Finding My Happy Weight
When I was a very little girl, (I’m talking elementary/middle school age), I can remember watching Richard Simmons on TV. This was before the whole “sweating to the oldies” phenomenon of the early 90’s, back when he had his own daytime TV show where he interviewed really fat people, told them about how he used to be really chunky, fixed some kind of lo-cal recipe and then spent about 10-15 minutes doing aerobics. Like I said, I was pretty young when it was on, but I was “fat” even back then and had already learned the very hard lesson that fat girls don’t make friends at school. They don’t get asked to dances. They don’t get picked for sports teams. The don’t get invited to slumber parties. And they don’t get the starring role in the school musical unless it’s a production Hairspray, of course. (Not that I’m bitter).
So… instead of doing those fun things, I stayed home and watched Richard Simmons.
Here’s the thing, as if that wasn’t sad enough, I can very vividly remember, at about the age of say 11, telling my mother that if I worked really hard, I would eventually make it to my “goal weight.” Again, I was 11. And I was using phrases like “goal weight.”
Seriously. That’s some scary shit.
Anyway, needless to say, I never made to my “goal weight” whatever that magic number was. And I never made it many, many, (many) times after that. I’ve set a million “goal weights” over the years and never reached any of them. For me, setting a goal weight was like the kiss of death. The minute I decided on some arbitrary number, I became so focused on that number that I found it impossible to celebrate the loss of all the pounds in between. Who cares if I just lost 2lbs, I’m still 152lbs from my “goal weight!”
It’s that kind of self-destructive behavior that has kept from setting a goal weight this time.
If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time then you know that, for the most part, I’ve steadfastly refused to cast my gaze any further away from me than the next pound or two or five. I’ve purposely kept my eyes OFF the prize for a couple of reasons:
First, and foremost, I don’t want to miss out on all the victories I’ll achieve between here and the “end of the road,” wherever that is. I don’t want to stop feeling like a rock star each time I lose a pound or two. I don’t want the joy of each weight loss victory to lessen in the pit of my stomach just because it’s not the victory. After all, this is war! And I want to win, damn it! And what’s more, I don’t want to be gracious about it. I want to moon walk into the in zone like the worst kind of professional sports hot dog. This way, each pound lost feels like a miracle — like the huge achievement that it is — rather than just a mediocre, albeit necessary, step towards some elusive goal in the far distant future.
And secondly, truth be told, I don’t really even know what I *should* weigh. All I know for sure is that I’ve never been there. Whatever the ideal weight is for someone of my height, I’ve never weighed it. I’ve always been fat. I honestly have no idea what I will look like when all that weight comes off, because I’ve *never* been that girl.
What I do know, however, is that most people want to weigh less than they probably should. Even skinny people. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met a single person, skinny, fat or somewhere in between, who didn’t claim to want to lose at least a few pounds. Apparently, to some people’s way of thinking, there’s truth to the old adage that there’s no such thing as being too skinny. Really. What’s a chubby girl to do?
All that pontificating aside, though, lately it’s been harder and harder to shield my eyes from the vision of what my ideal weight might be. The more weight I lose, the closer I get to the point where I won’t need to keep losing weight anymore. In fact, just the other day my husband asked me how much weight I was planning to lose in total. “As much as it takes” I joked back at him. He smiled and stuff, but then he said, “you know, you’re going to have to think about it some time.” And he’s right, I will.
Of course, don’t get me wrong… I know that at this point in the game I’m still a looooong way from the end of the road. Believe me, I’m well aware of the fact that 319lbs - 65lbs *still* equals REALLY FAT.
But still… I’ve lost more weight than I ever have before. And therefore, the idea of actually making it to the oft hailed “goal weight” seems more possible than ever. So… sometimes, late at night, when I think no one else is looking, I’m willing to admit that I sometimes gaze longingly out the window and visualize the skinny me that I’ve never been. The healthy me who doesn’t require blood pressure or cholesterol meds. The musclebound fit girl who actually *likes* to exercise, who runs for pleasure and whose ass looks, frankly, hot as hell in whatever pants she happens to put on. And in those moments of extreme fantasy I wonder… how much does that girl weigh? 150lbs? 115lbs? Somewhere in between?
Then today, I stumbled upon this link on Irene’s blog. At first, I hesitated clicking on it… but then I read a bit more and I have to say the philosophy of it made sense to me. I mean, if I’m going to fiddle, even a tiny little bit, with setting a “goal weight” I want it to be based on something more than just my height. So, I reluctantly filled in all the blank spots, pressed enter and… viola! This number popped out:
132lbs.
*gasp*
Truth be told, I sat staring at it for long time. 132lbs. What does someone look like who weighs 132lbs. I’m pretty sure I came out of the womb weighing more than 132lbs. I’ll never make it to 132lbs.
Then I started doing the math.
That’s like… 123lbs left to go.
Then I started thinking about the weight I’ve already lost.
123lbs.
Ok… that’s like doing what I’ve already done 2 more times.
Suddenly, 123lbs never felt so achievable.
123lbs, I thought.
Yeah. I can do that.
So… is 132lbs my new goal weight?
Hell no.
If today I weight 254lbs then my goal weight is still 253lbs.
And when I get there, I’m gonna pat myself on the back and jump up and down and force my husband to come look at the scale, just like I’ve been doing because, I’ve spent much of my life feeling like losing even 1lb was impossible.
But you know what?
All those single pound losses tend to add up, my friends.
And, who knows, maybe one day they’ll add up to 123lbs.
*fingers crossed*
