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May 25, 2012

I’ve Got To Keep On Movin’

May 25, 2012 By

Up and down, up and down. My weight makes me feel like I’m on a see-saw sometimes.

After the epic win of seeing my weight dip ever-so-slightly under 160, it’s now inched back up to 161. I’d like to call it water weight, but I’m not sure that would be completely accurate.

Last week Aaron found out he was being laid off at the end of the month. After that news came crashing down on us, let’s just say there was more than a little self-medicating with food for both of us. And pretty much no exercising at all.

We’ve spent most of the last week and a half numb from disbelief, sitting on the couch each night watching TV and occasionally finding a pint of ice cream or a bag of chips in our hands. It wasn’t pretty.

But eating away my feelings won’t change anything, other than hurting myself. It can’t make a job appear for him, and it can’t pay the bills, so better to stop it entirely and focus on activities that CAN improve any area of our lives.

It was that mindset that sent me out for a run yesterday. I want to run a 5K again, so I pulled out my trusty Couch-to-5K app and laced up my running shoes. A few weeks ago I had tried week 4 again and found it was too much for me. So I went back to week 3 this time. It was still hard, but I did it, even though I felt lousy for having to go all the way back to week 3 when I had once run an entire 5K.

Our gym membership is up at the end of this month, which means I’ll no longer have access to the treadmill. Sucky timing, too, since I hate running in the heat and humidity. Yesterday was a reminder of that. How do you deal with the heat and humidity? Maybe I’ll go back to running at night, like I did two years ago.

I can’t let bad news and setbacks take me down. The BlogHer ’12 5K is in August and I want to run it. We’re also planning to visit a water park at some point this summer and I want to rock a bathing suit.

So I’ll continue on. Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride.

Filed Under: c25k, running Tagged With:


Apr 17, 2012

Perception vs Reality

April 17, 2012 By

(Note: this post includes photos of me in a sports bra.  Just giving fair warning.)

Last week, while at dinner with extended family, one family member who hadn’t seen me in awhile remarked on how good I looked. Well, specifically she said, “Are you still trying to lose weight? You need to stop that, you don’t need to lose any more weight.” (Jewish grandmothers for the win.)

At first I convinced myself that she was just trying to be nice, but I also know her well enough to understand that she rarely hides what she’s really thinking. Beyond the Jewish grandmother desire to make sure kids and grandkids (and in my case, the wife of a step-grandson) are eating well, she really thought I looked good and didn’t need to lose any more weight.

Of course, I immediately wrote off her comments in my head and told myself, it’s just the outfit making me look slimmer, ’cause there’s NO WAY I look like someone who doesn’t need to lose weight. I’m still overweight, I’m still huge!

And then the logical part of my brain gave me a swift kick and said I needed a perception check.

It’s no wonder that some people who lose a large amount of weight have trouble with body image. I was obese for so long that when I look in the mirror I still see myself at my largest. I occasionally notice some positive changes, but much of the time I still see myself as large.

Before I started actively trying to lose weight, I looked like this:

Not sure of the weight, but it wasn’t my highest. Few photos exist of my highest weight.

This was me when I started blogging about my weight loss efforts:

I was 212 lbs here.

And this was me this weekend:

This is 163 lbs.

Yes, obviously there are some differences, but when I look at the two photos I don’t see much of a difference. I stare at the new photo and have trouble looking beyond the continuation of flaws. Some parts may be smaller, but they’re still large.

Losing weight is hard enough, but the mental game that goes with it makes it even more difficult. I don’t want to think of myself as fat. I’d rather be proud of all I’ve accomplished. But instead the little voice in my head looks at photos and whispers So much for all that work – you don’t look any different. Your belly still hangs over your waistband, your thighs still rub together, your hips are huge. Why keep going through all that pain?

I hate that little voice. I hate how it tears me down and makes me doubt everything. It strips me of any self-esteem. I wear a medium shirt size now, and still find myself baffled every time I put one on. Why is this fitting me? Are they vanity sizing shirts now? I can’t even believe that this body could possibly wear a medium, when I’m sure I’m still an XL.

I’m five pounds from the goal I set for myself years ago, and now I’m already doubting that it will be enough. How much more will I need to lose to feel fit and healthy? Will I set a new goal and then continue to feel fat if I reach that new goal? I worry that I may never be happy with my weight, but have no idea how to find that happiness.

This post is full of questions with few answers. I know it’s my own mind blocking me from seeing the changes to myself, but I don’t know how to change that. There are diets and exercises to change the body, but now I need to find the right program to change the mind. Otherwise any transformation I make will never be complete, because while I may eventually be seen as fit by those looking from the outside, I will still be fat when looking from the inside.

I never intended this post to be such a downer. It’s a shame that so often we condition ourselves to see only the fat, the wrinkles, the imperfections in ourselves. Photoshop and the worship of the impossibly “perfect” (and too-thin) body probably doesn’t help with this. The media promotes the impossible body, and we are constantly bombarded with the message that the polished, re-touched images we see are what we should strive to be, while advertisers also encourage us to eat high-calorie junk food with abandon.

There are women out there doing fantastic work in the area of body acceptance, and I probably should be paying more attention to them. This isn’t how I feel all the time – just some of the time. I considered not posting this at all, but I also want to be completely honest. Not discussing the mental battle would give only a partial image of what it’s like to lose weight, and I know I’m not the only one who has looked in the mirror and felt like I’ve accomplished so little.

So yeah, here I am. I feel fat. And I know I shouldn’t.

My brain needs new glasses, because the current ones are out of focus.

Filed Under: photographic evidence Tagged With: ,


Feb 21, 2012

I Will Not Stress Eat

February 21, 2012 By

The last seven days have been a mountain of stress for me. Just when everything was swimming along in my life, it was announced that my shift is being eliminated at work. I’m unsure yet as to what this will mean for my employment overall, but you can imagine how news like this can affect you emotionally. Especially when you just had new living room furniture delivered to your house the weekend before, with a large credit card bill coming due.

The first day I was in shock. When I was given the news that morning, I couldn’t sleep. (I work nights, in case you’re new here.) Once I did get a few hours of troubled sleep, I woke up and couldn’t even face the idea of dinner with my family. It’s hard to think I’d ever be too upset to eat, but that was the case for the rest of the night.

I barely ate the next few days as well. The reality slowly sunk in, and while the shock has worn off, the uncertainty at the moment is still very present. It will likely be a few more days before I’ll know the future of my current job situation.

Suddenly the five stages of grief makes sense to me. I went through denial and anger already, and while bargaining doesn’t really make sense in this situation, I know depression is just around the corner. Here’s where I get worried, because depression rarely shows up at my door without a bag of powdered donuts, a pint of ice cream and an extra large spoon. (And as an adult depression also generally brings a box o’ wine along as well, making sure to get the most alcohol for the value. Depression is thrifty like that.)

Before this news hit last week, I was celebrating a new milestone. I finally broke through the 166 pound curse and had officially made it to 165. Since then I’ve dipped down to 164 and even saw 163.8 on Saturday morning. (But won’t officially count it since I know it was partially due to lack of eating while I lived in my head for a few days.) Breaking that plateau was such an accomplishment for me and gave me hope that by the end of my Slim-Fast challenge I’ll reach that goal I set of 158.

So I now find myself scared that all of this uncertainty will destroy the progress I’ve made and send me to the bottom of a fried-dough-and-sugar binge. No matter how much I’m told this job situation had nothing to do with our performance, I still feel like a failure. (Not helped by the news that most of the other two shifts were made company employees while I’ll remain a contractor if I still have a position.) The negative emotion cycle feeds into itself, with any slip on my part interpreted by my brain as more proof of my inability to succeed at anything, which then leads to more self-destruction.

This week’s challenge for myself is to resist the negative self-talk in my head and not give in to stress eating. No matter the outcome of this situation, I can’t let it affect all that I’ve worked for in my personal goals. I’m trying so hard to love myself and reshape myself into a model of good health, and I’m already 80 pounds from where I started.

Failing myself because of the business decisions of men in expensive suits sitting in fancy offices far removed from what I do would be silly. However, that extra large piece of chocolate cake looks like the perfect medication to soothe your soul when your feelings are hurt and depression is holding a chair for you and offering you a fork.

I can be stronger than this situation.

Filed Under: food Tagged With: ,


Jun 28, 2011

Looking In The Mirror

June 28, 2011 By

When I weighed 40+ pounds more than I do now, fashion usually meant disguising my body to hide all of the lumps and bumps. I didn’t like how I looked and so I never put a lot of thought into what I wore, other than does this hide as much as possible? Loose clothing, baggy t-shirts, stretch denim – the less skin visible, the better.

Now that I’m within 10 pounds of the “normal” BMI range (wow, does THAT feel weird to say!), I’m trying to re-evaluate what I wear. I know I need to dress better, in both home and work settings.

When I come to work during the day for meetings, I’m expected to wear business wear. I see my peers dressed in beautiful tops and either fitted pants or skirts, and I envy them for looking so good. I have yet to purchase a button-down top because I worry that when I sit down the buttons will bulge from my belly sticking out. And skirts are completely a no-go – I can’t imagine letting my coworkers see my bare tree-trunk legs.

Here’s the real problem: I still have a disconnect between my eyes and my brain. I look in the mirror and all I see is fat. A lifetime of criticism from those close to me has left me incapable of seeing myself as anything other than a fat girl. I keep telling myself that it’s not so bad and I used to be so much heavier, but my brain still interprets it as jiggly upper arms, big belly and thunder thighs.

I still feel my 5th grade teacher poking my belly and saying I’d better have a growth spurt soon with a belly that big. I still remember kids teasing me for my large thighs at the 8th grade pool party. I remember a family member telling me I should focus on losing weight rather than going to grad school, as losing weight was more likely to help me find a spouse someday.

I’m haunted by even darker moments from earlier in childhood, moments that remain buried deep in my memory, but I now realize were likely contributors to my desire to hide myself from the world with a layer of fat.

I’m working against a lifetime of psychological abuse. I’ve distanced myself from the worst offenders, but it was too late – my subconscious adopted the worst of their weapons and wages war on my psyche daily. I didn’t get fat because I lost track of how many doughnuts I was eating – I mean, I DO love food, but food addiction alone can’t explain why I’m unable to visualize myself at a healthy weight.

But progress comes in small doses, and I’ve already shown a lot of progress to lose nearly 50 pounds in a few years. The internal sabotage clearly isn’t as strong as it used to be, and while I may never be able to completely silence the negative self-talk, I can work on tuning it out.

Last weekend we attended ComFest, and while there I suddenly felt the urge to buy one of the dresses I saw so many others wearing. Aaron encouraged me, and so I did buy it and wear it around the festival all day. (Although with denim capris – I didn’t have any shorts with me, and it was too short to wear without something underneath.)
I still don’t like what I see, but I’m willing to concede that it’s getting better. After all, I spent an entire day wearing a dress with my full arms and shoulders bared, no support garments underneath, and didn’t feel all that awkward.
Filed Under: photographic evidence Tagged With: ,


Jun 23, 2011

Birthday Introspection

June 23, 2011 By

I’m now 35 years old.

Sure, that may not be a big deal to some of you, but it’s going to take some getting used to for me. I can now no longer claim to be in my “early 30’s.” Should I ever consider having another baby, I’d be given the label “advanced maternal age.” And I’m even in a new consumer demographic for all of those marketing surveys: just call me a member of the 35-44 radio button.

Age is just a number – that’s true. Well, sort of true. Each half decade I hit is just another reminder that I need to take better care of myself. We feel invincible in our teens and early twenties because we partially are. While no one is immune to cancer, heart disease or other health problems, they’re less likely when we’re young. As we get older, our chances of being affected by chronic health problems only increase.

So with each birthday, I’m reminded that I can’t be as carefree with my health as I used to be. I worry more about my future. I want to be a healthy old woman someday. I want to see my kids grow up and have children of their own. I don’t want to die.

The good news is I’m probably in the best shape of my life. I’m still hovering at my lowest adult weight, I have muscle tone that I’ve never had before, and I’m making efforts to eat healthier foods. Compared to bad habits from my past, I’m in fantastic shape and my risks for common health issues are shrinking with my waistline.

But I still have plenty of work to do. Losing weight is still a priority, both for vanity and for health reasons. I’ve got at least another 10 pounds to go to even make the upper limits of a “healthy” BMI. Eating more nutritious, less processed foods and trying to work more exercise into my life are neverending goals that I have to keep focused on as well. Taking more time to relax, rest, and reduce my stress level couldn’t hurt, either.

I hope that when I turn 36 I can look back over this past year and again proclaim to be in the best shape of my life. If I continue getting healthier with each year, then maybe birthdays will still be something to get excited about!

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: ,