The One Where I Complain About Everything

The care and feeding of a 46 year old woman is entirely too hard. First of all, I'm fat. I hate it but I'm ok with saying it. I am less fat than I was. What's my secret? What's my trick?

Diet and exercise. Yes. I decided to do the thing which sucks and is hard because it's the thing which actually works. Truth be told, I could be even lesser fat (or is it less fatter?) but the degree to which I hate working out is so hard to fathom, I also can't fathom working out MORE. But I need to. My body isn't getting stronger the way it needs to, it needs more work. If I was 25 it would be different but oh god I'm not. I'm 46 and atrophy has set in across the expanse of my ass.

I got lumpy. It was easy to blame the kids. Shakes from Chik Fil A, donuts at midnight and bacon maple sundaes played no part in my rolls of fat and cellulite I'm sure. No, my diet of mass consumption and glory really wasn't to blame. Nor were the hours sitting at the computer at work, sitting at the computer playing video games. No carrying four children, two at once, rendered me a blob of human body fat. WHAT A TRAGEDY OH HOW DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?

The truth is, I love to eat and I hate to work out. I come from fat people who love to eat. Genetically I just didn't have a chance. So I have to change the way I behave. Am I going to go to the Renaissance Festival and refuse to eat any chocolate covered bacon? No - because I'm also not trying to live a life of denial. But what I am doing is changing what's my norm. Changing my "everyday" behavior so that it positively impacts the amount of weight I'm carrying around.

I have 69 pounds left to go to hit what I tentatively set as my goal weight. I am not sure my goal is where I mentally need to be though. My best friend reminds me rightfully that my only goal should be health. Unfortunately I'm not MENTALLY healthy enough for that kind of focus. I want a single digit size. Or damn close to one. I realized a couple of days ago that I'm down two sizes. That's really good, but I couldn't help being disappointed. I wanted MORE. I'm not realistic in wanting more but it's what I wanted. And I cried in the stupid dressing room because I was so mad.

My wants are simple. I want to shop at the normal shops. I don't want to have to go to stores for "PLUS" sizes. EVER EVER EVER EVER AGAIN. I don't want to have to walk to the WOMENS DEPARTMENT of a major department store, away from the cute and awesome clothes, to discover the lovely Alfred Dunner and White Stag collections.

What? That wouldn't look awesome on me? No? There was an article last year even describing plus sized clothes are HORRIBLE. They are. Are there some cute things out there? Sure. There's always exceptions, it's just wading through the pile of shit that's painful. Don't suggest mail order anything I don't shop online for clothes the end.

This is why I'm a little down right now, because doing the math on my lost sizes, it's occurred to me - down two sizes now, if I drop the 69 pounds that might only equal another two sizes.

Which puts me at a 16.

Which is un-fuckingacceptable.

Would it be amazingly smaller than I started out? Yes of course. Would my health improve? Yes.

Would I still have to go to freaking plus size shops for clothes?

Yes.

I'm not doing that. I've been doing that for 20 years and I'm not doing it anymore. I'm just not.

I have an unhealthy body image, and I place too much emphasis on appearance. I can own that. But what I want is to NOT feel this way and still having to shop at the places that I hate isn't going to make any improvements in how I feel. I want to feel NORMAL.

And, when I was a size 16...

everyone told me I was fat.

It's going to be a really long next year - about how long it will take to get this weight off in a healthy manner. But I am leaving the plus size shops behind, no matter what it takes.
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The One Where I Complain About Everything

The care and feeding of a 46 year old woman is entirely too hard. First of all, I'm fat. I hate it but I'm ok with saying it. I am less fat than I was. What's my secret? What's my trick?

Diet and exercise. Yes. I decided to do the thing which sucks and is hard because it's the thing which actually works. Truth be told, I could be even lesser fat (or is it less fatter?) but the degree to which I hate working out is so hard to fathom, I also can't fathom working out MORE. But I need to. My body isn't getting stronger the way it needs to, it needs more work. If I was 25 it would be different but oh god I'm not. I'm 46 and atrophy has set in across the expanse of my ass.

I got lumpy. It was easy to blame the kids. Shakes from Chik Fil A, donuts at midnight and bacon maple sundaes played no part in my rolls of fat and cellulite I'm sure. No, my diet of mass consumption and glory really wasn't to blame. Nor were the hours sitting at the computer at work, sitting at the computer playing video games. No carrying four children, two at once, rendered me a blob of human body fat. WHAT A TRAGEDY OH HOW DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?

The truth is, I love to eat and I hate to work out. I come from fat people who love to eat. Genetically I just didn't have a chance. So I have to change the way I behave. Am I going to go to the Renaissance Festival and refuse to eat any chocolate covered bacon? No - because I'm also not trying to live a life of denial. But what I am doing is changing what's my norm. Changing my "everyday" behavior so that it positively impacts the amount of weight I'm carrying around.

I have 69 pounds left to go to hit what I tentatively set as my goal weight. I am not sure my goal is where I mentally need to be though. My best friend reminds me rightfully that my only goal should be health. Unfortunately I'm not MENTALLY healthy enough for that kind of focus. I want a single digit size. Or damn close to one. I realized a couple of days ago that I'm down two sizes. That's really good, but I couldn't help being disappointed. I wanted MORE. I'm not realistic in wanting more but it's what I wanted. And I cried in the stupid dressing room because I was so mad.

My wants are simple. I want to shop at the normal shops. I don't want to have to go to stores for "PLUS" sizes. EVER EVER EVER EVER AGAIN. I don't want to have to walk to the WOMENS DEPARTMENT of a major department store, away from the cute and awesome clothes, to discover the lovely Alfred Dunner and White Stag collections.

What? That wouldn't look awesome on me? No? There was an article last year even describing plus sized clothes are HORRIBLE. They are. Are there some cute things out there? Sure. There's always exceptions, it's just wading through the pile of shit that's painful. Don't suggest mail order anything I don't shop online for clothes the end.

This is why I'm a little down right now, because doing the math on my lost sizes, it's occurred to me - down two sizes now, if I drop the 69 pounds that might only equal another two sizes.

Which puts me at a 16.

Which is un-fuckingacceptable.

Would it be amazingly smaller than I started out? Yes of course. Would my health improve? Yes.

Would I still have to go to freaking plus size shops for clothes?

Yes.

I'm not doing that. I've been doing that for 20 years and I'm not doing it anymore. I'm just not.

I have an unhealthy body image, and I place too much emphasis on appearance. I can own that. But what I want is to NOT feel this way and still having to shop at the places that I hate isn't going to make any improvements in how I feel. I want to feel NORMAL.

And, when I was a size 16...

everyone told me I was fat.

It's going to be a really long next year - about how long it will take to get this weight off in a healthy manner. But I am leaving the plus size shops behind, no matter what it takes.
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The Value of Not Giving A Fig

We're going on vacation in just 3 days, down to Saint Simon's Island.We've never been there, and are pretty excited as you can imagine. Part of getting ready for an island vacation is making sure you have all the requisite island things - sunscreen, flip flops, swimsuits.

The girl needed a new swimsuit, so we popped over to Target to see what the little girl's section might have in store.

I got a hard lesson in body image and self confidence in the dressing room with my 4 year old. I would be shaking, in tears, and reluctant to try any of them on, much less really look in the mirror. The girl? The girl felt differently.

We'd chosen four suits, two full tank suits and two bikini type suits. As she tried them on, she danced and preened in front of the mirror. She poofed out her belly until it was round in the bikini, struck a crazy pose and cackled "LOOK AT MAH BIG BELLEH!". She stuck poses in each, declared her self SO SO SO CUTE and I was amazed that I was watching a human female try on a swimsuit. This was an aberration of every experience I could recall.

The last few times I've tried on a bathing suit, it's been to make sure I had all my bits covered and that I didn't have spiders. I avert actually looking at myself for any reason. There isn't anything I want to see in that mirror. In fact, there is lots that I don't want to see.

The four year old, however, has none of those issues. She laughs when the top is too short, shakes her bootie and does a little dance gleefully suit to suit. They're all fine, they're all perfect. It turns out that the Hello Kitty suit is more perfect than the others (WHICH IS HOW IT SHOULD BE).

Where does that stop? That glee and joy over just having something new and cute, vs whether I am new and cute IN it? The thing doesn't stop being cute because it's on me, but how did my mind make that change? When did it happen?

I have a totally cute suit that does fit me and it doesn't even have a swim skirt because I will never, ever be so fat I require a swim skirt (or I will never, ever don a swimsuit again by all the Gods I swear this). It actually kind of will look cute with Julia's as it's the same color combination - pink and black.

I have to turn my mind into a four year old, and learn to be happy regardless of how I look. I need to find whatever magic wand makes that happen though.

Does anyone know where it is?
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The Value of Not Giving A Fig

We're going on vacation in just 3 days, down to Saint Simon's Island.We've never been there, and are pretty excited as you can imagine. Part of getting ready for an island vacation is making sure you have all the requisite island things - sunscreen, flip flops, swimsuits.

The girl needed a new swimsuit, so we popped over to Target to see what the little girl's section might have in store.

I got a hard lesson in body image and self confidence in the dressing room with my 4 year old. I would be shaking, in tears, and reluctant to try any of them on, much less really look in the mirror. The girl? The girl felt differently.

We'd chosen four suits, two full tank suits and two bikini type suits. As she tried them on, she danced and preened in front of the mirror. She poofed out her belly until it was round in the bikini, struck a crazy pose and cackled "LOOK AT MAH BIG BELLEH!". She stuck poses in each, declared her self SO SO SO CUTE and I was amazed that I was watching a human female try on a swimsuit. This was an aberration of every experience I could recall.

The last few times I've tried on a bathing suit, it's been to make sure I had all my bits covered and that I didn't have spiders. I avert actually looking at myself for any reason. There isn't anything I want to see in that mirror. In fact, there is lots that I don't want to see.

The four year old, however, has none of those issues. She laughs when the top is too short, shakes her bootie and does a little dance gleefully suit to suit. They're all fine, they're all perfect. It turns out that the Hello Kitty suit is more perfect than the others (WHICH IS HOW IT SHOULD BE).

Where does that stop? That glee and joy over just having something new and cute, vs whether I am new and cute IN it? The thing doesn't stop being cute because it's on me, but how did my mind make that change? When did it happen?

I have a totally cute suit that does fit me and it doesn't even have a swim skirt because I will never, ever be so fat I require a swim skirt (or I will never, ever don a swimsuit again by all the Gods I swear this). It actually kind of will look cute with Julia's as it's the same color combination - pink and black.

I have to turn my mind into a four year old, and learn to be happy regardless of how I look. I need to find whatever magic wand makes that happen though.

Does anyone know where it is?
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No One Expects.......

I'd like to say the Spanish Inquisition but I'm not going that way.

I'm going to talk about BODILY FUNCTIONS. So if you can't handle that.......look away NOW.

It was Miss Swan #1 who clued me in (the one who praised my hairless belly and lack of "happy trail") during pre-op.

After wowing her with my intimate knowledge of the gall bladder, what it does and what they were going to do to me DURING surgery.

"And after." she inquired. "Do you know about AFTER?" I confessed I didn't. She started out gently, saying that some people still had some sensitivity to foods. I told her that I knew this, my Mom still has a hell of a time with some foods.

Then she dropped it on me. "Some people can't handle fat at all, afterward. Your liver will try to take over the job of your gallbladder. But until it adjust, or if it cannot adjust, you will experience terrible diarrhea and cramping when you eat fat. Some people never are able to consume fat again."

WHAT? WHAT? What the HELL are you telling me as I'm trussed up, medicated into submission? WHY WHY WHY is this the FIRST time I am hearing this?

She sighs, as I far more calmly expressed my concern about this detail having been omitted."Oh doctors,"she laughed."They never tell nobody, we nurses always have to make sure so that nobody is surprised."

So the first few days out of surgery I'm medicated and miserable. But as I start to climb out of the fog, I start to EAT. FOOD. You know, Normal Food.

I live in Georgia. We live on Fat here. Have you met us? Deep fried with cheese is just the way recipes start in cookbooks here.

I won't be grotesque and share with you the intimate details, but I've lost weight. Quite a bit. About 7 pounds in 10 days based on the difference between the hospital scale and my home scale so maybe it's in reality like 4 pounds. It's BECAUSE ALL MY FOOD IS RACING THROUGH ME IN A HORRIBLE FASHION PEOPLE!

I wonder if I should to back to broth and fat free yogurt for a few days just to see if I can right the wrongs going on internally.

Or maybe I'm going to get skinny, eh?

No One Expects.......

I'd like to say the Spanish Inquisition but I'm not going that way.

I'm going to talk about BODILY FUNCTIONS. So if you can't handle that.......look away NOW.

It was Miss Swan #1 who clued me in (the one who praised my hairless belly and lack of "happy trail") during pre-op.

After wowing her with my intimate knowledge of the gall bladder, what it does and what they were going to do to me DURING surgery.

"And after." she inquired. "Do you know about AFTER?" I confessed I didn't. She started out gently, saying that some people still had some sensitivity to foods. I told her that I knew this, my Mom still has a hell of a time with some foods.

Then she dropped it on me. "Some people can't handle fat at all, afterward. Your liver will try to take over the job of your gallbladder. But until it adjust, or if it cannot adjust, you will experience terrible diarrhea and cramping when you eat fat. Some people never are able to consume fat again."

WHAT? WHAT? What the HELL are you telling me as I'm trussed up, medicated into submission? WHY WHY WHY is this the FIRST time I am hearing this?

She sighs, as I far more calmly expressed my concern about this detail having been omitted."Oh doctors,"she laughed."They never tell nobody, we nurses always have to make sure so that nobody is surprised."

So the first few days out of surgery I'm medicated and miserable. But as I start to climb out of the fog, I start to EAT. FOOD. You know, Normal Food.

I live in Georgia. We live on Fat here. Have you met us? Deep fried with cheese is just the way recipes start in cookbooks here.

I won't be grotesque and share with you the intimate details, but I've lost weight. Quite a bit. About 7 pounds in 10 days based on the difference between the hospital scale and my home scale so maybe it's in reality like 4 pounds. It's BECAUSE ALL MY FOOD IS RACING THROUGH ME IN A HORRIBLE FASHION PEOPLE!

I wonder if I should to back to broth and fat free yogurt for a few days just to see if I can right the wrongs going on internally.

Or maybe I'm going to get skinny, eh?