Category Archives: weight loss

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DAY 103: Clothes’d for business

Now that I don’t have to keep cycling through the same handful of shirts and 3 pairs of pants that fit, I can’t seem to stop shopping.  My mental math tells me I have bought close to 30 articles of clothing in the past 2 weeks (including one skirt and one dress!), and I’ve also rediscovered a bunch of former oh-honeys and things I outgrew on the way up the scale that now re-fit me.  Between the new clothes and the old ones I’ve brought back into rotation, I’ve run out of closet space.  So… I got to clean out a bunch of stuff.  I have quite a pile going.  Hopefully, I can donate this stuff to Goodwill and they can clothe some other fat girl on her way out of fat-girl clothes.

IMG_1643

The closet purge made me recall the giant duffel bag full of gym clothes that has been sitting on the floor of my closet since… um… the dawn of time?  There are enough clothes in there for me to stay clothed for weeks without repeating.  Seriously.  In rifling through the bag, I found 13 sports bras alone.  Some of the stuff in the bag had been in there too long and is already too big for me.  Apparently, I am a fitness clothes hoarder.  Who knew THAT was a thing?

IMG_1644(none of the sports bras are pictured here; those are all shirts and pants)

Anyway, a huge portion of my day yesterday consisted of me trying on old stuff from my closet and from my Mary Poppins-esque bag of work-out clothes, and making room in my closet for the new buys.

What might be the best part about having reached a more human size is that I don’t have to keep things just because they fit.  I also don’t have to buy clothes just because they fit.  I have options now, which means I get to wear things that reflect my taste.  I don’t have to wear the god-awful rejects from the Lane Bryant couldn’t-sell-it sale rack because the proper size is so hard to find; I get to actually choose clothes I like from a variety of stores!  (AND I get to stop setting foot in Lane Bryant.  No offense to anyone who enjoys shopping there, but for me, that place is a den of soul-crushing sadness with shame-faced shoppers avoiding eye contact with each other while trying to find the least ugly, least overpriced shit they could deign to wear in public that wouldn’t automatically reveal itself as something bought from a big-girl store.  [Or maybe that was just me.])

Approaching normal sizes has taken the desperation out of shopping and made it fun instead of a daunting chore.  I’m having to constantly fight the impulse to go purchase more to wear, because somehow I’m still losing rapidly enough that even the things I’ve bought since dropping my first 40-50 pounds are loose on me.  I’m sure the good people at American Express will be making me customer of the year any day now.

Girly side activated.

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DAY 100: Milestones update

I’ve made it 100 days.  In 100 more, I’ll be at my lowest weight in 5 years (if I keep up the pace).

I could get reflective. I could get pensive. I could get emotional. I could get wistful. I could get speculative. I could prognosticate about the future and list all the things I look forward to doing in the next hundred days.  I could start spouting off personal pearls of wisdom and over share my phil-LOSS-ophies as if I’m some kind of expert.  Or, I could say a bunch of things I could do, ultimately NOT do any of them, and instead opt for a simple list of my updated milestones*.

Achieved within first 71 days

  1. Find a sports bra that fits so I can even work out. When I first started losing weight, I couldn’t get into any of the ones I could find.  I’ve gone down a size since first meeting this goal.
  2. Grab my foot from behind when my leg is bent at the knee in order to stretch out my thigh.
  3. Walk at a 3.0 MPH pace without struggling.
  4. Make it up one flight of stairs without getting winded.
  5. Stop snoring and start sleeping better.
  6. Lose 10 lbs.
  7. Lose 25 lbs.
  8. Be under the weight limit to stand on the step stool.

Achieved between days 72 and 100

  1. 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.
  2. Paint my own toe nails without contorting myself.  
  3. Close my towel the whole way around me when I get out of the shower.  
  4. Wear the oh-honey pair of pants I bought on April 11th.
  5. Wear the oh-honey shirt I bought on May 2nd.   
  6. Walk a mile at 3.5 MPH.
  7. Get 3 miles on the fat burn setting on the elliptical.   
  8. Tie my shoes without having to sit down.
  9. Go down a notch on my Vivo Fit band.   
  10. Lose 50 lbs.
  11. Lose 10% of starting weight.   
  12. GOAL REDACTED.
  13. Put ankle on opposite knee without having to use hands.   
  14. Fit into a restaurant booth.  
  15. Wear shirt size XL.
  16. Do 200 miles in a month.

Goals to be achieved

  1. Jog in and complete a 5K.
  2. Go down a half shoe size.
  3. Fit into my red jacket.
  4. Fit into one leg of my fat-girl gray pants.
  5. Wear a single-digit dress size.
  6. Wear a single-digit pants size.
  7. GOAL REDACTED.
  8. GOAL REDACTED.
  9. No longer be in “overweight” category (BMI <25).
  10. Wear shirt size L.
  11. Wear shirt size M.
  12. Lose 25% of starting weight.
  13. GOAL REDACTED.
  14. Reach final weight goal.
  15. GOAL REDACTED.
  16. GOAL REDACTED.
  17. GOAL REDACTED.
  18. GOAL REDACTED.
  19. Get out of plus sizes.
  20. Switch to the small Vivo Fit band.
  21. Wear my ring on my middle finger.
  22. Wear a belt.
  23. Wear a dress.
  24. Jog a mile without stopping.
  25. Fit into only my side of the bench on Metro. I’m too wide and my body encroaches into the space beyond the dividing line.
  26. Cross my legs. I’ve never done this in my life.
  27. Fit comfortably into airplane seats. I can usually suck it in long enough to pile myself into my chair on a plane, only to find that my legs spill onto the passenger next to me underneath the dividing arm rest and the seat belt can barely stretch enough to contain me.
  28. Get out of pre-diabetic sugar levels.  I’ll have new blood work after a doctor’s appointment later this month, and I’m expecting good results here.
  29. See my feet over my belly when I look down.
  30. Fold down the tray table from the seat in front of me on a plane.
  31. Fit into roller coasters. I couldn’t do it at a theme park 2 years ago, and had to wait around for my friend to go through the line and ride it by herself — sucked for both of us. — I haven’t been to an amusement park since, so haven’t had the opportunity to test this out yet, but I suspect I could cross this off now.
  32. Do 250 miles in a month.

Watch this space.

*Some goals are too personal/embarrassing to publish, so I’m curating selectively.

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DAY 99: Dedication & education

June, like my stumpy legs, was short yet powerful.  These were my big moments of the month.


What I did
Went on a work trip for 5 days.  To get in all my steps and stick to my healthy eating, I got a little… creative.  I hoofed up and down 8 flights of stairs anytime I wanted to go to or from my hotel room and never strayed from clean foods or gave in to the very tempting buffet meals.  I met or exceeded my daily steps and lost 2 pounds while away.

What I learned
I can survive outside of my element because I am stronger than I think.

salad  possible

What I did
Added measurable non-scale goals to my focus for extra motivation.

What I learned
Achieving those goals feels fucking awesome.

towel

What I did
Had a minor meltdown when I saw a photo of myself well into my weight-loss adventure, still looking like a fat cow.  Hours later, I dragged myself to the gym and, without intending to, snapped myself out of it.

What I learned
No one and nothing has power over me.  I’m in charge, and I’ve got this.

got this

What I did
Almost visually sexually harassed a colleague when the weight of my cell phone in my pocket pulled my pants all the way off of me at work.

What I learned
Weight loss is hilarious and replacing clothes gets expensive.  I say both of these things with a smile.

pants

What I did
Started — baby steps — sharing my weight and weight-loss issues with people I care about.

What I learned
There’s a fine line between embarrassment and pride (in both senses).  I have to let go of my over-protective reflexes and let people into the scary places with me.

Screen Shot 2015-07-01 at 12.09.04 AM

What I did
Worked like a mad woman to get my steps in every day.  I missed only once all month.

What I learned
Gym shoes come in unexpected styles, and it doesn’t matter how askance the people on the machines around me stare at the girl working out in a T-shirt, business pants, and flip-flops.  It also doesn’t matter how late I got free that day; my gym time is more important than my ass-parked-in-front-of-the-TV time.  Finally, I don’t have to choose between socializing and getting my burn in.  The gym is open until 11 for a reason, and I can close it down with the night shift guy whenever I need to.  At least no one will be on the machine next to me when that happens.

image1

What I did
Stayed home, got in only a third of my daily miles goal, and took three (!) naps on a stormy Saturday.

What I learned
Falling short one day is not failing the entire mission, and listening to my body when it’s telling me what it needs is just as important as sticking to my goals.

IMG_1442
What I did
Set a goal of getting in 200 miles in June, and eked it out just under the wire.  And I threw in two bonus miles to grow shrink on.

What I learned
Those pounds I have to lose are in big trouble.

image2

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DAY 94: Delusions of non-grandeur

Damn all the cameras.

I took a co-worker to lunch for her birthday today, and she was all giddy and wanted to commemorate the day with a photo.  Sure — now that photos are less embarrassing to take, I was entirely on board.  I even thought it might actually be kinda cool to see myself in a picture after such a long evasion of anything with a photographic lens that could be pointed at me like a weapon.

Well, cool it wasn’t.

So much weight lost, and I still look like shit.

Have I been imagining all the changes?  Or is it just that they’re so subtle, only I can notice?  I mean, who the hell else is gonna notice my fingers are smaller?  Ugh, and I had been walking around all, “I feel pretty!”  God.  No wonder only 3 people have realized I’ve lost any weight.  It’s not like I’ve moved the needle from fat to thin; I’ve only moved it from fat to marginally less fat.  Looking at that picture was such a deflating moment.  It made me feel hopeless.  And crazy.  And stupid.  Still fat, and now hopeless and crazy and stupid to boot.  Needless to say, I hid that cursed photo from my wall when the birthday girl posted it on Facebook.  I’m not quite ready for prime time, I guess.

I felt a little draggy the rest of the day.  I ended up staying late at work, so late that it derailed my normal routine of going straight to the gym after my commute, then coming home for dinner.  Somehow, I convinced myself to walk a mile to the gym after dinner, do a mile and a half on the treadmill, and walk back home.  (Getting my miles in has become a dissociated obsession at this point, so I was going to do that regardless of my never-ending fatness.)

During the treadmill slog, something magical happened:  I looked in the mirror, and it was not what I had seen in the photo.  All I could see of myself that wasn’t obstructed by the actual machine was my chest and points north.  I realized I was staring at the way my shoulders were moving with my swinging arms.  I snapped out of it and kind of forced myself to look myself in the eye.  I was wearing an expression I’ve never seen on my face before:  defiant determination.

Fuck that photo.  It does not define me.  What I do in reaction to it does.

Did I have a diva moment where I didn’t want anyone to see that picture of myself?  Sure.
Did I slip into a negative space and allow myself to feel defeated for several hours?  No doubt.
Did I throw my hands up, pick up a pint of ice cream on my way home from work, and spend my night crying into it on the couch?  Hell no, I didn’t.  My defiantly determined ass walked itself to the gym and kept moving right along.

That chick I saw in the mirror at the gym?  I want to always be her.  Her narrower shoulders were high with confidence, her slimmer neck was strong, and her single chin was up.  No one else in the gym knew it, but that chick is a bad-ass.  It took the treadmill to literally block out the “bad” parts so I could focus on the positive progress I’ve made.  It’s NOT all in my head.  It’s so easy to lose that focus if you let yourself.

Thirty-six miles to go to reach 200 miles for June.  I think I’ll focus on that instead.

…And maybe no more pictures for a while.

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DAY 93: My villain beard

Now, if we’re talkin’ body, I’ve got an imperfect one.  Still, so far on this voyage down the scale, I’ve noticed a few changes in certain parts of it.  I can see the bones in my hands now.  I don’t have to contort myself to hit THE angle that hides my face fat in pictures.  My arms are slimming down.  My back — yes, my back, of all things — is getting super toned.  (And yes, I check this in mirrors.)  And I can’t really see it, but something is happening in the waist/hips area, because my underwear sag and my pants hang or fall off altogether.  But the most satisfying, captivating, exciting change so far?  My clavicles are back.

Yeah, that sounds super crazy, but there it is.  I am so excited to see the presence of bones between my shoulders, you’d think I’d just been told I’d be paid to sit around and breathe.  It gets even weirder, too:  I keep catching myself touching them.  It doesn’t matter if I’m completely alone or in the middle of a conversation with another person who can see me, I am CONSTANTLY running my fingers over my clavicles.  They’ve basically become my villain beard.  “Hmm…” she thought, stroking her newly prominent bones, “if I stop doing this with one of my hands, how long will it take me to blog about the fact that I do this now?”  **evil laugh**

Appropriately, the third person has officially noticed and said something to me this morning (probably mid-clavicle rub).  It was a co-worker of mine.  She kind of stood in the doorway of my office, seeming a little hesitant, and then finally blurted out, “Have you lost weight?”  And I said, “Yes.” She followed up with, “Like… 40 pounds?”  I smiled, probably touched my clavicles, and said, “Maybe a little more.”

Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

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DAY 92: My massage hurts!, and other first-world problems

I got a massage over the weekend as my 50-pound milestone reward.  I usually do the Swedish + deep tissue combination, cuz mama needs the de-knotting, but mama also needs the love.  As is the norm, it hurt so good and gave me results!  My range of motion in my neck is significantly better, my shoulder blades feel as if a thousand little strings keeping them taut have been cut, and I feel less physically tense overall.  These muscles have been working like dogs lately, so they needed some relief.  My neck is still a little tender from the work the masseuse did there, though, and oddly, my hip is all weird!  It feels like my legs are suddenly two different lengths.  The masseuse did say as she was massaging my hip that there was a lot of tightness there, and she spent a lot of time releasing some trigger points, but it’s kind of strange I would still have this feeling a few days later.  (I know, boo hoo, my indulgent spa treatment gave me an ouchie.  I am to be massively pitied.)  Ah, well, it’ll pass one way or another.

Unrelatedly but in a similar vein, I have become SO DEPENDENT on my Vivo Fit.  I don’t even like the little thing.  It’s like my own personal Jiminy Cricket, but less gross and more annoying.  Every time that cursed red arrow starts filling the screen, I kind of want to rip the damn thing off my arm and throw it through a wall.  Then again, I don’t know where I would be without it. It’s been crucial to my success.  The constant, albeit irritating, reminders to get off my duff and move around have been key not just to my physical improvements, but also my mental ones (future post to come on this).  Beyond that, it was the inspiration for the very first non-scale goal I set for myself:  200 miles in June.  (As of bed time last night, I was only 62 miles away from realizing that goal.  I’m gonna scorch that number, and I can’t wait.)  Even on the days where I haven’t made it to the gym, I have gone to slightly maniacal lengths to ensure that I at least get all my steps in — and Jiminy is always moving the bar higher for that, the little bastard.  In all seriousness, though, this technology owns me.  Thank you, Vivo Fit, for keeping me committed and for keeping me moving.  Best post-holidays impulse purchase I ever made.  Wireless blu-ray player, eat your heart out.

To conclude this woe-is-me jam, I offer this parting lament: all my clothes are too big (waaah!) and I keep having to buy new ones (pobrecita!).  I put my cell phone in my pants pocket at work last week, and then my pants FELL OFF.  Luckily, no one saw that happen, or they would have seen my saggy underwear about to do the same.  (Do you need a tissue to wipe away those tears of pity?)  Yesterday, I found an oh-honey pair of pants that were too small when I bought them last spring, and had completely forgotten about.  I put them on all excitedly, and they wouldn’t stay up on my hips.  (Sob!)  I know, I know, this sounds like backdoor bragging, and I guess it is, but I am also actually running out of money to support this healthiness habit I developed to replace stuffing my face and being inert.  I’m gonna need my Diet Bets to pay out right quick, because my last paycheck went to Ann Taylor Loft and my landlady may have an expectation of receiving rent from me this month.  Although, if worse comes to worst, I guess I could always take up residence in some of the old tents I used to pass off as clothes.

OK, reader, you’ve suffered enough of me.  I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep.

😉

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DAY 85: So much detoxing.

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.

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DAY 80: Mirror, mirror

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.

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DAY 73: Uh-oh… work trip.

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!