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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
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.
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