Exes and Motivation Part 1

First of all, I will go ahead and get this out of the way:

Guess what, Guys??  I went back to Weight Watchers yesterday.  Again!  Do you ever get tired of seeing me say that?  Because I do.

Anyway....

Today, I'm feeling insanely motivated.  Here's why (go ahead and settle in for a long, boring story) -

My first girlfriend, who probably to this day I still see as the love of my life, and I were together for over nine years.  We broke up probably 15 times, before the break-up actually sticking in the fall of 2008.  I haven't spoken to her since December of that year.  So, roughly 6 years have passed...

A lot has happened to me in that time.  I've had many more failed relationships.  I have lost a ton of weight and gained back all that weight and then some.  I injured my back.  I became an auntie.  I've made new friends.  Facebook happened.

Yeah, Facebook.

This particular ex (let's call her "J" and I were never Facebook friends.  We have no friends in common.  She was never friends with any of my Facebook friends.  Yet, somehow, mysteriously, Facebook decided we were somehow connected and sent me a friend suggestion with her name attached.

The first time this happened was about three years ago.  I was in no way equipped to deal with seeing her photo pop up on my computer screen.  Then, oddly, my sister also received her as a friend suggestion a couple of times around that same time.  And that was it.

Well, the past few weeks, J has been on my mind a lot.  We ended really badly.  I said and did some horrible, shitty things at the end of our relationship.  That's not to say she didn't hurt me too, because she did.  We hurt each other a lot all throughout or relationship, which is why it just didn't work out.  And lo' and behold, Tuesday happens along with the first friend suggestion I've even seen in months.

Yup.  You are correct.  It was J.

I'd been thinking about trying to contact to her for awhile, just to apologize for how things ended, to let her know I wished her well.  So, when I saw her name, that's what I did.  And then I friend requested her.  Seven minutes later, she'd accepted my request.  We still haven't spoken, though.  I don't know if she saw my message or she just doesn't know what to say or just doesn't want to say anything.

However, I think most of you will agree that when an ex you haven't seen or spoken to for several years suddenly makes her or his Facebook profile available to you, you're probably going to do a little creepery stalking.  If you disagree, I am willing to bet you are a big, fat liar!

So, in my stalking I learned several things about this newer, older, probably wiser and more worldly version of J.  She works out.  A lot.  She does 5Ks and other crazy ass events.  She looks great.  She looks happy.  She appears to have a really good job and a really nice place to live.  She has cats (that weirds me out like you wouldn't believe).  And she has apparently taken up swear words, something she used to chastise me for constantly, as I cuss like a sailor and always have.  There were other things, too.  But of course, what struck me is that she, by the looks of it anyway, is at her best.

And I'm just about damn near rock bottom.

Try as I might not to compare myself to her, it's hard.  This is someone I knew and loved for almost a decade.  This is someone I shared my home and my life with for five years.  It's surreal to see how she's changed.  It's like being in a time warp.  And it's exceedingly difficult to know that for all the wonderful things her life appears to be, mine is the polar opposite in just about every way.

I'm so unhappy with this person that I am.  And seeing her look so happy has really inspired me to be the best me I can be.

Reflections on This Week's Weight Watcher Topic

So this week's topic was:  Commit to the Countdown to Thanksgiving Challenge.  There are 8 weeks until that glorious event (for those of us in the US). 

Halloween through New Year's is for me, like a lot of people, a really difficult time as far as staying on the health train is concerned.  There is SO much temptation.  It's also the cooler weather, so something in me says "store up for the winter" like I need to add any more insulation. 

I think a lot of that comes from the feeling of nostalgia from my childhood relating to this time of year.  Halloween candy while watching "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown"; Thanksgiving Day leftovers while watching the first televised Christmas movie of the season; hot chocolate while driving around looking at Christmas lights; rich, calorie ladden restaurant meals while out on a gift shopping excursion...and so the list goes on.  Something inside of me says:  Holiday Time = Celebrate by Gorging Time.  I'm sure many people out there can relate.

Everything, everything, everything in my life I can tie back to food.  Food is such a simple thing, really, when you think about it.  It's fuel for our bodies.  I suppose from an evolutionary stand point, we have tastebuds so that we can tell whether or not a food is "good", as in "not rotten", and to spur us to eat so we don't starve to death.  Kind of like why sex is enjoyable: to get species to procreate so they don't die out.  But there are consequences for indulging indiscriminately in either realm.

In any event, there are only 8 short weeks until the holiday season is fully underway here in the States.  I need a plan.

Over the next 8 weeks, I plan to:

*Workout at least 3 to 5 days a week for 30 minutes or more each time.
*Drink my 6-8 glasses of water daily.
*Track every little morsel I consume (except for two days....coming up)
*Include a weekly holiday-related treat in my plans.  But the key word here is PLAN.
*I will not track on Thanksgiving or Christmas Day.  I will enjoy myself and eat what I like, but I will not eat to misery and I will use sound judgement about what I consume.  I will still drink my 6-8 glasses of water on these days and will get up early to get some exercise into my day beforehand.

I feel like this is a sound, reasonable, and healthy plan that will work for me and not cause me to go beserk because I am depriving myself.

One thing that stuck with me from the meeting was...if you lose 1/2 a pound every week for the next 8 weeks, that's 4 pounds.  If you lose 1 pound every week for the next 8 weeks, that's 8 pounds.  And if you lose 2 pounds every week for the next 8 weeks, that's 16 pounds.

Considering the amount of weight I have to lose, I think 16 pounds is pretty darn reasonable over the next 8 weeks.  It won't be easy and I'm sure there are times that I will want to slowly gnaw off my left arm, but I want to see this through and stay on plan and see what happens.  My goal is 10 pounds down by Thanksgiving, just so I don't set myself up for failure.  Anything more than that is a bonus.  I can totally do this.

What I'm Doing Right...

There have to be somethings I've been doing right and well over the past two weeks of doing not great.  So here they are:

1.  Attending my weekly Weight Watchers meeting.  It gives me something to look forward to.  A co-worker just started going with me this week, so I think that's going to be a real help for me. 

2.  Not slipping back into my regular soda habit.  I know diet soda is TERRIBLE for me too and loaded with chemicals of death.  I do realize this.  However, it's free of calories and for now I will continue to drink it and hope that I can gradually ween myself off of it.  Baby steps, people.  Baby steps.

3.  Last weekend, I started planning dinners for the week.  This was a super idea and really helped me (and the whole family) have something healthy and tasty to eat for dinner every night.  I planned them again for this week and so far, so good.

4.  Staying the Course.  Every morning, I wake up and declare a fresh start.*  If I screw this day up, then tomorrow is a fresh, clean one with no mistakes in it yet.  Thank you, Anne Shirley.

*I'm working on getting to the point where I screw up and immediately tell myself, I'm back ontrack right this second!  This does not work very well for me yet.

5.  Holding onto hope and the belief that while it may take me the rest of my life, I will lose this weight, get to my goal, and not put weight back on. 


My goals for the remainder of this week:
*Drink 6-8 glasses of water everyday.
*Get at least 3 30 minute (or more) workouts in before next Tuesday.
*Track, track, track, track, track.  Every single little morsel that I consume.
*Plan ahead.  I know I'm going out Friday night, so I will work anything I eat or drink into my weekly points.

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.

A Collection of Ramblings From the Events of This Week

Revelation and All Around General PSA from Saturday:  one piece of cake that I have preplanned for does not equal the unraveling of a week's worth of hard work and focus.  Who knew???

Thoughts on Walking from Sunday:  For some reason, over my years of fatitude...whenever I would go on a walk, I'd make sure never to walk along the same stretch of road twice.  This is so crazy to me now.  I know what my little self-consciou brain was thinking too.  A random shuffling of the following loop:  "people will wonder what I'm up to; they'll think I'm weird; they'll notice that I'm fat (that's the BEST one!)."  I honestly thought everyone was sitting in their windows waiting for me to pass by.

Now I'm older, slightly wiser, minusculely less self-conscious, and an inch saner.  In fact, on my walk Sunday, a car drove by and I didn't divert my attenion.  I instead met their eye (of course, i was wearing sunglasses...) and even did that little hand raise, half ass wave.  I then got shy and looked away before I could see if it was reciprocated...but...I still felt pretty damn brave.

Notes on my Weigh-In and Weight Watchers Meeting From Tuesday:  I was down 4.4 pounds.  At 331.4.  I think I originally said my weight last week was 335.5...that was incorrect.  It was 335.8.  Let it be noted here that as I typed 331.4, I automatically always type my weight as 1__._.  I always put that 1 in the hundreds place for some reason.  Probably because I can't imagine how in the world I got to this place that I'm at.  Now back to my weigh-in.  I was really disappointed.  Silly, huh?  4.4 pounds is actually really good and very reasonable for a first week.  I had really hoped to be back in the 20s, I guess.  Additionally, it just made me realize how much weight I have to lose and how far I have to go.  But I keep trying to tell myself, that no matter what, time is still going to pass.  I might as well pass it losing instead of gaining or staying stagnant.  That's all I really have to say about that.

The meeting topic was about incorporating more movement into your day.  I really haven't gotten back on the workout bandwagon yet.  I know it's coming, but I'm just not ready.  A big part of that is that I just started back to work this past week (I'm a teacher) and I'm trying to get into the groove of that.  I don't want to have unreasonable expectations for myself, because unreasonable expectations begets failure if past experience is any indicator.

However, I had already been doing one of the biggest things they suggested.  Parking further away to get even just a few more steps in, because those steps really do add up.  So I will continue to focus on that this week.

Some Words About Today:  As far as healthy eating and habits go, today pretty much sucked.  It wasn't the worst it could have been, but I ate way too much.  I did count all my points and didn't go over my weekly allowance, so there is that, which is a HUGE plus.  I felt very out of control.  No...very is not the right word.  Very out of control means entire containers of sweets and other such atrocities.  I just didn't do as well as I should have.  But I can't dwell on it, because just like unreasonable expections, dwelling begets failure.  So, having recognized that I was eating for all the wrong reasons - work stress, worrying about my grandmother, and so on, I formulated a plan for the future when I find myself eating things I know probably aren't the best choice or find myself eating when I'm really not hungry or find myself wanting to overeat. 

I will stop and ask myself:  Why do I want to eat this?  How will I feel after I eat this?  Is there a healthier alternative I could eat instead?  Is eating this worth the Points Plus I'll spend and/or worth feeling bad about it immediately after?  I think it's a good plan.  We'll give it a whirl the next couple of days, because I'm sure I'll find myself feeling pretty challenged with all the stuff that's going on over the next two weeks. 

And on that note, I'll leave you with this, my favorite quote (I even made it into a wall hanging for my bedroom):  "You must do the thing you think you cannot do."  - Eleanor Roosevelt.

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.

The Why

I am a completely ADD person.  I spontaneously started writing this as I flipped back and forth on my computer between my two favorite weight loss blogs, a scrapbooking workshop PDF and a chat window I have open with my girlfriend.

Friends (or folks, I hope to one day call “friends”), I have no idea what my actual weight is today.  I’m sure it’s hovering somewhere between 330 and 340 pounds.   I feel completely complacent, depressed, overwhelmed, saddened, frustrated, and angry (amongst other assorted emotions) over my weight.  No need for anyone else to beat me up over it all, I do more than enough of that on my own.  I can’t help but going back 3 ½ ish years in my mind to when I was really feeling strong and closer to my goal than ever before in my life.  And then came the great fall from atop the summit…

I was vegetarian at the time and had decided to vegan challenge myself.  I was working out 45 to 90 minutes a day.  I’d lost 89 pounds at that point in my life (I now weigh pretty much exactly, if not more, than I weighed at my highest weight when I started), I was embarking on all sorts of new, scary, and exciting experiences.  Then I did something stupid and mishandled a crate of water bottles and herniated two discs in my back. 

Now if I had really been the strong person I thought I was, I wouldn’t have let it deter me.  But it did deter me.  All I could do for close to a year was go to work, come home, eat something I didn’t really have to cook, then go to bed around 5 PM, because even sitting on the sofa was too excruciating.  As my mom very succinctly put it one day a few months into that experience, “D, I think you’re eating your pain.”  Yeah.  That’s exactly what I did.  There was the physical pain and the emotional pain that came along with all that was happening.  Now these 3 years later, I’ve become a statistic with what I affectionately (and denially, if you will allow that to be a word) refer to as my “sciatica weight”.

At the conclusion of this sob story, I could now launch into the entire history of my issues with weight and food, but I’m not going to do that right now.  If you stick with me, it’ll all come out in good time, but for now I’m going to leave it there. 

And I say all that to say this….

I’ve had it. 

I’ve had it with myself, the crap processed sugar coated deep fried salted diet I’ve been feeding my body for most of the past several years.  I don’t want it anymore. 

I don’t want to turn 40 nearing or surpassing 400 pounds. 

I don’t want to stand after a couple of hours of sitting and feel like I’m a 90 year old who has to take a few tentative steps to get going again because my body is so ravaged. 

I don’t want to dread all the times my sweet little 2 year old niece asks me to get on the floor to play with her, because it’s so awkward trying to arrange this large body in such a small space and then to get myself turned around well enough to the point where I can get back up again without the screaming pain in my knees. 

I don’t want to dread getting on an airplane to see my girlfriend in Ireland, worrying that the person next to me will complain that I’m taking up too much of their space; worrying about getting the seat belt extender out of my bag and across my lap before anyone sees what I’m doing; worrying about the searing discomfort I will feel from being crammed into a seat too small for 10+ hours. 

I don’t want to constantly fret about the state of my arms (or legs or butt or stomach) to the point where I feel like I can’t leave the house in any piece of clothing I currently own.  Or probably in any piece of clothing that exists anywhere in the world, save for a giant bed sheet fashioned into some sort of circusesque tent dress.

I don’t want to be terrified of going to a bar or nightclub with my girlfriend or friends, because I’m so worried that someone will make fun of me or call me names (oddly enough, I think bars and nightclubs are one of the only remaining places I haven’t had someone make fun of or comment on my size). 

But as much, if not more than all of those things, I don’t want to feel unworthy of living any longer.  I feel less than human.  I feel less than a woman.  I feel inconsequential. 

I have an amazing girlfriend who loves me just as I am.  I have the most incredible family a person could ask for.  I have good friends.  I have a job I love most of the time.  I have a roof over my head and a driveable car.  I am very blessed and fortunate.

But I still don’t feel like I should be allowed to be happy.  Is it the cause or a result of my weight?  I don’t know.  But I am ready to find out.