One of the things I've found most challenging about my transformation has been how easy the physical things are compared to the mental/emotional challenges I've gone through. As much sweat, pain, tears, and agony as I've gone through losing the weight, losing the people I loved has been 10x harder on me.
Everyone knows I left my husband after almost 11 years together. This is mostly attributed to me deciding to take responsibility in all the aspects of my life, including health and finance. These were and still are issues he refuses to address. What everyone may not know is that I've basically lost all of my friends, too. Fatties like to hang out together, that's no big secret. They like to eat, drink, be obnoxious, and make each other feel accepted within a group because they're all fat. You know what sucks? When you're not fat anymore, they hate you for it. And in the end, I didn't fit in anymore. My outlook became more positive, I no longer needed to be loud and obnoxious to deflect attention from my physical appearance.
My best friend abandoned me when she realized it wasn't just a phase. My other friends slowly became less relevant to my life, or moved away or whatever. I let go of another "friend" who only showed up when she wanted me to do something with her, like come to one of her parties or her bridal shower, or her wedding, but could never be inconvenienced to do anything with me. So, she's gone.
The very last one, the one who weathered my split and with whom I weathered her split, had to be let go. At a time for me when the tides have all turned, and my life is finally heading down the right road, and my daily outlook is so positive, how can I possibly justify keeping someone around who makes me feel bad? She's just toxic. Everything she says is negative beyond negative. Don't get me wrong, I'm snarky. There's a huge difference between being snarky and being negative. She's like a black hole. She sucks the energy out of a room. I have watched her spiral downward instead of learning to thrive; worst of all, she's in such denial about it that my words fall on deaf ears. It hurts to see someone I care for suffering. But, I can't help her; she doesn't really, truly want my help. And so, I'm letting her go. It pains my heart, and it makes me sad. She's the last person really, really connected with my old life. Just as I mourned the loss of the person I used to be, like an actual death, and mourned the loss of my husband, best friend, and family relationships, I'll mourn this.
Rest assured, when I'm done mourning all of this, my heart will truly be ready to embrace this new life I've built and continue to build. Only good things can come from bad if I'm willing to let my higher power take the reigns. Who know losing weight was the easy part?
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
The good, the bad, and the addict
As I was riding my bike today, I passed the local golf course. What I saw brought back a memory so strong for me, I had to slow down and press back the tears. A little girl with blond, bouncy hair followed her daddy through the parking lot holding his hand, as he carried his golf clubs over his opposite shoulder. She was literally skipping next to him through the parking lot.
While I have a great deal of bad memories from my childhood with my father the addict and alcoholic, I have peppered memories that are amazing. They're the ones I hold nearest and dearest to my heart, of the times when he was my daddy, the man who made the stars shine. Some of the most amazing memories I have are our Tuesday afternoons on the golf course when he was in the Elks Country Club League. Mind you, being a member of the Country Club used to be a pretty grand status symbol, and I drove a golf cart for judges, lawyers, pharmacists and doctors. Everyone knew us. Later in life, I came to realize that everyone knew us for not so savory reasons, but as a child I thought it was awesome to hobnob with these people. I also came to learn that I got to drive the cart because my dad was usually too drunk to drive it for us, which also explains why we would ALWAYS spend a couple hours after the round in the clubhouse eating dinner.
But I digress. These tiny snippets of my memory, of growing up a country club brat, are some of the places I retreat to when I really start to hate the person I see him as now. When you live with an addict, you spend years trying to see the best in them because you find it too difficult to see them as they are: diabolical and manipulative creatures who prey on your weaknesses to get what they want from you. You see them like that until one day, you decide as I did, that I'd had enough, and that you don't get to control me anymore. You no longer have power over me. The problem is, once you do that, they toss you away like trash because they don't need you anymore. If you won't give them what they want, they'll find someone else to manipulate. And eventually, you have nothing left to talk about.
My dad and I barely speak. My 3 little siblings don't speak to him at all. It took me 27 years to see him for what he was. And now we have no father, like he died. Only he didn't, he just can't see through his denial. And maybe he never will. Maybe he'll never see that his life is what it is because he chooses it to be so, not because someone DID it to him.
The little girl skipping with her daddy today reminded me that once upon a time, I had a father who loved me in his own twisted way, who wanted to give me the world with the best intentions. As I think back to my visit home at Christmas and how awkward our visits were, and how much I miss my dad, I remember those days on the golf course when my daddy was the apple of my eye, and I realize that's all I'll ever have.
When you love an addict, you can't like what they are, you can only love them and know that they're not capable of anything else. When you love an addict, all you can do is remember the good times you hold close to your heart, instead of all the ones that break your heart.
While I have a great deal of bad memories from my childhood with my father the addict and alcoholic, I have peppered memories that are amazing. They're the ones I hold nearest and dearest to my heart, of the times when he was my daddy, the man who made the stars shine. Some of the most amazing memories I have are our Tuesday afternoons on the golf course when he was in the Elks Country Club League. Mind you, being a member of the Country Club used to be a pretty grand status symbol, and I drove a golf cart for judges, lawyers, pharmacists and doctors. Everyone knew us. Later in life, I came to realize that everyone knew us for not so savory reasons, but as a child I thought it was awesome to hobnob with these people. I also came to learn that I got to drive the cart because my dad was usually too drunk to drive it for us, which also explains why we would ALWAYS spend a couple hours after the round in the clubhouse eating dinner.
But I digress. These tiny snippets of my memory, of growing up a country club brat, are some of the places I retreat to when I really start to hate the person I see him as now. When you live with an addict, you spend years trying to see the best in them because you find it too difficult to see them as they are: diabolical and manipulative creatures who prey on your weaknesses to get what they want from you. You see them like that until one day, you decide as I did, that I'd had enough, and that you don't get to control me anymore. You no longer have power over me. The problem is, once you do that, they toss you away like trash because they don't need you anymore. If you won't give them what they want, they'll find someone else to manipulate. And eventually, you have nothing left to talk about.
My dad and I barely speak. My 3 little siblings don't speak to him at all. It took me 27 years to see him for what he was. And now we have no father, like he died. Only he didn't, he just can't see through his denial. And maybe he never will. Maybe he'll never see that his life is what it is because he chooses it to be so, not because someone DID it to him.
The little girl skipping with her daddy today reminded me that once upon a time, I had a father who loved me in his own twisted way, who wanted to give me the world with the best intentions. As I think back to my visit home at Christmas and how awkward our visits were, and how much I miss my dad, I remember those days on the golf course when my daddy was the apple of my eye, and I realize that's all I'll ever have.
When you love an addict, you can't like what they are, you can only love them and know that they're not capable of anything else. When you love an addict, all you can do is remember the good times you hold close to your heart, instead of all the ones that break your heart.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Contrary Motion.
Contrary motion is a term used in music to describe when two melodic lines are going in opposite directions, yet still moving the composition forward. I feel like I'm stuck in a state of contrary motion all the time. There are bits of my life being shoved violently forward, while other bits of my life are always trying to go backwards, all while time marches on.
I put myself under and through a great deal of stress last semester with all that graduation business, and was happy to do it because I reached a goal that has eluded me for some time. In the process of doing so, I let my fitness slide backwards because I was spending so much time doing schoolwork. Because my fitness slid backwards, my weight loss stopped and I even packed on about 10 pounds I'd worked so hard to lose.
So here I am again. In contrary motion. Going to grad school full time this semester will either be the best decision I've ever made or the worst. I've never been the best at time management, and at the start of this new year and semester, I find myself struggling to get a routine set up. I can't seem to get in bed before 1am no matter how hard I try, which of course, means I don't get up as early as I'd like. And my days tend to snowball from there. I desperately miss working out and the routine and stress relief it provided me. I also miss the deep, deep sleep that resulted from my 5 days/week bodily punishment. And, not for nothing, I AM NOT OK WITH WEIGHT GAIN.....ever.
That said, while contrary motion is music is amazing, in life, it's simply not acceptable. At least in my life, it's not acceptable. If I'm going to survive this semester and reach all my goals, I'm gonna have to make some commitments that are hard and fast, and happen every day. And just so I'm held accountable, I'm making them here in my blog.
1. I'm gonna get my ass out of bed by 8am everyday.
2. I'm gonna eat a small breakfast and go directly to put on my workout clothes, do not turn on the computer, do not turn on the TV, do not pass go, or collect $200.
3. I'm gonna track my food, and eat like I know what I'm doing instead of sabotaging all the work I've done because I'm busy and lazy, and being a brat.
4. I'm gonna commit to studying a little each day instead of waiting until the last minute to do everything, because that was what caused most of the stress last semester.
5. I'm gonna spend time with people who make me happy and feed my soul, and maybe just make some new friends along the way.
6. I will not get sucked into other people's drama. What happens in your life, stays in your life. I can't fix your problems, so don't ask me to or make them mine. You won't like the answers you get if you ask me to.
7. I will succeed. I have to.
Should you see me faltering, don't be afraid to call me out. I'll hate you for a minute, but love you in the end. Just because I give tough love doesn't mean I don't also need it from time to time.
I put myself under and through a great deal of stress last semester with all that graduation business, and was happy to do it because I reached a goal that has eluded me for some time. In the process of doing so, I let my fitness slide backwards because I was spending so much time doing schoolwork. Because my fitness slid backwards, my weight loss stopped and I even packed on about 10 pounds I'd worked so hard to lose.
So here I am again. In contrary motion. Going to grad school full time this semester will either be the best decision I've ever made or the worst. I've never been the best at time management, and at the start of this new year and semester, I find myself struggling to get a routine set up. I can't seem to get in bed before 1am no matter how hard I try, which of course, means I don't get up as early as I'd like. And my days tend to snowball from there. I desperately miss working out and the routine and stress relief it provided me. I also miss the deep, deep sleep that resulted from my 5 days/week bodily punishment. And, not for nothing, I AM NOT OK WITH WEIGHT GAIN.....ever.
That said, while contrary motion is music is amazing, in life, it's simply not acceptable. At least in my life, it's not acceptable. If I'm going to survive this semester and reach all my goals, I'm gonna have to make some commitments that are hard and fast, and happen every day. And just so I'm held accountable, I'm making them here in my blog.
1. I'm gonna get my ass out of bed by 8am everyday.
2. I'm gonna eat a small breakfast and go directly to put on my workout clothes, do not turn on the computer, do not turn on the TV, do not pass go, or collect $200.
3. I'm gonna track my food, and eat like I know what I'm doing instead of sabotaging all the work I've done because I'm busy and lazy, and being a brat.
4. I'm gonna commit to studying a little each day instead of waiting until the last minute to do everything, because that was what caused most of the stress last semester.
5. I'm gonna spend time with people who make me happy and feed my soul, and maybe just make some new friends along the way.
6. I will not get sucked into other people's drama. What happens in your life, stays in your life. I can't fix your problems, so don't ask me to or make them mine. You won't like the answers you get if you ask me to.
7. I will succeed. I have to.
Should you see me faltering, don't be afraid to call me out. I'll hate you for a minute, but love you in the end. Just because I give tough love doesn't mean I don't also need it from time to time.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Taking stock
As I sat with a group of people celebrating Eric's birthday this evening, I realized just how very completely and dramatically my life has changed. Nothing is the same. Every single person who I considered near and dear to me has fallen out of my life (including some family members) like the last leaves on the Fall trees, clinging for just another moment before they go back from whence they came.
None of the faces are the same (except my Mom and stepdad who's more like a real dad than my own), and while that strikes me with a sorrowful feeling, I can't say it's a bad thing. Why? Because the people who have fallen away were friends with someone who doesn't exist anymore. She's dead and gone. And just as I have mourned her passing, the new person that has come forth strives for a better life with better people in it. And just like a tree, new leaves have grown. The roots of the tree are the same, but her leaves are different. And her branches much stronger (and way better toned).
The group of people I call my friends these days are more like me: positive, supportive, creative creatures who feed my tree what it needs to thrive. Everyday, with more opportunities facing me than ever, a bright and shiny future on my horizon, and more determination than one person needs, I find myself boundlessly optimistic that as long as I keep growing my branches, new leaves will come along to fill them. As long as I can continue to understand that dropping old leaves and growing new ones is a natural part of human life, I think my tree will keep growing and growing and growing, and someday, she'll be so full of life nobody would dare cut her down again.
None of the faces are the same (except my Mom and stepdad who's more like a real dad than my own), and while that strikes me with a sorrowful feeling, I can't say it's a bad thing. Why? Because the people who have fallen away were friends with someone who doesn't exist anymore. She's dead and gone. And just as I have mourned her passing, the new person that has come forth strives for a better life with better people in it. And just like a tree, new leaves have grown. The roots of the tree are the same, but her leaves are different. And her branches much stronger (and way better toned).
The group of people I call my friends these days are more like me: positive, supportive, creative creatures who feed my tree what it needs to thrive. Everyday, with more opportunities facing me than ever, a bright and shiny future on my horizon, and more determination than one person needs, I find myself boundlessly optimistic that as long as I keep growing my branches, new leaves will come along to fill them. As long as I can continue to understand that dropping old leaves and growing new ones is a natural part of human life, I think my tree will keep growing and growing and growing, and someday, she'll be so full of life nobody would dare cut her down again.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The end of an era
So, I've been having weird dreams lately; and by lately I mean every night since finals started. And by weird, I mean they involve my ex, Eric, and me at present time back at MSU. Eric says it's because I'm trying to close a chapter that deals largely with Michael.
I haven't shared this with many people, and unless you're one of the very few who read my blog, I won't have really shared with that many more people by the time I post it.
I never actually graduated from college. Yes, I finished all the components of my music degree, and all but 3 of my minor classes. I've been working on this degree for over 12 years now. And most of years I spent with Michael, living life, muddling through school, and getting some really craptastic grades, all while not really applying myself the way I should've as a musician. Many of those years were filled with pain I didn't know I was in, apathy for that pain, and the general malaise that was my life with him. Everything was about him, and I never really got the bug to finish school until I started losing weight and realized that I wanted something more for my life than what I had. That, friends, has been written somewhere else.
6 years after leaving MSU to move here, I'm FINALLY going to graduate this week. It's not that this is a hard pill for me to swallow, but it is in some respects one of the hardest things I've ever done. I spent most of my teenage years simply surviving in a house that was chaotic at best, I spent most of my young adult years fat, depressed, and never able to finish anything. Now that I'm faced with finishing the thing that has haunted me the most, I'm scared to death and excited all at once. Graduation means the freedom to really, truly, honestly move on with my life. I'm praying that MSU has enough faith in me to let start grad school, and take the next step to doing what truly makes me the happiest.
There are only a couple things tying me down to that old life (and those are on the New Year's Resolution list). I'm not talking about starting a new chapter; I'm talking about closing a book. When Saturday comes, I'll be starting to write a whole new book. Saturday, I'll be a graduate for real, and I can finally be proud of my education.
I haven't shared this with many people, and unless you're one of the very few who read my blog, I won't have really shared with that many more people by the time I post it.
I never actually graduated from college. Yes, I finished all the components of my music degree, and all but 3 of my minor classes. I've been working on this degree for over 12 years now. And most of years I spent with Michael, living life, muddling through school, and getting some really craptastic grades, all while not really applying myself the way I should've as a musician. Many of those years were filled with pain I didn't know I was in, apathy for that pain, and the general malaise that was my life with him. Everything was about him, and I never really got the bug to finish school until I started losing weight and realized that I wanted something more for my life than what I had. That, friends, has been written somewhere else.
6 years after leaving MSU to move here, I'm FINALLY going to graduate this week. It's not that this is a hard pill for me to swallow, but it is in some respects one of the hardest things I've ever done. I spent most of my teenage years simply surviving in a house that was chaotic at best, I spent most of my young adult years fat, depressed, and never able to finish anything. Now that I'm faced with finishing the thing that has haunted me the most, I'm scared to death and excited all at once. Graduation means the freedom to really, truly, honestly move on with my life. I'm praying that MSU has enough faith in me to let start grad school, and take the next step to doing what truly makes me the happiest.
There are only a couple things tying me down to that old life (and those are on the New Year's Resolution list). I'm not talking about starting a new chapter; I'm talking about closing a book. When Saturday comes, I'll be starting to write a whole new book. Saturday, I'll be a graduate for real, and I can finally be proud of my education.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Looking back and looking forward
I love watching The Biggest Loser, and I've watched it religiously for 3 years. I've just recently had my 3 years anniversary with Weight Watchers, and every time I watch a new season I relive the first time walking in those doors. It's hard for me to remember that girl and how she was. It's hard for me to openly admit how much I hated myself, and how much I hated looking in the mirror. I ate anything sugary I could get my hands on because it kept my brain sedated enough to not let reality sink in. By 27, my dad had congestive heart failure (the 3rd generation on the Piatt side that killed my dad's father), my grandfather had had one heart attack and an aortic aneurism repaired, my grandmother has hardening of the arteries and God knows how many stints, and my other grandmother had had a massive coronary that nearly killed her on the table, plus high blood pressure. Since then, I've lost the only grandfather I ever knew, but grandmothers and my dad are still kicking hard thanks to modern medicine (even though I'd love for my dad to get a clue about his health). No doubt I was pre-diabetic, and it was just a matter of time before the family ailments started to show up.
Watching the new season always sends emotions flooding back through me, and I always end up in a puddle of tears because I take a couple minutes to remind myself of where I came from. I look at that girl in the picture on my fridge, where I see her every time I open it. It's hard to believe that was me. It doesn't even look like me, more like a relative who kind of resembles me. And people who meet me now don't believe me when I tell them about the weight loss; some even go so far as to want to see the picture on my FB page of me as a fatty.
I know that fat girl has been almost been banished from my person. I know this because, walking by Lane Bryant the other night on my way to Aeropostale, Eric said I pranced by the store. I used to live for that store, and now the only thing that fits are the bras, and I have to order them online because they don't carry sizes that small in the stores! But, I finally feel like I don't belong in that store anymore. I don't belong in that world. I can walk into virtually any store and buy clothes off the rack, for the first time in my life. I can wear my mom's running clothes, for Pete sake. I'm finally getting to the point where that fat girl doesn't exist anymore, except in allllll the pictures of what seem like some other person's life.
Come December, I'm going to close a very long, very painful chapter in my life. I'm finally going to graduate with the degree I've been working on since 1999. I'm going to get a divorce, and let go of my 20's and all the craziness that came with them. I'm going to start a whole new chapter. I want to finish losing this weight, and if my goal weight ends up being 175 pounds, then so be it. I'll be 175 pounds of solid, kick your ass and make you muffins female. I'm hoping beyond all hopes that UCF sees enough potential in me to look past my not so stellar test scores and crappy grades from a time in my life when I was utterly unfocused and unhappy, and lets me into their Counselor Ed program. If they don't, I'll focus on becoming a personal trainer, and try again with UCF after taking the GRE again, and doing better.
I think it's so important to never let go completely of my past, good, bad, ugly or otherwise. It's part of what has shaped my life, and made me strong enough to face my future as a whole new young woman. But, while it's good to keep the memories, it's always better to keep them at arms length, in a box on the the shelf at the back of my mind, where I can peek into it occasionally and then duct tape it shut again. Those memories may always be there, but the promise and hope I have for my new chapters is so much better that it makes looking back something I don't need to do except a couple times a year, when the new Biggest Loser season starts.
Watching the new season always sends emotions flooding back through me, and I always end up in a puddle of tears because I take a couple minutes to remind myself of where I came from. I look at that girl in the picture on my fridge, where I see her every time I open it. It's hard to believe that was me. It doesn't even look like me, more like a relative who kind of resembles me. And people who meet me now don't believe me when I tell them about the weight loss; some even go so far as to want to see the picture on my FB page of me as a fatty.
I know that fat girl has been almost been banished from my person. I know this because, walking by Lane Bryant the other night on my way to Aeropostale, Eric said I pranced by the store. I used to live for that store, and now the only thing that fits are the bras, and I have to order them online because they don't carry sizes that small in the stores! But, I finally feel like I don't belong in that store anymore. I don't belong in that world. I can walk into virtually any store and buy clothes off the rack, for the first time in my life. I can wear my mom's running clothes, for Pete sake. I'm finally getting to the point where that fat girl doesn't exist anymore, except in allllll the pictures of what seem like some other person's life.
Come December, I'm going to close a very long, very painful chapter in my life. I'm finally going to graduate with the degree I've been working on since 1999. I'm going to get a divorce, and let go of my 20's and all the craziness that came with them. I'm going to start a whole new chapter. I want to finish losing this weight, and if my goal weight ends up being 175 pounds, then so be it. I'll be 175 pounds of solid, kick your ass and make you muffins female. I'm hoping beyond all hopes that UCF sees enough potential in me to look past my not so stellar test scores and crappy grades from a time in my life when I was utterly unfocused and unhappy, and lets me into their Counselor Ed program. If they don't, I'll focus on becoming a personal trainer, and try again with UCF after taking the GRE again, and doing better.
I think it's so important to never let go completely of my past, good, bad, ugly or otherwise. It's part of what has shaped my life, and made me strong enough to face my future as a whole new young woman. But, while it's good to keep the memories, it's always better to keep them at arms length, in a box on the the shelf at the back of my mind, where I can peek into it occasionally and then duct tape it shut again. Those memories may always be there, but the promise and hope I have for my new chapters is so much better that it makes looking back something I don't need to do except a couple times a year, when the new Biggest Loser season starts.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Losing it is half the battle
I'm insanely busy with teaching and homework, but I feel the need to get some things off my chest that are really bugging me. Let me just start by saying that this is partially a rant and partially me complaining about a few things, so read on if you're interested or not, I don't care.
First off, nobody told me when I decided to lose all this weight what would happen to my life. They said, "Oh, you'll feel and look so good". I though, Ok, sure, let's do this. What they didn't tell me was that, after losing all this weight I'd be left with alien looking skin that's nothing short of appealing and disgusting. What used to be my stomachs(yes, plural for the upper and lower), is now something akin to an empty balloon, complete with wrinkles and all. And when I flex my abs, these little folds show up in the skin. It sweats, it chafes, it looks like muffin top and wearing girdles everyday isn't something I'm into. It sucks to have this shit hanging off the body I've worked so hard sculpting. A trip to the plastic surgeon two days ago revealed that I need no less than an extended tummy tuck(to the tune of $8,500) followed by a breast lift/augmentation to fix all the damage from losing this weight. Luckily, my arms in great shape from playing piano, so at least I don't have to have skin taken off there.
Second, nobody told me I'd lose tolerance for any and everything to do with being fat, or the attitudes and ways I had when I was fat. I find myself being overly judgmental towards fatties these day because I feel like if I can do it, why can't you get off your ass and stop eating at Golden Corral and make a change! I forget that before I started this journey, I was so miserable and addicted to sugar so insanely that I couldn't see past my next stop at the Publix bakery. I know so much of this journey is mental, but I just wanna shake people until they get it. You're eating yourself into the grave! Stop eating that! Go take a walk! Disconnect your cable! Do something! I'm just dying to help people, but I don't know how I'll react to the fatties that come to me and say I can't. I'll probably be the second coming of Jillian Michaels to be honest.
Third, if changing my mind was as easy as changing my body, I'd be set. My God, how long does it take before I figure out that my old habits have to die, not just hide or become less prevalent, but die altogether. I know sugar is bad for me, and is like walking down the road to Hell. But, in times of stress, I go right for it. Pisses me off to no end! Granted, I'm getting better at controlling the urges, and I at least recognize my destructive behavior when it's happening. I just wish it would stop happening. I'm not fortunate enough to be able to eat sugar and not be passed out like a junkie 20 minutes later. My body physically rejects sugar to point that it makes me nauseous, yet it's compulsive, and it's everywhere. I just wish my mind could catch up to my body.
Fourth, I wish my family would stop acting like children. I'm being punished by one of my brothers for divorcing my ex because my brother really liked him and blah, blah, blah. So, in spite of my requests to cease all relationships and communication with my ex, my brother and his wife has ceased a relationship with me. How fucked up is that? I don't want to cut off anyone in my family, especially because I have 2 nieces and a nephew that I adore, but I will if it becomes destructive to me. Why can't adults act like adults? Why is that so hard? Why can't you understand that your family is important than anyone else in this world? Why is it so hard to treat each other with respect? I just don't get it. No family is perfect, but I love fiercely and live fiercely, and if you can't respect that, you don't belong in my life.
My 3 year anniversary with WW is coming up, and I've lost almost 110 pounds since I started. Let me just say, that 3 years ago, when I walked into Weight Watchers, I never dreamed all this would happen. My life has changed for the better by 100%, but nobody ever told me about the residual effects. The stuff that isn't so amazing and positive. The stuff that breaks my heart in pieces. Nobody ever talks about it. Hell, I don't talk about it, until it gets to me so much that I need to write it down. People may read this, they may not. But, at least it's out of my head, and I can let some of it go.
First off, nobody told me when I decided to lose all this weight what would happen to my life. They said, "Oh, you'll feel and look so good". I though, Ok, sure, let's do this. What they didn't tell me was that, after losing all this weight I'd be left with alien looking skin that's nothing short of appealing and disgusting. What used to be my stomachs(yes, plural for the upper and lower), is now something akin to an empty balloon, complete with wrinkles and all. And when I flex my abs, these little folds show up in the skin. It sweats, it chafes, it looks like muffin top and wearing girdles everyday isn't something I'm into. It sucks to have this shit hanging off the body I've worked so hard sculpting. A trip to the plastic surgeon two days ago revealed that I need no less than an extended tummy tuck(to the tune of $8,500) followed by a breast lift/augmentation to fix all the damage from losing this weight. Luckily, my arms in great shape from playing piano, so at least I don't have to have skin taken off there.
Second, nobody told me I'd lose tolerance for any and everything to do with being fat, or the attitudes and ways I had when I was fat. I find myself being overly judgmental towards fatties these day because I feel like if I can do it, why can't you get off your ass and stop eating at Golden Corral and make a change! I forget that before I started this journey, I was so miserable and addicted to sugar so insanely that I couldn't see past my next stop at the Publix bakery. I know so much of this journey is mental, but I just wanna shake people until they get it. You're eating yourself into the grave! Stop eating that! Go take a walk! Disconnect your cable! Do something! I'm just dying to help people, but I don't know how I'll react to the fatties that come to me and say I can't. I'll probably be the second coming of Jillian Michaels to be honest.
Third, if changing my mind was as easy as changing my body, I'd be set. My God, how long does it take before I figure out that my old habits have to die, not just hide or become less prevalent, but die altogether. I know sugar is bad for me, and is like walking down the road to Hell. But, in times of stress, I go right for it. Pisses me off to no end! Granted, I'm getting better at controlling the urges, and I at least recognize my destructive behavior when it's happening. I just wish it would stop happening. I'm not fortunate enough to be able to eat sugar and not be passed out like a junkie 20 minutes later. My body physically rejects sugar to point that it makes me nauseous, yet it's compulsive, and it's everywhere. I just wish my mind could catch up to my body.
Fourth, I wish my family would stop acting like children. I'm being punished by one of my brothers for divorcing my ex because my brother really liked him and blah, blah, blah. So, in spite of my requests to cease all relationships and communication with my ex, my brother and his wife has ceased a relationship with me. How fucked up is that? I don't want to cut off anyone in my family, especially because I have 2 nieces and a nephew that I adore, but I will if it becomes destructive to me. Why can't adults act like adults? Why is that so hard? Why can't you understand that your family is important than anyone else in this world? Why is it so hard to treat each other with respect? I just don't get it. No family is perfect, but I love fiercely and live fiercely, and if you can't respect that, you don't belong in my life.
My 3 year anniversary with WW is coming up, and I've lost almost 110 pounds since I started. Let me just say, that 3 years ago, when I walked into Weight Watchers, I never dreamed all this would happen. My life has changed for the better by 100%, but nobody ever told me about the residual effects. The stuff that isn't so amazing and positive. The stuff that breaks my heart in pieces. Nobody ever talks about it. Hell, I don't talk about it, until it gets to me so much that I need to write it down. People may read this, they may not. But, at least it's out of my head, and I can let some of it go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)