Fat as Hell…

and not going to take it anymore!

Pedometer Challenge: Week 2 Wrap-Up + HYC Update

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at PhotobucketMan, this has been a busy week. But a good one. Before I get into my good news report, here are my pedometer numbers for the week:

Sunday through Saturday, respectively

And today…

Totals:

Weekly total (I’m not including today in the weekly total): 90,254 steps
Daily Average for Week 2: 12,893 steps
2 Week Combined Total: 184, 216 steps
Daily Combined Average: 13,158 (this average includes my *bonus* steps from the first week)

Gosh. All this stepping is sure paying off in a number of ways. First of all, on Friday I had a long awaited doctor’s appointment. Anyone whose been reading this blog for any length of time knows that I have a love/hate relationship with my doctor and that a visit to his office, nearly a year ago now, is one of the things that most put a fire under my ass to finally start taking off the weight. Since then, I’ve been back to the doctor a few more times, and each time I go, I’m more and more determined to prove to him that I *can* lose enough weight to be taken off of the blood pressure and cholesterol medicine that he started me on last July.

Unfortunately, this kind of motivation sometimes leads to crazy behavior on my part.

For example, *knowing* that this appointment was coming up, I started weighing myself all the time. April arrived, and the moment I turned the page on the calendar and saw that doctor’s appointment looming, I went into scale overload. I found myself weighing every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I was so determined to show a “big loss” when I got to the doctor’s office, that I swiftly flew into obsession mode — which, let me just tell you, isn’t a nice place to be.

Anyway, after a week or so of this, I decided that I’d never make it to the end of the month, if I kept obsessing… so I just stopped weighing all together.

I thought… fuck it. I’m already doing everything I can to make myself healthy, stepping on and off the scale isn’t going to do anything except make me feel bad. So, I put the scale away for the rest of the month. I didn’t announce my decision here because, frankly, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stick with it, but within a few days, I’d stopped thinking about the scale at all and was, therefore, able to focus on the business of actually taking care of myself. Imagine that! :)

So… Friday came and I went into the appointment blind. I didn’t even weigh myself that morning. “It is what it is,” I thought as I drove myself there and sat in the waiting room, vowing not to hate myself too much if I hadn’t lost any weight or even if, heaven forbid, I’d gained.

But then something amazing happened when I stepped on the scale in his office.

*drumroll please*

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

244.4lbs.

Now, the last time I posted my weight here, I was 254lbs. Since then I know I’ve popped up a couple of pounds and then back down one or two, until the week that I finally decided to stop weighing altogether.

But now I’m 244.4lbs. :)

I’ve decided to round it down to 244 even and call it a 10lb loss because, well… just because I want to. I realize, of course that’ll mean that I don’t get to spend any time enjoying the 70lbs lost badge, but somehow, I’ll manage, I think.

But wait!
That’s not even the best part!

The best part is that during my visit, the doctor said that the *next* time I visit (in 6 months) that we’ll look at reducing the dosage of the blood pressure medication — the first step in, essentially, weaning me off it completely.

I simply cannot tell you how ecstatic that makes me. Getting off this medication was, and continues to be, such a motivator for me. I don’t want to take *any* kind of medication for the rest of my life.

I’m only 37.

I just want my body to reflect my real age and not all the years I’ve added to my life by being obese. I know lots of people who spend all their time thinking about what they will look like once they finally reach their goal weight… and don’t get me wrong, of course, I think about that too. But the truth is, what I want most is to be healthy. And I don’t think that’s any more noble of a goal than the goal of just wanting to look hot in normal sized clothes… it’s just a different goal. (Though, looking hot wouldn’t be too shabby either, now that I think about it!) For me, getting off the meds and being healthy is the light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t know what weight that will be or what being at that weight will look like… I just know that I’m not going to allow being fat to kill me. And when I finally reach the point where I can say goodbye to the medication and where I start feeling and acting like someone who is only 37, well… *that’s* when I will have reached my goal.

Anyway, Friday was a good day.

But then again, Saturday was a pretty good day too. On Saturday a package arrived at my door containing these gorgeous earrings, which were hand made for me by the utterly fabulous Paola. What’s really cool about them, I mean, besides the fact that they’re absolutely beautiful, is that Paola sneakily asked me what colors I liked and then crafted the whole gift around my response – with pretty orange paper around the box, tied with a blue ribbon. So cute!

And the card read: “Keep on walking!”

Now, I ask you. Seriously. Does it really get any better than that?

It’s funny, you know… even writing all this out, it feels like it’s not really even happening to me. I mean, as hard as I’ve worked and as much as I’ve wanted to prove other people wrong about how much I will be able to accomplish, the truth is, I don’t think I ever really expected to lose 75lbs. Sure, I’ve tried to stay positive, and I can’t even count the number of times each day I have to remind myself that I *can* do this, but the truth is I’m usually far *less* surprised when I fail.

I wonder what it is about me that causes me to expect so little from myself.

Anyway… it was a good week here, folks. I hope yours was equally fantastic.

Advertisements

May 4, 2008 Posted by | pedometer challenge, weigh day | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

Pedometer Challenge: Week 1 Wrap Up

I don’t know how other people are doing this, but here are my week 1 numbers in FBM’s Pedometer Challenge:

Let’s start out with Saturday and Sunday’s numbers (respectively):

SaturdaySunday

So… that makes my averages look something like this:

Weekly total (I’m not including today in the weekly total): 80,996 steps
Bonus steps (FBM let us include any steps we took prior to the official start): 12,966
Total including bonus steps: 93,962
Daily Average (not including bonus steps): 11,570 steps

Gosh… I have to admit, that’s a lot more steps than I would have guessed that I was capable of when all of this began. And I know it’s a bit cliche to say, but I truly feel as though I’ve already won, even if everyone else in the challenge is outstepping me. Right now, I feel like a rock star.

That said, I realize too that I’m starting week 2 a bit on the low side, (this is the first day that I have *not* topped 10k steps), but I don’t feel terribly guilty about it because despite the lack of actual steps taken today, this was a very busy day for me. In addition to the mountain of housework that I got done this afternoon, my husband and I also stood in line for about 2 hours to see Hillary Clinton speak tonight. Additionally, once we were “in” we then stood for another hour waiting for her to take the stage and then for the entirety of her nearly 3 hour long speech.

I mention this only because I can remember, as a kid, before this crazy internet thing, standing in line for hours and hours and hours on end to get concert tickets… and then standing in line again on the night of the show in order to get the best seat, not to mention the long hours standing up while the band performed. Furthermore, I can also remember leaving those events *not* feeling as though my hips were about the crack in half. Alas, those days might be close to being over, though. I mean… seriously, standing for that long tonight really wore me out. I was *so* glad to walk the 15 or so blocks back to our car tonight, just to get some blood pumping in my tired little legs.

On the drive home I asked my husband when I’d gotten this old.
He didn’t seem to know.

He did, however, challenge me to imagine how standing for that long would have felt eight months ago when I was carrying around an additional 65lbs.

Honestly, it’s tough to imagine, and frankly, that’s a little scary to me. I mean, I really, really don’t want to forget what it was like to be that girl. I want to remember her because I’m pretty sure that forgetting about her would be a mistake for a couple of reasons. First of all, forgetting how it felt to be that fat would probably only make it that much easier to become that fat again. And secondly, how am I supposed to fully appreciate being healthy (and relatively thin) if I can’t remember what it was like to be, well… not.

I think part of the reason why it’s difficult for me to remember being 65lbs heavier is because when I look in the mirror each day, I don’t really see much of a difference. I mean… I *know* that I’m losing weight because my clothes fit differently, people tell me that *they* notice and, oh yeah… there’s the scale too. But, mostly, when I look at my face and my body, I just see the same girl I’ve always been… and on many days, I do wonder when the new girl is going to emerge.

Anyway, this coupled with the conversation I had with my husband tonight made me want to look for a picture or two of me 65lbs ago in the hopes that seeing *that* girl would help me appreciate the new one a bit more… so I started going through some photo albums and files on the computer in search of some photographic evidence of my fatness.

And here’s the scary thing: I couldn’t find any. (Well, that’s not *exactly* true… eventually, I did find one, but it seriously took hours to locate. I’ll show it at the end).

Like most families, my husband and I take pictures during key moments of our lives. Holidays, family get togethers, trips, etc. And while we *do* have pictures chronicling those events, it would appear that I’m not in any of them. At first, I found this pretty shocking. I mean… I’m not *always* the photographer during these moments and even though I’m pretty loathe to have my picture taken, I didn’t think I’d managed to successfully dodge every photo opportunity that has ever come my way. Then, while I was sitting here scratching my head in disbelief, I remembered something.

A couple of Christmases ago, I can remember standing around the tree/fireplace at my mother in law’s house while the obligatory family photos were taken. Her camera was not working, so she asked if we could just use ours and then share the pictures among all the family members. We quickly obliged and soon we were all striking poses and putting on our best fake smiles.

This next bit is really hard for me to admit.

Later in the evening as things began to settle down my husband and I grabbed the camera and started looking through the shots. Gosh, even now, I can remember how hot and red my cheeks felt looking at the pictures in which I was included. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so bad about myself. Not only was I fat, but I looked unhappy and ugly. I was mortified and literally had to turn away. But the worst part is that after he set the camera down and went to join the rest of the family, I actually sat there and deleted every picture that *I* was in. In essence, I erased myself from that Christmas.

I wonder how many other family milestones I successfully removed myself from, either by throwing away the pictures or deleting them or by simply refusing to have my picture taken?

I know we’ve all spent time thumbing through old photo albums, reliving memories and revisiting the people and places who are no longer with us. In that way, photographs are not only a documentation of a particular moment in history, but they’re also a physical reminder of the people who come into our lives and help shape who we are. Many of the people in my life don’t have that kind of reminder of me… and it makes me sad and ashamed to think about. But also, it makes me wonder, how much do you have to hate yourself to feel like it’s ok to deprive your own family members, the people who love you no matter how much you weigh, of images of you?

Denying the people that you love, and who love you, pictures of yourself is not only selfish, but it’s also very sad. I know that when I chose to delete my own pictures, it wasn’t because I didn’t care about the people who might want them, it’s because I was so ashamed of who I was, because I couldn’t possibly imagine anyone loving me enough to want those pictures.

Now… 65lbs later, I still don’t like the way I look in pictures, but there’s been a huge shift in my thinking. Not only do I see how wrong it is to remove myself from the photographic story of my family’s life, but I also love myself enough to feel as though I deserve to be included in it.

Anyway… without further ado: Before & During.

If there’s nothing else to notice… I think I look a lot happier now.
And that’s because I am. :)

April 27, 2008 Posted by | losing weight, pedometer challenge | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Pedometer Challenge: Day 3

This has been a long, long (long) day.

I’m sure we all have those days in which our jobs require far more from us than what was originally described when we went to the interview, and for me, today was definitely one of those days. Not only was the work day itself very hectic, but it also seemed to go on forever: I had extra meetings after the school day was over, as well as another function that kept me there until almost 8pm. Additionally, part of the evening involved me making various presentations to several large groups of people. Exhausting! But the worst part came after I was all finished giving my little schpeel.

Once my part of the dog and pony show was over, a few of my colleagues decided to introduce me to some of the people there. Fine. But during the midst of this conversation, one of the teachers started to tell people about how much weight I’d lost.

*cough*

Pardon me, but… (as the cool kids say) WTF??

When did my own personal struggle to not be like the woman from What’s Eating Gilbert Grape become public knowledge? And when did it suddenly become okay for *other* people to discuss my fatness and/or my recent reduction in fatness????

I know I must have just stood there looking ridiculous because well, I simply don’t tell people that I am trying to lose weight. Recently, a few people have noticed that I am getting a bit less rotund and have very carefully asked if I’ve been losing weight. To all of those inquiries I’ve very politely said yes and even told one person how much I’d managed to shed, but only after she backed me into a corner, shined a bright light in my eyes, donned her Russian accent and said “ve have vays of making you talk, dahlink!” (Or at least that’s how I choose to remember it).

Anyway, I think it’s pretty clear that word has spread.

Of course, I’m making light of the situation now, but in the moment it was so awkward. I just wanted to crawl under the table and hide for the rest of the evening.

I mean, obviously, I realize that the more weight I lose, the less able I will be to keep it a secret, but I guess I just wasn’t prepared for situations in which I would be *forced* to talk about it. I realize too that the woman who “outed” me, did so with absolutely no malice in her heart. In fact, she kept repeating one phrase over and over again: “We’re all very proud of her.”

*gulp*

They’re all very proud of me?

Who are they???

And now what happens if I let them down??????

Seriously, at this point, I totally started to freak out.

So… what did I do? Well, of course, I did what every rational, right minded, clear thinking individual would. I went over to the “buffet table” — the same buffet table that I’d successfully avoided all night long — and ate a piece of cake and drank a can of sugary soda. At this point, it is probably important to note that I *knew* in advance that there would be food at this event. So, like a good little fat fighter, I packed myself a sensible dinner. And, what’s more, I’d already eaten said sensible dinner. Which means that at the time of my emtional meltdown, (which could only be treated by cake, apparently), I’d already eaten and was, therefore, already full.

And you know what the worst part is?

I didn’t even like it. Seriously, I derived absolutely no pleasure from either of my high calorie “comfort foods.” In fact, the only thing I could think of the entire time I was eating (and drinking) them was that a) *they* are watching me right now and b) I am letting *them* down.

And here’s the thing… I *know* that these are the rantings of a mad woman. Believe me, I realize that these are seriously the kind of things that a crazy person does. Normal people do not have these kinds of twisted relationships with food. Nor do they spiral into bizarre bouts of mania when someone, ever so gently, forces themselves into their worlds.

*sigh*

Anyway, by the time I got home I was pooped. However, the situation turned from bad to worse when I checked the pedometer and realized that despite my busy day, I’d only taken 5800 steps. I’ll be honest, at first I just thought, “oh, fuck it.” But then I started to think about the challenge and the commitment I’d made to myself, not to mention the extra calories I’d managed to shovel into my mouth earlier in the evening, so I laced up my sneakers, fired up the old iPod and made my way around the .2 mile loop that goes around my house– over and over again until finally my pedometer gave me a number I could live with.

It’s funny, but I’ve read about people whose tendency it is to sabotage their own success… and tonight I’m left wondering if I’m one of those people. Was it the pressure of the evening that just got to me or am I the kind of person who secretly doesn’t believe that I have the right to be happy? I’m constantly telling myself that I am not an “emotional eater” and that I’m fat simply because I love food, but I’m not so sure that, after tonight, I can continue to go on believing my own bullshit.

The truth is, I don’t really understand what made me go apeshit tonight. I just know that despite the 10,000 steps forward that I may have taken today, it’s difficult to see anything more than the one GIANT step that I also took back.

April 22, 2008 Posted by | pedometer challenge | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments