Insert GRRRR face here.

Yes, that's right.

I am making a squishy, probably highly unflattering BLERGGGHHH, grrrrrr, blehhhhh face right now.

Why, you ask?

I'm fluffy.  That's why.

Sarah who used to be 320+something pounds would be quite infuriated with 200lb, size-14 Sarah for complaining about her current state of being.  But, while I once was a tight, fit, size-12ish, 200lb lean, mean, dense, muscle, awesome-machine...

Now?  I am 200lbs of less muscle and a lot more wiggle.

Here's the thing.  Life happens.  It is pretty easy to commit to getting super buff and being in full-on-workout-super-mega-beast-mode when you have a part time job, a lot of time on your hands, and a large part of your very humble income is committed to the gym.

"What shall I do on my day(s) off?  Hmm.  Work out for 2 hours.  Oh - friend wants to go for a walk and then work out later, also?  Cool!"  And then I just worked out for almost 4 hours.

This would happen a couple of times a week, along with the more "normal" workouts that were only 1-2 hours.  But let's get real, yo.

Who has 2-4 hours a day to work out when you also work at least 45 hours a week, have a home, have a life, have people you love and want to see, and you need to...oh, you know - SLEEP.  Or eat.  Or, like, actually engage in life.

I don't know how to do it all.  I don't.  I have tried to figure it out, but I really don't know.  And this, my friends, has been the single biggest struggle over the last 2 years.  I should be grateful that I am 200lbs and not 330.  I should enjoy that, while I'm not small, I'm at least still in Curvy Girl Land instead of You're Slowly Killing Yourself Land.

This brings up two huge things that are plaguing my brain of late:

1.  How do you accept where you are?  Others have lovely things to say, especially those who haven't seen you since you lost the initial weight and are so excited for you.  It's strange how, even though they're right, even the loveliest things fall on deaf ears when you aren't succeeding how you feel you should.  It's almost angering.  And, why do I still see myself as a big person?  I don't think other people who've only met me since I've been this physical version of me see me that way.  When is everything good enough?

AAAAAAND two.

I want to be really physically fit again.  How do I do that while committing more realistic amounts of time per day to fitness?  I want to commit 30-75 minutes a day to physical activity.  My knees are in a bit of a state of disarray due to my weight history, so there are a few limitations.  But I want to be STRONG again.  I want to firm up again.  How do I do that knowing full well that I can't be the person who lackadaisically spends her multiple days off per week doing whatever she fancies, part of which happens to be working out for hours on end.

Readers who are fitness types or who have already or are struggling with this - throw a girl some pointers (but please avoid squats and lunges - my knees can't take it).  I really, really need it.  I want it.  Need it, dare I say.  No, no dares.  Definitely need it.

And those of you who are or have struggled with self-perception and trying to find a way to be content with where you're at:  lend me your thoughts.

I know it may seem as though I kid when I seem as though I'm talking with you all, but I really am.  I picture you all chatting right back to me.  I've got quite a soft spot for you, I do.  There are some things that I've experience and am going through that I really hope can help others know what they're getting themselves into when they lose weight.  But also?  I'm a girl who wants to hear from others who've already gone beyond where I am.  This is a conversation - not a lecture.  So let's chat.

Fashionably Late-r than ever.

It has been over a year since we've chatted, readers.  I named my blog partly because of the fact that I am very much a late bloomer, and largely because I am almost always late.  Well...  Better late than never.

To try and catch you up with everything my mind, body, and heart have gone through and learned in the last year in one blog post would just be silly.  So where do we start?

The end.  The beginning of the end.  Or, well...  A new beginning.

This blog began when a late bloomer was asked by so many to share her weight loss story - of growth, of struggles, tips, advice, hope, inspiration, defeat, a fair few archaeological discoveries, and a handful of other things that became part of her life changing.  The pounds began to shed.  My mind and body became stronger.  Becoming part of a community of you all who have been, are going, or are about to go through it by sharing through this blog helped me accomplish great things.  It gave me accountability.  It helped me sort through the remarkable chaos that is my brain at times.  It gave me support, goals, and so many people who helped me succeed by becoming a part of my little journey.

But what happens when things aren't so great?

You stop writing in your blog for over a year.
You can't do a single push-up.
You can't plank for 3 minutes anymore.
That pilates video that was too easy now seems impossible.
You don't make healthy meals at home on the regular.
You eat thoughtlessly and have developed a sweet tooth.
Your clothes still fit, but where they once were up against 190lbs of lean, mean, muscle machine, they now slightly cut in to 205lbs of wiggly, wobbly, fluffiness.
You now look like you weigh 205lbs, whereas before, that 190lbs was a toned-up-almost-size-10.
That picture of you 2 years ago when you were healthier and happier than you've ever been is now more difficult to look at than a photo of you from 4 years ago when you could barely work out the logistics of which bathroom stall you'd fit into best.
You forget that you can once again ride roller coasters.
You forget that you can shop in pretty much any store you want, and you own clothes that legitimately fit and have the size Medium in them.
You forget that walking a 5k in less than 40 minutes is the usual.
You forget that you now opt to ride your bike to work, and then go on bike rides for 20 miles like it ain't no thing.
You forget that so many people who worried about you for so long, but loved you as you were, are still happy to see you living life in ways you kept yourself from living before.
You get annoyed that people who know you as you are don't realize where you've come from, but before, looked forward to the day when people didn't know you as you were, but just as you are now.
You forget that you've had so many new experiences that are possible because of how you chose to change your life.
You think you have pretty moments, but don't like yourself as much these days.
You see all the things you didn't do, didn't do as well as you wanted to, or did wrong - and you never think about all the things you did, did well, and did right.
You have the most colorful, varied, brilliant, distinctive, wonderfully ridiculous, perfectly peculiar, absurdly loving bunch of fictional characters that are your real-life friends.
You have little cousins that see you in your bathing suit and say, "Remember when you used to be fat?!"

I am flawed.  I haven't made the best choices.  I've stumbled.

I sometimes feel like a failure.

And then I remember.

I am an intelligent, talented, respected, beautiful person who loves people and is so very fortunate to be loved in return.  I have had my dream jobs.  I've lived in another country.  I have an amazing job at a Michigan craft brewery that has so much potential it's silly, and I work with a cluster of dynamic, passionate, driven, supportive people.  I've had little adventures that you think only happen in the movies, but really happen every day.  I have so much to be thankful for, and so much to look forward to.

I was Sarah Bauman who lost 123lbs, her life changed, then wound up a bit lost.

As of today, I'm Sarah Bauman who's lost zero pounds, is choosing to change her life again, and can see the path off to the left, but just needs to cut through some overgrown shrubbery and will be right back on it.

I'm a late bloomer for life.  Sometimes things take a little while.  But while I have life, I choose to accept that blooming late is better than never.

I'm back.  I've missed you all.  Here we go again.

Fat Archaeology - It's not always a pretty sight.

Imagine we’re in Peru.  We’ve been working on a dig for almost 9 months.  We’ve gingerly cleared away debris for what seems like centuries, and we can finally see a shape forming.  Little brushes in hand, we keep sweeping away until we see a head forming.  Then, a few more brushes in, our face contorts with a surprised, and somewhat disgusted look as we uncover a mummified man, frozen in terror as if he'd just stared down Medusa.

Discovery isn’t always easy, and as it turns out, it’s not always pretty.  But does it make it any less worth it?  Absolutely not!

A few months ago, I remember confiding in my roommate about doubting whether losing weight was worth it.  Why on earth would someone second guess losing a hefty amount of weight and all the awesome changes both physically and mentally that they’d gone through? 

Yearbook photo where I just happen
to be hiding my arms with a towel
while riding the bench in my sleeveless
basketball jersey.

Vanity.  Seeing your body take on a new, yet still somewhat disfigured shape, despite all the hard work you’ve done to improve yourself.  It caused me to pause, get a bit discouraged, and wonder if a new form of oddness was worth it.  Why put in all this effort if, after I’m done, I’m still going to have these odd, off-putting, disfigured parts of my body?  What’s worse – having them be round and full of fat so they’re at least fluffy and smooth, or seeing saggy, weird skin draping in ways that it’s just not meant to?  Why wasn’t I one of those people who were blessed to have skin that bounces back?  

Yeah, okay – cut the crap, Sarah.  I’ve had “odd” bits since I was young.  Even at 14, I had underarms with odd, giggly skin-wings.  I don’t know why my body decided to handle itself that way.  If I could have a conversation with my molecular make-up and skin cells, I would – and I would suggest it behaves itself in a more appropriate manner.  That, unfortunately, is not an option. 

So, what are my options? 

I could accept it.  I could embrace it.  I could find some awesome, awkward infomercial sucker-inner-shape-enhancer stuff.  I could make it work.  I could get plastic surgery to fix it someday.  There are many things I could do.

What am I going to do? 

Deal with it.  I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that certain parts of this process aren’t all roses, and skipping, and magical rainbow beams popping out of animal-shaped, big, fluffy clouds.  There isn’t a cute little cartoon bird sitting on my shoulder whistling Hall & Oates every day.  Some days, yes, but not every day.  I thank God for the way my life is changing, and have decided to tell myself that, A – it’s okay to have those thoughts.  And, B – knock it off, learn from it, and get on with it.  No turning back now, woman.

I’ll admit…  It is a bit of a bummer seeing those things.  It does make me think, “Man… All this work and this is the byproduct?”  I don’t always think it, but hey – I’m human.  I’ve just had to come to terms with the fact that I’m a much smaller person than I allowed my body to be, and my body dealt with it differently than some people.  I remember people telling me when I was young to take advantage of my youth and go for it while I’m young because your body won’t bounce back as easily when you’re older.  My skin didn’t seem to be overly forgiving even when I was younger, but overall, it did shrink back and take a better shape when I lost some weight way back then.  I’m 30 now, though, and finding out all too well that they were right.

So, if you’re an awesome lil’ whippersnapper and thinking about losing weight, listen to those of us who went before you!  HOP to it!  Your body will appreciate it, both for your overall health, and for the odd, giggly skin-wing reasons, too.  Haha.

Big picture?  Worth it.

And if you’re an awesome not-quite-so-young lil’ whippersnapper, you should do it too.  Who cares if I have to find a light weight ¾ sleeve cardigan that will flatter me just right and disguise something I’m not comfortable with?  Spanx?  Bring them on.  Seriously – I love them.  Who knows – maybe I’d even have my wings clipped (polite way of saying plastic surgery, a discussion for another day). 

I’m reminded of my realization about my body and my life being important enough to properly fuel it.  The same is true here.  Given the choice between where I was and where I am now, I’ll take some droopy elbows and giggly, underarm skin-wings over that any day.  They might not make me fly, but they’re certainly proof of how far I’ve come.

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