Fat as Hell…

and not going to take it anymore!

Stepping to the Numbers

I’ve decided to participate in Fatbridemaid’s Pedometer Challenge mostly because it sounded like fun, but also because I got a pedometer for Christmas which has been collecting dust in the bottom of a drawer ever since. The challenge doesn’t officially start until tomorrow, but she’s counting steps before then just to get everybody all pumped up. That said, all week long, I’ve been trying to figure out my pedometer which, apparently, takes a phd to operate. Seriously, I may not be an official Mensa member, but I’m no slouch either and this little plastic gadget has me bested.

Luckily, I was talking to someone at work about it this week and on Friday she brought me another pedometer to borrow for awhile. Luckily, this one is fabulous. Easy, sturdy and, as far as I can tell, accurate. (I did some test walks to see if it measured the correct steps and it only missed once and only by one step). So now I get to play along! :)

To that end, today was a *big* walking day for me. My husband and I got up early this morning and headed downtown to our local farmer’s market. It was a gorgeous day with lots of sunshine. Warm and with just a taste of the hot and humid summer that we are no doubt in store for. It just so happened that there was also a classic car show set up across many city blocks near the market, so we also tooled up and down the promenade several times looking at the handy work of people who clearly dedicate much of their lives to restoring these vehicles.

Anyway, later, we walked the 1.5 mile “nature trail” near our house, but when we got back to the house I realized that it just wasn’t enough. I’d barely broken a sweat… as though *that* walk was just the warm up… so I headed out and kept walking until I’d put in *another* 3.5 miles.

Of course, now I’m sore and sleepy, but I also have to marvel (just a little) at how far I’ve come. Six months ago, I had to push and push myself to walk even a mile. And I hated every second of it. But tonight I wanted *more* exercise. I *needed* more. And, like icing on the proverbial cake, my additional jaunt this evening took me over the 10,000 step mark for the day.

12, 966 steps to be exact.

I mean, I have no idea how many steps other people are taking in a day, but to me this feels like it’s crazy good. In fact, I’m sure that I won’t get anywhere near this on most days… simply because, well, I don’t think I walk over 5 miles on an average day. But today I did. Go me!


You know, all of this weight loss + exercise business is still pretty new to me.

I got to thinking the other day about how little I really know about how to eat and move my body in ways that are truly healthy. I’m a complete and utter novice at this and, frankly, I think I’m fumbling around in the dark most of the time. I read other blogs and I’m, literally, stunned by how together so many of you all seem. I read your food journals and the stories you share about your goals, plans and successes and it all leaves me hoping that *someday* I’ll be in that place too.

But I’m not there yet. I still find myself *wanting* the food I shouldn’t have or the kind of life where I can just sit on my butt and not worry about things like heart disease and cellulite. And, I don’t know, maybe it will never become second nature to me. Maybe I’ll always have to fight my first instincts. All I know for sure is that if I really am going to make the kind of changes to my life that are required for permanent weight loss then those changes have to be permanent too. I won’t magically wake up one day and not have to think about what I put in my body and how I treat it. I’ll always have to think about it. I’ll always be fighting this battle.

And let’s face it. That kind of sucks.

But the thing is, on nights like tonight when something inside me clicks and I find myself *wanting* to do the right thing. When I’m faced with a choice between living healthily and just living *and* the first one is actually preferable. Those are nights when I truly think that I just might be able to do this.

Of course, tomorrow I’ll probably eat something that will cause Paola to give me a virtual bollocking, but for tonight, I feel like I might actually be “getting there” — 12,966 steps at a time. :)

April 19, 2008 Posted by | exercise, motivation | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

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:



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.
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*

April 2, 2008 Posted by | losing weight, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments


Has anyone seen mine?

I’ve gone over my calories two days in a row now.
And I just couldn’t be bothered to exercise yesterday.

Will someone please light a fire under my ass?

Thank you.


PS: I’ll be so glad when putting on a pair of stockings in the morning no longer requires major feats of acrobatics.

February 13, 2008 Posted by | motivation | , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments