Archive | June, 2005

The not so friendly skies

26 Jun

Nothing brings home the reality of being fat than flying. Airplanes, for those who aren’t independently wealthy, are never comfortable, no matter what your size. But for those of us with a few (or a lot) of extra pounds, it can be an even more trying experience,

The seats are small and you are closer to your seatmates than anyone should ever be with a stranger. You are surrounded on all sides. A little bit of belly fat slides across the arm rest every time you shift to try to get more comfortable. And you aren’t quite sure what to do with your arms. You can’t keep them comfortable away from your body. There just isn’t enough room. Do you rest them on your stomach, drawing even more attention to your bulk? Ram them against your sides and live with the discomfort? Sometimes, I put the tray table down and lean on it, pretending to be so engrossed in my book that I don’t care that I resembled Quasimodo on a bad day, and praying that there will be enough room between the edge of my tray and my bellybutton. I can’t imagine the pain it causes people who are heavier than I am.

It seems that every time I have a good day and I start to feel pretty confident about myself, I am thrust in to another situation that shines a spotlight on the fact that I am no where near the person I want to be. I think that is something that those who have never been overweight will never understand. There are so many situations where your weight becomes the focus. From something as simple as walking by a window and catching a glimpse of yourself from the side to being stared at or forced in to a confining airline seat. It’s impossible to escape the fat and I find it to be overwhelming at times.

It doesn’t help that I am on my way home. I want to be confident and proud of what I have accomplished but it’s not nearly enough for me. Why should it be enough for anyone else? The glow of my shopping trip has worn off and all I can seem to think about is how fat I still am and that is all people are going to see. I don’t want to see those people from high school. They might not even notice or care but, again, I will be reminded that I am something less (or more, I suppose) than I once was. I will compose in my head all the horrible things they all *must* be thinking of me. Probably much worse than anything they would or could ever come up with, as I am an expert at such negativity . But it’s something very difficult to turn off.

I found myself overeating yesterday as I prepared for my trip home. I was consciously aware of what I was doing and I made little effort to stop myself. I am regretting it today, of course, as I sit here in this tiny seat. Rationally, I know I did not gain all the weight back overnight, nor do I look worse than I did yesterday. But the emotional toll is still weighing on me. Why do I let my little fat girl demon come out? Why can I sometimes stop her when other times I am powerless? How could I eat a whole tortilla after I’d gone *months* without even craving one?

I was literally sitting in my favorite burrito place, talking to myself inside my head. “You are going home and it will be stressful! You need something to soothe you! You haven’t been hungry for days so a few extra calories, fat grams and carbs won’t kill you.” You know the worst part? I didn’t input any of it in my food diary. Not one thing that went in my mouth yesterday was recorded. I can try to play it off as being too busy but we all know that is a lie. I just didn’t want to deal.

And I still don’t. Plus, I am petrified! I don’t want to slide backwards. I’ve made it so far. So much farther than ever before. If I let it get to me and I start to make excuses, eating some pasta here and some fries there, how long can I do that before I fall off the wagon and end up right back where I started from?

Okay, I think my back my seize up if I sit like this any longer. I have more I want to say but being able to walk during my vacation is probably important.


find me a river to float away on

21 Jun

First of all, I have been meaning for days to say howdy to those of you who are actually reading this. *waves* And a big welcome to anyone who came over here because of Mo. I’ve done this thing on and off for a few years now but it’s still strange to know that other people are reading it. It’s a good thing, though, because it keeps me honest. And encouraging comments are always, uh, encouraged. 🙂

Now that I’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, let’s talk about yesterday, shall we? I am in a bit of a conundrum, as the wedding that was the catalyst for this health revolution of mine is this coming Saturday. I am happy that I have come so far and that it actually shows. However, most of the things I planned to wear are a bit big. What’s the point of losing the weight if I go to the wedding in something that doesn’t fit?

On the other hand, it’s all wearable with the assistance of creative beltage and the like. I don’t really want to spend money on what I hope is transitional clothing unless I have to. I thought I would look anyway, as Lame Giant was having a big sale and the Old Navy is always interesting to visit. One problem I do need to tackle is the lack of shorts to wear. I’ve only got one pair that aren’t falling of me (YAY!).

The Old Navy was first. I must give them props because they are the *only* store I could buy jeans from for a long time, as I am short and the fashion industry has decided that if you weigh as much as I do, you must be 14 feet tall. Even the petite and short sizes at most places were too long. But not at the Navy. However, no cute jeans were on sale so I didn’t even grab any to try on. I did grab some short and a few t-shirts that were on sale. Being brave, I decided to go with size 16 in the shorts since the 18s I have at home are the ones that don’t fit.

I took a deep breath and pulled the shorts on and…well, they buttoned, which is a victory in itself. However, um, my fat is different now. Before it was a big, solid ring around my middle, a spare tire if you will. Now it’s sort of a deflated inner tube. A bit floppy and squishy, enough so that when I tried the shorts on, it was rather noticable. I guess that is a positive change. If I wear pants up under my boobs, that is. Heh. The second pair I tried on were not nearly as bad but they were stretchy and I was afrair to buy them and have *them* not fit in a few weeks. (See how cocky I am getting? *snerk*) Therefore, I skipped the Navy shorts.

I guess I should talk about the shirts, too. Again, yay for the Navy and their XXLs. Until they decided to have three different fits, that is. One day, I wandered in and grabbed an XXL and headed to the dressing room. Imagine my horror when I could barely get the damn thing over my head. The panic subsided a little when I realized I had grabbed a tiny fit. Yes, they decided that it would be more fun to have even smaller shirts! Woo! You’ve got your easy fit, for the “big girls”, your perfect fit for the “normal” ladies and the tiny fit for those bitches that like everything skin-tight and tummies bared. Heh. Kidding! Love them! Want to be one! That’s so special! From then on, only the easy fit, uh, fit. But not yesterday! Yesterday? I bought a perfect fit. I didn’t even have to do that stretching thing before I put it on. You know that thing you do, where you get a shirt you think *might* fit, so when you put your arms through it, you sort of stretch it out wide so that it will be as big as possible when you put it on? Yeah, I am an expert at that. Didn’t need it, don’t ever want to again. I also tried on an XXL of one of their dress shirts. AND IT WAS TOO BIG! Um, mostly because my breasts have disappeared, but still. TOO BIG! In a NORMAL STORE! The mind is still reeling.

After that small triumph, I went to Lane Bryant. I have to give them a little love because there was a time when that was the only place I could buy clothes and not look like a senile grandma. But I can say with all sincerity that I look forward to the day when I never have to go there again. So, the sale. One of the horrible things about their sales is what is left. Yes, the 14-16 and then everything over 26. I never understood the point of anything being a 14 there. Why in heaven would you shop at LB if you could wear that size? Can you see where this is going? Am I being subtle enough? Anyway, they had some shorts and shirts on sale but nothing that really wowed me or was better than what was in my closet. Still, I was there so I tried on a jean skort-thing and a blouse. Again, I was feeling the high of the Old Navy experience, so I grabbed a 16 in the skort and a 14/16 in the blouse. Let’s just say, I bought them both. Wearing the blouse right now. Entirely too happy with myself. Heh.

I will say that I also tried on bras and learned even more about my floppy fat and not in a fun way. Overall, the shopping was a good experience. I got to enjoy the benefits of my efforts but I was also reminded that I haven’t come nearly as far as I want to.

Go away and sort of come back another day

20 Jun

No, not the rain. My appetite! My body is one weird wonderland of confusion, I will tell you that. For the week and half leading up to my period, I wanted to eat six pizzas and an icecream truck. As soon as the, uh, flow got going (I try not to be grossed out when talking about this because it’s not gross, dammit, I am woman hear me roar! But, um, it kinda is! I am so sorry, Gloria Steinem!), my appetite completly left the building and it hasn’t come back yet.

One would think that would be a good thing but, for me, it isn’t. When I don’t feel much like eating, the only things that get me to eat are my big cravings. Starchy, salty, saucy goodness, oh my! Take yesterday, I didn’t get up the energy to eat until well in to the afternoon. That’s not a mortal sin or anything, but it lead to me not eating much for the rest of the day and then finding myself *starving* at 9:30. I knew I should eat something but nothing but pizza sounded good. So, more spelt pizza. And then some Wasa crackers. Lotsa Wasa crackers. I went over my recommended carbs yesterday and I knew it. I knew it while I was munching down on the crackers, too. But I kept on eating because I finally wanted to for the first time in days.

However, after all of the eating, not wanting to eat and being incredibly lazy and skippy when it came to exercising, the scale still had me down 2.5 lbs this morning. Yeah, I dunno. Maybe I was bloated last week and actually lost it then but didn’t notice because of the bloating and then the bloat when away and now I see the change. Or something.

So, yeah, my body is not a temple, it’s an insane asylum.

I will give myself a little credit, though. I went to see Batman Begins (for the third time and if you haven’t seen it, YOU MUST!) yesterday at 11am. I was feeling sort of hungry and thought popcorn for breakfast would be good. But you know what I did? Instead of buying it at the theater and writing it off as a treat, I popped my *own* popcorn and stuffed it in a little baggie in my purse. Against the rules? Hell yeah! Rebel lifestyle changer! Woo! Anyway, so that was my first victory of the day. Movie theater popcorn is not that good, certainly not worth the fat and calories from the hideous oils they used. I’ve already ranted in other places about the abhorrent lack of healthy choices at the theater and my confusion as to why they haven’t jumped on the bandwagon.

Anyway, due to my appetite issues, I only ate a little bit of it, so I was pretty hungry after 2+ hours of watching Christian Bale be the hottest thing ever! Now, in the past, I would have driven over to my favorite Italian place or plopped myself down at Le Peep for a nice big brunch. But I did not. As much as I wanted to eating something that I really loved, I resisted the high calorie, high fat stuff that I would have eating without a second thought in the past. I have to give credit to the whole online food diary thing. Knowing that if I go home and input Chicken Bryan Texas with fettuccini alfredo and a half a loaf of sourdough bread, I’ll see that I’ve used up three days worth of calories in one sitting is certainly motivation to skip over that sort of thing.

The understanding that things I would have eaten without pause in the past are so extremely calorie laden has helped me avoid them more than I ever thought possible. I am constantly amazed at how taking a few seconds to think about what I am eating and what it will be like to input it all in my food diary has done to my ability to choose much more wisely. That’s one piece of advice that I can wholeheartedly stand behind.

Out of the closet

16 Jun

If I had a nickel for every time the contents of my closet has made me cry, I could pay someone to lose my weight for me. There is really nothing worse than having plans and having nothing to wear. This shirt is too tight but if I tug on it, maybe I will be comfortable for a few minutes. If I lay down, I can probably get these pants zipped. I am sure no one will notice that the buttons on this blouse are about to pop. I repeated that experience more times than I can count. There were nights when I tried on 10 shirts, minimum. Of course, none of them worked because it didn’t matter what I wore. Just looking at myself in the mirror was traumatic.

Yesterday, I had my first *positive* closet experience. I have to admit, that I don’t really notice much change in myself. Some pants are a little baggie and I guess shirts fit differently. But I am not a size 6 yet or anything, so the change is slow. On a lark, I decided to try on a shirt that I’d never been able to wear before. I am sure I am not the only one who owns clothing that fit in the dressing room but doesn’t quite once it gets home. You were sucking in your gut and standing ramrod straight and it was a thin day. But now it gaps or strains across your chest. So it sits in the closet until you get the courage to try it on.

I grabbed one of those shirts, took a deep breath and put it on. The shirt? Was too big. I just stood there and pulled on it and stared at it in the mirror. I got a little thrill and a kick of confidence. The next thing I did was grab one of my “party” shirts from college. It was one that I bought because it was sparkly and it fit okay. It was stretchy material so if I tugged on it throughout the night, I could deal with it.

Another deep breath and I pulled the shirt over my head. It was actually loose on me! That’s when the tears came. I have no idea why that is what got me but it did. Just the concept that I am thinner than I was six years ago is a little daunting. As someone who has never lost more than 5 pounds at a time, the ramifications of 21 pounds was a bit overwhelming.

So I wore the shirt to work because I couldn’t get enough of that thrill! It wasn’t even really a professional-ish work shirt, but I didn’t care. *l* So when I got home today, I poked around to find something else to try on. This time. a dress that I wore once and made the mistake of washing and drying it, rendering it too tight to wear. It’s barely wearable now. A bit baggy in the chest and the sides, even. I cried even harder today because I got that dress during a totally shitty time in my life and I love the fact that I am a thinner and happier version of that person. Who is totally wearing that dress to work tomorrow. Heh.

This happened at a good time because the last two weeks have been difficult. I’ve been making excuses for eating bad things. I was feeling cocky and I fell in to that trap of wanting to reward myself or be “normal” because I had been so successful. I am glad a *positive* shock was available instead of a depressing weight gain.

Next, we try some cheap jeans I found on that I bought a size smaller than what I was currently wearing. We shall see. If they don’t fit now, I am fine with that. Sixty dollar jeans for $20 are a nice thing to work towards, if you ask me.

It’s a very complicated formula

14 Jun

I did not gain any weight last week. Woo? I think that’s bad. Bad bad bad. I should have gained weight. I ate an ASSLOAD of the crapiest crap that ever crapped. No gain. There should be more consequences for binging on deep-fried w-shaped tater tots. Balls of fat should spontaniously appear on the side of my face or something. Okay, maybe not quite that bad.

The point is, I feel like I got away with something and that’s never ever good. Because my drive and my self-control is tightly linked to the rewards that come with the sacrifices. If I don’t make sacrifices and I come out unscathed, the bitchy fat girl in my head gets louder and the healthy me starts to listen to her. That is never, ever good, people. Ever. I suppose I should thank my lucky moons and consider this a learning experience. But I am never mature like that.

And not only did I have the tots from hades, I had a nice planned bingey weekend. I bought some dip and some chips and pizza fixins. It was a grand ol’ time. I almost found it amusing, however, that I couldn’t bring myself to buy the actual horrible food I used to snarf on, so that’s a step in the right direction. I made myself look at the nutritional label of everything I *wanted* and I couldn’t bring myself to eat a 2,000 calorie pizza. That’s not something I would have turned down in the past. The dip was relatively healthy compared to other choices, the chips were baked and low-fat and the pizza crust was spelt, with turkey pepperoni and low-fat cheese. I barely went over my calorie limit, yet still stuffed my face.

Again, not exactly what I need or want to be doing right now. But at least I’ve trained myself to choose smarter. It’s a step in the right direction. The next step should be avoiding the binging all together. Baby steps, yo.

I had another incident with Mommy!Co-worker yesterday. I was having some chips with my tortilla-less burrito and she was like “what are you eating?? I thought those weren’t on your diet?!?” and then followed it up with some pouty-mommy faces. Gah. I made sure to input them in to my food diary, I only ate one serving and I had the calorie and carbs to do so. I mean, I skipped the lucious and chewy goodness of the flour tortilla that used to lovingly cradle my burriton, let me have some FUCKING chips.

Think I need have a chat with her? Maybe just a little.

Cannot find server my ass

9 Jun

I am not sure Self understands how traumatic it is for me when the Self Diet Club goes down. How am I supposed to know how many calories I’ve eaten? How many more I can eat? COME ON!!

Yes, I know. I can use FitDay. But FitDay? Is ugly. I like my Web experience to be esthetically pleasing, thank you very much. Plus, I’d have to re-enter everything. I hate that! Stupid Self.

I think Billy Blanks hates me because my arms hurt so bad today, I don’t know what to do. It’s just my triceps but still. Pain! I guess the workouts I was doing previously were not properly working those muscles. I have to admit that the Fat Blasting Cardio was extremely difficult and I haven’t sweat that much in a long time. I didn’t do it this morning because a)my arms wouldn’t move and b)I have to work both jobs tonight. I will see what I can do about getting up tomorrow and doing it. It’s difficult to get home at midnight, get up and exercise and be to work by 9am at the latest. It makes for a long two days, I can tell you that.

Despite my attempt to not step on the scale for fear of what it might say, I got on it this morning. It is giving me a 197 which, all things considered, wouldn’t be that traumatic. But I’ve got a few days before the official weigh in to erase it and eek out a week at even. It would be a victory, what with the tater tots from hell, PMS and added muscle stacked against it.

I’ve been surfing through as many weight-loss/fitness blogs that I can find. Does anyone else have an addiction like that? It’s rather odd. I feel like I have to emerse myself in it all of the time to keep myself on track.

Oh, thank goodness. The Self thing is back up. I won’t have to kill anyone.

Two steps forward, one step back

8 Jun

Is that a negative enough subject line? Probably not but I am trying not to get too crazy with the crap. Let’s just preface this entry by saying that I ate a whole order of the weird W-shaped tater tots that Pizza SlHut has on their menu now. I was just going to order the Light n’ Fit or whatever the crap their low-fat pizza is called and be done with it. But I saw those potatoes and it was all over.

Now, don’t be fooled by the fact that I was going to buy the “healthier” pizza. I still planned on eat a lot of it. A LOT. So instead of eating a whole medium pizza, I had a few slices and a giant box of TATER TOTS! I mean, I might have gotten a few points for effort if I had just binged on the low-fat pizza. But the tater tots were over the top.

Let’s examine yesterday and see if we can root out the problem, shall we? It is, of course, that time of the month and I would really just prefer eating a house and being done with it. I am hitting the peak of my crankiness and depression, so that’s always fun. And then I tempted fate by responding to something Hannah wrote, about how a woman’s comments to her were kind of harsh on her feel-good buzz. I tried to be all smart and helpful so the universe thought a nice karmic bitch-slap was in order for my actually-stupid self.

There is a woman I work with who has taken it upon herself to be my little life coach. She’s only a few years older than me, but a mother and a sometimes-marathon runner. She’s always asking me how I doing and telling me how good I am looking, all that jazz. Most of the time, I just nod and smile. Sometimes, I feel like sharing more and we chat about stuff. But most of the time, I like, damn woman, I am not your kid. Please stop speaking to me like I am a retarded child!

So, yesterday I wore a sleeveless shirt because it is fucking hot as hell here and it matched the skirt and kicky sandals I wanted to wear. I was feeling pretty good because the shirt was actually a little big on me. Woo! Go me, right? Uh, wrong, I guess. I am sitting at my desk and FitnessMom comes over and starts chatting me. Then, sort of out of the blue she says “man, your arms are getting worse! are you doing weights or anything? they are looking pretty bad! you should lift more weights.”

Basically, I was shell shocked and just sort of stared at her and mumbled okaaaay. Of course, the next time I went to the restroom, I spent five minutes staring at the granny flab that had accumulated under my arms. It certainly wasn’t pretty, but hey! I am hard enough on myself as it is. I notice plenty of flaws, thank you very much. I don’t particularly need your running ass to point more out to me! Damn. I literally ended every trip to the restroom staring at my disgusting arms.

None of this is a legitimate excuse to stuff my face with fried representations of our moron president. But I gotta be honest with myself and put it out there so I remember how I got there. I even entered it all in my food log. We shall see how going almost 700 calories over my daily goal effects. I am going to go back down to 1200 calories for the rest of the week to see if I can maybe even it out a bit and sneak through without a gain.

One positive thing to take away from all of that is that I did get my ass out of bed this morning to work out. I set my alarm for 6:45 and gave myself a big pep talk last night about how I had to get up because those calories weren’t going to burn themselves and I needed to get back on the horse before it ran away. Or something.

Of course, I woke up at about 5:50 and decided I needed the sleep more. But when I went back to bed, I laid there for awhile, feeling like I was stuck in the middle of a desert and I hadn’t had a drink of water in days. My parched mouth made it impossible for me to pretend that last night’s binge didn’t happen. All the salt and fat from those stupid potatoes were haunting me. I ended up shutting the alarm off completely and getting up 45 minutes before I had originally planned.

I got Billy Blanks: Tae Bo: Fat Blasting Cardio and Crunch: Fat Burning Dance Party from Netflix yesterday and decided to go with Mr. Blanks this morning. It? Was hard. Like, whoa, hard. Of course, I didn’t have resistance bands so it wasn’t as hard as it could have been. Thank goddess! So I followed little Rico or whatever his name was, without the bands. It was still hella sweaty up in my apartment, though.

It’s been a looooooooong time since I did any Tae Bo and that was the beginner’s DVD from back in the day. I appreciate that he still gives examples before the moves and most of them start out slow before he screams “cardio!” and then I flail around like a dying fish on the dock. It’s weird but he really makes me feel like he gives a shit about me sometimes. Heh. I can sort of understand why he’s got such a cult following.

Even without the love, I like that he is always reminding you about proper form and stuff. Most of the time, I am doing exactly what he is reminding me not to do. It’s like he can see me! Okay, not really, but you get the picture. Of course, the scary blonde to his left was sort of freaking me out with her screeching and hooahing all the time. And I think her abs my be coming after me someday if I am not careful. One little nitpick, though. The stretching at the end was waaay too short. I spent a few minutes doing some stretches of my own. Less happy-people circle, more stretching, yo.

After I was done and slightly recovered, I made myself a small lunch and some snacks, tossing in cottage cheese and cinnamon for breakfast. The horse is happily trotting along with me riding on it as I type. All I need to do now is stop tempting fate by talking about how easy things are and giving stupid advice to other people.