I had a few fits and starts getting onto the weight-loss track this year. My January attempt puttered out after about 5 days. My February attempt lasted about twice that long. In March, I basically threw my hands in the air and ate my way through the calendar. I finally got my shit together at the very end of the month/very beginning of April.

Each of these times when I started down the clean eating path — no processed, chemicalized “food” — I had varying degrees of detox symptoms: headache, low energy, crankiness, cravings for the crap I had cut from my diet, trouble concentrating, a little soreness in my muscles. I didn’t realize detox was what I was experiencing at first; I thought it was just adjusting to a regular cycle of eating meals and fitting in exercise (which I now realize doesn’t make much sense). I know now that it was part of the process of my body releasing all that nasty junk I had been putting into it for years… and releasing it fo’eva! (OK, not fo’EVA-eva, but at least as a main source of nutrition.) (Side note: I used to think it was total bull shit when people said they were “addicted to food.” That was also before I understood that the “food” in question was the processed junk, or that said processed junk contained enough chemicals as to actually cause an addictive habit in consumers. Truly like a drug, just as many people claim. Mindblowing. I’m so glad I took the time to open myself up to the valuable education related to this.  Wow, that was a long parenthetical.  I guess I had more to say there than I thought.)

Anyway, I started wondering lately why I’ve been able to make it stick this time, and why it feels so different from my many, many previous false starts. I think I’ve figured it out: it was the OTHER detox I did. I won’t get into all the details, but I ended a friendship of 16 years in the winter with someone who was just a sour, draining, negative presence in my life. It was something I was cognizant of for a while, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why I fought to keep it. Maybe it was nostalgia, maybe it was denial, maybe it was self-sabotage, maybe I’ll never know. Regardless, I didn’t realize how many pathways it opened up for me to finally let go of this toxic relationship. All of a sudden, I felt more myself. I appreciated the truly good presences in my life. I liked and respected myself more. And without realizing the connection at the time, it gave me the confidence I needed in order to believe I could cut out the other poisonous parts of my life.

I surpassed my 50-pound weight-loss mark this past weekend. That friendship I severed has officially given me more in its death than it ever did in its life.

RIP toxins.

Over the last couple of years, as I’ve been fat and complacent (among other things), it’s occurred to me: I don’t really know what I look like. As someone who has had the same face and body parts my entire life, you can imagine what a disorienting feeling it is to realize that. I mean, sure, I could describe myself the way my license does: gender, height, weight, eye color, hair color. What I can’t do is tell you what type of figure I have. My frame is buried under layers of blubber.

Since the first time I really tried losing weight, I formulated this idea that losing weight is like unwrapping a present. Every 15-20 pounds gone reveals a new thing I never knew about myself. For instance, now that the chipmunk cheeks and extra chin are gone, I’ve learned that I have a heart-shaped face. I’ve learned that my earring holes aren’t as lopsided as I thought they were, now that I can see both sets at the same time without turning my head. I’ve learned that my smile isn’t actually crooked, it was just restricted in the amount of my face it could spread across by my face fat. (Who knew that was even possible?!) Y’know, this girl actually kinda cleans up kinda nice.

As a woman, I’ve never been able to have fun dressing up the way my girlfriends do. I’ve avoided dresses like the plague, since all they seem to do is accentuate my bizarre proportions in the most unflattering ways. I’ve chosen flats over heels, in spite of my impressive shoe collection, because of the strain that heels put on my poor legs and feet that had to support my weight while balancing on tip-toe. I’ve scarcely bothered doing hair or makeup because A) the rest of the package wasn’t put together, so why bother, and B) it doesn’t take much for an extra-obese chick to start sweating, sending the carefully stylized details down the drain in a river of perspiration. I’ve picked out clothes that would hide my rolls, puffs, and chubs, which is incredibly limiting to what one can wear. Those cute little belts that cinch at the waist? Not this girl. I’ll take a solid-colored tent with sleeves, please.

In short, I’ve been a frumpy, dumpy, lumpy mess. To the extreme. Frumptastic.

Now, I’m discovering something kind of alarming: I’m becoming less hideous. I actually might be kind of… pretty?!

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been at this for real since early April. To date, I’ve ditched just shy of 50 pounds of my fat-disguise. It feels great, and it’s finally starting to look that way.

The Transformer bet I’m in on Diet Bet ends in October, a few days before my birthday. I’ll be that much farther through the wrapping paper.

I can’t wait to see what I got myself this year.

A picture is worth a thousand words, but I only need one.

Whew.

I’m writing this from a hotel room on the first night of a work trip I’ll be on until Tuesday.  That’s five days away from my gym, my normal outside-of-the-gym walking patterns, and my home-cooked, carefully measured, totally pre-planned meals.

I’m a little nervous.

I’m still feeling a little weak and tired from giving blood yesterday, so I’ve decided to keep my goal only at hitting my steps today.  I’m a few hundred away, which I will go get by pacing the halls of this hotel if I have to as soon as I’m done posting.  In the meantime, I’ve already scouted out the gym here and I have survived my first meal away by choosing a caprese salad and salmon tacos (with homemade shells, only half of which I ate).  My strategy for the inevitable buffet meals here is eggs and milk for breakfast, big salad for lunch, big protein for dinner, no dessert.  My work-out plan is to take ONLY the stairs (and my room is on the 8th floor!) to get around and hit the gym every night.  My night off — and weigh-in day — is Sunday, when I’ll see a friend who lives in this city.  (Note: “night off” does not, and has never meant, “splurge day” in my book.  I just mean a break from the exercise.)

If I can stick to this, I think I’ll be golden.  As long as the scale goes in the right direction this weekend, no matter how modestly, I will be a happy girl.

Wish me luck!

As I was syncing my Vivofit today for the first time in nearly three weeks (oops), I saw in my monthly stats that I did 154.2 miles in May.  154.2 miles!  That’s more than I drove last month!  (To be fair, I hardly drive, like, ever.  But still.)  I’ve been trying to think of more short-term goals I can set so I don’t get overwhelmed with the total number of pounds I have to lose, and now I have one.  I want to do 200 miles in June.  I know that’s upping it by a lot, but I think it will give me the extra reason to go to the gym on the days when I feel super lazy.  There are also the days that are even worse than that, when I make it all the way to the gym, get rigged up in my work-out gear, and then only do weights before peacing out.  I can DEFINITELY hit 200 miles this month if I actually stick to my gym plans.  Then, in the months to come, I’ll add 2 miles to my monthly goal for every pound I lost the previous month.  So, if I lose 12 pounds in June (that’d be great!), I’ll have to go 224 miles in July.  It’ll be a good way to simultaneously keep myself accountable and committed while stepping up the effort as the pounds become harder to shed.  Now, I’ll just have to stick to it!

The non-scale milestones have also been hard to figure out.  There are so many things I haven’t been able to do because of my size that would make great milestones to celebrate being able to suddenly do as I shrink.  The trouble is, some of them were very emotionally painful to be confronted with, and I’m certain I’ve forgotten many of those.  Off the top of my head, I can think of:

• Not fitting into a roller coaster at a theme park 2 years ago, and having to wait around for my friend to go through the line and ride it by herself — sucked for both of us
• Being too heavy to sit on my own furniture:  the dining chairs and patio seating I own have weight limits that I have exceeded since before I purchased them (I’m almost past this one!)
• Taking up more than my half of the bench on the commuter train (I’m almost past this one!)
• Not being able to cross my legs
• Not being able to find a sports bra that fit so I could even work out (thankfully, I’m now in the sports-bra-findable range)
• Squeezing very uncomfortably into airplane seats, only to find that my legs spilled onto the passenger next to me underneath the dividing arm rest and the seat belt could barely stretch enough to contain me (I’ll be on a plane in 2 days — we’ll see how things have changed since my last flight before I started losing)
• Not being able to grab my foot from behind when my leg was bent at the knee in order to stretch out my thighs
• Struggling to walk at a 3.0 mph pace
• Getting winded after one flight of stairs
• Snoring and consequently not sleeping well
• Having prediabetic sugar levels at my March doctor’s visit (which propelled me hardcore into making the changes I needed) (I have a follow-up in July, and I have reason to feel optimistic about changes!)
• Not seeing my feet over my belly when I look down
• The towel doesn’t close around me when I get out of the shower
• Being too heavy to stand on the step stool

I’d like to keep a running list of these that I can check off as I periodically discover there are new things I can do, or things I used to have to do because of my size that I no longer need to.  It’ll probably be annoying, but I’m likely to post them here to keep me accountable to more than just myself.  I’ll probably also add to it as time goes on and I remember more things that should be included.  For now, it was fun going back up and crossing off the ones that I’ve already hit!  🙂

The last thing I need is a companion list of rewards.  So far, my rewards have really only been haphazard, like when I feel really good and know I’ve had a good week — down 5.4 pounds, HELL yeah! — and treat myself to a foot massage.  I think systemizing it more for myself will take me further in terms of motivation, inspiration, etc.  So, that’ll be my homework for this week.

The reason I’m posting this long-winded thing here is to see if any of you lovely DBers have any feedback, positive or negative, on this whole approach.  What has worked for you?  What hasn’t?  What tips, advice, warnings, etc. might you have for me?  I am doing everything I can to think ahead and protect my investment here — I know myself, and I know when I start getting bored or frustrated with this, I will start to slip… unless I trick myself now.  So, please, don’t hold back.  Help needed!  Thanks in advance!

Hey there, jewelry girl with your hair all in place,
perfect make-up just freshly applied to your face.
I can smell your perfume from six treadmills away,
where you’re doing not so much a run… a sashay?
Have I missed something here?  Are there cameras around?
I’m so drenched from my run, I look like I’m half-drowned.
Oh, I see.  Girl, you’re only half-wearing that shirt.
While I came here to sweat, your ass came here to flirt.

Hey there, cranky old man with no headphones in sight,
staring at my machine display like it’s The Light.
I can smell your bad breath from six inches away,
and I’m suffocating as you chatter away.
Who are you talking to? Is there anyone there?
I’m about to scream.  Or strangle you with my hair.
Oh, I see.  You’re a nosy invader of space,
and you need to get ALL OF THAT out of my face.

Hey there, super-fit girl with your flawless body,
walking in like you totally know you’re a hottie.
I can smell your success from sixty pounds away,
and I can’t wait to look just like you do some day.
When all’s said and done, are you just the size I’d be?
Why must you do your cardio right beside me?
Oh, I see.  You know you have got this thing on lock.
Being healthy and fit like you are, that must rock.

Hey there, work in progress with your face dripping wet,
trying so hard to run, but you can’t move fast yet.
I can smell your hard work from just six weeks ahead,
and I’ve been where you are:  huffing, puffing, face red.
You’ve got work to do, friend, and I know I do, too.
It sounds crazy, but I can see myself in you.
What I see is that you’re gonna blow them away.
You can do this.  You’ll win.  There’s nothing more to say.

I’ve been losing weight for about 2 months now, and over the last three weeks or so, I’ve been noticing them:  my fellow Recovering Fat Girls* (RFGs).

We spot each other on the way to work in the morning and home in the evening.  We see each other shopping at the grocery store.  We catch glimpses of each other aggressively crossing the street so we don’t have to break our stride and risk burning one fewer calorie.  How is it possible that we have this silent knowledge of each other?  It’s not totally clear, but an RFG knows an RFG when she sees one, with or without the presence of work-out clothes.

The proper conduct when encountering your sister RFG in the wild is with reserved friendliness.  Typically, there’s a quick second of eye contact, followed by mutually perceived recognition that the other is an RFG, and then a closed-mouth but warm smile of understanding with an undercurrent of support for the other’s place in the struggle.  Then, we pass by each other and go about our day, likely to forget that moment until we come across the next RFG.

It may seem like a typical exchange with any old stranger, but there’s something different in the RFG acknowledgement ritual.  The shared look and smile aren’t just reflexes to escape the momentary awkwardness of passing by a stranger; there are messages in the RFG version.  When I see a sister RFG, my eyes are saying, “I see you, girlfriend. You’re working it out.  Wherever you’re going right now, you’ll be going there with a lot more speed and confidence at this time next week.”  My smile is saying, “I understand you.  I support you.  I am you.”  At the same time, my sister RFG is saying the same to me, all without saying anything at all.

We’re everywhere, ladies. And you know what that means?  It means we’re not alone.

To all my sister RFGs out there reading this right now, I see you.  You’re working it out.  Wherever you’re trying to go, you’re GOING to get there.  I support you because I know you.  I know you because I understand you.  I understand you because I am you.

And sisters, we got this.

*I don’t have these moments in public with the Recovering Fat Dudes, but brothers, you also have my support!

(with apologies to The Troggs and Billy Mack)

My rings fit on my fingers,
My shoes fit on my toes,
This belt fits all around me,
And so the weight loss shows!

I only have one chin
And I don’t walk so slow!
So if your diet’s working,
Your body lets you know.

You know I love food,
I always did,
so I’ve been fat
since I was just a kid.
A new beginning
for my rear end:
no more on food
do I depend!

Happy Monday!  Choose wisely.
And enjoy this song in your head for the rest of the day.

xoxo