So I guess this is how eating disorders are created.

Looking back on the time before I came to grips with my Food Addiction, I felt as if  I had a kind of body image issue that would be reverse of those I've heard anorexics and bulimics suffer. My understanding is that oftentimes, when an extremely underweight anorexic looks in the mirror they still see themselves as fat. I, on the other hand, could not see, even in a full length mirror (cause yeah, I did own one) how big I had become. Don't get me wrong, I didn't think I was skinny, mind you. Just, I don't know...zaftig, maybe? It wasn't until I hit rock bottom and not coincidentally started paying closer attention to some recent photos that I really saw it.

The crazy thing now is that I will look at myself in certain pictures from back then and specifically remember thinking I looked pretty dang good. And let me tell you my friends, I most certainly did not. And it's not just me. My buddy Dani, who has lost at least 90lbs in the past couple of years, says she has suffered from the same phenomenon.

And now? Now, some days we both "feel" fatter than we ever did when we were 75-90lbs heavier. That just makes all kinds of sense doesn't it? <sigh> I think for me anyways, it's about the fact that, initially, I just wanted to not be the fattest girl in the room anymore. I just wanted to be small enough to blend in. Nothing real specific in terms of body shape/size/strength/fitness. In fact my initial goal weight was 180lbs. I knew from past experience I looked pretty good there, and it was maintainable in my mind. In other words, the bar wasn't set that high...or low. Whatever. To put it in perspective, the concept of only have five or ten pounds  to lose was laughable to me. I didn't ever imagine getting to that point. More importantly, I couldn't imagine caring about just an extra  five or ten pounds.

But ....now that is where I find myself. I have friends who have quite literally said, "So you're not going to lose any more right?" And my thought is "Hell yeah, dear Lord! Do you not see all the fat still on me!" I have become one of "those women." The everyday ones, who sure, they weren't models, but whose bodies I literally would have given a pinky finger to have swapped bodies with two years ago. And now it's not enough. And I obsess.

What's gotten me this far into the journey (and is sustaining me) is my new found love for being fit and all the cool things you can do when you are. And that love of fitness has enlightened me to just how much physical potential I have. For the first time in my life, strong abs, killer arms, running a decent 5K pace, etc are actually within my reach. They're not something "for other people." Which is awesome. 

Mostly.

What bothers me just a bit is that, this new found attitiude...the expectations as mentioned in my last post

can result disappointment when they are not met. Just blending in isn't good enough anymore. Now I want to be the fittest in the room. 

So I'm putting pressure on myself. And obsessing about Primal eating 24/7. At which point do I chill out and accept that it's the journey, not destination? Part of me feels as if it is what it is, I'm a food addict I always will be a food addict and channeling the need to binge into as positive a mode as I can (reading obsessing about nutrition and fitness) is the best I can do. Of course the other part  of me wonders if I am healed enough to do as the other Primals do and stop counting calories/carbs. Ditch the scale completely. Eat what I am supposed to eat and let it go and move on with my life.

I am absolutely terrified that if I do this I will gain the weight back faster than you can eat a cupcake.

So for now I'm going to keep on keeping on. Keep reading. Keep journaling. I kind of wish I had something else going on in my life to distract me...and by something else I mean something fun. Not, ya know, my paid and unpaid "work." But I don't. And maybe that is for a reason.

Maybe.

Apparently, I'm a Crazy, Weirdo

There’s something that’s been bugging me lately that I don’t understand. Ok, fine there are a LOT of things I don’t understand. But one thing in particular is some folk’s reactions to the activities and hobbies of others that are beyond the white bread, middle-class, reality show watching, cheap beer swilling, couch potato, mall culture.

A little background: my husband and I both enjoy the Steampunk aesthetic. We’ve always loved dressing up for Halloween. So when we were introduced to “Cons,” and realized that dressing up in Steampunk attire was a thing, we embraced it. We went to Megacon for one day last year with our son. All three of us dressed in our homemade-Steampunk finest and had a blast. This year we are going for the whole weekend and naturally have been working on all new costumes. Additionally, in the past year, due in no small part to a couple of surgeries, I hit my rock-bottom and have come to grips with my food addiction. I’ve lost 55lbs so far, and have discovered that for me, the best way to keep myself on the straight and narrow is to focus on my fitness. Nothing excessive, just 30 minutes of some kind of exercise daily.  About 6 months ago, my husband and I discovered Adventure Racing. And we’ve thrown in a Warrior Dash for good measure as well.

Now, I’ll admit to being a pretty regular Facebooker. I like to share pics of the projects I’ve been working on or the races I’ve attended. And no, I don’t post every workout via iPhone app, nor do I post vanity self-portraits…not that there is anything wrong with that. Just sayin’.

And let me preface this by saying; many of my friends, if they choose to comment at all, have positive, encouraging things to say. And to be fair, I’ve got to admit that my closest friends and I do tend to enjoy a sarcastic humor. But that said, there are a lot of people whose every reaction, seemingly, to my activities/hobbies/projects are in the vein of: “You’re so weird!” or “You’re crazy!”

Really? I’m crazy for getting my ass off the couch? For finding something that inspires me to lead a healthier life? That brings my husband and I closer together? That improves my marriage instead of pulls us apart? I’m the crazy one for making time in my day to workout even if it means having to change clothes at work and take a whore’s bath? Perhaps it would be more “normal” for me to keep making excuses for my lifestyle and weigh 250lbs and be sedentary? And I suppose it would be more “normal” for me to sit on the couch after work and drink beer and smoke while my husband is in another room playing on a computer, instead of working on weirdo steampunk projects together in our workshop. I guess it’s just crazy that my reaction to a physical challenge is “Bring it on! Let’s try it!” not, “Are you freaking kidding me? No way!”

Fine. If that’s the case…I’ll be the craziest, fucking weirdo you’ve ever seen.

(breathe)

Ok, I know that when people make those kinds of comments they probably don’t mean them quite that sarcastically. In fact, I tend to think some of them are actually a veiled way of saying, “I wish I had the balls to do what you are doing.” But if that is the case, why can’t people fucking say that? Or just nothing at all? Why passive-aggressively try to cut down someone who is just trying to enjoy themselves? Are some people’s self-esteem or lack of peace with their own station in life that low that they feel the need to rip on others who are enjoying theirs? Don’t they realize that the “weirdo” and the “crazy” comments just make them look small-minded and boring?

The bottom line is that I am a Participant, not a Spectator in this life, now more so than ever.  So to all of those who have a problem with that, I say, “Your life and I will be sure to wave as we pass you by.”

7/26/11 - On Being a Fat Skinny Person

I am sure it is no huge shock to anyone that losing, or trying to lose, a substantial amount of weight can be a real mind-fuck. There are the obvious similarities between drug addiction and food addiction, but that is a post for another day. What’s been on my mind lately is the body image ups and downs that happen during the process of weight loss.

I’m the first to admit it; I am a product of my generation and my country. I want it and I want it now! (Yeah. We know. Shut up Veruca!) Once I have decided to change my habits, I want to see results. Maybe not immediately but in a timely fucking manner.  

I’ve been doing Weight Watchers and getting a fair amount of consistent exercise since mid-May. I’ve lost 25 pounds. I’m still wearing the same jeans, but they are a bit looser. I’m able to fit into several shirts that I have not been able to wear in quite some time. My endurance/fitness level is greatly improved. When I am laying in bed and poking and prodding at myself I can feel that I am thinner. While I’m on it….you dopoke and prod yourself too right? It sounds odd, but it’s a good practice to get into. It is how I discovered the cantaloupe sized ovarian cyst….but again, a post for another day.

That said, I’ll have moments in the day when I feel like I am looking good…dare I say, a “normal” regulation sized human being. But then I’ll remind myself of how much I actually weigh (225 currently) or look in a mirror and realize, “Uh. No.To the rest of the world you are still a fat chick.” Let it not go without saying that I am aware that their are folks in this world who are fat and are ok with it. If you are, go on with your bad self. But I don’t want to be that way anymore. I don’t want to look it, I don’t want to feel it. It’s not because I think fat is ugly or because I think people will love me more if I am thinner. It’s because in my head I am not fat. The title of this post is a bit of a misnomer as, in my head, I am not skinny either. 

In my head I am fit. I am an athlete. I do not fantasize about being able to wear runway clothes or wear a string bikini. I fantasize about climbing mountains, and running, and mountain biking, and surfing, and riding dirtbikes and not needing help picking it up if I drop it in the sand, and getting on my horse from the ground without it being a freaking project.

I want to be, nay, I AM a badass. I’ve never let my size get in the way of anything. If I want to dance, I’ll dance. If I want to go to the pool, I’ll go to the pool. I’ve never, ever been one of those “people of size” who stop themselves from doing the things they want to do because they are embarrassed by their appearance. 

However, it’s becoming more and more apparent that my size is preventing me from enjoying the things I like to do at the level I would like. Hence, the desire to finally mold my body into the image in my mind.

The frustrating point right now is that the image is in constant flux. Unfortunately, the constant play in that body image results in a lot of mental stress. It’s funny, (not funny ha-ha) how before I had decided to make some changes, how less aware I was of my size. I suppose it is an ‘ignorance is bliss’ kind of thing. Don’t look at too many pictures, don’t focus on any full length mirrors, keep living life and my mind was able to convince me that I was indeed nowhere near as fat as my weight would suggest. Then thanks to some fun health related issues this year I was forced to realize that maybe, just maybe, it would behoove me to lose some weight.

And then the obsession begins. Initially I was sick over how fat I’d let myself become, but felt good about the fact that I was doing something about it. And then one starts getting frustrated that it is not coming off fast enough and the feelings defeat start. And then you get to the point where I am at now…the results are really starting to show, little by very little.

But I don’t know who I am anymore.

I went walking with a couple of friends last night. Both want to lose weight, but neither are what I would classify as overweight. We started walking the mile long bridge in our town and when I got to the top I started jogging, and proceeded to do so all the way down. Walked back up the other side, jogged back down. The other gals could not jog at all. Naturally, that made me feel pretty good. “Look at me! I’m an athlete!” When I came home, I felt good. I felt powerful. Weighed myself this morning and seeing that I’m still 225…BAM! I’m a fat-ass again.

It ain’t right. It aint’ healthy. But…and I know some people hate this phrase (suck it) it is what it is. I need to just keep on, keepin’ on (Am I good with the overused cliche’s or what?) and power through. So when will my mental image of a bad-ass athletic momma ever jive with reality? Without second guessing? I don’t know for sure…you’ll just have to stay tuned. Though I have a strong suspicion, as this is not my first rodeo, it’ll be when I can consistently shop in the regular section of a clothing store, or do cool things on vacation that don’t have me wondering if there is a weight limit I am going to surpass and/or quite frankly, when I get below 200 pounds.

But for now, I’m riding the crazy train and I don’t think it’s stopping any time soon. Toot! Toot