Monthly Archives: November 2011

Dear 50 pounds, F*ck you.

This week I finally broke my plateau. I’ve lost over 50 pounds now. It was strange. My body barely budged for pretty much all of October, then yesterday I weighed-in with a loss of 3.6 pounds. That’s almost a bag of Russet potatoes, just so you know. I literally started hopping around, ecstatic to be hear that news. And during the actual WW meeting, they announced my loss, and that’s when my best friend spoke up and said, “that makes over 50 pounds for her!”. People applauded, and I immediately started crying. Like uncontrollably, with heaves and stuff. In that moment I had no idea just an emotional toll that weight had taken on me, and especially just how relieved I was to be actually losing it. Fifty Pounds. I find it now necessary to write a note to that bastard, Fifty.
Dear Fifty,
I’m sorry to tell you, but we are over. We are done, and you are never coming back into my life. You and I met when I was down and out, out of love with myself and needing much medicating. Although initially you were good to me with your padding and warmth, you ultimately kept me from doing the the things I now love, like moving my body. Leaving you has been a 6 month process, with me often wavering at the thought of all the sacrifices I’d have to make just to get rid of you. In the end, they were all worth it. I won’t miss you and I certainly love myself and know myself enough to know when relationships become abusive, which yours ended up becoming long before I saw it for myself. Oh, and you can tell your friend Thirty Pounds that I’ll be gearing up to leave him, too. I’m tired of being a pound whore. I’m ready to be a skinny bitch.



I bet no one ever asks Adele if she’s pregnant

This week a new client asked me when I was due. Because she thought I was pregnant. Because she obviously thought that belly of mine had a baby in it.
I’m not pregnant. And very calmly I said that to her. “Actually, I’m not pregnant cunt.” OK, I didn’t say cunt, but I really wanted to. Instead I just remained calm as I listened to her say why she thought I was pregnant, which only made it worse. She did apologize sort of, but only while she was defending why she said it. She wasn’t even upset or all that embarrassed. And she wasn’t thin, either. She was easily about 40 pounds over weight. THEN she said that this has happened to her, too. Someone had mistaken her for being pregnant once. And all this happened about 45 seconds into her 1 hour session with me. I then had 59 minutes to wonder in silence if I did indeed look pregnant and just how much weight I’d have to lose so I wouldn’t look pregnant anymore.
The minutes ticked by. My elbow carved bruises into her rhomboids.

I don’t understand people. Why on earth would anyone ask another women that question unless they were 100% certain she was expecting. Isn’t there some kind of universal code we all follow? It’s awful and deflating. Especially if you’ve already lost some weight…
I only wanted to cry for a few minutes. And then it passed. I went home, has a sensible dinner then went to bed.

I just want to know when people started believing that if you weren’t a size 6 then you must be pregnant. It’s shitty. I know it’s only one person, but it’s happened before and not just to me either. Someone out there started this kind of thinking.
I’ll never be a size 6, and honestly I just don’t want to. I just want to remain curvy without having to shop in the plus size department and without having to special order anything.
People like her are just another hurdle for me. I haven’t given up, but dammit, it hurt my feelings. I forget how thoughtless and rude people can be, and how easily words can crush your entire being, if even for just a few moments.


Changing Lanes

On Sunday my book club met at my house. We all kind of laugh about the name, because really, about a quarter of that time is spent talking about the book. The evening usually revolves around food and wine, and afterall, I do live in wine country.
I like my friends, and I’m proud to say everyone of those ladies is special to me in a certain way. It’s really nice to be around women of like minds, from 10 years younger to 10 years older than me. If there is one thing I have no shortage of here is good friends.
It’s been an interesting year for friendships. I’ve lost about 3 people who I was very close to. They aren’t really “lost” per say. They’ve actually just kind of changed, or maybe I’ve just changed. I think the fact that I’m surrounded by such great women, it’s
made me intolerable of bullshit friendships, or friendships that have just dried up… Or friendships that have just gotten plain weird.
I realized earlier this year that a younger friend of wine was leaching off my good energy. She only came to me when she had drama or wanted to stir up a pot of drama. I was in her wedding and really got a clear picture of who she was during the whole planning. It was always all about her, not just during her wedding planning, but always. And the fact that she was never really there when I needed her came to light in big, vibrant, neon sign pointing ways. We are still cordial, but that’s really it. I only stalk her so I can judge her quietly. And, yea, I know but we ALL do it.
My other friend lived out of state. She’s a lot older than me, but we met through the Flickr site and became close. We had a lot in common and I felt in some ways she was like another older sister to me. Then a visit out to see me turned into some lesbian-fantasy-on-her-part kind of visit. I think she was in love with me. Despite being married to a man, I think I just filled a void for her that her husband did not. It was awkward. I’m not into women. Though they are just lovely to look at, I don’t dig on vagina. THEN I found out she was really friendly with a girl (who WAS my friend at some point) who was having an emotional tryst with my ex. Loyalty goes a long way with me. I felt like not only was she weirdly into me, but unloyal to our friendship. We are friends on Facebook, but that’s it.
My other friendship split is really heartbreaking on my part. It’s heartbreaking because I don’t think she has noticed the change or sees it. Her and I have been friends for 12 years. I love her entirely. I was her maid of honor in her very lavish wedding. I’ve been there for her through every relationship, through her marriage and through her difficult infertility then pregnancy. We were single together, worked together, grew together. I thought we would be best friends forever… I didn’t realize how much had changed in the 4 years I’ve been away from LA. You see, I was so worried about being friends for the sake of being friends, that I didn’t see the social and economic changes that ensued. I hate myself for even thinking this is what drove us apart but, here’s the thing: she has a lot of money. She’s from money. Married a man who told her she never had to work again and they live really well. She never really thinks twice to wonder why I don’t buy make-up foundation that costs 75 dollars. Or why I don’t have a top of the line flattening iron for my hair. She asks why do I keep my old furniture from my old relationship when I can just buy new stuff. She makes it a point to say out loud that my pets are disposable and therefore until I get rid of them I’ll never find a decent place to live or a good man who won’t think I’m the crazy cat lady. I could go on. And maybe these are just my issues. But the point is, lately she makes me feel bad about myself. I’m not a rich person, I’m not from money and will probably never have a lot of money, but I think I do alright, especially since life handed me a bag of shit a while ago. It hurts my feelings. She’s harsh. And recently I heard her same some pretty unkind things about a member of her family about his weight. He’s a child. She’s an adult, and weighs about 3 bills. It bothered me. I asked her when she got so cruel, to which she replied, “when did you get so soft?”. I don’t think i’m soft at all, I just think before I open my mouth; a trait I realize she really has never possessed. Maybe this is all petty. I know if I was to address this in any way, she would say it’s because she has a child now and that I don’t understand. Because that’s an easy out. But it couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth is our lives are very different. Her money has never been an issue to me, until she started pointing out how little I had.
Anyway, there’s that. I’ve just been distant lately. I don’t know if we’ll ever get back what we had. We aren’t in our 20’s any longer.
I’m just happy that as old friendships have withered, new ones are growing. For the first time in all my life, I truly get what it means to have real friends. And “once you’ve been treated good, there’s no going back to bullshit”. That’s my favorite line from the movie Waiting to Exhale, it’s about men but I like to apply it to all relationships.
So while these relationships change, I’m going to nurture my new ones and feel good about myself. There may be wine included in that nurturing, as well.


Standing in the way of control

I had my weigh-in today. I’ve somehow managed to lose .2 pounds, which is pretty darn awesome considering I lost my shit last week. I was really hoping it would be less, because according to my scale at home it is less. But I have to remember I don’t weigh myself naked at Weight Watchers. But, man, I would if they’d let me. If I had a weight loss center of my own, I’d require a naked weigh-in, with a laxative option to come back and do it again in 3 hours if you weren’t happy with the first weigh-in.
People would line up out the door I’m telling you.
I’ve been hanging out around this weight almost all of October. And here we are, 2 days into November. I’m trying to get to 228.8. That isn’t my ultimate goal of course. But it will mark a 50 pound weight loss as of 228.8. When I started this round of my weight loss journey I was 278.8. That was May 1st. I’m somewhere between 230-31 today.
I didn’t even realize it had gotten that bad, honestly. When I moved to the central coast I was about 207 ish, a size 12-14 and pretty happy. Then I got unhappy. And over 4 years I gained 70 pounds. Somehow.
I remember back in April the job I was at was changing our uniforms. I didn’t really think much of it until I realized my uniform had been ordered for me, without asking me what size I wore. To my horror, the XL that was issued to me was too small. It was skin tight and I couldn’t roll it over my stomach. In a hot panic, I started to sweat and cry. I had 3 days until I had to start wearing it. So that night I had to go online, find the manufacture, and express order a XXL. To buy it and have it shipped to me next-day-delivery, it was 78 dollars. That’s how much being fat cost me in that one moment. It was mortifying. But I got my shirt and wore it and hopefully, no one was the wiser.
After that day, I knew it was time. I could not ignore my body any longer. So I did the 17 day diet, lost 15 pounds then promptly joined WW. I’ve also been working my ass off at the gym.

What I’ve think learned here is that, I have a really hard time putting my needs first. I was so worried about all the shitty things happening in those 4 years, I lost total sight of me and what is actually good for me…like exercise. And vegetables. And not eating a box cake for dinner or a drinking a bottle of wine alone every night. I had forgotten how good it feels to actually feel good, and that my dear friends is really fucking sad. I’m working on it…
And I’m not all the way there yet, but I know it’s just around the bend. The only one standing in the way of control is me.