Ok... so that last entry... was the good stuff. But to be fair it wasn't all flowers and puppies these last 2 weeks.
I had some pain and frustration too, some of it weight related, and some of it not. I mentioned that this is our busy season at work... our CRAZY busy season. Serious stress and a lot of wicked weird hours spent working... at work AND at home. Yes, remote access... straddling the line between blessing and curse since the invention of remote networking. And because of the constant stress, I'm revisiting some of my natural anxieties, and finding that my threshold for my own personal dysfunctions is minimal at best.
The point is, although the weight stuff as a process has been as painless as it's ever been, my self-consciousness about my weight is at an all-time high. I have always been self-conscious about my size... it's something I should be used to. But it feels like lately it's worse than ever.
I was talking to a friend about some of the things I'll do once I lose the weight, and I realized how much of myself I put on a shelf because I'm embarrassed about how I look. I feel like the more weight I lose... the more self-conscious I get-- which is so counter-productive in so many ways.
Part of my drive to lose weight is because I want to be able to live a different kind of life than the hermitude I've been living for so many years. But even with that drive I am still so reluctant to break free in so many ways. My boss asked me the other day if I'd lost weight. Which was nice, for a couple of reasons-- but primarily because even though she knows I've been trying, I know she wouldn't have asked if it wasn't noticeable. And I was so excited about that. But then of course I look in the mirror and I still see this fat suit that I carry around with me and I'm discouraged that it's not happening faster.
I'm still at 21.6 lbs by the way. Yup. Stuck. Already. But past experience from the last 2 months has shown that those numbers WILL change. And if I keep doing what I've been doing-- they will start going back down again.
I am so aware though, of my presence in the spaces I inhabit. So aware of my many chins, my flabby arms, my giant thighs. I am aware of the fact that my stomach is in the way of everything I try to do, and that my knees and hips ache with even the slightest movement above and beyond what is required to get through my day.
And even though I'm long over feeling fat on the inside... I am painfully, screamingly aware of the fat that I still carry around every single day. Since I'm feeling insecure and exposed anyway.. here's a little bit of what's been in my head this week... (hey, I promised you honesty... so here's honest). I've been dwelling on some old issues... feeling like I'm not good enough, that I won't be good enough. That I just won't be ... enough. Feeling insignificant and unwelcome. At the same time in some places I feel like the center of attention, as though everyone is staring at me, judging my body. These are things that I banished (or thought I'd banished) long ago. I'm a person who claims not to care what others think of me-- or at least what they think of my looks. And yet, after a FABULOUS haircut yesterday... I still can't stand having a picture taken-- because said fabulous haircut? Is still attached to my fat face.
I know these things will change, not just physically, but emotionally. I have banished these insecurities before and I will do again. As I said earlier, I think a lot of the negative thought is coming on the heels of my work stress. My last job (while the ending was less than ideal) afforded me a lot of confidence. I was good at it, I knew what I was doing, and I enjoyed it on a daily basis. It gave me the space to build myself up from the inside out. And while I like this job too-- it's not something that I feel super confident about yet-- I'm still too new. And the pressure of it on a daily basis... well fighting that takes all the energy I used to use to bolster my own self-esteem. What does that mean exactly? It means that for the first time since I started this venture I'm tempted to use food as an emotional tool rather than a physical one.
So far, I've managed to fight that. Mostly. I'm giving in to more fatty foods, but still balancing them within my day and week so that I'm not going over my daily maximums. But where I was coming in well under my maximums before... now I'm more like.. butting up against them. Another side-effect... I keep forgetting to weigh myself in the mornings. Something I was doing religiously for 8 weeks, this last week specifically- I've forgotten 3 out of the last 7 days to get on the scale. Part of that I think is because I'm getting up earlier, not sleeping well, and heading into work instead of taking the usual 15-20 minutes of relax-time that I used to. But part of it is I'm also sort of afraid of the scale again. Not because I think it will have gone back up... I don't. I know that I'm still doing well enough with my food that I shouldn't re-gain the weight I've lost... at least not significantly. But I am afraid of the stagnation. I'm afraid to see the same number 2 days in a row, or 3... or 5. Afraid to see the same number for a week.
I've lost a net of 21.6 pounds and I'm not ready for that plateau. Because how sad would that be? I know that part of it is that I need to start adding actual exercise to this equation... but my body is making that so difficult.
We went to see Wicked the other night at Dallas Music Hall... and at the 2 minute warning towards the end of intermission, I found myself still in the bowels of the building, having just exited the bathroom lobbies. To get to my seat on time I found myself rushing, jogging through the lobbies, and sprinting up the stairs. By the time I got back to my friends I was mortified-- gasping loudly for breath, and nursing biting pains in my right knee. Just one of the many times I've been horrifyingly self-aware of what I lug around. And I'm still put-out emotionally by the experience... still disappointed at my body's response. Although I'm used to my lack of fitness, used to seeing someone I don't recognize in the mirror, it's been awhile since I've felt that so acutely. Embarrassed isn't even the word. Fortunately, I was with dear friends who know and love me and have never once made me feel as though my weight mattered one fig to them.
They asked if I was alright, allowed me to catch my breath, and one was even kind enough to allow me a sip of her drink. I can still feel that sensation though- the horror of feeling watched, every jiggle of ever bit of fat, the sharp pains in my knee as I clambered up the steps... and the flush of embarrassment, and the crashing of my chest... trying desperately to get enough air.
I hate that life. I hate that body. The one that isn't me. As disconnected as I feel from that physicality, I'm still so attached to the emotional negativity that comes with it. It's such a contrast to what I want to be, what I want to feel.
Lately, I've been getting into the burlesque circuit down here in Dallas. Since we started going to shows I am ceaselessly amazed at how confident these women are. There are girls of all shapes and sizes (some even larger than I am) who get on stage and undress to cheers and applause and riotous support from the audience. The women, particularly the big girls are beautiful, and fiery, and confident, and are just as popular (if not often more so!) than their thinner counterparts. I never cease to be amazed as they shake what they've got and crowds go wild. And although I don't cast any aspersions on women of any variety who find their power in shakin booty and stripping their gloves off (among other things)-- I wish I could tap into their brains and understand. How. How? HOW!
With the exception of my most recent bout of self-doubt, I'd consider myself a fairly confident person, and fairly comfortable with myself and how I exist in physical space. But these women defy every iota of doubt I have about my own appearance. And I wish that I could leech that essence. I wish that I could be that comfortable with my appearance.. with my fat, and cottage cheese thighs, with my dangling "helens" on my upper arms, with my fat stomach and sagging chest. I don't want to be a burlesque dancer-- don't get me wrong. What I want is to be so comfortable with all of those things that I COULD get up and dance (assuming I could actually dance.. which I can't).
I know that losing all this weight is not going to magically make me comfortable in my skin. That's something I'm going to have to continue working on throughout this process. I guess this is just the week where I start mucking through some of my emotional baggage. As mom always said... "this too shall pass." I know I will work through all of this. I know that in the end I will be a better, healthier, more confident, more fit person... inside and out.
But right now... I kind of want some ice cream.
Too bad I didn't save enough calories for that. Instead, I'm chewing on my fiber supplement gummies and taking my decidedly still-fat ass... to bed.
I'm still at 21.6 lbs by the way. Yup. Stuck. Already. But past experience from the last 2 months has shown that those numbers WILL change. And if I keep doing what I've been doing-- they will start going back down again.
I am so aware though, of my presence in the spaces I inhabit. So aware of my many chins, my flabby arms, my giant thighs. I am aware of the fact that my stomach is in the way of everything I try to do, and that my knees and hips ache with even the slightest movement above and beyond what is required to get through my day.
And even though I'm long over feeling fat on the inside... I am painfully, screamingly aware of the fat that I still carry around every single day. Since I'm feeling insecure and exposed anyway.. here's a little bit of what's been in my head this week... (hey, I promised you honesty... so here's honest). I've been dwelling on some old issues... feeling like I'm not good enough, that I won't be good enough. That I just won't be ... enough. Feeling insignificant and unwelcome. At the same time in some places I feel like the center of attention, as though everyone is staring at me, judging my body. These are things that I banished (or thought I'd banished) long ago. I'm a person who claims not to care what others think of me-- or at least what they think of my looks. And yet, after a FABULOUS haircut yesterday... I still can't stand having a picture taken-- because said fabulous haircut? Is still attached to my fat face.
I know these things will change, not just physically, but emotionally. I have banished these insecurities before and I will do again. As I said earlier, I think a lot of the negative thought is coming on the heels of my work stress. My last job (while the ending was less than ideal) afforded me a lot of confidence. I was good at it, I knew what I was doing, and I enjoyed it on a daily basis. It gave me the space to build myself up from the inside out. And while I like this job too-- it's not something that I feel super confident about yet-- I'm still too new. And the pressure of it on a daily basis... well fighting that takes all the energy I used to use to bolster my own self-esteem. What does that mean exactly? It means that for the first time since I started this venture I'm tempted to use food as an emotional tool rather than a physical one.
So far, I've managed to fight that. Mostly. I'm giving in to more fatty foods, but still balancing them within my day and week so that I'm not going over my daily maximums. But where I was coming in well under my maximums before... now I'm more like.. butting up against them. Another side-effect... I keep forgetting to weigh myself in the mornings. Something I was doing religiously for 8 weeks, this last week specifically- I've forgotten 3 out of the last 7 days to get on the scale. Part of that I think is because I'm getting up earlier, not sleeping well, and heading into work instead of taking the usual 15-20 minutes of relax-time that I used to. But part of it is I'm also sort of afraid of the scale again. Not because I think it will have gone back up... I don't. I know that I'm still doing well enough with my food that I shouldn't re-gain the weight I've lost... at least not significantly. But I am afraid of the stagnation. I'm afraid to see the same number 2 days in a row, or 3... or 5. Afraid to see the same number for a week.
I've lost a net of 21.6 pounds and I'm not ready for that plateau. Because how sad would that be? I know that part of it is that I need to start adding actual exercise to this equation... but my body is making that so difficult.
We went to see Wicked the other night at Dallas Music Hall... and at the 2 minute warning towards the end of intermission, I found myself still in the bowels of the building, having just exited the bathroom lobbies. To get to my seat on time I found myself rushing, jogging through the lobbies, and sprinting up the stairs. By the time I got back to my friends I was mortified-- gasping loudly for breath, and nursing biting pains in my right knee. Just one of the many times I've been horrifyingly self-aware of what I lug around. And I'm still put-out emotionally by the experience... still disappointed at my body's response. Although I'm used to my lack of fitness, used to seeing someone I don't recognize in the mirror, it's been awhile since I've felt that so acutely. Embarrassed isn't even the word. Fortunately, I was with dear friends who know and love me and have never once made me feel as though my weight mattered one fig to them.
They asked if I was alright, allowed me to catch my breath, and one was even kind enough to allow me a sip of her drink. I can still feel that sensation though- the horror of feeling watched, every jiggle of ever bit of fat, the sharp pains in my knee as I clambered up the steps... and the flush of embarrassment, and the crashing of my chest... trying desperately to get enough air.
I hate that life. I hate that body. The one that isn't me. As disconnected as I feel from that physicality, I'm still so attached to the emotional negativity that comes with it. It's such a contrast to what I want to be, what I want to feel.
Lately, I've been getting into the burlesque circuit down here in Dallas. Since we started going to shows I am ceaselessly amazed at how confident these women are. There are girls of all shapes and sizes (some even larger than I am) who get on stage and undress to cheers and applause and riotous support from the audience. The women, particularly the big girls are beautiful, and fiery, and confident, and are just as popular (if not often more so!) than their thinner counterparts. I never cease to be amazed as they shake what they've got and crowds go wild. And although I don't cast any aspersions on women of any variety who find their power in shakin booty and stripping their gloves off (among other things)-- I wish I could tap into their brains and understand. How. How? HOW!
With the exception of my most recent bout of self-doubt, I'd consider myself a fairly confident person, and fairly comfortable with myself and how I exist in physical space. But these women defy every iota of doubt I have about my own appearance. And I wish that I could leech that essence. I wish that I could be that comfortable with my appearance.. with my fat, and cottage cheese thighs, with my dangling "helens" on my upper arms, with my fat stomach and sagging chest. I don't want to be a burlesque dancer-- don't get me wrong. What I want is to be so comfortable with all of those things that I COULD get up and dance (assuming I could actually dance.. which I can't).
I know that losing all this weight is not going to magically make me comfortable in my skin. That's something I'm going to have to continue working on throughout this process. I guess this is just the week where I start mucking through some of my emotional baggage. As mom always said... "this too shall pass." I know I will work through all of this. I know that in the end I will be a better, healthier, more confident, more fit person... inside and out.
But right now... I kind of want some ice cream.
Too bad I didn't save enough calories for that. Instead, I'm chewing on my fiber supplement gummies and taking my decidedly still-fat ass... to bed.
(((Hugs))) You are amazing.
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