putting things in perspective

Most days, even though logically I know I have lost a significant (yet not sufficient) amount of weight, I still feel like 100% of the woman I used to be.  I still feel fat.  I feel HUGE.  Every bit as fat as I was in October when I started. 

When I look in the mirror, I see a fat person (I am still fat, after all) so I just automatically assume I am the same fat person.  Yes, I am hard on myself.  My friend told me today that I am TOO hard on myself.   She told me to focus on what I have accomplished.  My mind always goes back to “well if I am so great, WHY DID I LET THIS HAPPEN?”

I think on the days when I feel like a total flop, and like I weigh 320 pounds again and this was all a dream, I need to look at these.

This picture was taken in August of 2010.  I don’t even know why I am posting this picture.  It’s horrible.  It makes me want to cry.  Not because that day was a horrible, stressful day (you wouldn’t know it by the picture though!) but…I mean…look at me.   This is not the kind of picture you frame and put over the fireplace.  This picture fills me with shame.  This picture makes me hate me.   My face looks happy in this picture, but if you adjust your screen so that you can’t see my head at all, what you’re left with is just a blob of disgusting.

This one was taken in September.  I know because we’re holding a quilt that I made for a relative for their wedding gift.  I’m the one on the left.  It’s not a great view of me, but I think you can get the picture.  I had it in my head that I would lose x amount of weight before this wedding.  I did not lose a single pound.  Lots of pictures were taken at that wedding and I look awful in every one.  I wasn’t wearing this outfit, I had on a dress and believe me, I looked like crap in it.

This is as close to a “before” picture as I have.  This picture was taken mid October 2010 which is when I started.  In fact, this was probably one of my first days on plan.  I remember because we were touring a facility and I knew it was going to be a lot of walking so I took some pills that I knew would give me boundless energy.  As a side effect, they also took away my appetite entirely.  I don’t think I ate more than 600 calories that day.  I think I thought “hey, this could be the start of something” and went from there.  I have lost an average of 2.2 lbs per week since this picture was taken.  That slide was a lot of fun.  Too bad this picture of me having such a great time makes me feel so bad about myself.   I have a HUGE smile on my face in this picture.  I think I am actually laughing.  To me, that is all lost when me eyes move from my face to…..the rest of me.

Then there is this picture.  The most current picture of me that exists on the planet.  Still fat, yes…but making progress.  It’s just hard to remember that sometimes because the mirror doesn’t show me before pictures…all I see is Fat Twiggy, day in and day out.  I forget the differences.  I think sometimes I feel like I need to take myself down a peg or two…something like “hey, don’t get cocky, you are still FAT.  This isn’t over.”  Not that I think it is or ever will be over, but there will come a time when I am done with the weight loss portion of this journey.

The point at which I have decided I will re-evaluate my goals is 180 lbs.  I know that sounds high but remember I have a larger % of muscle mass than most women (yes, doctors have said this) so I really couldn’t begin to guess what 180 will look like on me.  It struck me yesterday that I no longer have more than 100 lbs to go before I get there.  It used to be, when I would think about getting there, it seemed so impossible.  It was 140 lbs.  A whole person.  I couldn’t imagine it.  Now it’s under 100 lbs.  It’s still a lot, but to me it just feels better to know that it’s less than 100.    I may decide to continue past 180…I won’t know til I get there.

I did some quick measurements today.  Since I started, I have lost nearly 3 inches in each of my thighs.  My neck has gone down about 1.5 inches.  My waist is harder because I can never find the same spot, but as near as I can tell I have lost 3-4 inches there.

Progress pics are still in the works.  We are passing the flu around in my house so I’ve been busy either being sick or taking care of people who are sick…but I will get that done soon.


I want a do-over!

Yesterday just.plain.sucked.

I know, I have been saying that a lot lately.

I’m not talking about my food.   Eating-wise?  It was fine.  I am getting settled again and that makes me happy.  The days when I feel the urge to snack all day (it’s not hunger, just the urge to eat) really make me wonder if I will ever make much progress with this whole weight loss thing.

Other than eating, though, it was not a fun day.

I took my youngest to preschool and discovered that it was pajama day.  Everyone in the class remembered but us.  I felt awful. 

I went around and around with Hubster about which class to enroll him in next year.  Long story short, there are several options for him in preschool next year and Hubster and I don’t agree on which one I should sign him up for.  I began to get stressed.

When I picked Kid3 up from preschool, it became apparent that I had locked my keys in my car.  I called Hubster, who was not happy about the thought of having to leave work to bail me out.  To avoid this, I asked someone there who I have been pretty chummy with if I could borrow her car to go get the key from him.  She said no, which is her right, but it hurt my feelings a bit.

I went home, fed the kid, and had a lean cuisine pizza thingie for lunch.  Kid3 decided he wanted to take a nap, so I took him upstairs and thought I might lay down for a minute as well.  Not two minutes later, the tinkle of broken glass was heard.  Cursing the dog under my breath, I went downstairs to see what was going on.

The dog (and cat) had managed to break a floor lamp…and its bulb, which was one of those CFL bulbs.  Nice.  Poisonous mercury in the house, anyone?  Pieces of the bulb were EVERYWHERE.  I had to open the door to ventilate that house, and it was…oh….about 5 degrees outside.  I tried, but I found that I still didn’t clean it up right.  Note to self, don’t use those bulbs in floor lamps.

After all that, I had to lead a cub scout meeting from 5-6 and then a girl scout meeting from 6:30-7:30.  I squeezed dinner in between those.  It was pretty delicious, prepared by Hubster while I was out running around.

I am still a little worried about the less than proper clean up job I did with this stupid light bulb.  *sigh* 

This morning was nice, though, when I looked down at the scale and saw that I am -2 lbs from Wednesday’s weigh in already though.  I think today is going to be a much better day :).

Kindergarten Bitches

It’s so sad that some mean girls get such an early start…

Last September, I chaperoned my daughter’s first school field trip.  We went to the pumpkin patch and to pick apples.  I was assigned 2 other kids to watch in addition to my kid, and I was nothing but nice to both of them.  We had a great time.

The next day my 5-year-old daughter came home and informed me that one of them, Natalie, had told her that she didn’t like me because I was fat.

Now, I had always worried that my children would be affected at some point because they had a fat mother.  I just wasn’t expecting it to happen this soon.  I never had any trouble with any of the kids in my son’s class…so I was a little surprised that this was happening so early in my daughter’s school career.

I’m not going to lie.  I went upstairs and I cried.  I was so sad that my kid might be teased at school because of me.  I felt like throwing up.

Today, my daughter brought home a field trip permission slip.  I asked her if she wanted me to come with her.  There was a long silence.  Then she said “Someone at school says you are fat, so I will take Daddy this time.”

My heart is broken, and now I don’t even like making an appearance at my son’s class.  I wonder if his friends are thinking the same thing.  I suspect 7-year-old boys are too busy thinking about boy stuff to worry about whether someone’s mom is fat or not…but I wonder.

I don’t want my kids to be embarrassed about me.

This comes on the heels of a less than stellar week.  I don’t know what it is this week, but I have really felt like snacking a lot.  Mostly I’ve been able to avoid it, but there has also been a lot of eating out.  Mostly I have done well with it, but Sunday I just let go and ordered what I wanted instead of what I should have.  I’ve been working out but I still feel like such a failure.

So to have my daughter say this to me today, while I am trying to cling to my weight loss process and not give up hurts all the more.  It hurts me that I will not be able to go on any of her field trips this year because at no point during this school year will I not be fat and I will not have my daughter teased because of me. 

Of course I don’t give a rat’s ass what this kid thinks.  She can say what she wants about me, she’s just a dumb 5-year-old.  It’s my kid’s feelings that I care about. 

To add insult to injury, today I was looking through some old pictures and when I finally found the one I was looking for, I was a little sad.  I was looking for pictures of my son’s second birthday, which occurred 4 months after the birth of my daughter.  I was much thinner then. 

I hate that I am much fatter then than I was shortly after having a baby.  I  hate that I let this happen.  I just really hate what I am right now.

Lotta hate here today, folks.  Lotta hate.

The Backstory, as it were

I keep making vague references to my weight loss history and promising to fill you in someday, with the intentions of doing it when I have nothing better to say.  The trouble is, it seems like I have a lot to say.   Here it is.  Sorry, it’s long.

I wasn’t always fat.   Not fat fat.  I have pictures of me in which I don’t look all that bad – unfortunately they are from when I was a child.  I can remember in high school, about 9th grade, weighing about 150 lbs and thinking I was fat.  Oh if I weighed 150 lbs now….but that is neither here nor there I suppose.  I’m not sure when it happened.  I think it had something to do with my parents divorce when I was 15 and my subsequent choice to live with my dad who was never home in the evenings, leaving me to eat nothing but mac n cheese and pizza every day.  School lunches consisted of french fries (huge plates of them) and mountain dew. 

The next thing I know for sure is that I had to take a fitness class in college to satisfy some requirement or other and as part of it, we had to take a fitness test.  I weighed in at 230 and the instructor looked at me over her glasses and informed me that I needed to lose weight.  Like I wasn’t already aware that I was fat.

That summer, I moved out of my house and while I was gone, I went a little nuts.  We ate frozen pizza almost constantly.  Mac n cheese was a food group.  The name of the game was scarf the food down and then have some ice cream.  I know I gained weight that summer, but I’m not sure how much.  I am similarly unsure of how much I weighed during my second year of college when I was back living at home.  Then I moved out of my house for good.

About a year later, I got married, and that is the next time in my life where I can pinpoint any fat-related information.  I *think* my wedding dress was a size 20, and it fit me pretty well.  I went on being fat for a while, but in the summer of 2002, something happened.  I joined weight watchers.

It worked like a charm.  I did it for about 3 months and I lost 40 lbs.  I was down to 225 and you could tell I was looking much better.  I was jogging 1.5 miles several times a week and watching what I ate.  The pounds were falling off like magic.  I had a fairly active job and that helped.  In the fall, though, I started a new job.  This one was a sit down job and I was working so much I didn’t feel like I had time to follow WW anymore.  I stopped.  I kept the weight off, but I didn’t lose any more.

A few months later, I got pregnant with kid #1.  I gained about 25 lbs with that pregnancy but I didn’t get much of it off before getting pregnant with kid #2 a year after #1 was born.  When I was pregnant with #2, I gained about 40 lbs.  After kid #2 was born, I worked hard to lose the weight and I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight within 6 weeks.  Then I slowwwwly started to gain it back.  Then, I got pregnant with kid #3 when #2 was about 17 months old.  I started out doing okay as far as weight gain is concerned, but halfway through the pregnancy we found some issues with the baby and after that I didn’t care anymore.  I gained a lot more after that.  When #3 arrived and was totally healthy and fine except for a relatively small problem that we just had to keep an eye on, I was still suffering from the effects of the stress of the previous 4 months or so and I continued in my downward (or is it upward?) spiral. 

Pretty soon the health issues with Kid3 were resolved (he is 100% fine), leaving me fatter than ever.  In late 2008/early 2009, I decided to lose some weight.  I did.  I got all the way down to 288.5.  Then I went on vacation, and even though I was on plan through the whole vacation and lost weight while I was gone, I just was not able to settle back into my routine when I got home.   I don’t know what happened.  Slooooowwwwwly the weight crept back on, I think mostly because of my stupid evening drive thru habit.  Stress gets to me over the day and as soon as the kids are in bed I leave Hubster to hold down the fort and run to my good friend, food.  After a year of doing that, I had gained every bit of it back.

After that I had a few sputtering attempts to get back into my groove…but never got off the ground.  It was really annoying and stupid. 

Then…I don’t know.  Lightning struck.  I tried again, and this time it stuck.  I have no idea what was different.  I don’t really care, as long as it sticks through 100 more lbs.

If you are still reading, congratulations.  You win the determined blog reader award.  I know, this was a novel….sorry.  You totally rock.

Tempation strikes (and Twiggy sways in the wind)

I think I am PMSing…I usually have crazy cravings the week or so before she hits, and although I expected her last week, things don’t always add up thanks to what I suspect might be PCOS.  I don’t have a regular cycle by any means, so it’s not a shock at all.

Last night was rough for me.  I was faced with the prospect of going out in the cold, dark night to go grocery shopping.  We were down to soup in the pantry.  No milk, no eggs, no bread, not much of anything.  I didn’t feel like going.

Then a little light went on above my head.  I was stressed.  I was tired.  I didn’t want to leave the house.  Why not make it a little more bearable with a little trip to my favorite drive thru? 

I quickly dismissed the idea as quite crazy.  No.  I can’t.  I haven’t done that in months and I’m not about to start now.  No.  Then the little voice came back…

“Come on.  Just this once.  It’ll be okay.”


But even as I was dismissing the idea, I started to taste the food.  I daydreamed (while I was supposed to be writing my list) about what I would order.  I could picture myself sitting in the dark car, eating it. 

“See?” purred the voice.  “It’ll make you feel better.”

My thoughts strayed.  I have had several really good days in a row, yet my weight has stayed stuck at +1 or so from last week.  If I’m going to be up anyway….and I thought about the menu…which items I would most like…

Then I shook off the thought again…but my resolve was weakening.  It was getting harder and harder to tell myself I wouldn’t do it.

“No.  I’ll hate myself tomorrow if I do.”

The voice crooned “But you’ll love yourself tonight if you do.”

And that’s when I managed to pull the sword out of the hat.  Right as hope was quickly vanishing and I was practically fishing around in my pocket to see if I had the extra cash to do it.  The death of this little battle came unexpectedly with that one line.  The part of me that wanted to indulge became the engineer of its own demise.

No….I won’t.  I won’t love myself tonight if I do.  I might like the taste of the food, but I’ll feel guilty as I sit there and it won’t change anything else.  I’ll still be going out in the cold for groceries, only I’ll have a bloated, over-full belly to lug around the store.  It won’t take away the stress of my day, and it won’t make me feel good at all.  It’s only food.  Just food.  And I’m not even hungry. 

I straightened up, finished my list, went to the store and bought lots of healthy food, and didn’t spare another thought for the drive thru.  Not one.  It almost had me…but then I remembered the truth.  It’s only food and it can’t make me feel better. 

I can tell you, that realization made me feel a lot better than a hamburger and fries has ever made me feel.

*I don’t really hear voices, okay?   Oh, and I wanted to use a picture of a real snake, but I thought maybe I might have readers who don’t like snakes so I tried to pick a really mean looking cartoon one. 

I am still so very fat.

Ok.  This is not a newsflash to me.  It’s just that sometimes I get so caught up in the positive things that I get blindsided once in a while and it stings just a little bit. 

The other day I caught sight of myself in a full length mirror out of the corner of my eye and I thought “Woah!  I am still so very fat.”

On Wednesday I was over the moon with my weigh in results so I thought maybe a new coat was in order.  I have a very nice winter coat.  The problem is it doesn’t fit me.  I can’t zip it up.  It’s been below zero here and I’m freezing my butt off in a fleece jacket.  So I thought maybe I could buy a cheap winter coat so I’d be warm to tide me over unti I can zip my coat.  I don’t think it will fit me this winter, not comfortably anyway.  So I marched into the plus size coat section at the W store and looked for a 2xl.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  They didn’t have one, just a 3XL so I thought “Okay, I’ll try that on.  If it’s too baggy, at least it’s warm and I can donate it when it gets warmer.”

OMFG WRONG!!!!  I couldn’t zip it up.  I don’t understand.  By the numbers the coat gave for sizing (22/24) I should have been okay in it.  I should have been able to zip it up.  The fact that I STILL can’t zip up a 3XL coat was like a cold slap in the face.  I don’t know if this coat was cut small or what…but damn.  I am still so very fat.  That really let a lot of air out of my balloon that day.

Today a friend invited me to check out her class at the gym.  I asked her if it would kill me.  She said it is tough, but if she (at 35 wks pregnant) can do it, I would surely be okay.  She told me not to worry, there are a lot of people in that class and many of them modify the moves, it would be okay.  I went.  I do like to try new things.

10 minutes in and I took the risers out of my step.  My legs were screaming.  I had not worn the right bra either so my giant boobs were getting unruly.  At the “peak” of the class, they did this thing where you would go down and do a couple of push ups, then some mountain climbers, then jump up and do some jumping jacks.  I left the room to “go get a drink”.  I was nearly in tears.  I can’t do push ups or mountain climbers, especially the MC’s.  My belly is in the way I guess.  I wanted to cry.

I took a long drink and wandered back and by the time I got back they had moved on to something else.  It was a tough class.  I am going to be very sore tomorrow.

The good news is, this glass had a lot of step in it and the last time I tried to do step, one of my knees couldn’t take it.  This time, they were both fine.  There was also some jogging at the end and I was able to do that no problem and the last time I tried to jog, my knee vowed revenge on me for weeks.  I did not try jogging at all after that.  I didn’t pull any punches with the running today, and my knee didn’t go into hysterics, so I might add a little of that into my cardio routine.  We’ll see how it goes.  I’ve heard the old “one pound lost takes 4 lbs off each knee” thing but I do still have to keep in mind that I am still so very fat.

I’m not going into self destruct mode or anything…I just wanted to blog about some things that have happened to me lately that have kind of taken the wind out of my sails a little bit.  I know it’s only temporary, and I will only fail if I quit though so I just keep on going.  I just really, REALLY hate that a f’ing 3XL coat didn’t fit me. 


I Might As Well Have Done Something To Deserve It-itis

Remember who used to do commercials for this place:

I am barely old enough to remember, but he also wrote a book.  Actually a few books.  The one I’m thinking of is this one..I think. 

(Hint – if you didn’t figure out who I’m talking about, his name is right there on the book!)

Anyway, in the book, there is this guy named Ed.  Through circumstances that I can’t remember, he becomes friends with a lady in town named Tamara.  His wife finds out, and without asking any questions, she assumes he is cheating on her and takes the kids to “visit her sister”.  She won’t take his calls and back then there was no email.  After being a little hurt and confused over this, he figures that if he is going to be in that much trouble, he might as well have done something to deserve it.

So he starts hanging out with his new friend more.  As far as I can tell, nothing ever happens romantically between them, but I am kind of young and naive so maybe I missed something?  Anyway, the more he hangs out with her, the more he finds out that she is kind of strange and he misses his wife.

I won’t tell you what happens, I suggest you go to the library and pick up the audiobook, it’s read by the author, and I found pretty much all his books to be enjoyable to listen to.

It has been a crazy week on the scale.  Actually, a crazy 2 weeks.  I really cannot say what I did to deserve it, but I will say that some days it was pretty difficult to fight off the I Might As Well Have Done Something To Deserve It-itis.  Some days it was easy to just keep doing what I am doing, even without any tangible results.  Some days it was down right tough.  Thoughts start to creep into my head like “Well, if I’m not going to have a loss this week anyway, why not go to lunch at McDonalds?”  I was able to fight that creep out of my head, but then another one would come in and say “Look, the scale is not going to love you tomorrow no matter what, so why not go out for a milkshake.  You should anyway, it would make your throat feel sooooo much better.”

Whenever these thoughts presented themselves, I presented them with this thought:  Why do something that will make it even MORE unlikely that the scale will drop soon? 

The thought of having to see the scale act weird for any longer than I have to really drove me to stay on my path.

I’m not going to speculate on what my weigh in is going to be like tomorrow.  I had my weigh in at the Y today but their scale is not my scale, plus I had clothes on and stuff…so not accurate in my opinion.  For my weigh ins, I use only the official Twiggy Scale.

Some NS Things, Too

I wanted to put these in a separate post from my weigh in, but yesterday I had a couple of non scale moments I wanted to share.

First things first.  I was having a cranky day yesterday, and I made a post on my favorite social networking site to that effect.  One of my friends, who I must have told that I like those silly McGriddles things at McDonalds, suggested this:

 “Those days I just want to leave and cry! Sorry, sister! Hopefully something made you smile! A McGriddle????”


I mean, this friend is thin.  She’s not super skinny, but she is thin (in spite of having had 3 kids in 4 years and another due in a few weeks).  I don’t believe that she self medicates with food.  In any case, I have posted about it here before.  I  have self medicated with food in the past, and it’s something that I have had to work hard to overcome.  And here it was, staring me right in the face(book).  (sorry, I had to lol).  As if I needed it, I had someone practically giving me the green light to go ahead and bury my issues from that day in a mountain of McDonalds.

I provided a light hearted response.  Sometimes  when I teach computers at the preschool that my son goes to, I do have the occasional treat like that, so I just said that since I didn’t have computers again until after Christmas, that wasn’t on the agenda.  Then she said this:

 “Maybe a hot fudge sundae before kid pickup….I guess DS2 will be with you”

OMG.  Srlsy?  WWWTTTFFF?????  It was like she had been possessed by the devil and was doing this on purpose.  The rest of the conversation went like this:

Me: “No, Hubster is home so I can go away by myself if I want to.”

Her: “Yes!”

Me:  “But I’m not gonna.”

Her:  “Well where’s the fun in that?”

Me: “I’m not trying to be contrary, I just can’t go that route is all. I think I have some business to attend to this afternoon so that should serve as a distraction for me :)”

The funny thing is, even though in the past I have thrown food at my frustrations, this time it didn’t even cross my mind.  Even when she threw all that in my face I never even had a single thought about doing it.  Not one.  Not even a teeny tiny “well maybe…”.  Nadda. 

I’m not saying it will never happen again.  I hope that in the future I can continue to resolve my stress, frustration, and other emotions without food.  I hope that more and more, the urge isn’t even there.  I hope that when it does come on, I can stamp on it – HARD.

Okay.  Next item on the agenda.  Last night I went swimming, and I was looking for the swimming cap that has been missing for a couple of weeks.  I was digging in the very back corner of the bottom of my closet, and I found a pair of jeans I didn’t know I had.  I looked at the tag, and they were a size smaller than what I have been wearing.  The 2 pairs I have been wearing are cut really differently it seems, because one feels a little snug but totally wearable and the other pair is super baggy around my butt and thighs.  I can take both of them off without unbuttoning them, but I think that has more to do with my lack of waist than anything else. 

When I got home from swimming, I decided to try them on, and I was delighted to find that they fit me perfectly.  I was a little skeptical, so to check for vanity sizing I measured them, and they are 2 inches shorter around the waist than my other 2 pairs.  They might all be vanity sized, but at least this smaller pair wasn’t vanity sized compared to the other 2 if you know what I mean. 

So hooray!  I now have 3 pairs of jeans I can wear!  I think it’ll soon be 2 though, I am going to have to quit wearing that one pair that is baggy in the butt soon.

2.5 lbs to go until I take new progress pictures.   I don’t expect to see anything different on this set, but for posterity, I will take them.  I wish I had a starting picture.

What Is Your Problem?

I talked so much about what my problem isn’t in that last post, I thought I would give you a bonus today and go ahead and write the post about what is my problem.

It’s no secret to me why I am fat.  It’s not that I am sedentary (I have 3 kids, I couldn’t be sedentary if I wanted to).  It’s not that I have not banished everything but egg whites and skim milk from my house. 

It’s not because of what I eat.

It’s why.

It’s why I eat, and why I eat what I eat.  I know, that’s a mouthful…oh man, the puns.  I kill me!

In 2009, I lost a few pounds.  32, I think, before I went on vacation and when I came back I found it impossible to get back into my routine.  I maintained for a while, which was good, but then I started to let stress get to me and when I am stressed….guess what I do?

Picture the scene:  The kids have gone to bed.  It was a long, hard day with them.  The oldest two fought all day, and the youngest found the Sharpie…AGAIN!  I have got to hide that better.  The dishes are done but the bathrooms need cleaning.  I haven’t been to the gym in a week.  My email inbox is stuffed and I have a million things to get to, but mostly I’m fed up from a day of parenting my 3 small children and need a break.  I grab my car keys and head for the door.   I tell hubster I’m “going shopping.”  He wants to know what I’m going to buy.  He’s concerned about money.  I tell him I’m not going to buy anything, just want to look around, it helps me unwind.

I get in the car and drive, almost on autopilot.  The intersection near where I am going is busy and confusing, and I worry that someone will hit me and I will have to explain to hubs why I was there in the first place…but that doesn’t stop me.  I pull up to the drive thru and order what I want.  Always the same thing. 

Even though I have already eaten dinner.

Even though I am not hungry.

I get my food (which totals about 800 calories) and drive to the adjacent mall parking lot and park near a street light.  If it’s really hot or really cold, I make it worse by keeping the car running.  As I consume the contraband (and make no mistake, I consume every last bit) it consumes me.  With guilt.  With anger.  With frustration.  With shame.

But it’s quiet here.  Dark and quiet.  No kids yelling, no one at all.  I am alone and quiet, and eating this food makes me feel good.  I feel almost…relieved.  I stuff the evidence in the garbage can on the way home and leave the windows in the car open so it doesn’t smell like french fries the next morning.

I go home feeling much better.  Relaxed.

And the next day, or two days later, or whenever…I do it again.  Always at night.  Always the same place.  Always the same order.  I can tell you exactly how much it costs.  I know exactly how it tastes.  I can even taste it right now.

Every time I do it, it’s “The Last Time.”  Every time, I make a promise to myself never to do it again.  It doesn’t matter.  I have done this more times than I can count.  As if to make it even more horrible, when I run out of excuses for hubs, sometimes I tell him I’m going to the gym.  The GYM, people!

I also eat out of boredom.  I find this a difficult thing to master, especially when I am using my computer.  It’s so easy to just grab a pile of chips to munch while I do my computer stuff.  And so easy to grab some more when those are gone.  And so easy to just finish off the bag, there’s only a little left now anyway.

In short, my problem is that I eat for all kinds of reasons unrelated to fueling my body.  I don’t eat because I’m hungry.  I tend to fill whatever void is in my life with food.  I smooth out my stress with food.  Food is my blankie. 

My struggle is keeping food out of the friend category and squarely in the fuel category.  I try to eat real food as much as I can.  I don’t eat food made in a lab if I can help it.  I won’t say that I never, ever eat processed foods – I do.  I won’t say I never eat “diet” foods – I do that too sometimes.  I’m even planning to review one here in the next week or so.  I just try to keep it to a minimum.

My body wants real food and I need to learn to give it that – when it asks.  Not because I am bored, tired, or stressed. 

That’s not the end of my plan, I am also going to the gym.  There are so many benefits to excercise, and I think it fits to get physically stronger while I work on getting mentally stronger.  As I slim down, I also want to participate in more fun activities and I need to get in better shape to do them.  I’m not in terrible shape now, but I can do better.

It’s working.  I’m listening to my body and exercising it, and it is moving back toward homeostasis.  My body doesn’t want to be fat.  It wants to be normal.  I just have to treat it right.

I don’t pretend to be a weight loss guru, or tell anyone else how they need to do it.  I’ve read a lot of blogs and everyone has done things differently. I think if you have found what is working for you, then do it!  This is what is working for me.  My weigh in is tomorrow and it’ll be the 6th week in a row that I’ve had a loss.  I intend to have a loss the following week as well.  I’m going to eat proper portions of the foods I like on Thanksgiving, but I will not eat out of boredom or stress the rest of the week and I will still post a loss.

That’s the plan, anyway.

The Someday Pile

Today I was struck by the urge to be at least a little productive, and for some reason, my attentions settled on my closet.  To be more precise, it’s not my closet, it’s the only closet in my room so I have to share it with the hubster.  I would say it’s not uncommon to share a closet with your spouse, although in my last house, the master bedroom had 2 closets and that was really nice……wait…..where was I?  Oh yes.  I would say it’s not uncommon to share a closet with your spouse, but what is uncommon is that my clothes take up far less space than his.  There are several reasons for this.

  1. He needs 2 wardrobes.  One for work and one for not-work.  I do not work outside my home, so I only need a not-work wardrobe.  Makes total sense, but I feel like most women who don’t need work clothes still manage to have a lot of clothes to wear.
  2. I hate shopping.  I loathe it.  I liken clothes shopping to a trip to the dentist.  Every part of it just sucks.  First, I hate having to hunt down the “plus size” section.  Plus size…what a phrase.  How come men get to be “Big n’ Tall” and women get to be “Plus Size”.  Unfailingly, the plus size section of the store is tiny and filled with clothes for old people.  I can never find anything I like.  Everything is either too dressy, too old ladyish, cut like a tent, or covered in gaudy flowers.  WTF?  Where are all the fat clothes for young people??  I know I’m not the only fat young person out there!  To make matters worse, when I do manage to find something I like, it’s almost invariably too short.  I look like Winnie the Pooh with my gut sticking out.  Not. Cool.
  3. I remove clothes from my closet when I cannot wear them anymore.  Typically this means that I have gotten too fat for them.  This leaves me with slim pickings and I hate to shop for more, so my rotation of clothing is pretty skimpy.

Anyway, the shelves at the top of my closet are overflowing with crap that doesn’t belong there, and stuff I can’t wear, and hubby’s stuff.  I pulled it all down and proceeded to organize it.  I also wanted to clean up the floor in there, so I pulled out this box that has been in there for over 2 years, since we moved in.  I know what’s in there – shirts I can’t wear anymore.  Shirts I like, but am too fat for.  Shirts I once wore…but can’t anymore.  I figured since I was pulling some stuff out to donate, I might look through there again and see if I could clear some of those out.

One by one, I pulled the shirts out, reliving all the memories that came with them.  I wished bitterly that I could fit into them.  I imagined how full my side of the closet would be if I wasn’t so damn fat.  I piled them up on my bed, in a stack I dubbed “The Someday” pile right next to the “Donate” pile, and the “Hang Back Up” pile.

These shirts are all XL with exception of one, which is a L.  Part of me doubts I will ever wear a L again.  I can’t ever remember being a size L, not ever.  Maybe early in high school?  Certainly not ever in my adult life.  Right now I am firmly in the land of multiple X’s…or rather the X with the number in front of it.  YUCK.  Being fat SUCKS and I am tired of it.

I boxed my Someday Pile back up and now I don’t know what to do with it.  I don’t want to put the box back in my closet.  My closet really isn’t big enough to keep clothes that I can’t wear in there…and it’s going to be forever til I can wear those clothes.  I also don’t want to hide them away so that I forget about them when the time comes.  Guess I’ll stick them in the basement and hope for the best.

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