Facebook has this recent feature where they select old posts, comments, or photos from a year ago or longer and you can choose to share them again if you wish. It's a feature I usually enjoy, as there's nothing I love more than re-reading the witty things I said three years ago and wondering why it didn't receive more likes or comments, leaving me feeling like the under-appreciated comedic genius of my generation.
Today in my memories there was a blog post that I wrote and shared three years ago, called "My 260 pound life. Ok, 262." You can read it if you'd like, but it's basically just a post about a little boy who asked me if I was pregnant while I was buying ice cream, and how that completely destroyed me for the rest of the day. This was not an isolated incident, being asked if I was pregnant when I wasn't or being completely decimated by the hurtful things people say or ask overweight people. I have spent a lot of my life being overweight and the entirety being completely unhappy with the way I look, and I have pretty much experienced every high or low you could think of. Those who follow me on Facebook will know that I've been on a weight loss and health journey the last two months and I have been in a really good place in my life. So naturally there is no better time to discuss when I wasn't.
I was never plagued by childhood obesity. My parents didn't put Coca Cola in my bottle as a toddler or placate me with candy or anything like that. I was a healthy and extremely active kid. That didn't stop people from being cruel, as evidence by some asshole in my 2nd grade class who said I should read the book "Flubber" because it was obviously about me. I told him that I think he meant to say "blubber" and acted like it didn't bother me. I did start gaining weight when I was about 9, and by 5th grade I was in a fully prepubescent chubby phase. It didn't last long, only about two years, and then I started thinning out and was left with bigger boobs than any of my friends and became the unsubstantiated crush of many a young man (including my husband, but that's a story for another time). When people suddenly start getting attention they aren't used to and don't understand, they can either become egotistical or completely self-conscious. I took the latter route.
Pretty much my entire junior high and high school experience involved me hating my body. Even though I was consistently a healthy weight, I was friends with a lot of dancers, many of whom were naturally petite and slender in addition to being very active and in shape. I always felt huge in comparison so I just started to default to that mindset, even though most of high school I was less than 130 pounds and wore a size 7. That followed me into adulthood and basically I just perpetuated an unhealthy cycle of eating my feelings and never addressing a problem as long as there was at least one guy who was attracted to me (seriously, I should start a support group for women whose self-worth has hung in the balance of validation by men gawking at them). And then my early 20s involved more alcohol than food, and that was followed by really, really bad depression. I was dating a guy who was a collegiate gymnast. He was great, he thought I was great, but he got embarrassed when I went to one of his meets and he didn't really talk to me afterward. He later told me that he was uncomfortable because he had never dated a girl who wasn't a gymnast or cheerleader, and therefore had never dated a girl who didn't LOOK like a gymnast or a cheerleader. I was 23 and weighed 185 pounds. Sure, that's technically overweight for my height, but I was all Marilyn Monroe and curvy as shit. I got cat calls from strangers on the street. I had cute clothes. I felt pretty good about myself. And yet...his criticism destroyed me.
Since then I have steadily gained weight, at least 10 pounds a year and usually closer to 20. I have tried every diet plan.... Weight Watchers, LA Weightloss, The Zone, Dr. OZ, smoothies, juices, low-carb, high-carb, paleo, vegan, and I was never able to maintain any of it. I would get about two weeks in, lose 5 or 10 pounds and then celebrate with a cheeseburger or a milkshake and never go back. It was incredibly unhealthy and it made me hate myself a little more every time but I felt like I couldn't help it. After many therapy sessions I've come to the conclusion that I have serious issues with instant gratification and control, and I think it's as simple as: if I don't see results right away, I don't want to do it, and I'd rather be happy and eat whatever I want.
I've told myself many things about being obese. That is easier to be fat because I hate dieting. That it's no big deal to be invisible. That I don't mind paying $65 for a shirt from Lane Bryant because it's actually really cute. That I don't want to be around people who are shallow enough to judge me for being fat. That I'm actually healthy (which according to a lot of very expensive medical testing, I am, in many ways). That I'm not a rabbit and don't like salad.
I've said it all. And there are some truths in there. My weight does not dictate my happiness. I know this because I spent my thinnest years hating my body. It's a mental illness, and I know that it's not my fault. I'm under no illusion that being thin will automatically make me happy.
I do think that food is a form of love. I really like cooking and sharing delicious things with people I love, at parties or at home. There is something very social and familiar about food, about people coming together over a dinner table or a tray of appetizers, that has always been a big part of who I am, and I don't think that has to change.
Being fat doesn't mean you hate yourself. I am kind of an awesome person in a lot of ways, and I know none of this is enhanced or effected by my weight.
People will be mean no matter what. I mentioned it in my previous post, but I have been the target of many cruel words. I'm not lying or exaggerating when I say that, on numerous occasions, complete strangers have walked past me on the street and spat the words "Ugly bitch" or "dumb cunt" at me while making direct eye contact. Other women have laughed in my face, mocked my appearance, called me disgusting. Men have called me a DUFF so many times it's laughable. I'm no stranger to cruelty and I've experienced it at every.single.size.
The reason I went to my doctor and asked for help losing weight has very little to do with me and my wish to be thin. Do I want to have the body to be one of those women who walks around the gym in nothing but booty shorts and a sports bra? Hell yes, but mostly because I envy their confidence more than anything. And their abs. Let's be real. But basically I woke up and realized I'm 30 and still using food as a reward system for myself. And that's the last thing I want for my two, beautiful and perfect little girls. I don't want them learning poor self-esteem and bad health habits from me. The rest of the world is going to try its hardest to fuck their lives up when they're older, so they need me to be an advocate and an amazing teacher to them, so that's what I'm trying to do.
I went to my doctor on April 11th, 2015, weighing 284 pounds. That's the biggest I've ever been in my life. It's been almost two months and I've been dieting and exercising, though not as regularly as I should or would like. Routine is still something I struggle with and am working on. I just weighed myself this morning and in less than two months I've lost over 27 pounds. I still have about a hundred pounds to go before I hit my "goal weight" but I can honestly say that every workout I finish, every day I meet or barely exceed my calorie goal, I feel more powerful and more confident and more satisfied with life. And it's not even about the actual weight loss. It's about the control, the discipline and the active choice to be a better version of me. Even though I'm not perfect and still crave and sometimes eat ice cream and other "cheat" food, I am feeling happy. HAPPY. That's a huge fucking deal, people. I am completely blown away by how supportive everyone around me is and I cannot wait to see where I am a year from now. For the first time in my life I feel like I have goals that I actually can and WILL achieve.
Now please excuse me while I jump around my living room to the Rocky theme.
