Another New Adventure

A little over ten years ago, I was creeping my way towards an Associate's degree in photography. I loved all of my art classes, dreaded general ed, and overall had a pretty good time. Two years in, though, I packed up and moved to D.C. without any plans to transfer or finish the degree. It's lurked in the back of my mind since then, that unfinished degree. Yet another project that I started but left incomplete (kind of like how I waited three years to take my NCE).

I've been thinking about school off and on for at least a year. I wasted some time (and money!) going to nail school in the hopes that it would satisfy my "back to school" urge. Of course, it didn't. I pore over anatomy books and pathology books and journal articles under the guise of making myself a better massage therapist. But it's just not enough. I need more. And I need that lingering unfinished business to be done. So I finally bit the bullet; I drove down to the old community college and got a copy of my transcripts -- just to see where I left off.

In my memory, I was a good student. I remember going to classes, getting along with instructors, doing projects, the works. But one look at my transcripts and other memories come back: long nights of drinking at O'Sullivan's, failing tests because of hangovers, looks of disappointment from teachers who really, really liked me and wanted me to excel. With a few exceptions (Biology, Spanish, and Math, surprisingly), my grades were TERRIBLE. I was at school for two years and I'm left with about four classes that will count towards my new degree path. Oy.

So what IS that new degree path? Well, certainly not photography (although if I went back to that, I'd have a whole lot less work to do). I love photography; it's still my hobby. But it's a useless degree at this point in my life, and I don't want photography to be my job. What DO I want, what do I really want, and honestly what HAVE I wanted since I was a kid?

I want to be a doctor.

Saying that out loud, even typing it is scary. It's a scary secret that I've harbored for a very long time. How many times did I tell people I wanted to be a painter, a writer, a massage therapist, a photographer -- anything BUT a doctor. How long have I lied to myself about what I really want? My whole life, it feels like. I kept it a secret because I didn't believe I was smart enough to pull it off. I kept it a secret because deep down I was scared that I WAS smart enough, and oh God, what if I was smart enough and I wasted all those years in high school smoking pot and watching surf movies and riding around in Jeeps and doing anything BUT going to school?! It's a horrible catch-22 of self-defeating thoughts, low self-esteem, regret, and sheer terror.

Time to snap out of it, now. NOW, with the urgency and intensity Cher in "Moonstruck" slapping Nicholas Cage. I believe it of my body -- my body can do anything I want it to. So why not believe it of my brain? Of my life?

I'm aware that the road I'm choosing is long, arduous, and marked with heavy tolls. I'm aware that to get those two magical letters, MD, requires about seventeen years of school and more debt than I can even imagine. I'm aware that it's entirely possible I'll get back into college classes and absolutely hate it. I'm going into this with my eyes wide open. But, dammit, I'm going.

I have to do this. It's as essential to me as my weight loss has been. I cannot live the rest of my life without at least trying to reach this goal.

I'm really going to do this. I have butterflies in my stomach as I browse the catalogs, track degree paths, compare schools. I imagine myself acing insanely difficult classes like Organic Chemistry and feel that indescribable "SQUEEEEEE!" (Don't judge -- Whitman had his yawp, I've got my squee.)

In about five days, I'm registering for classes. I'm taking the first teetering, toddling steps towards a huge, long-term goal. I'm doing this.

Are you ready?

Pondering

I've spent the morning tooting around on the Weight Watchers website. I'm seriously considering rejoining, having been very successful with my two previous experiences. I have some other reasons for joining -- I need support, Smith is uber busy with work (and a new baby who should be arriving any second now!), I need to track my food better and WW has a tool for my Blackberry that will let me do just that.

The down side is, of course, the cost. If I sign up for the Monthly Pass, I get unlimited meetings and use of their eTools (which are pretty kick-ass). It's $39.95 a month. That may not sound like much, but it is to me. We've spent the last year cutting our monthly bills down as much as possible in order to pay off a seemingly endless pile of debt.

So, I made a decision. I'm going to use the tips I earn at work to pay for the monthly pass. It'll take me about two weeks' worth to get started, and that'll be that. I'm gonna do it. (I'm also hoping that my pal Peggy will sign up and do this with me, but that's up to her.)

Thanks to BitchCakes for her super inspiring blog that got me thinking about Weight Watchers again!

Nerves A-Janglin'

So Smith is coming over tonight to go over Operation Un-Fat Me. I'm excited, but a little nervous, too. I've never had anybody (well, other than my mom) act as my trainer before, so I'm not quite sure what to expect. I know it'll be good, and I also know it's going to be hard. It's like the first day of school, or something. I just keep telling myself, "I can do this. I can DO this. I CAN DO THIS O MY GOD I MIGHT BARF."

Oh god, what if I barf on Smith? He'd probably think it was funny. But still. Oh god.

236

This is where I begin: only three pounds shy of my highest recorded weight.

I've decided to chronicle my latest weight-loss journey here. I need something separate from my regular blog, something just about my weight. I want to figure out how I got here, and why I've stayed at this weight for so long. I've tried many times, both successfully (at least for a little while) and unsuccessfully to do this.

My ultimate goal is to reach my "ideal" weight, about one hundred pounds lower than my current weight. In the short term? Stop feeling like crap every day. Get out of the plus-sized clothes. Feel better about myself and what I put into my body.

So, pull on your big-girl panties, 'cause we're in for a heck of a ride!