Be The Change

So this post will be along the same lines as the last one. But I want to give the so-called "normal" world a little perspective on not fitting.

That's not a typo. Not fitting.

When you are more than fifty or a hundred pounds overweight, you don't fit.

You don't fit into booths at a pub. You don't fit into certain chairs in restaurants. You don't fit into stadium, movie theatre, or airplane seats. Or (how could I forget?) stylyng chairs and pedi-spas at the salon.

You don't fit into regular clothes. Your options for clothing are actually quite limited and quite expensive. You can get cheap stuff but it is usually very ugly and unflattering.

Now, I am not talking about "plus sizes" like they sell in most stores. I am not talking a 1X or a 2X. I am talking bigger than they sell in most specialty stores.

There are very few choices for the very large. And the nicer, more fashionable, better quality clothing costs way more than what fluffy gals can find in a basic plus-plus size catalog. My fluffy brothers don't fare much better.

You can't fit through certain stores because they make the spaces between what they are selling more narrow to fit in more products. Walking into a crowded restaurant is a nightmare. Or, when you are in a crowded place, an elevator, a night club, you find yourself trying not to take up so much space, to make room for the normal people. I have seen people not get onto elevators because they think "I don't want to get too close the chubby gal" or they just don't want to take the chance.

Fitting into cars can be an issue too. I remember the last time I gained back weight after keeping off 50 or 60 out of 100 pounds lost, the steering wheel of my car was eroding at the bottom because it hit my stomach when I drove.

And perception and perspective of the thin world is skewed too. I could lose forty or fifty pounds and a thin person might never notice because to certain types of people, fat is fat. 50 pounds or 150 pounds...to them, you are just fat.

A few years ago, a former co-worker of mine came into my new place of employment and I made comment to her about how I used to be skinny (because you always, when you are fluffy, have to clear the air and make it known that you know you've gotten fat!) and she said I looked exactly the same. I had gained 80 pounds since I had last seen her.

Then there is the other end of that spectrum. I have plenty of thin friends who don't "see" my fat because they love me.

They think I am wonderful and beautiful because they see past the weight and see me.

If that is true, then why are they so happy for me when they see me looking more like them? It is for the very same reason, they know me and they love me and they know that this other person was in here all along.

A friend of mine commented to me the other day on my previous post and she said that she takes people noticing when she loses weight in negative way. I've done that. Because you second guess and you say to yourself "Well, jeez, I must have looked really terrible to look so 'great' now. Why did I let myself go like that?"

I am here as a person who only kept getting bigger and bigger and I am here to tell you that I find joy in the fact that I am not getting bigger anymore.

Sometimes I wonder how people who barely know me can notice it and are looking at me in a whole new way. But then there are, what I like to call, the skinny-minded people who don't notice because I am still fat. I hope that's the case, anyway, and that they are not just thinking something completely different. (Like "Is she ever gonna lose all that weight?")

I used to hear skinny people, and when I say skinny people, I mean the really, naturally skinny ones who never had to worry about gaining weight and do anyway, or the ones who are fine they way they are-fit and healthy, but won't wear a bathing suit without shorts and a t-shirt over it; and I wonder what they see when they look in the mirror. I would  kill to be that small; to take up that little space. I don't like to be envious but I am a little  bit. I can admit it.

Last night, I did a client's hair and I have to say, she is hands down, one of the most beautiful women (including models and celebs) that I have ever seen. She is tall and naturally thin. She barely wears a stitch of make-up and she is flawless.

I often wonder, on the rare occasions I meet someone like that, if it feels different to look so pretty.

I know that thin feels much different than fluff. But does pretty feel different than plain? I wonder. I wonder, when you're thin, if you will ever be thin enough.

When I was a size ten, I felt "thin enough". I felt it because that was the size that people treated me like everybody else. That was the size that no one gave me a second glance at the beach. That was the size and weight that fit. That I fit.

I watched a movie (a guilty pleasure and I can't believe I am admitting it to all five you!) called Pitch Perfect in which there is a fluffy girl and she calls  herself Fat Amy "...so twig bitches like you don't do it behind my back." I totally do that. I try to beat people to the punch. To let them know that I know that they know I'm fat!

All you "twig bitches" out there who think you are fat or have a crazy, unrealistic image of yourself, don't teach that to your children. Teach them, instead, to make the right choices when it comes to food. Lead by example. Don't count calories in front of your daughters. Calories are not nearly as important as nutrition.

I think, when I was a child, I received so many mixed messages from my mother and my aunt and my grandmother. "Finish everything on your plate or you don't get dessert!" It didn't matter that I was full, I wasn't allowed to go out and play until I cleared my plate. Then, I was told, as I got older, that I was eating too much.

Teach your girls and boys about healthy foods and lead by example. Eat your fruits and veggies. Drink water instead of soda. Don't force feed them if they are not hungry. But if they are holding out for ice cream and they didn't finish their dinner, tell them that's OK but just one scoop and then have a piece of fruit. When I was a kid, if I choked down all my dinner, I didn't want to miss dessert so I ate it anyway. I'm not saying it's my mother's fault. But, I can't help wondering if, had I learned moderation at a young age, things might be easier for me now.

Don't bribe your children with snacks and treats like my mother did. I'm not saying ever, but don't make it their habit.  Sometimes, you just have to give in and give them that lollipop. But not every time. Sometimes, it's better to just leave the cart in the middle of Target and cut your losses.

Change the cycle. Teach them to get off the couch and away from the computer. Teach them that balance is more important than counting calories. But when they want chocolate cake, let them eat it! Just not on a daily basis.

I'm no shining example of how to be thin. But I sure know how to get fat. Trust me, thin is better. But more important than that is good health. Natural, whole foods most of the time, can make up for the chicken nuggets they're having in the school cafeteria. Teach them. If you are a junk food junkie, teach yourself first.

I come from a long line of the "feed a cold, gorge a crisis" mentality. At some point, we have to break the vicious circle.

Gandhi said that we should "be the change" we want to see in the world. Be the change. Skinny, fat, or somewhere in between, we all need to stop beating ourselves up and start taking care of ourselves.

And Now, I Digress...

So, after spending nearly twelve hours in a hospital emergency room with my sister yesterday, I am counting my blessings.

She was having chest pains which only turned out to be pneumonia and when the doctor (with some crazy-ass eyebrows!) finally came to tell us the diagnosis, I realized how jaded we have become about medical conditions.

I remember, many years ago, my mother was in the hospital and a family in the next curtain was sobbing and wailing after finding out their father was in congestive heart failure. Diuretics and bed rest and he'd, most likely be good as new. It's not like he had a stroke or end stage cancer. I couldn't understand what they were so worked up about. I mean, what's a little heart failure in the grand scheme of things, right?

There have been so many terrible illnesses and diagnoses in my life and in my family that I have turned cynical and over-informed. Most people, upon hearing that their sister has pneumonia, would not express relief as one of their reactions! Would they?

What about the poor dude next to us yesterday? This guy's situation was absolutely pathetic. I felt so bad for him. I wanted to hug the guy and I couldn't even see him behind the curtain that divided us. His wife came home drunk at 4 in the morning and started pounding on him. Then she proceeded to bite his ear off. The cops were already on their way and they arrived just as he was trying to retrieve said ear "piece" from his hopefully, soon-to-be ex-wife's mouth and they thought he was assaulting her! The only family member he could get in touch with was his sister who has stage four cancer! And this poor schmuck, when the nurses asked if he would press charges, said he didn't want his kids to see their mother get arrested!

I mean, COME ON!  

There's a story that goes around the Internet and the gist of it is: if God came to you and said you could trade in all your troubles for someone else's and you picked the person you thought had the most charmed life, you'd discover some deep dark thing about them and you'd want your own life back. Or something like that.

I think that, in my forties, I have been more pragmatic in my philosophies on the ways of fate. God or life or the powers that be have handed me this life and, like it or not, I'm stuck with it. There's no point in wishing I had someone else's life because, well, I don't!

OK, sometimes, I admit, I wouldn't mind being Oprah or Barbara Walters, or British royalty. (Living British royalty!)

I have the kind of life where pneumonia is a silver lining of sorts. And I don't think that's such a bad thing.

Now, being jaded does not mean that I don't freak out when I get a raspy, nearly inaudible call from my sister at six in the morning croaking the words "chest pains" into the phone. And it also doesn't mean that I don't over think what the problem could be. It also doesn't mean that I am not worried sick even though the hospital sent her home with a bunch of meds and instructions to call her doctor on Monday.

Medical emergencies always tend to leave me on the edge of my seat and not in a good way.

They also make me re-assess how I take care of myself. Today, at church, part of the reading was the old "your body is a temple" passage. After yesterday, I realized that, if it's true, I'm in big trouble.

Watching my sister struggle to breathe and seeing her on that gurney all day made me think that I am not taking care of myself the way I should. The weight is one thing. But my stress level and not exercising and not going to the doctor for check ups is not helping my health or the length of my life one, tiny bit!

There was also a part of the service that was about listening to God. I pray regularly. I'm not an overly religious person, but I have always been on a journey to find my faith. Lately, I have had some success in that department. I still have my issues and am conflicted at some of the teachings but, as a whole, I am a Catholic Christian. So, the story about Samuel hearing God calling his name, spoke to me. He didn't recognize that it was God. He needed Eli to tell him that he had to listen...to tell God he is listening.

So I pray. I pray for the good health of my loved ones even though they are already not in good health. I pray for guidance. I pray that I will be open to hear what God has in store for me. I pray that there's no one parked in the spot in front of my apartment.

I will pray for my sister and that poor man who lost part of his ear. I will pray for my client's daughter who just had a miscarriage. I will pray for all the people this past week who had tragedy touch their lives. And I will pray that my sister will be breathing easier tomorrow.

And I will pray for the ability to listen. I will try to listen so I can hear what God wants from me. And I will try to hear and act on what God says. And I will listen so I can have empathy for the human condition and I will listen to my body telling me it's time.

"I Wanna Go Back..."

OK. So I started this whole thing, this blogging, as a journey to find my inspiration for returning to the world of weight loss. So far, I have barely skimmed that surface!

My, bad.

I am not one for resolutions or goals. Setting things in stone is never a good idea because I have been there and you only set yourself up for failure.

I had a boss that trained me in my profession (hairdressing, if you didn't know) and she always said if I got lost in the middle of the haircut all I had to do was "go back to when it was going right".

Such a simple solution to so many things.

So when I am contemplating getting back into the world of weight loss, I always try to go back to the beginning of the several times I have lost 50+ pounds.

Where did my inspiration come from? Where did I get my motivation? Where did they both go?

Each time I have fallen off the food truck, it's usually because there is something huge going on in my life. Sometimes, it's a bunch of tiny things building up into something huge.

I think, many times, the motivation and inspiration also come from events in my life. When things are going well on all fronts or if major events are approaching, I seem to have more control. Well, in the past, that has been the case. Weddings, reunions, etc. are excellent motivations to get you on the weight loss wagon. And other times, I am just sick of feeling.....well.....obese.

So today, I am going to try to go back to the beginning. Just like Inigo Montoya did in Princess Bride.

I cannot turn back time, but I can look back and learn from the past mistakes instead of repeating them.

I can't help but hearing my cynical inner voice saying "Well, DUH!"

I am making a, dare I use the word, a commitment to examining my previous attempts at weight loss. The loss part was usually much easier than the keeping it off part. Maybe, if I see it in writing, it will click and suddenly make sense.

But I don't want this just to be about "dieting", so, from time to time, I promise you, I will digress and talk about my life or my family or some other boring non-inspirational subject.

I hope this post is the beginning of something instead of just a bunch of words on a screen.

In the words of the late, great John Belushi in Animal House, "Let's do iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!"

Does My Ass Look Like THAT??

     
      I find myself asking that question. A lot. I see someone walking down the street or in a super market or on line at McDonald's and I wonder if people perceive me that way.
      I never used to compare my butt to someone else's but now I find it necessary so I can keep my sanity. It's as if, so long as someone out there has a bigger butt than I do, I'm not too fat. Right???
    Do only fluffy people do this? Do only women do it? I wish I knew.
      I  also find myself justifying my weight and telling myself "It's ok. You have so much going on in your life." I find people that know and love me also do the same thing.
      I often wonder if they think what I think when I haven't seen someone in a long time and they put on a lot of weight: "Wow! She got fat!"
      To my face they say things like "You are always beautiful to me" or the infamous "I don't see you that way!"
     I also find myself starting a diet or eating program in my head and planning a morning walk. I do that several times a day! But it always just stays in my head.
     I am away from my house seven days a week. (This looks like it will be the excuse portion of this post.) I sometimes have to get up at 3:30 in the morning to be at a sick friend's house where I help out with her care. And I never know my schedule there from day to day. Sometimes I know the night before and sometimes I find out a few hours before I am needed.
     At work, I am on my feet most of the day. No easy task holding all this up all day long! I have tendonitis in one foot, heel spurs in both feet and a sciatic nerve that LOVES acting up! (Did that sound excuse-y?)
     Most of these conditions are caused by the weight. But they also make it difficult to get rid of the weight. (Excuse)
     I tried having food on hand that I can grab on the go but I don't think of it at 4 a.m. Maybe I don't choose to think of it.(And another. Seeing a pattern!)
     I have been down this road before. Packing on excess weight that hobbles me by the time I walk in the door. It helps keep people at a distance.
     I have tried to "find balance" and "make time" but the truth is, there is no balance and there is no time.
     There is just a crappy situation and a crappy schedule and very little that can be done about it.
     But that doesn't mean that there is nothing I can do about it. It's crappy but not impossible.
     I am always motivated when I start my days but, by the time I get home from wherever I was that day, I find myself unable to even bring in the mail!
     I've lost more than two hundred and fifty pounds in my lifetime. Not all at once, of course. Lose weight. Gain weight. Lose weight. Usually in a smart way eating right and exercising (once I lost 40 lbs on a crash diet but I was 16) and I never have a problem losing it when I am really trying. The problem is getting started.
     I started to blog because I love to write and I need an outlet for a lot of issues in my life that are beyond my control. But weight? Weight feels like something I should be able to control. And I have in the past. It also feels like something I should write about.
     So this blog will be about weight. Having it in excess makes me a bit of an expert, don't you think? Sometimes it will be funny and sometimes it will be depressing but maybe putting some of it down here will lighten my physical and mental load.