I was looking sadly at the pictures I had from this date a year ago..

Where I had reached a very significant goal.

And I looked slender and fit.

And I was so, so proud of myself.

And I had such promise on the horizon.

And I was going to do this FOREVER.

I ran an average of 12 miles a week.  A WEEK.  I made smarter choices.  I slept great.  I was wearing my pre-maternity skinny jeans.  I was looking forward to swimsuit season.

And now?  Here we are.  A year later.

I am not satisfied with my level of health right now. That is the nicest, most all-encompassing way to caption where I am in my journey right now.  Last summer, I began to train for a half-marathon, but one long run in the summer heat and I was pretty sure I was going to die.

I was talking online to a birthday twin last night and we’re both at that point.  You know, that point where you’ve hit the wall?  You’ve just had enough?  Where the chub is winning and you’re tired of losing that battle?  Yeah, that’s where we are.

Thus began Project Momma Was a Looker. (Patent pending.)

Also, please spare me the whole “Don’t beat yourself up!” and “You look great!” and all of that great stuff that you people are so amazing for saying and I really do find it sweet, but I’m not where I was, and I want to get back there.  I had great abs before the baby.  I had THE hourglass figure.  I was less of a pear and more of a .. well, hell, I’m not even sure I’m a pear now.  More like a sausage?  Or a .. starfruit?  I dunno.  Something that looks weird on the outside but is totally worth peeling and preparing.  That’s me.

So we’re giving ourselves a couple of months to live on the straight and narrow.  And this internet diet has been making the rounds and promising results from public humiliation.. and as it turns out, I confessed, I did much better with my life when I did the daily bootcamp diaries or participated in the Accountability Flickr Pool, so I had to agree that it works.  So we both agreed to post monthly status reports and then find some way to give daily weigh-ins. (I’m still looking for the latter, btw. If you know of a good widget or tracker to put on my sidebar, hit me up!)

So today starts the journey of Momma Was a Looker.  I’m excited to see the other side.

So, I’m doing this bootcamp thing.  I may have mentioned it once or nine times.

I’m doing it because, last year, AndreAnna had this amazing promotion during April where we tracked how many minutes a day we worked out and she gave that amount to charity, because she’s a freaking goddess.  Anyway, last year, that movement inspired me to start running.  And as a result, I lost 20-30 lbs.  My body became more MINE than it had been in recent memory.  I was immensely proud of that accomplishment and couldn’t wait to keep building on it.

Except.. I didn’t.  I stopped entirely.

Running got too boring, and even though I ended up running tons of 5Ks, I hated them.  Every single minute of every run, I hated.  HATED. So I stopped.  When I started my second job, time was too valuable for exercise.  Then we took a vacation.  Then it was my birthday.  Then it was The Holidays.  And then I just figured I was too far gone.  And while I didn’t gain the weight back, my body’s tone definitely disintegrated.  My “fat pants” became my “all the time pants”.  To see all of that work backslide?  Dude, took a MAJOR toll on my confidence.

It’s funny how that works.  How, on paper, I can and should still be tickled pink that I lost that weight.  I can and should be thrilled with my success.  But all I saw was my more immediate failure.  Ah, womanhood.  You bitch.

So, since I’m, like, abundantly proud of myself for this Boot Camp thing, I did something that was .. well .. it was something I had not done for many, many, MANY years.

I took a picture of myself, totally naked. (Well, save a towel on my head.)

And because even I couldn’t stand to look at the wrinkles and sags and sadness that is the post-partum body (I get to claim that forever, right? because technically, my body is still post-birth?), I did it when I stepped out of the shower this morning and the mirror was still foggy.  So you get a vague idea, but THANKS BE TO JEEBUS AND STEAM you don’t get the full pic.  It’s like having the Barbara Walters interview dream-lens on.

Anyway, so I took this pic, and then I went and had my Lexapro and some oatmeal and thought I was finally ready to actually LOOK at the pic.  I took a deep breath, opened up the “Pictures” icon on my phone, and..

.. heeyyy ..

I wasn’t entirely repulsed.

Did I see the things that I hate about my body?  Why yes, I did, because they are (SURPRISE!) still there.  But did I see a .. different .. view of my body?  I totally did.

I saw a body that is STRONG.  Strong enough to get up every morning at 4:30 a.m. and work HARD for an hour, doing exercises it didn’t think it could do.  I saw a body that birthed a baby bigger than most, pushing in full labor for 2.5 hours.  I saw a body that’s pushed past two breast tumors.  I saw a pooch that reminds me that I am a mommy, hips that remind me I’m a woman, and breasts that are fighting gravity harder since a week ago.

While I wouldn’t say I’m ready for a poster or a three-page spread yet, I was able to look at that picture without wanting to toss my phone across the room in total denial.

I was able to look at that picture and be proud of what I saw.

Yay me!

When I needed to get my financials in check, it involved a massive overhaul of what I thought about money.

It became apparent that what I considered “luxury” was something that was not only unrealistic, but it was silly.  Over time, I came to teach myself that luxury would not be defined by large tvs, elaborate homes, fancy cars, or name-brand clothes; I now define luxury as the freedom to buy food when we need it, to stop for gas without doing math in our heads, to be sick and afford medicine or a doctor’s visit.  Luxury is now defined by freedom and options, NOT by things.  Which, I think, was a huge turning point for me.

Now I need to find the same thing about food.

It’s going to take undoing of YEARS of believing the wrong things.  Since I was 18, I’ve tried every fad diet in the book.  I’ve worked hard to yo-yo diet, and Lord only knows how much money I’ve spent on the various diet trends.  I’ve lived on Diet This and Low-Fat That and Sugar Free SomeMore and you name it, I’ve probably spent money trying it.

And?  I’m kind of done.

Because what inevitably happens is that it’s NEVER as good, it’s ALWAYS crappy, and I RARELY feel happy after eating it.  It doesn’t fulfill ANYTHING I need from food.  Am I the first to admit that I enjoy food?  YES, I AM.  I’m a foodie.  I LOVE food.

So my New Year’s Goal to stop eating diet food has been an awakening for me.

Of my fad diets, the two that have been the most effective were the Atkins Diet and the Reverse Diet.  When I stopped to ponder why, it’s because: it’s REAL food.  Real food.  I loved the food that I ate.  And when I was on the Atkins Diet, I loved the food enough that I didn’t feel the need to gorge on it.  Same thing with the Reverse Diet.  I ate the food that I wanted, no guilt, and I was happy about what I ate.

Let me caveat it all and say that I still try and make wise food decisions.  I’m not living on Krispie Kremes, no matter how much I want to.  But if it comes to using real butter versus margarine, or full-fat cheese instead of no-fat soy cheese? DUDE, that difference makes the food worth eating.  Whole milk has been a welcome addition to our household.  Real, honest food.  And when we eat this real food?  We’re not hungry enough to sit and gorge.  And we don’t feel guilty about it.

It’s a new way to look at food.  One I desperately needed, and one that will reshape 2010 for me.