The Damn Truth

I'm tired of do-overs.

I'm tired of picking myself back up, dusting myself off and forging bravely on.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of lugging all this weight around.

I'm tired of trying to delicately turn my 350 pound body over in bed in the morning to arise for the day.

I'm tired of plantar fasicitis (no idea if I spelled that correctly) and sciatica and aches and pains throughout my body due to the excess pounds.

I'm tired of trying to fit myself into and get myself out of restaurant booths with any sort of grace (and failing miserably).

I'm so bleeping tired of all of it.

Now...for the reality check...

My last post, I talked about following Andi's plan for her mom (found here).  I did that, pretty closely, and did that pretty well for about 4 weeks and lost several pounds, the total of which has already escaped me.  Then the holidays came along.  And my realization that the relationship I had talked myself into was never going to work.  And I ate.  And I ate a lot.

I ended my relationship on New Year's Eve, after just four short months.  A record for me - I usually hang on to the bitter end.  This was a huge victory for me.  I realized I deserved better.  This girl was so great.  Very sweet and giving and  we had so much in common.  But there were some underlying issues and truth be told, I just didn't feel the same way that she did.  And I couldn't spend any more time leading her to believe that I did or that I might.  There's really nothing lonelier than being in a relationship you don't really want to be in.  So, I chose being single.

And I'm really okay with that.  And this time, I'm holding out.  For the one.  The one person that I can love so hard and so completely that loves me back the same.  And hopefully, that person is out there.  And if not, that's okay.  Because I have had love and I have been loved.  Maybe not the way I have wanted or have wished for all the time, but I have had it.  Right now, it's all about me.

So, 2014 started with a clean slate.  And honestly, I've been doing pretty well!  I haven't been perfect, but I have lost some weight.  My scale screamed that unforgiving "E" for "Error" at me for about 2 weeks.  I estimate my weight was again anywhere from 355 to 365.  But now I'm actually seeing numbers again.  352 today.  It's going to be slow going.  But I will not ever allow myself back to the place of "Error" again.  I say that and it scares me, because what if I fail?

I guess I say all that to say this.  I'm not making promises anymore.  I'll do the best I can and approach each day with the attitude of this is a new day.  I want to move more.  I want to keep eating my fruits and veggies.  I want to lose weight.  I want to be healthier.  I want to move easily.  Everything else is icing on the cake.  (Okay, I'm lying a little bit, because yeah, of course I want to look good too).

This year - I intend to quit smoking (I started using an e-cig in November and am ready to ween myself off of that puppy too).  I intend to find an apartment that I love and furnish it.  I intend to eat more mindfully and healthily.  I intend to move my body more.  I intend to enjoy being on my own.  I intend to research having a child on my own.  I intend to renew my relationship with God.  I intend to trust God that if there is someone out there for me, He will find a way to bring us together.  I intend to listen more - to my body, to my loved ones, to my Lord, to the world around me.  I intend to just be.  I intend to love who I am, mentally, spiritually, physically.  Every last 352 pounds of me.

I am happy.  I am not perfect.  My life is not perfect.  Nothing will ever be perfect.  There are people who want to put me down, who want me to hate myself because I'm fat, because I am a lesbian (or bisexual or whatever the hell it is that I am - I'm still trying to figure that out), because I'm not 20, because I'm a different kind of Christian, because I am me.  But there are people who love me just as I am.  Who know me.  Who want the best for me.  Those are the people that matter.  God made me who I am, flaws and sins and all.  And right in this moment, in all its perfect imperfection, I am happy.  And I love who I am, who I've been, and who I have yet to be.

Chronic Pain

Those of us who deal with chronic pain in any of its forms know that chronic pain is a bitch.

I think I've mentioned here before that about 4 years ago, I injured my back.  It wasn't anything big or dramatic that caused it either.  I'm sure it was a bunch of small things and not lifting things properly for years, but it all went to hell when I lifted a carton of water to move it from one car to another.  I instantly felt really bad pain and had a hard time sitting.  I'd wake up in the morning screaming from the pain, while I tried to sit on the edge of my bed and stand up.  It gradually subsided over the next few weeks, but returned in the form on really bad leg pain about a month later.

The irony of all this was that I had over the previous 4 years lost almost 100 pounds.  I was working out -walking and running and doing some strength training - almost everyday.

I finally, FINALLY took myself to the doctor, had xrays, and an MRI to confirm what I already knew - this was sciatica.  And it was caused by two herniated discs in my lower back, though I couldn't tell you now specifically which ones.  Dealing with this condition was very nearly hell.  Somedays I would have some relief and others were just agony.  I started physical therapy where my PT did all sorts of crazy things to try and help bring me relief - traction, electrotherapy, stretches.  And during this time, I was in so much pain that I just gave up.  The weight I'd worked so hard to lose came back on - 50 pounds of it.

After about a year, the pain subsided pretty much completely with just an occassional twinge.  I wondered sometimes if the pain really had gone away or if I had just gotten so used to it I no longer noticed it.

I can tell you now that it really had gone away, because I seem to have re-injured myself or injured myself all over again in a new way, because the pain I'm experiencing this past week and a half is UNBEARABLE.

I do not sleep at night for more than an hour and fifteen minutes at a time.  If I lie on my right side, which is the side not affected by sciatica, when it's time to wake up/sit up/go to the bathroom/whatever, sitting up and standing up is akin to something I have no words to describe.  It's the most horrible, excrutiating, screaming pain I've ever experienced.  I hobble across the house to the bathroom like I am 150 years old, taking little shuffling, scooting steps, gasping for breath through the pain.

The good news is it does get gradually better over the course of the night.  I still only sleep for about an hour at time, but I've noticed the past 2 or 3 nights I've started having dreams again, which is a good sign I'm getting deeper rest.  Whenever I do wake up, 99% of the time, I pull myself out of bed to go to the bathroom.  I think this has to do with stress.  I think the stress of the pain at night makes my body have to pee.  lol  TMI, perhaps?

The past couple of nights, I've started keeping a written record of my sleep.  I'll record the time I woke up and the approximate time I last fell asleep.  I'll record my pain level and which side I sleep on (sleeping on my left is virtually impossible - I can't fall asleep that way because of the weight on my sciatic leg).  And I have been averaging just over an hour of sleep at a time, usually going back to sleep within 15-20 minutes.  Not very restful at all.

I bought a body pillow last week and have been using that between my knees instead of a standard pillow - doesn't seem to help much.  I take Ibuprofen at such levels that my liver is sure to go into failure by the time I'm 40.  I also invested in a sleep aid called Legatrin, which is a combination of Acetaminophen and some sort of sleep substance.  It's advertised as helping leg and lower back pain.  It lies.  But it does make me drowsy.  I've also taken some naproxen here and there.  Nothing much seems to help.

I ice my back and heating pad my butt and leg frequently.  I even tried putting icy hot all over my leg last night just to see what would happen.  It burned my flesh so good that it did kinda make me forget about the sciatica for a short while.

I've also resorted to a trick a coworker told me about when I had my first bout of sciatica four years ago.  When sitting in a chair, sit with a book under your sciatica side.  And oddly, I feel like that's what cured me the first time.  And it really does bring some relief, I think because of how it angles your spine to where you are compressing those herniated discs back into place and away from your sciatic nerve.  It doesn't always work and you have to give it a good 10-20 minutes before feeling any relief some of the times when it does work.

I say ALLLLLLLL that to say this - I have zero doubt that losing weight would alleviate a lot of my pain.  I feel so completely paralyzed and helpless when I am in this state.  I have not been eating well and as my mom told me she thought I was doing all those years ago, I've been eating my pain to some extent.  What will happen if I continue to do so is that I will way 400 pounds in the blink of an eye and things will just get worse and worse.

So, I'm trying very hard to make good choices.  I'm going to try my damndest to gently workout along with Leslie Sansonne today and tomorrow I'm calling the doctor and making an appointment for ASAP.  I'm just very concerned about having to have another MRI, because I'm doubting my ability to be able to get up off the bed of that thing after lying there on my back for half an hour.

That's my rant for today.

Day 15

I'm feeling horribly depressed today.  Like I want to come out of my skin depressed and anxious.  It's awful.  I think the biggest thing gnawing at me is the fact that I'm almost 38, single, and not a mom.  I only ever wanted to be a mom, which I'm sure I've mentioned before, and somehow all this time has just drifted by.  I've allowed my life to just float on past me for 38 years.  It doesn't help that I was feeling all unliked on Saturday because of my birthday party, nor does falling off the wagon the past few days...I could go on and continue to list my troubles.

Fortunately, I haven't eaten my depression.  I've done pretty well.  I should be getting up and moving and doing some kind of workout, but just haven't.  I haven't left the house since Saturday...I don't think I've even SHOWERED since Saturday.  I guess I'll move that up to the tip top of my "to do" list.

My weight was back down below Saturday's weight today, so that was a relief.  No idea what I'm having for dinner tonight.  We ended up ordering pizza last night and that was not good.  Better than the olden days, but still not what it should have been.

I'm still tracking and keeping up with my food tracker on Excel, I just haven't posted any of it yet.  I would like to see another pound gone this week.  A pound a week is really so, so simple!  If I can just keep this food demon I have hovering over me all the time at bay, then I will be able to stay in my points for the next four days and see another loss on Saturday!

So what do you do when you need a lift out of a funk that you're in?

Day 14: I'm Still Here

Okay, so first of all, I should say that Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were all...not very good.

In fact, Saturday, after all was said and done, I'd consumed in excess of 130 Points Plus and needless to say, had completely devoured (pun intended) any weekly points I would have had for the week.

My weigh-in on Saturday was less than stellar.  Down one pound to 343.4.  However, I will take that one pound.  If I only lose a pound again this week, I'll be thrilled.

Saturday I went to Weight Watchers at the crack of dawn.  I had coffee and a sausage McGriddle from McDonalds (a habit I need desperately to break).  Then it was back home to get ready for my niece's 3rd birthday party at which Subway sandwiches (not too bad) and cake (bad) would be served.  That was fine, it was the leftovers at home that were unhelpful.

Even so, that wouldn't have been a big deal, but then there was my sister's and my joint birthday party (celebrating hers a few weeks late and mine a few weeks early) to contend with.  I only had a few beers and a big ass shot one of my friends bought for me, but we also had dinner.

So...anyway, if my day had consisted of only one, maybe even two, of these little blips, it would have been fine.  It was a combination of all the factors that really messed me up.

Yesterday, I slept the day away.  I don't know why.  I certainly wasn't hungover and I felt okay, I just could not stay awake.  My mom and sister felt the same way so we chalked up to the rainy weather we're having.  I also had a really hard time caring about what I ate.  I got up so late that I only had coffee for breakfast, ate leftover subway for lunch, had a real Dr. Pepper later in the day along with a little bag of chips, and some mandarin orange chicken and jasmine rice from Trader Joe's for dinner.  I put my points in today and it says I'm 6 points under my total for the day, so that was a relief.  I ate the chicken leftovers for lunch today and had cereal this morning.  No idea what's for dinner.

I feel so beaten down today.  Not by the weight loss thing, but just by life.  Mostly, maybe because my birthday party made me sad.  I invited about 30 of my co-workers and not one of them could be bothered to show up.  In fact, one of my closest work friends texted me to tell me that she and her husband got tickets to a show instead.  Why even bother telling me at all?  It just really made me feel like crap.  Granted, all my closest friends were there, even one I hadn't seen in about a year, so that was nice.  But these are people I work with and I always feel completely on the outskirts of the "group" at work.  Like people tolerate me, but mostly find me annoying.  And that just kind of reaffirmed that feeling for me.  Whether it's true or not.

And tomorrow night is a send off for my outgoing principal and a welcome for the new principal.  I'm not going.  I can't face those people.  I can't even begin to describe how being around them makes me feel.  Like I'm not a real person, like I don't measure up, like no one really gives a shit about me.  And certainly like none of them know me at all.  Which, to be honest, they really don't, despite having worked there for 8 years.

I desperately care what people think of me.  I really wish I didn't.  My ex used to get so pissed off at me about that.  But I can't just turn it off.

Day 7

At the end of the day today, I've been eating well for a full week!

Last night, I ended up having Wendy's for dinner.  I looked up the points first at had a Single w/cheese for 13 points, a small fry for 9 points, and a small frosty for 9 points.  Plus an unsweet iced tea.  That's a 31 point meal.  However, I still had 34 points left for the day.  At the end of the day, I still had 3 points left. 

BUT...

I still felt like such a failure for eating that meal.  I beat myself to and fro all night long and that little voice in my head crept back up and started telling me it was the beginning of the end and that there was no way I could do this, that I am going to fail yet again.

I somehow managed to not let it get to me.  I went to bed and woke up this morning with renewed dedication.  I haven't had any crazy cravings today like I did yesterday.  I ate my breakfast and started getting the kitchen cleaned up so I can marinate some vegetables with my chicken for dinner.  I have salad greens ready and waiting in the fridge for lunch that I may pair with more veggie samosas or something equally fun. 

My workout clothes are currently in the washer, but I feel confident I'm still going to get some movement in even though I've already met my 3 days of exercise goal for the week. 

We have some overripe bananas in the fridge, so I'm off to look up some healthy muffin recipes.  The plan is to freeze them and have one or less a day.  I'm really bad with baked goods, so this will be a test.  If I can handle it, great.  Maybe I'll try again sometime.  If I can't...well, lesson (re)learned.

Have a great day!

More Frustration...and Some Confessions.

Something snapped last night when I got home and the snacking bug hit me.  I finished off some peanut butter cups from Trader Joe's and a bag of those tasty oniony baked Snack-O's they sell (my niece helped me with those, however).  And so I immediately started thinking about skipping dinner, because I'd already eaten my points (and then some) for the day.  I ended up eating a couple of eggrolls later on, but didn't include the promised veg.  My peanut butter and onion blow out didn't technically include anything plant-like either, because despite being "oniony", I'm pretty sure there's not even a lick of real onion in those suckers anyway.

BUT...I tracked it all anyway.  And yes, I was over.

AND...I didn't weigh myself last night.

BUT...I weighed myself this morning.

HOWEVER...I have met my water quota for the past two days, so that goal I am meeting.  Just not the other two.

So, I was feeling pretty down in the dumps today because of all of that, but also because of the week the States have been going through this week.  First, the Boston Marathon bombings...then the poison envelopes being sent to government officials...and finally, the fertilizer plant explosion in West, Texas, which is just 10 or 15 miles south of my home.  And yes, we felt the explosion here.

So all those things are making me sad.  And the feeling of abject terror at once again failing at weight loss has made it all the sadder. 

My sister asked me to dine at IHOP with her and my niece this evening, so I went...armed with my 31 remaining daily points...and ordered an omelette and pancakes.  Definitely not the best choice.  But I noticed that I did not eat until I was stuffed past the point of oblivion.  I stopped.  And then I came home and looked up the points for those suckers and tracked them.  I was over my points again. 

Now what?

Well, I pick myself up, shake the dirt off my ass, and keep going.  This is how I have to live.  This is not just now.  It's forever.  Whether I stay at 334 pounds for the rest of my life or the weight comes off, this is how I have to live.  I cannot eat myself to death any longer.  Yes, there are going to be shitty days when I overeat.  And yes, there are going to be shitty days when I want to eat an entire cake (today, btw, was one of those days - but I didn't eat the cake).  But guess what?  There will be MORE days when I make the best choices I can.  There will be days I drink all my water and eat plenty of foods that grow out of the ground and don't obsess over my weight (that last one might be a lie...time will tell).  The key is not letting small set backs become huge set backs.  And I feel like for the first time in a very long time, I'm able to prevent just that from happening. 

Thoughts on Breaking Up

I'm feeling pretty blue tonight.  I'm feeling pretty lost.

That's one of the scarier sides of weight loss for me.  I'm not using food as a buffer, so there's not that big block between me and my emotions.

As I mentioned a few posts back, I've just gone through a break up.  I think in the beginning, I was very much in denial and told myself this was temporary.  But as time passes, I'm realizing it's not.  This was the person I really thought I was going to share my life and my home and build a family with.  This was supposed to be "the one".  But it just wasn't working.  For many reasons. 

So now, for the first time in my life, I'm truly embarking upon a life as a single woman.  Prior to this, I was single for maybe a total of four months in my adult life.   I've been something of a serial monogamist.  I just can't see myself moving on to another relationship anytime in the near future, if ever.  And that makes me sad.  And it makes me scared.  It's time to lean on me and that's probably the scariest piece of all.  What if I am alone for the rest of my life?  What if I am completely unloveable?  What if I am completely incapable of truly loving another person? 

I think it would be different if I was younger, but then, maybe not.  I'm rapidly approaching 40 and about to hit the end of my viable child bearing years.  I've thought a lot the past week or so about making a conscious choice to become a single mother.  It's not something that's in the cards for at least a year or two (I'm currently 37), just because finances and my living situation need to be put in order.  I'll make up my mind that this is what I'm going to do, then I mourn the loss of the life I thought I was going to live.  Creating a home and a life and a family with a partner.  And of course, I am still grieving for the loss of my relationship, even if it was my choice to leave. 

It's hitting me harder the past few days.  Just little, little things that I miss about her and about us.  And honestly, I question whether I have made a horrible mistake.  But the worst thing I think I could do right now is try to make amends, because I have no doubt I would only face rejection and that would make it all so much more painful and difficult.  And I can't go through that again.  I haven't really allowed myself to think too much or to grieve too hard.  I've pushed it all down and tried to ignore it, knowing it would eventually catch up with me.  And I think it's beginning to now.

You Must Do...

My favorite quote in the world comes from Eleanor Roosevelt:  "You must do the thing you think you cannot do."

I'm forcing myself to post tonight precisely because I don't want to.  I don't want to post again saying that I had another failure of a day and that I honestly do not know how to dig myself out of this hole.  I'm so exhausted from fighting and thinking about it that I don't even know what else to say.  When does it get to the point where I stop thinking so much and just do?

I'm a scrapbooker and there's a class out there called "One Little Word".  I don't know anything about it really other than the idea is you have one word for the new year.  One word to describe your hopes and dreams for the upcoming year.  This got me to thinking.  If I could choose just one word to encompass all that I desire for my life, what would it be?  I decided on "peace".  Peace with my body.  Peace with food.  Peace with my finances.  Peace in all my relationships.  Peace with my job.  Peace with my surroundings.  Peace with my current place in life at right this moment.  That's all I want.  Peace.  I don't want constant insanity flowing through my mind.  I feel so out of control.  I feel so much like I've just let life pass me by.  My youth is fading fast.  I don't want to lose another minute.

So I have to start now.  But...how? 

The Holidays

I live in a house with 3 other adults and a 2 year old.  And it's December.  Which in my family means food and lots of it.  Christmas cookies, Christmas cakes and candies.  Thick, heavy soups and stews and meats.  Add to that my constant weening motivation and you have a Holiday Recipe for DISASTER. 

I don't know how, but despite two weeks of gaining, I'm not giving up.  It feels like such a joke to even type those words:  I'm not giving up.  The truth is, I feel like I have already.  And I did think to myself for about ten seconds this afternoon, "It's time to surrender.  You can try again after the holidays are over."

I don't know how to convey to anyone this hold that food has on me.  How it pulls me into it's embrace and won't let go no matter how hard I kick and scream and beg.  I do beg.  I beg on a daily basis to be free of its grip.  I wonder often why this is the battle I was given in my life.  I mourn for the years I've lost.  I've let them flit by as I have just wafted through this little life of mine, never really seizing anything - never really feeling like I'm living.  Always feeling that I'm somehow less than human because of my size.  That when references are made to "women", I'm not among those counted.

So, while I don't know how to get through the holidays without gaining, let alone while actually losing...some part of me doesn't know how to let it all go either and to throw in the towel.  Tomorrow is a new day.  And the next another new day.  And the next and the next after that. 

More On Fear

There is a wonderful podcast out there called "Yell at Your Fat".  Sadly, the hostess quit doing podcasts about 3 years ago, but I continually hold out hope she'll start up again.  I know it's a falst hope.  I'm not really sure why she stopped.  She's on my Facebook, so I know she's still out there bustin' a move.  She always posts race pictures, so it's not from falling off the wagon...but I digress...

This podcast was so vital in a previous weight loss effort several years ago.  I've put off listening to them again knowing it would only depress me, because I loved it so much and didn't want to get all addicted to it again knowing there would only be a handful of episodes.  But I bit the bullet and started listening again anyway while working out and on my drives to and from work.

There was something Wendy said in the second episode that really hit home with me.  She was talking about starting.  Just start.  Take the step off the platform and trust that it will work and it will.  And as she said these words I could feel myself taking a step and freefalling.  Freefalling and letting go of all the anxiety and worry and stress and concern that is associated with my weight and the loss there of. 

I think I've said it here before, but this is my last time joining Weight Watchers.  And what I mean by that is I'm not giving up.  I don't care if I lose one pound every year for the rest of my life.  I don't care if I gain a pound every year for the rest of my life.  I am not giving up.  Am I going to screw up?  Hell yes.  Are there going to be days I want to consume and maybe succeed in consuming an entire cake?  Yes.  Does that mean I need to allow out of control behaviors send me spiraling out of control?  No.  I pick myself up, dust myself off, and carry on.

And that's what I've been doing for the past two months. 

My weight loss is insignificant.  I think I've lost 7 pounds since I started.  I weight over 300 lbs.  Obviously I'm not doing something I should be.  I'll have several days where I do just great and then I'll have several more where my eating isn't where it should be.  That's putting it nicely.  It's a rollercoaster.  I thought about this quite a bit yesterday.  Why can't I be consistent.  Why can't I stop this crazy eating.

This is what I came up with.  A lot of times, my binge eating episodes occur on my way home from work.  There are a few reasons why:  I am usually hungry around this time.  But more importantly, there is a lot of anxiety and fear mixed up with that.  I have this crazy fear of being hungry and of having unsatisfied food cravings.  This is my thought process:  "What if I go home, having not eaten something completely fat and calorie laden and I eat dinner and that's all I have for the entire night?"

I mean, really?

What if I just have dinner and nothing else?  That thought sends me into a panic where I want to stuff unholy garbage in my face? 

Here's what I have not solved:  Why?  Why does this "fear", this thought send me in a tailspin?  I'll be keeping this very much in the forefront of my mind this week and especially over the weekend and let you know what I find out.

I Have Not Forgotten You...

I'm still here....

Floating around inside my head somewhere....

You see, the past few weeks have been incredibly unsuccessful.  But I refuse to quit.  Quitting to me would mean:  giving up hope.  So, while I have been eating pretty much anything I see and I haven't worked out in a week, I still have not given up hope.

I'm still going to my Weight Watchers meetings.  Last week I had a gain.  I fully expect to see a gain this week too, but I'm still going. 

I wish I could just throw away all the things holding me back...this fear of failure (or success?)  Whenever I think about going to the gym, I get the worst anxiety.  I need to be there.  Anyone who looks at me can see that. 

But...

I'm terrified of people looking at me, terrified of the thoughts going on inside their head to see this 330 lb woman on the treadmill doing her 30 minutes, getting off and going home.  I'm terrified of people's laughter or comments.  I feel like I'm in a constant cringe state.

Someday I'll be brave enough to show my face on here.  Someday I'll post a full body shot.  But right now, I'm too scared.  Too scared of the comments.  Too scared of someone recognizing me and realizing the number that goes with the person. 

I think I am going to start taking a weekly photograph.  Every Tuesday, a photograph of my progress (or lack thereof).  Tuesdays since that's my WW weigh in day. 

For now, dear readers, if you are still out there, that is all.

What I've Been Up To...

I'm feeling very tired tonight, but feeling like I need to say something.  Anything.  So, here I am and hopefully the words will come to me in some form.

First, a confession:  Couch to 5K and I did not meet up on Saturday.  I didn't even put on those old, rundown running shoes.  However, I did go for a walk.  A brief one, but a walk, all the same.  And I wore my flip flops.

I think I reached a breaking point sitting in IHOP Saturday night.  I can't believe how incredibly uncomfortable I felt in my own skin.  And that feeling was very strong.   It's the kind of feeling you get before something big happens.  It was a scary feeling and a huge relief.  But I wasn't there just yet. 

Aftera couple of days of being a horribly irritable and ridiculously unpleasant person...due to feeling miserable, mouth pain, frustration, and just general horribleness...I mustered up some sort of courage, because I began making plans.  Plans for meals, plans for seeking some sort of counceling, plans for going back to Weight Watchers, plans for joining a gym. 

Plans. 

And today, I ate really well.  I told myself, I would try it out just for today.  And I ate things like this delicious salad.

And I rejoined Weight Watchers. 

And I filled a grocery cart full of things that would make Jillian Michaels weep from its sheer beauty.

And I made plans for tomorrow. 

And tomorrow morning, I'm going to wake up and tell myself, I can do this.  Just for today, I can do this. 

What Am I Afraid Of?

I’ve been plagued by this nagging feeling for a couple of years now that I’m terrified of losing weight.  To people who’ve never had a weight problem, that sounds ridiculous.  But to those of us who have (and I have spoken to and read things written by other people to this end) it’s very much a reality.

So what is it about losing weight that I’m so afraid of?

That I’ll fail.  I’ve lost and gained and lost and gained all of my adult life.  Going back to 11 or 12 years of age, I remember trying to lose weight and going on one diet or another.  So why would this time be any different?  Since the weight came back on over the past 3 years, I’ve made attempts at losing again.  I’ve probably started somewhere in the vicinity of 50 times in the past 3 years to get back on the wagon.  The most I’ve lost is maybe 15 lbs, then I throw in the towel and gain it all back and then some.  I’ve done this before.  It was hard.  It took a long time.  Doing it again overwhelms me and is daunting.

The commitment.  Weight loss is a commitment.  It’s hard work.  It takes planning, it takes time, it takes patience.  It takes self-control:  that ability to step back mentally from that giant container of ice cream and say, “I think I’ll just have one small scoop right now, instead of the entire thing in one sitting.”  I’ve never been fully able to grasp the whole “lifestyle change” concept.  I understand it.  It makes sense.  It looks good on paper.  But putting it into practice, for me, has not been fruitful.  Yet.

I’ll lose my excuse for not living.  “I can’t do that.  I’m too fat.”  It’s the refrain that plays in my mind over and over again.  Like going to a special salon for a haircut.  I’m too fat to go there, so I don’t have to.  Trying a new bar?  Forget it.  I’m too fat.  Lounging by the pool.  Oh, hahaha, don’t be silly.  I can’t do that.  I’m too fat.  The list goes on.

People will see me.  This is the biggie.  This is the one that hits the bull’s eye.  I won’t be invisible anymore.  My fat is my shield.  It keeps people at bay.  It’s my excuse for not allowing anyone to get too close.  Most of this, I know, is in my head.  Such as this list of why fat is my shield from people:  It’s the reason my girlfriend will leave me, instead of leaving me for any other reason.  My fat keeps attackers away.  My fat keeps people from wanting to get to know me.  My fat keeps new friends from asking me to go places. 

There comes a point when you have to take a risk with all things in life.  If I fail, so what?  If people see me, that’s okay.  Living life is why I’m here.  I’m ready for a change in the way I do things with food and exercise.  In the grand scheme of things, there are far more valid reasons to be afraid.