually going to the gym was a bit more…difficult. I HATED it.

I would use any excuse I could to getting out of working out with friends: “I was too busy with school, my legs hurt” or my favorite excuse, “I would rather be taking a nap“.

With all those facts in mind, it may come as a surprise that today I’m somewhat of a “gym rat.” Its become my own little sanctuary; a place where I go not just to exercise, but to clear my mind. For me, working out is not just a means to an end. While I initially started my fitness journey with the intention of  losing weight, it has quickly evolved into more than just that.

When I’m in a yoga or a pilates class, or sweating it out on the elliptical, I feel at peace. My mind is sharp, and I am concentrated on the task at hand, not worried about any external stressors. It has helped me manage my sometimes overwhelming anxiety, which in turn has improved how I handle school, work, and my own social life. Instead of dragging myself to the gym, I look forward to it, as a break from the real world and a chance to truly work on bettering myself in the process.

This zen philosophy didn’t happen right away. Starting a fitness routine is HARD, especially if you go into it considering yourself out of shape, like I did. It’s not easy to go into workouts comparing yourself to others; wondering why you can’t keep up at the exact same pace. But here’s the thing: finding a passion for fitness doesn’t have to be about anyone but yourself. It’s an entirely personal experience, where the only thing that matters is what you gain out of it.

Working out as given me an outlet physically and emotionally; strengthening not only my body, but my spirit. There are still some days where I drag my feet going to the gym, after all wouldn’t it be nicer to stay in bed for an extra 3o minutes? Those feelings are far outweighed by the satisfaction I get from going to the gym.

It didn’t come easily, but having a well-regimented exercise routine has added a lot to my life, and I see myself continuing it into the distant future.

Pig. Fatass. Gross. Overweight. Obese.

Those were the words I often heard. I have never been stick thin, but I have never been overweight. However, the summer before my freshman year of college, I felt overweight. My clothes started becoming tighter, and I started to feel less comfortable in actual clothes and more comfortable in sweats.

I was disgusted with the person I saw looking back at me in the mirror. However, the more unhappy I became the less I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to sit there and feel sorry for myself. It wasn’t until I became involved with an all-star cheerleading team again that I felt like I should make an effort to change.

This did not work.

Life smacked me in the face. I felt dependent on compliments that were clearly forced, and I felt like my whole world had started to become smaller because I had become bigger. It was because of my weight gain that I tore my ACL not only a second time, but also a third.

With each injury, the feeling of helplessness grew stronger. My sophomore year of college was a challenge: relationship drama, coming back off of an injury/surgery, and trying to figure out how else I could become involved in my school. The insecurities overcame me, and the weight kept increasing. Before I knew it I was heading into my junior year a good 25 pounds heavier than when I started my collegiate journey, and there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel.

After yet another knee surgery I knew something had to change. Doctors told me that I was looking at a fourth knee surgery if I didn’t turn my life around. Other doctors were concerned with the weight gain and started doing tests. I had every test imaginable done hoping there was a medical explanation, yet everything came back negative.

“You are in the 70th percentile for your weight.”

Those words cut me like a knife, how could I be that off track? I had almost lost all hope but then I received Insanity as a gift. I realized that it would be a long road but I knew I had to start somewhere. However, again my knee gave out on me. I realized that I was not strong enough to even begin a weight loss program and again fell into a depressed state of mind.

Not only did I feel lousy about my appearance, but others had noticed my weight gain and felt the need to mention it. While walking around town I heard people snickering that my leggings were too tight or my shirts showed my love handles. I knew that I needed to shut people up, I just didn’t know how.

Senior year. The golden year.

Well, that’s what I thought anyways. I thought that having worked out occasionally the summer before my senior year meant that I would be able to come back with my head held high. This was not the case. I felt even more self-conscious. All my friends had gotten the weight loss memo and had out done the work that I did. So, senioritis set in, and all I wanted to do was celebrate my impending graduation and live it up before entering the real world.

I had the most amazing Lily Pulitzer dress to wear at my graduation dinner and couldn’t wait for all the photos to be taken on graduation day in my cap and gown! Every picture I took made me disgusted. I looked like Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and there was no amount of editing that could fix it.

As I readied myself for job interviews and the real world, I realized that all the clothes that were professional did not fit me at all. This made me even more upset with how bad I had let things get. It wasn’t until my final drive home from college that I realized that I was not happy, to the point that I did not want to get out of bed in the morning to put on clothes that made me look even fatter than I already was.

I took a good look in the mirror and told myself that I need to make a change or else I will regret it later in life. I did not have money to cover another knee surgery since my insurance deemed ACL reconstructive surgery “cosmetic” and wouldn’t cover the cost anymore.

I searched in my bags for Insanity this time not backing down when I felt the need to give up. This time I took a picture of myself and composed additional pictures of myself for my “before” photo and was more excited for the “after” photo than I ever anticipated.

For a month, I completed every Insanity workout, strictly following the outline given in the package, and noticed that I lost 5-10 pounds, but I wanted more. So I went out to Barnes and Nobel and bought a book on eating healthy. I read up on nutrition and what I needed to do to lose weight and keep it off.

Not only did changing my entire diet help me feel more energized, but I could finally finish a workout without stopping and taking a break.

Three months went by, and I was already down 15 pounds. This gave me the drive and desire to continue. I went to the doctor’s office to find out my weight from senior year of high school and decided that would be my goal weight; 115-120 was doable, and I would be in the correct percentile for my height.

Fast forward six months to January. I had so much to celebrate! Not only did I keep off the 15-20 pounds, but I felt amazing! I finally accepted the person in the mirror; however I still felt like something was missing. The scale had said the same thing over and over (and over and over).

How could it be that I was doing so much work and not losing any more weight when I had once been so successful?

I fell into a rut yet again, and that’s when I started to see the scale go up. How could I let myself become the person I had worked so hard to escape? Was this really going to be how my journey ended? I called my mom and told her what was going on.

Not only did she feel sympathy for me but also fear. Fear that I would yet again become the person I once was. I could not go back to being that person. It was then after grocery shopping that I received a sign. My co-worker Kait called me and told me that she wanted a workout buddy at Lifetime Fitness doing team fitness.

Without hesitation I agreed, I mean what could I lose right? Then it hit me, the countdown I knew was coming and yet wanted to forget. I had four months before my best friend’s wedding! I couldn’t go try on my dress feeling and looking the way I did, let alone make her look bad by being in the bridal party.

It was time to kick it into high gear. As I was about to drive home to think of how I could really slim down for this wedding, I noticed a small orange paper under my windshield wiper. It read “Come Tryout Orange Theory;” it was like the universe knew exactly what I needed. I remember participating in Orange Theory when it first opened and loving every minute of the workout.

Base Pace. Push. All Out.

Here went nothing. I was in the studio and paid to take this class. There was no way I could back out now, and who knew maybe I would love it. Holy Cow! The workout not only kicked my butt, but I burned 450 calories? It was the best day thus far. I knew I could do it. The last couple of months leading to the wedding I would work out five times a week and rest on the weekends. It would be just like cheerleading practice.

I was use to grueling schedules, and it was on the way home from work anyways. Who could pass up this type of convenience. As I began that long month of February, I realized that I had finally found a schedule that made me want to put on a sports bra with no shirt. The pounds felt like they were flying off, and the scale solidified that feeling. I finally passed my threshold and got to my 2nd mile marker: 137 pounds

It took me so long to see those numbers all on the scale at the same time that the tears started pouring down. I had worked so hard for this, and I was finally excited to put on a bikini and stand next to my best friend as she said ‘I Do’ to the man of her dreams.

I could finally wear shorts without wanting to hide in the house or wear a tank top that was form fitting. It felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders and the days seemed brighter. I finally looked forward to going out with friends, or going on dates with my boyfriend. Finally I was happy.

The end?

You may think this is the end of the story, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. I am constantly fighting to stay at the weight that I am while also trying to lose weight. The secret to weight loss does not start with the workout and how rigorous it is or how healthy you have it eat, or even how much you work out. It starts with your support system.

I could tell you that it was only because of all these positive changes that I made which helped me lose weight, but I couldn’t have done it without my personal cheerleaders. I knew if I feel down or lost faith in myself there was someone there waiting with a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on. They motivate me every day to continue what I have started and today I can finally say I have lost 32 pounds.

My Recommended Resource:

Kayla Itsines Recipe Guide: BBG by Kayla Itsines

Hey guys! During my weight loss journey, I found a lot of different ways to motivate myself. One of these ways was through reading Kayla Itsines’ story, which led to trying out some of her workouts and nutrition guides.

This recipe guide is a part of her Bikini Body Guide series and helped teach me how to make great tasting food and curb cravings. If you’re struggling with or know a friend that is struggling with weight loss, check it out these recipes and see if they work for you!

I am far from done on this journey, but for the first time I am even more excited to see where it takes me in the end.

(Written by Olivia Thompson)

The number flashed on the screen and my self-confidence shrank immediately. It was Christmas break freshman year of college and I was interested to see how the holiday eating and my first homecoming of the semester was affecting my body, apparently not so well.

I was at the heaviest weight of my life, only 5 pounds more than normal, but I felt like the elephant in the room. “I’m a freshman in college,” I irrationally thought to myself, “its time for me to act like the grown up I am and take charge of my body.”

As I returned to school spring semester, my resolution to diet was put into full force with the deadline of Spring Break racing toward me. There would be bikinis, there would be pictures and there would be judging, I needed to be ready. I downloaded apps on my phone to document my daily calorie intake and I signed up for local 5k races as motivation to get fit. I was conscious about the food I was eating and intent about maintaining a steady exercise plan in order to melt of the fat that clung to my belly.

After playing squash with my friends one night I entered the women’s locker room at Ramsey and noticed that there was a scale, so I hopped on out of curiosity and I was pleased with the result. The evidence of a lower number revealed that my tactics were working and that if I continued with my efforts, than I would achieve spring break glory.

Once Spring Break arrived I spent half the week with my out of state family who I had not seen since my heavier days of Christmas and they all congratulated my seemingly healthier figure. After meeting my family at the airport we went out to a restaurant to eat lunch, where there were no calorie counts on the menu. I was slightly distressed by not knowing the exact content of what I was consuming, but I let it slide because it was only one meal right?

Then at dinner, we went out to another restaurant. No calorie counts again.

My routine was thrown off, but I maintained a calm composure. That night in bed I woke up in the middle of the night with a panic attack. My heart was racing, my frustration was peaking and tears filled my eyes. “Is this the end of my diet? I just ate so many calories! Will I be fat again by tomorrow?” These thoughts flooded my mind as I wrestled with sleep. “No I have worked too hard to get to where I am to let it all go. I’ll enjoy myself this week and I make up for it when I get back to UGA.”

Spring break freshman year was great, I enjoyed my family’s company for a few days, and then I met up with my friends at the beach and felt confident with my body’s improved look. Spring break glory accomplished…now what?

Once I returned to UGA I kept my promise to make up for my treacherous eating patterns of the previous week. I lowered my daily calorie intake and increased my workouts, but I never reestablished a diet deadline. With no goal in sight, my diet took on a whole new meaning. I wasn’t working out for fitness, I was working out to make up for the breakfast that I ate.

I wasn’t counting calories to meet my recommended daily value; I was counting calories to assure that I was eating less than even my diet required. From there, my habits worsened. Over the summer, when I returned home, I would flashback to the pounds that were added to me by my mom’s meals so I decided to cut my all of my portions in half.

My family watched through suspicious eyes as I took 30 bites of every piece of food.

A week before returning to UGA for sophomore year, my mom handed me a piece of paper with 10 symptoms of Eating Disorders and asked if I recognized any of them in myself. I was enraged with defensive anger and cried as I cursed her out of my room. I was shocked by my reaction because I barely ever cry, so it was apparent that my emotions were unmanageable.

I was elated to return to UGA fall semester sophomore year because I was thrilled with my sleeker appearance and I imagined that it could only get better. I bought a scale so that I could continue to check my progress on a daily or even hourly schedule. There was no stopping my new dieting hobby. Or so I thought.

I received the call from my parents that they were forcing my withdrawal from UGA so that I could enter an eating disorder treatment facility in Wisconsin. I broke down and cried for a week. I cried through telling my roommates that I would be leaving, not sure when or even if I would be returning. I cried through writing my withdrawal application to the university. And I cried through the assessment phone call with the treatment center as they concluded that I needed to be admitted to their inpatient hospital facility due to my “emaciation.”

When I was at my skinniest moments, I felt as though I was looking in a different mirror than everyone else, “no way can anyone think that this body is too skinny. Do they not see my belly poking out?” In fact, at that point it was literally my stomach poking through my skin, just as my ribs and hipbones did. By the time that I entered the facility on October 16, 2013, I had a BMI of 14.9, my EKG tests came back irregular due to malfunctions in my heart, I had night sweats due my body’s constant struggle to stay warm and my kidneys were close to failing.

I had started a diet to better my appearance and due to a multitude of teenage struggles rooted in low self esteem, including boys, media influence and a lacking sense of control, I had put my body through so much that it was ready to die.

The following 70 days in treatment were the hardest of my life.

I was put through such a physical and mental challenges that I sometimes look back on my recovery and marvel at the difficulties that I put myself through. One of my first mornings in treatment, I broke down crying because I was given a white bagel instead of the wheat one that I ordered. If that doesn’t show how low I was in my life, I don’t know what will.

Thankfully, with the phenomenal support of my family and friends I was able to return to a physically healthy state, along with a sound mental state, and on Christmas Eve I returned home with a new outlook on life.

Of course I still have my occasional struggles with body image and self-esteem, who doesn’t? But I vow to never treat myself in the same manner of 2013 ever again, because I value my life, and the lives of my loved ones too much to suffer through anymore avoidable pain.

During this time of year I am reminded of where I spent Thanksgiving of 2013, and I am thankful to be out of that disastrous stage of my life so that I can relish in my health and celebrate my life.