Crime and Punishment

     I've never been a person who enjoys exercise.  I still don't.  At best I look at exercising as a chore. I'm coming to terms with the fact that exercise is necessary not only for weigh loss, but for overall health--and I'm getting my ass off the couch and making healthy lifestyle changes.  However, I'll be honest with you--I'm still not a fan.  What I am a fan of is food.  I've never been a picky eater.  I like to try new things, and at the same time find comfort in my old favorites.  I'm having to learn portion control.  I'm having to learn how to say no to instant gratification.  And you know what--- it's hard to do.  I'm a true believer that much of the battle for weight loss fought in our mind. Shedding pounds isn't just about changing your eating habits or your exercise routine.  It is about changing your mindset.   That my friends,  just might be the most difficult aspect of it all.  

     One thing I'm struggling with right now is changing my mind set regarding the balance between food and exercise.  I know that the secret to losing weight is burning more calories than you consume.  Simple math folks.  Calories in vs. calories out.  What I'm struggling with is a punitive mentality.  I have to stop the thought process that tells me that when I eat something "bad" I deserve to be "punished"--if I do the crime (eat something high in calories) I have to do the time (exercise).  I've got to realize that eating a enchilada is not a capital offense.  If I over indulge in tortilla chips on occasion, I don't have to sentence myself to two hours of hard labor on the treadmill.  (Can ya'll tell what I had for dinner last night?)  

     This kind of thinking is not healthy.  Quite honestly, it is the kind of thinking that fuels anorexia and bulimia--and that is scary.  Although I honestly don't think I'm in danger of succumbing to an eating disorder,  I do realize that  I'm never going to learn to enjoy exercise if I just look at it as doing penance.  If I berate myself every time I make a trip to the Mexican restaurant I won't enjoy what I'm eating, and I'll resent my next workout.  This is the opposite of productive.  I shouldn't be living my life like a character in some bleak Dostoyevsky novel.  Eating and exercise are not synonymous with crime and punishment.
     I think a more productive way to look at balancing calories in vs. calories out is to think about it in terms of debits and credits.  Here's an analogy.  If I charge X amount on my credit card, I'm eventually going to have to pay that same amount off.  It is the same with eating.  If I eat X amount of calories, I'm going to have to burn that amount or more off by exercising.  If you over spend, or overeat, there are consequences.  That's why it is important to budget.  Budgeting, whether with our money or with food, helps us make wise choices and avoid impulsive decisions.  
      Another part of losing the crime and punishment mentality is looking at all of the benefits I get from exercise.  This might not help me enjoy it any more, but it does build my incentive.  I can feel my stamina increasing. I know my heart and lungs are getting stronger.  Walking a mile used to seem unattainable. Now, I can routinely run/walk three or more.  Daily activities that once caused me to become winded such as climbing stairs or walking through the mall  are no longer physically taxing.  Another thing that build incentive is the fact that I can feel my muscles getting tighter and more toned.  While I'm still not totally satisfied with my refection, my changing physique makes me like the person in the mirror a hell of a lot more.  Also, I now understand what people are talking about when they say they feel good after they exercise.  I may not feel fantastic while I'm sweating it out, but I sure do feel better afterward.  I feel more alive while I'm awake, and I sleep so much better at night. These are all things to celebrate!  
     I won't tell you that changing my mindset is easy.  It is challenging to overcome years of negative thinking.  These old habits die hard.  But, I will tell you, just like losing the weight, changing my thinking is doable.  100 pounds ago, I never thought I'd be where I am today.  I've just got to keep believing and sending positive messages to myself all the while pushing the negativity back where it belongs.  

Praise Jesus, I'm Overweight!

     I'm so excited I could almost burst!  I could shout it from the rooftops!  I'm overweight, I'm overweight, I'm overweight!  
     Now, some of you who are reading may be a bit confused.  Anyone who reads my blog knows that I've been working my ass off (literally and figuratively) to shed those damn extra pounds.  But, let me enlighten you…and tell you why I'm so ecstatic.  Today, I moved down a category on the BMI chart.   Today folks, I became official promoted from "obese" to merely "overweight."  And, let me tell you…it feels damn good!  
     For anyone who doesn't know, BMI stand for Body Mass Index. According to the CDC, Body Mass Index (BMI) is a person's weight in kilograms divided by the square of height in meters.  An adult with a BMI between 19 and 24 is considered within the normal range.  BMI's between 25 and 29 are considered "overweight."  A BMI between 30 and 40 puts one in the "obese" category, and anything above 40 is considered "extremely obese."   Here is an easy reference chart for determining BMI. 

 If you prefer, you can also use the BMI calculator linked here:

http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/educational/lose_wt/BMI/bmicalc.htm

I encourage everyone to look up his or her BMI.  It is an important indicator of your health, and can be a real eye opener. 

     I'll get real with you.  I've been in the "red zone"--and it isn't fun.  Being able to move from the orange zone to the yellow--well, that feeling is priceless.  Not only do I feel better physically and emotionally, but dropping the "obese" label gives me courage.  It gives me the push I need to be able to stay the course.  I'm less than 30 pounds from normal.  I can do this!  

     For a while now, I've been able to see some pretty significant changes in the way my body feels and moves--and that is motivating as well.  I see my legs and waist shrinking.  I can contort my body in ways that I haven't been able to in years.  Okay, get your minds out the gutter.  I'm talking about being able to cross my legs or being able to clasp my knees with my arms--its the little things.  Nothing in the plus size department remotely fits anymore--no tears over that one I can assure you.  I can actually see my collar bone!  I feel good after I exercise--not like I'm going to keel over.  As wonderful as those changes have been, I can't imagine what I'm going to feel like when I make it all the way to a normal weight for my height.

     I think the best part about reaching this milestone is the feeling of accomplishment that comes with it.  I feel like a million bucks because I've worked hard to achieve it.  I haven't given up.  I haven't thrown in the towel.  I've rolled with the punches when I pack on those extra few pounds one week out the month--although I will admit I still get a little panicked each time--even though I know in my head I'm just bloated.  

     Today, a friend posted this on my Facebook page, and told me she thought I needed one:

I want everyone I know to earn this shirt.  I want everyone to feel the kind of joy and sense of accomplishment I'm experiencing right now--because regardless of how much blood, sweat and tears it takes, this feeling is SO DAMN WORTH IT! 

Learning to Love My Legs

        Everyone has a body part they dislike. Plastic surgeons make a mint off the fact that women crave bigger perkier breasts, and smaller shapelier noses.  For me, though, the most loathsome part of my body has always been my legs.    If had a magic wand, and could change just one thing about myself, I'd wave it over my thighs and command the cellulite and saddle bags to disappear.
   I've hated my legs as long as I can remember. Along about middle school, perhaps even as early as fifth grade, I came to the realization that my legs were out of proportion with the rest of my body.  I can remember very distinctly, looking in the mirror and being acutely aware that my thighs didn't look like some of the other girls.  As soon as I was old enough to know the word cellulite, I began seeing it take up residence on my upper legs--and this realization killed me!  In high school, I remember fantasizing about saving my money so I could afford to have liposuction.  I'd look at other girls, with their sleek, taunt upper legs and wonder why my legs couldn't look like that.  I coveted a "thigh gap" before it was popular.  The thing is, my hatred of my legs started well before I was even seriously overweight.
     As I got older and packed on more and more pounds, I continued to focus most of my body hatred on my lower region. To this day, even after torching damn near 100 pound,  when I looked in the mirror all  I see is a fat ass and thunder thighs.   I see dimpled blobs of flab exacerbated by the fact that not only are my thighs chunky, they are also glaringly white--seriously, sometimes I think I can't catch a break.  I won't wear white or khaki pants because I'm deathly afraid that these light colors draw attention to this problem area (Plus, with my skin tone, I'm convinced that khaki makes me look naked).    
     Here's the thing though.  Even though my legs will probably never be my favorite part of my body, I've got to start seeing them in a different light.  Just like breasts don't exists solely to be ogled at, neither do legs.  They serve an important and functional purpose.  And when I think about it that way, my legs are pretty damn amazing.  My legs carried me on an hour long hike this morning.  My legs ran three miles through town, four different nights this week.  My legs are helping me get fit and reach my weight loss goals.  I've come to realize that I've got to make peace with the gams God gave me.  Maybe one day soon, I will learn to love my legs.  I'm not there yet, but its getting better every day.
     

Feeling Grumbly

     I really try to stay positive about my weight loss.  I try to use this blog as a vehicle for self motivation, and as a way to empower others who share my struggle.  But here's what I'm going to tell you folks…sometimes, despite the rewards I know I am reaping, and the promise of future success… sometimes the whole process of losing weight just plain sucks.
     I'm going to get real here.  I feel a lot of guilt sometimes about the things I eat, and sometimes I really fear failure.  I'm so afraid that even after all the ground I've gained fighting this demon called obesity, in the end, the food and the fat are still going to win.  It is a daily struggle.  It is as much of a mind game as it is mouth game.  At times it is all consuming.
   This week, I'm struggling because there are so many opportunities to screw up--and I'm really afraid I'm going to.   It's a week where I'm going to have to make some difficult decisions and set some priorities in order to keep my eating in check.
     Already, I've been tempted with a delicious muffin this morning courtesy of one of my sweet students.  If you are a teacher, you know that sometimes we get homemade treats from our students that are a little less than desirable--cat hair bourbon balls at Christmas, that sort of thing.  You know, the kind of treats where you smile and say thanks but secretly stash it under a stack of papers in your of your colleague's trash can.  Not so with this one.  Not only was it full of cinnamony goodness, but it was from a fastidiously clean household.
     Later, during our faculty meeting, one of my coworkers was lauded as Special Education Professional of the Year.  Part of the celebration involved cake.  Not just any old cake, but an exquisite buttercream  from one of my favorite bakers.  Had the cake been a Walmart special, I wouldn't have felt cheated by foregoing it---but when it come's from Thelma it is oh-so-hard to resist!  (I did, and I felt cheated).  P.S. If you don't know Thelma--trust me, you are missing out!
     Tomorrow,  we have teacher appreciation lunch courtesy of our PTO.  I really look forward to this every year.  I think I've got my calories figured out, and I have already planned my limits for what I will eat tomorrow, but having to spend the time to work all that out is taxing.   Why must I love Mexican food as much as I do if it has to be so high in calories?
     Later in the week, my mom and I are going to a mother/daughter banquet.  I'm pretty sure that the menu is fried chicken or pot roast.  Not sure how I'm going to ensure healthy choices there.  Knowing that I have to worry about it makes me stress.  Since this is a church function, perhaps I should just give those calories over to Jesus.  But something tells me that, unfortunately,  it doesn't work that way.
     Last but not least, Sunday is Mother's Day.  That means lunch with my family and dinner with the boyfriend's family.  Normally, I'd just take this as my cheat day, but with the other challenges I'm facing this week, I'm not sure I can do that.  I think I'm going to evaluate my weight loss progress for the week and make a decision on what I'm going to eat Sunday based on that.  I hate thinking of whether or not I can eat meals with my family as "time off for good behavior,"  but that really what's going through my head right now--and I don't' think that's healthy.
     So, here's the deal folks.  I'm feeling grumbly.  I'm feeling stressed.  I'm feeling like sometimes it just isn't worth the hassle.  BUT---Then I look at some of my pre weight loss pictures, and it puts things in perspective.  I just have to keep telling myself that I'll get through this week.  Even if my weight stays static or God forbid I gain a pound, I'm not going to gain back everything I've lost up until this point due to one lousy week.  I need to enjoy myself, keep within my limits, and stop worrying about it incessantly.  The hard thing is putting that all into practice.
   

Shhh…I'm Going to Tell You a Secret!

 
     I recently have had many people ask me about the secret to my weigh loss success.  Today folks, I'm going to tell you.  I'm going to let that proverbial cat jump right out of the bag.  This is what I want anyone who struggles with weight to know.  The secret to shedding pounds is…

THERE IS NO SECRET!  

     Trust me when I say this.    Everything you need to know, you already know.  Every tool you need in your weight loss toolbox, you already possess.   Unless you are living under a rock, you know that the way that anyone loses weight is by cutting calories and increasing exercise.  Seriously folks, that's it.  That is all I have done--No fad diets, no gimmicks.   The problem is, although we know what to do, we don't alway have the mindset needed to put it into practice.  

     This is exactly where I found myself in January 2012.  I was miserable--and I don't say that lightly.  I absolutely hated looking at my body in the mirror or having my picture taken--anything that allowed me to see the body that I had literally eaten myself into.  Physically, I felt terrible.  My body ached, my feet killed me, and I couldn't walk even reasonable distances without getting out of breath.  I avoided shopping for clothes.  I couldn't stand going into the dressing room and trying on clothes that weren't flattering, fit poorly, and couldn't mask my problem.   I'd even stopped wearing makeup, because I figured, with a body like mine, what the hell was the point.  Mentally and emotionally, I felt like I was sinking into a bottomless pit of hopelessness and despair.  But here's the thing.  As emotionally and physically taxing as that time was, it finally caused me come to a crossroads.  I could either go on living the way I was living, or I could fix it.  And--I'm so glad that I dug deep inside and found the inner strength to choose the latter.  

      Although there isn't a "secret" to my success, I do believe there are helpful guidelines--guiding principles I want to share with others who might be in the same boat I found myself in three years ago.  Today, I'm going to share them with you. 

1.  Be Ready Mentally:  Losing weight starts with your mentality.  You can't and won't lose weight until you are mentally ready to do so.  No one else can make you.  Your mama can't twist your arm.  Your partner can't nag you until you change.  Your doctor can't scare you into submission with her statistics about heart disease and diabetes.  YOU HAVE TO DECIDE.  It might sound selfish, but this is about you.  It isn't about anyone else.  You will be the one that is responsible for making the changes and sacrifices necessary to drop the pounds, so you have to be in the frame of mind to do it.  I'm here to tell you--until you reach that place in your own head, you can't and won't do it.  The key here is believing in yourself and loving yourself enough to change.  And you know what--that is a difficult but necessary mental shift that you are just going to have to make.  

2.  Take Responsibility.  Own up to it sister.  You put the weight on.  You have to be the one to take it off.  One caveat though:  you have to be careful with the blame and shame that comes with this one.  You have to stop blaming your own weight issues on whatever it is that you find to blame them on.  Stop telling yourself its all genetic.  Stop telling yourself its because you have an insatiable sweet tooth.  Stop telling yourself that you don't have time to exercise or prepare healthy meals. These are lies that we tell ourselves to justify the behaviors that put ourselves in this predicament to begin with.  Lies I repeatedly told myself until they became so ingrained in my psyche that they still creep into my head today.  

     However, on the other hand, you can't beat yourself up.  Stop shaming yourself--you know you do it.  I still do.  You cannot change your past.  You can't take back the bad choices that made you pack on the pounds.  What you can do is make positive choices that will impact your future and help you succeed. Once you accept responsibility you can begin making the changes necessary to meet your goals.  

3.  Find Accountability.  One thing that really helps me is keeping a food journal.  I currently use my Fitbit to do this.  There are also online programs such as Sparkpeople.com and Myfitnesspal that can help with this.  Without tracking, it is so easy to overeat.  Seeing a visual of my caloric intake helps me stay on track.  Think of it as you would a household budget.  If you plan your financial limits and then track your expenses, you are much less likely to overspend.  The same is true when you plan a calorie limit and then track the number of calories you consume.  

     Exercise accountability is also key.  Again, find something to track it!  It is so much more motivating for me to know how many calories I'm burning as I exercise.  I've found success with my Fitbit.  I love it!  Being able to actually see the numbers makes me want to burn even more.  I also like how Fitbit allows you to compete with others.  This is really a motivator for me.  

     Finding social accountability is also important.  If you can find someone else who shares your weigh loss and fitness goals--be that a romantic partner, friend, or even an online support group,  you will be more successful.  Work together to keep yourselves on track.  

4.  Stop Beating Yourself Up.  You have to realize that no one is perfect.  You will stumble.  You will eat things you shouldn't.  You will cheat.  The thing you have to remember is this.  In the words of Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow is another day!"  If you screw up today, pick yourself back up tomorrow and try again.  One piece of chocolate cake won't sabotage all of your hard work.  What will sabotage your efforts is letting small failures defeat you.  

     So, folks--that's it.  The secret/no secret of shedding the pounds.  This is what I know, and this is what I want to share.  

This is how you can go from here...

To here…

And BEYOND!  

If you really want a secret, here it is…believe in yourself.  You can do it.  You can change.  You can be who you want to be.  Stop lying to yourself, pick yourself up off the couch and just do it!  

Silencing the Negativity

     When I go shopping, I'm generally the kind of person who wants to be left alone.  I like to browse without having some salesperson breathe down my neck--sniffing me out to see if I'm going to help up their commission.  Case in point:  When I go to Macy's it seems like I can't even step a toe over the line of the shoe department before some sales person pounces on me.  Helpful service is one thing, but feeling like you are being stalked by some jungle cat when you are just looking for a cute pair of sandals is quite another.  I hate it!  So why is it, that today, when I got exactly what I always say that I want--when the people working the floor let me be--why was it that my brain turned it around into something quite unsettling?
     Today, I shopped at a store where I haven't been able to fit into anything in YEARS.  I've been in there a few times in the past month and a half or so, because I was feeling fairly certain I was on the cusp of being able to fit into what they sell.  A week or so ago, I went in there briefly and tried one thing on.  It didn't' fit.  I got discouraged and walked out.  Today, I put on my big girl panties (aptly so, considering where I was)  and decided to give it another go.  I walked in---a little self conscious (Okay, a lot self conscious) and proceeded to browse.  Many of the things I could still just eyeball and say, "yep…still not going to work…" But there were some things that I decided were worth taking back to the fitting room.  As I was shopping though, NOT ONE SINGLE sales associate approached me.  Like I said, normally, I would have been delighted to have been left alone to shop at my leisure, but today, I had a running commentary of negativity flowing though my brain.  It went something like this:

"You are too big to wear anything in this store…no one wants to waste their time helping you because they know that you won't be buying anything."

"See that sales person and customer over there…she's helping her because she's thin.  She's belongs in here.  You don't.

 "Everyone in this store is thinking, 'who is that fat ass kidding.  Even if she can shimmy into some of these things, she's still going to look like a beached whale in them'"."

 "None of the sales people want to help you because if you take something into the dressing room and try to shove yourself into it, you might bust the seams and destroy it."

Somehow, despite the horribly negative self talk I subjected myself to, I did make it to the dressing room with a few items.  You know, I'm really glad I did.  When I got back there, two other customers were waiting.  Two other normal sized women.  Two women that probably haven't struggled with weight like I have.  And you know what they said to me?

"What is going on in here today?  There is no attendant in the dressing room, and hardly anybody on the floor.  Must be shift change or something.  Do you think we should just go back and put ourselves in a dressing room?"

     Talk about a reality check.  The sales people weren't ignoring me because I was fat.  They weren't ignoring me because I was not worth their time.  They weren't ignoring me because God forbid I might pop an underwire.   The bottom line is they weren't waiting on me because they weren't there, or they were busy with someone else!
     At that point I decided I just needed to get over myself and turn off the ugly self talk.  It's unhealthy.  It's lethal to my self esteem.  It isn't worth my time or the way it makes me feel.   The kicker is, when you have talked down to yourself for so long, it is hard to stop.  But, I'm going to make it a point to try.  Negative self talk is a habit--just like over eating.  It is going to take time to break it.
     I left that store today with a new perspective.  I also left the store with a little pink bag…and I was pretty damn proud of myself for both.
   


   
   

Thoughts On Iron Mike Tyson and Divine Intervention.

     Hummmm…..something tells me you didn't expect to see this face of my blog.  But bear with me.  I've got some news---News I've been waiting a while to share, and news and pretty damned excited about.  You see,  I'm fairly certain  Mike Tyson and I no longer have ANYTHING in common. Now, I could be wrong.  Like me, the heavy weight champ could have a penchant for cocker spaniels, old houses,  long relaxing baths in antique claw foot tubs, and ice cold Coca-Cola--but you know, something makes me kind of doubt it. I know what you're thinking--come on Erin, what could you and Mike Tyson have EVER had in common?  He's certainly not the first person that would come to anyone's mind when drawing comparisons to me.  But for a long time, Mike and I have shared something .  And it isn't something I'm proud to admit (no dirty minds there). So here it is folks.  

The Top 10 Reasons Mike Tyson and I Have Nothing in Common

1.  He's a man.  I'm a woman  We just don't have the same equipment down there. 

2. Besides the obvious the fact that he is African American, and I'm pretty much the whitest white girl on the planet, we look nothing alike.

3. He can knock you out.  I can't throw a punch to save my life.

4.  I've never had a drug problem--hell, I've never even smoked a joint. 

5.  Two pups and a little black cat are enough for me---I've never had any desire to own a tiger. (Seriously, is that for real, or was that just for The Hangover?)

6.  I've never been in the slammer.  

7. I don't have a facial tattoo.  The only thing on my face is a little Mary Kay. 

8.  Ben had better be glad I treat him better than Tyson treated Robin Givens.  

9.  For some reason, I've never had the uncontrollable urge to bite anyone's ear off. 

And…..Drum Roll Please….

10.  I can now no longer meet the weight requirements to compete in a heavy weight boxing match.  

     Can you see me doing my happy dance?  When that number went from a 2 to a 1 this morning, I was beyond excited.  I haven't been under 200 pounds in a really long time.  It was thrilling, it was exhilarating!  It was beyond motivating.  

      I'll share something with you.  Right before I started my weight loss quest a few years back I distinctly remember watching a documentary about Mike Tyson while sitting my fat ass in a recliner and shoveling a bowl full of buttered popcorn in my face.  Why I as watching it, I don't know.  It's not like I'm a huge boxing fan.  Seriously, It would be pushing it for me to come up with the names of five professional boxers--and that includes the likes of Tyson and Ali.  But for some reason--perhaps it was divine intervention, I was watching that day.  During the documentary, they mentioned how much Mike Tyson weighed.  I was shocked.  I was considerably heavier that this heavy weight champ.  I googled the weight requirements for heavy weight boxers.  I didn't even come close to the lower end of the weight requirement.  I will tell you---that was humbling and also pretty damn terrifying.  But you know what, it opened my eyes. It made me see exactly how big (no pun intended) of a problem I had.  And---I resolved to fix it.  

    Am I where I want to be?  Nope.  But thank God and Mike Tyson, I'm sure a hell of a lot closer than I was.  

  

Reflections on Gastric Bypass

Forward:  This post is not meant to be offensive to anyone.  Please know that.  Everyone makes their own medical decisions based on their own unique situations.  I am in no way condemning the medical decision others have made in order to further their own health and better their own lives.  This post is about me, and my journey.  If you have made different choices, and have been successful--I applaud you.  A wise person once said 4+5=9--but so does 8+1 and 7+2.  There are many ways to arrive at the same answer, merely different ways to go about it.    


     I think I was about ten years old when Disney's the Little Mermaid hit the theatre.  I remember going to the movies and watching it one the big screen.  I loved it!  The songs, that cute little crab, the romantic row boat ride--pure Disney magic.   I still think I can sing every one of the songs by heart.  But I remember, even as a child, there was one scene in the movie that really got to me.  For those of you who don't remember, the basic premise is that Ariel, our titular heroine, saves the life  a handsome shipwrecked prince, and falls madly in love (because that's how we all find true love, right?).  The only problem--she's got flippers and he's got legs.  Ariel realizes that living in the ocean and being a land lubber are not conducive to a successful relationship.  Longing to unite with her beloved, but against her better judgement,  she visits the sea witch, who offers her a choice--trade her beautiful voice for a new set of gams.
     Before I lost weight, I felt a bit like that Little Mermaid.  So desperate was I to shed those horrible unwanted pounds that I was willing to do just about anything to feel human.  And just like Ariel, I was thinking more of the outcome of my choice than the consequences my actions would entail.  I had my mind firmly made up that I was going under the knife.  Gastric Bypass or bust.
      You see, before I decided to take back my life and shed some much needed pounds, I was a pretty miserable girl.  I'd let me weight ratchet up to a point that I'm severely ashamed to admit.  I might hint at the number from time to time, but I probably won't ever feel comfortable divulging those exact digits to the general public.
     When I was at my heaviest, I couldn't even enjoy shopping at the mall.  Besides the fact that finding clothes had become more about finding whatever would fit my body than  about finding outfits I truly loved, the simple act of walking from one end of the mall to the other was exhausting.  I even got winded walking from my car to the front door if the parking lot gods didn't happen to be smiling upon me that day.   At school, I used to think how lucky I was that I didn't teach 5th grade, because that would mean I would have to drag my fat ass all the way to the top floor multiple times a day--and the mere thought of climbing those stairs that terrified me.  Honestly, walking anywhere was a challenge, not just because I was so out of shape and out of breath, but because my feet killed me!  Plantar fasciitis plagued me.  I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on my worst enemy.  I remember taking a trip to Denver for a work conference  during an especially bad flair up.   Walking down the main shopping/business district in the city was tortuous.  My feet ached so badly it made what should have been an enjoyable outing painfully daunting.
       Aside from the mobility challenges, being that heavy was taxing on my emotional wellbeing too.  Going to the movies gave me anxiety because I was deathly afraid that my rear wouldn't fit into the theatre seats.  During a major remodel of my bathroom, I worried constantly about finding a bath tub that would accommodate my ample girth--looking for one of those at Lowe's nearly gave me hives. Paranoia set in. I felt like people were staring at me every time I went out to eat--prying eyes secretly judging me as I shoveled in bite after bite.    The bottom line is I was depressed.  I felt hopeless to ever change my situation.
      When you get that big, you get desperate.  I think I would have consented to having a limb cut off if I thought I could magically translate the amputation of an appendage into fitting my body into a size 6.  And you know what--that's in essence what I almost allowed to happen.  Gastric Bypass doesn't involve sawing off a arm or a leg, but it does involve major, irreversible, and forever life changing alterations to one's body. And,  I almost caved.  I convinced myself that the only hope I had to lose weight--the only chance I had to chase the happiness and normalcy I craved--was putting myself in the hands of a bariatric surgeon.
     I saw my primary care physician.  I visited a specialist several times, and sat my ass in those over sized chairs designed to accommodate the grossly obese. I went through initial testing and screenings.   I underwent a psychiatric evaluation to make sure I was sane enough to understand the consequences of my decision.  I was ready.  But thankfully, before I made it to the point of no return, something deep within me spoke up--and I just knew this wasn't the right decision for me.
 

Here are five reasons I am glad I didn't go under the knife:

1.  I love food.  Really.  I do.  I've always been a foodie.  I'm from a family of foodies.  We like to cook and we certainly like to chow down on some good eats.  Having gastric bypass drastically changes not only how much you can eat, but what you can eat.  Eat the wrong thing, and you can experience something called dumping syndrome.  Funny name, but there is definitely nothing funny about the experience.  Eat foods high in fat, carbs, and sugar and you are just inviting bloating, diarrhea, heart palpitations, and vomiting to visit you--not pleasant.   This meant no more Coca-Cola.  No more of my Aunt Lynda's pasta salad at family get togethers--or her special Chex mix she always makes me at Christmastime.  No more biscuits and gravy at Cracker Barrel---LIKE EVER.  I just wasn't sure I could commit to that.

2.  Gastric Bypass can be dangerous.  Even with an experienced and competent surgeon, it is dangerous anytime one goes under the knife.  All surgery carries risks--even the most routine. Unforeseen tragedy happens.  The only surgeries I've ever had are a tonsillectomy and LASIK.  The thought of going under the knife terrified me.    What if I didn't wake up?  I just wasn't ready to take that chance.

3.  It is expensive.  Luckily for me, I have decent insurance.  However, there were still copays and deductibles to consider.  I'm a teacher.  I've got a master's degree, but I'm certainly not rolling in the dough.  In order to make it work financially, I was going to have to have help from my parents.  I didn't want to be a financial burden on them for something that was ultimately my fault.

4.  What if I regretted it.   The fear of waking up and realizing that I had made a terrible and forever life altering mistake frightened me.  (I suppose in some sense that must be what Bruce Jenner is going through right now--that is if you believe everything the supermarket tabloids are saying these days).
      For the most part, once you go under the anesthesia, there is no turning back.  Once it is done, it is done.  Now from what I understand, it is possible to reverse it under extreme medically valid conditions--but you certainly can't reverse it just because you miss being able to scarf down McDonald's any old time you feel like it.

5.  Most importantly for me-- What if this didn't work!  What if I went though all the pain (which I understand is significant), sacrifice, and financial strain the surgery entails only to lose the weigh and gain it back?  I really didn't think I could live with myself it that happened.  The only thing I would have gained was more self loathing and even lower self worth.

     Looking back, I know in my heart of hearts that I made the very best decision for me when I chose to forego the surgical option.  Would I be at my goal weight now had I consented to the surgery back then? Perhaps.  But, perhaps not.
     Here's what I do know:  Taking the weight off on my own has given me options.  Yes, I restrict my calories--but I can also cheat and have an enchilada every now and again if I want one--In fact, I scarfed one down tonight thank you very much.  Yes, it has taken time to take off the pounds--but knowing I'm doing it by my own shear will power really boost my self confidence. True, eating healthy is expensive--but it is sure a hell of a lot cheaper than the medical bills I would have been saddled with post-op.  When I first backed out of the surgery I felt a bit like a coward--but after working hard and losing the weight on my own terms, I have no regrets.
     If you are considering weight loss surgery I implore you to consider all your options.  Think about why you are doing it.  Are you looking for a quick fix?  It isn't.  Are you desperate and feel you have nowhere else to turn?  Regardless of what you think--you do.  If those are your reasons, I highly encourage you to think long and hard before letting anyone--- friend, family member, or even your doctor convince you to do something you can't take back.
     Let me say this, and let me be clear. There are legitimate reasons to explore surgical intervention-- among them diabetes, sleep apnea, and severe high blood pressure. These require immediate intervention, and for those afflicted with these serious conditions bariatric surgery can not only be a life changer, but a life saver!  I just thank the good Lord none of those applied to me--but if they had, my decision might have been very different.
    What I want you to understand is that in most situations you do have nonsurgical options--and they can and do work.  I urge you to consider them.  YOU CAN DO IT!  I'm on my way!  And, as of a few weeks and a few pounds ago--I no longer even qualify for a surgical procedure due to my current weight and BMI.  And knowing I did that all on my own--that folks, is a damn good feeling!

P.S. For the past two years, my classroom has been on that very top floor.  And I climb those stairs every day with confidence and without keeling over!  :)
   

Somebody Needs to Teach My FitBit Some Manners

     To this day, my daddy swears that the only way I passed my driver's test was because I said "yes ma'am" to the evaluator.  He likes to use this as an example of how important it is to instill good old fashioned manners in one's children.  You see, growing up in the South, I was taught to always say please, thank you, and you're welcome.   Maybe my upbringing makes me more sensitive to lapses in decorum.  Maybe I'm just overly sensitive.  But maybe, just maybe, some things just lack tact and decency.  Sticking one's tongue out at someone, just happens to fall into that category.
     Since I decided to get back on the health and fitness wagon, I decided to invest in a new tool to help me achieve my goals, and keep me accountable.  I decided on the Fitbit Zip.  Overall, I've been very pleased with this device.  It tracks my steps and my calories burned and consumed  Plus, it gives me access to a web site where I can interact and compete with friends.  Besides the number crunching metrics and the time display, one of the first things I noticed was the smiley faces it periodically displayed.  "Awww…sweet!" I thought. "Fitbit is smiling at me.  It's my own personal cheerleader!"
      If you aren't familiar with Fitbit, the emoticon changes to reflect your activity level.   The more active you are, the bigger the smile.   Curiously though, there isn't a key to explain these smileys in the product manual.   One of the faces seemed to show up first thing in the morning, and while I was watching TV.
It looked like this:

I couldn't quite figure out what it was, so  I decided to google it.  Much to my dismay, I soon found out that Fitbit was sticking its tongue out at me!  In the words of Stephanie Tanner, "How rude!"
     Here's the thing.  No one can be active every minute of every day.  People have to sleep.   There are times when even elite athletes are sedentary.   Sometimes, I feel like sitting on my ass, putting my feet up, and chilling out in front of the boob tube.  When FitBit chides me, it doesn't push me to do better.  It makes me feel guilty--and guilt isn't an effective motivator.
     I reminds me of when I first started this weight loss journey a few years ago.  The hot product at the time was the Wii.  I bought one, and sad to say, like many fads, it is now collecting dust in my spare bedroom closet.  Those of  you who, like me,  jumped on that band wagon might recall that the Wii works as a scale as well as a fitness/video game platform.  I'd step on that thing and get greeted with this gem:

Every single time, I wanted to shout at the screen, "Seriously?  No shit!"
     Look, I knew I was fat. I knew I had a problem.   I certainly didn't need Wii telling me so or making that condescending noise.   Nor did I need to see my avatar do a full on fat girl body jiggle.  Seriously, it was insulting.  Who needs that.
      I guess what I'm saying is that for those of us who need to lose weight, what we need is praise, recognition,  and support.  We don't need condescension or scolding--not from a living, breathing humans, and certainly not from an electronic device.  What we do need is a network of people willing to cheer us on and celebrate our successes.  I'm glad I've got that, because it is truly what keeps me motivated.   As for FitBit--well, I guess I'll just disable the emoticon feature.  Because in the words of my mama, "if you can't say something nice, you shouldn't say anything at all."
   
   
   

Big News From a Smaller Lady

     Today I have a BIG ANNOUNCEMENT.  Now before y'all get too excited (or gossipy)--no, no one has been to Jared and no one has put any proverbial carts before horses--So sorry to disappoint.  But my news is BIG.  Well, maybe I should say, my news is SMALL.  Today, I took a major leap toward loosing my membership card in the FAA (That's not the Federal Aviation Administration folks--That's Fat Asses of America).  Today, for the very first time in a very long time, this girl put on a pair of jeans that:
A.  did not have a W after the size

and

B.  were a size smaller than the age you have to be to vote.

    Now for all you skinny bitches who haven't ever been in double digits, that might not seem like much of an accomplishment.  But let me tell you--for someone like me--it feels incredible.  I honestly didn't think I'd ever see the day that I could fit my trunk's junk into a pair of pants that didn't come from the "women's department."  To be able wear them, and to feel comfortable in them, makes me feel so much more comfortable in my own skin.  And that folks is an amazing feeling.
     So for all y'all out there who think you can't do it.  Trust me.  I've been there.  I've wallowed in self pity and bathed in my own low self esteem.  But I'm here to tell you--If I can do it, you can do it!  I've still got a long way to go.  Looking at my BMI, I'm still "obese"  I'm hoping to be out of that category by the end of the school year if not before--not too much more to go.
     If you are where I was three years ago--take heart. You are worthy, you are valuable, and when you hit your own personal milestone--whether it be walking around the block without getting winded or shimmying into a pair of skinny jeans--I promise, it will be worth it.

PS:  Here's a little proof and inspiration  for you:

I Hope You Remember Me For More Than My Fat Ass

 

      I love a good story. I always have. I'm a person who cherishes the written word---a person who relishes the complexities of a well crafted yarn woven by a skillful wordsmith.  That's why I was particularly saddened to learn that Colleen McCullough, the author of my all time favorite book, The Thorn Birds, died earlier this week. But, what saddened me even more was to see how Australia's most heralded author was memorialized in her obituary. Here's a excerpt:

"Plain of feature, and certainly overweight, she was, nevertheless a woman of wit and warmth.  In one interview, she said: 'I've never been into clothes or figure and the interesting thing is I never had any trouble attracting men.'"

     Seriously,  Rupert Merdock, was the mention of this woman's weight problem and "plain" face really necessary?  Is her most glowing accomplishment really the fact that she could snag some bootie despite the fact she had a fat ass?
     Beyond the fact that McCullough sold multiple millions of copies of her novels, beyond the fact that her most famous work was adapted into one of the most watched mini series of all time,  beyond the fact that football fans would have never heard the name D'Brickashaw Ferguson if not for Ms. McCullough (okay, his mama probably just watched the TV version because she didn't' bother to spell check that)---this woman was amazingly brilliant.  She studied neuroscience in her native Australia, worked at Great Ormond Street Hospital in London, and spent ten years as a member of the faculty at Yale University.  Folks, that's nothing to sneeze at!
     The truth is, this is how our society views women like Colleen McCullough--- women-- like me.  And that friends, makes me sad.  It is hard being an anonymous woman of size in the real world.  It must be even harder for women of size who live under the glaring scope of celebrity.  Think about it.  When I mention Kirsti Alley--what comes to mind?  Her tenure of Cheers, or pictures of her fat ass splayed across glossy newsprint in the checkout line?    What about Oprah?  The woman's a bizillionaire, a philanthropist, and had enough grit to pull herself up from the grips of poverty to become one of the most successful media icons of our time.  Yet, in spite of her phenomenal success, people still want to focus on her battle with her waistline.
      Women are so much more than rolls of fat and numbers on a scale.  We are powerful, unique, complex individuals--each with our own story to tell.  When I die--and here's hoping that's a long way off-- I want people to remember my inner beauty, not my outward appearance.
        ….I'm a teacher who loves her students.
        ….I'm an animal rescuer who is a sucker for sad puppy dog eyes.
        ….I'm a writer, a reader,  and a ponderer of deep thoughts.
This is who I am.  This is what makes me, me.
     Colleen--you deserved so much better.  You deserved dignity and respect alongside recognition for your contributions to the world.  You made it a better place.   I just hope when it comes time for someone to pen my obituary,  I'm remembered for the person and really am, and not just the extra junk I carry around in my trunk.

Thoughts on Oliver Twist and Mama June

     When people used to think of "the poor," images of emaciated waifs straight out of a Dicken's novel generally came to mind--Poor unfortunate souls begging for a bit more gruel to hopefully stick to their feeble bones.  A century ago, this was the reality.  I won't be so blind as to say that all American's now have plenty to eat.  I know for a fact that children still go hungry.  However, one does have to wonder why so many of the poor these days look a whole lot more like...


This:

 










And a whole lots less like…

This:

Please Sir, may I have some more?

    















     Now don't get me wrong.  I'm not saying I'd prefer poor folks (or anybody for that matter) to look more like Oliver Twist than Mama June.  But I am saying that the correlation between poverty and obesity is every bit as much a problem as as the kind of hunger that prevailed in the poorhouses of yesteryear.  So, why is it that so many underprivileged Americans are overweight?  I'll tell you why.  Eating healthy is EXPENSIVE!  
     If you walk through the local Kroger, you will find sale after sale on all things bad for you.  Soda, potato chips, frozen burritos--those are the items that often are the most deeply discounted.  How many times have you seen fresh spinach or kale greens on the ten-for-ten sale?  Didn't think so. 
     Specialty grocery stores like Whole Foods are even worse.  I'm not downing these places, because they have wonderful selections of high quality items.  But what I am telling you is that $19 a pound fresh Alaskan Salmon, $10 a bag chia seeds,  and $7 cherimoyas are out of reach for people on a limited income.  That's a real stretch for me, and I'm gainfully employed and have a master's degree.
     Healthy choices at restaurants will also often cause you to dig deeper in your pocket.  For instance, Applebee's has recently introduced its Pub Diet.  None of the items on this menu are over 600 calories.  That's fantastic!  However, the items in this promotion are also some of the most expensive on the menu.  Even fast food establishments follow this trend.  Take Wendy's dollar menu.  Lots of fried goodness, but only a small side salad as any kind of healthy offering.  The regular salads will cost you upwards of five times as much.
     The price burden for getting healthy is tough on me.  Its even tougher on folks who are just barely scraping by.  I'm lucky enough to be financially able to make healthy choices--even if it does stretch the pocketbook sometimes.  I've got the means to choose healthy alternatives at the grocery, pony up a gym membership fee every month, and splurge on an exorbitantly priced exotic fruit just for kicks every once in a while.  I just wish everyone had that opportunity.  Is there a way to fix it?  I'm not sure.  I'm neither an economist nor an agronomist.  But something's got to give.  Everyone ought to be able to afford to make choices that promote their own health and wellness--regardless of what tax bracket they happen to occupy.  
   

Don't Poo Poo On My Parade

     I've been feeling very proud of myself as of late.  I've stuck to my diet plan, cut myself down to one Coke a week, and  torched ten pounds.  But probably most importantly, I've gotten my sorry butt off the couch and started exercising.  I think those are things to celebrate!  And I have been!  But doesn't always seem that in the midst of any celebration that there are always one or two people that want to poo poo on your parade.  You tell them you're getting married--they quote you divorce statistics.  You tell them you're expecting--they tell you how expensive it is to raise a child these days.  You know the ones--never a positive word no matter how wonderful the news.  My path crossed with one of these folks today--but I'm determined not to let it get me down.
     I am a member of a Facebook "free-cycle" group.  Basically, member of the groups post items they wish to give away, or post in search of items they need.  This site has been a Godsend to me, because besides my vices of overeating and lounging on the couch, I'm also the world's worst packrat.  Now not to say I belong on "Hoarders" or anything, but I do tend to hang on to stuff longer than I should (maybe that's the problem with my weight--I'm hoarding the fat).  I've mainly utilized this site as a way to rid myself of unwanted and unneeded junk collecting dust in my closets and basement.  I rarely post in search of anything, but last night I made a simple request.  I posted in search of magazines to read while working out at the gym.
     It is no secret I hate to exercise.  I hate to sweat.  I hate to feel the burn in my calves as I walk on the treadmill.  But most of all, I hate watching the clock.  If I'm not distracted I get very discouraged.  My iPod and the televisions at the gym help, but I've found the most useful thing for me to do is to read a magazine while I'm working out.  It helps me zone out and the time goes by SO MUCH MORE QUICKLY.
      After posting I quickly received a reply from a friend that she had several magazines that she would like to part with, and offered them to me.  I was excited!  One woman's trash would certainly become this woman's treasure.  We made arrangements for me to pick up.  We were both happy, and that should have been the end of things.

BUT NO.

     Apparently some know-it-all came across my post and decided it was her job to offer her two cents. "If you read (or watch TV) while on a machine, your workout is less effective.  Research says so…I am an exercise professional.  Just sayin' "  Really lady?  Did I ask you for your advice?  Nope.  I asked for magazines.  Because you know what?  I'm doing the absolute best I can.  I am dragging my ass to the gym six days a week even when I'd much rather it be firmly planted on the couch.  I'm foregoing Coca Cola and a big bowl of popcorn in favor of bottled water and green smoothies.  Your advice didn't empower me.  It didn't make me want to put in an extra workout or push myself to amp up the speed or incline on the treadmill.  What it did do is make me feel small.  It made me feel weak.  It made me feel like the significant lifestyle changes I've made over the past few weeks were worthless.
    But here's the thing.  I'm not going to let someone else's snide remarks get me down.  I'm pushing forward.  I've got a great support system, and lots of other folks cheering me on (and my friend's comment back to her almost made it worth it--priceless).  One Debbie Downer won't stop this show.  Maybe when I'm down to my goal weight, I'll send this chick a picture--me with my rockin' new bod--on the treadmill, reading Us Weekly.

Own It!

     Being overweight is tough.  If you have never experience weight problems you truly do not understand what it is like to live in a body that betrays you daily--what it's like to live in a body you hate, and society despises.  Harsh words, but true.  I think one of the worst parts of being heavy is the guilt we feel because ultimately we realize that we are the ones who've put ourselves in this boat--and that is an ugly realization.  No one likes to feel that kind of shame.  So, what do we do?  We make up excuses and point our accusing fingers in a myriad of directions other that where they ultimately belong.  I've heard it all, said it all, and thought it all--anything to make  myself feel better about why the body that stares back at me from the mirror is not the body I want to see.  Here's the problem with that kind of thinking.  It solves nothing.  Blaming others is a prescription for laziness.  The thought process becomes, "if it isn't my fault, why should I bother trying to fix it."   I've got news for you.  With rare exceptions-- it is your fault.  (Ouch--that probably stung--but it is true).  You are responsible for you.  You took every single bite that put every single ounce of fat on your own thighs.  But here's the GOOD NEWS.  Once you own it, you can reframe it.  Stop throwing your own personal pity party--trust me, no one wants to attend.   Come to the realization that if you were responsible for putting the weight on, you can take charge of taking it off. Let me tell you folks--that is empowering.
 Instead of wallowing in self pity and self loathing, make an action plan.
     One of my all time favorite excuses for the extra junk in my trunk has always been to blame it on heredity.   Looking around at family get togethers  I've  always reasoned that some mysterious fat gene is responsible for the fact that my blue jeans come from the plus size section.  It makes sense.  It is totally logical.  But it isn't the whole truth.  Don't get me wrong. I do believe that genetics can predispose one to obesity.   But here's the thing.  How much of those collective extra pounds have to do with  our DNA, and how much has to do with that macaroni and cheese sitting on the stove.  You know, the one with the whole quart of heavy cream and a whole stick of butter.  Hmmm…certainly makes you think.  If you know that weight gain runs in your family you are not doomed!  Be proactive.  Make healthier choices to help combat an unfortunate roll of the genetic dice.
    Another excuse I like to make is that I'm a foodie.  Not gonna lie.  This girl loves to eat.  I've never been picky; I've always enjoyed the experience of trying new things.  I grew up in a family that loves to eat--we just didn't always make it a priority to choose the most healthy options.  Family gathering centered around good eats--and lots of them.  Good old Southern hospitality with a side of cheese grits.   If you are like me, and you enjoy the experience of eating, don't believe the lie that you can't enjoy food on a diet. Reframe it as an opportunity to experiment and experience.  There are so many healthy options out there that will tickle your palate.   Do your research.  Finding new, healthy foods that satisfy my inner foodie has been fun for me.  It can be for you too.
        The bottom line is this.  Stop thinking of reasons to fail.  Think of reason to succeed.  Once you own up to the fact that you are responsible for your eating and exercise habits, you can begin to change. You can say no to that extra piece of chocolate cake and yes to extra minutes on the treadmill.  You are responsible for you.  No one can lose the weight for you.  It is a personal journey.  Own it, reframe it, and change it.  You won't regret it.

Get a Move On

     Dieting is all well and good, but without pairing it with exercise, it is next to impossible to lose weight.  I've said it before, if you can add, subtract, multiply and divide---you can lose weight.  You just have to make the numbers work for you.  Knowing these facts to be true, I decided it was time to get my rear back in gear and rejoin a gym.  I've been a gym member before.  When I first started my weight loss journey about three years ago, I joined a local gym, and it really helped me lose the pounds.    But here's the thing. As I got complacent and comfortable, I stopped going--and eventually decided that  if I wasn't going to go, it wasn't worth the dough.  So, I dropped my membership.  As I've watched my weight ratchet up, I've realized that was a mistake--but not an uncorrectable error.  Thus brings me to a new beginning.

     On Friday afternoon, I visited two gyms, and on Saturday morning a third.  As I was touring the facilities, I kept wondering what must being going on in the heads of those gym rats who where trying to woo me into a contract.  I mean, I'm sure they have a script, and I'm sure they want to thoroughly represent all their particular facility has to offer--but come on, some of their dog and pony shows were a tad over the top--especially at one particular facility I visited. 

     At the second gym I visited, I was greeted at the door by college aged muscle head--all ripped arms, six pack, and pearly whites.  He exuded enthusiasm--or perhaps I misread that for the fact that he could smell my desperation-I'm pretty sure he was going to get compensated if he got me to sign on the dotted line.  It kind of reminded me of shopping in the shoe department at Macy's--you know, when the sales associates nearly try to jump your bones just to get a sale.   I could tell this was going to be fun.  As he showed me around the gym, I had a running commentary in my head, that in retrospect, I really wish I had shared with him--but since I just smiled and nodded my head at the time, I will now share it with you.  Here are my tips for showing a plus size thirty something woman around your gym:

1.  Don't take me directly to the free weights.  I don't care about the free weights.  Not yet at least.  They intimidate me.  The guy with the steroid arms, popping a vein in the corner--he intimidates me.  This is not the main draw for me.  I understand that strength training is important.  But it isn't my number one focus right now.  I'm just not ready to the bench press.  I might never be.

    Do show me the weight machines.  They intimidate me a hell of a lot less than barbells and dumbbells.  Just be forewarned that you are going to have to demonstrate--I'm not going to intuitively know what to do. 

2.    Don't tell me how great the new fangled fitness crazy is if I don't look like I could ever in a million years pull it off.  Muscle head took me into a room and showed me the "silks."  I'd never seen anything quite like them---a couple of long silk scarves hanging from the ceiling.  There were pictures on the wall of skinny bitches  all wrapped up in those things.  It reminded me of something that belonged in a strip club more than in the gym. (although from what I understand pole dancing is pretty damn good exercise.)  Trust me, no one wants to see me do that, and I certainly don't want to end up in the emergency room.  

     Do show me the treadmill--I can handle that--all you have to do is put one foot in front of the other. Show me the elliptical.  I could most likely handle that too.  Show me how to hook my headphones up to the machines and how to change the channel on the televisions.  I don't enjoy exercise, and I need a distraction.  This is important to me. 

3.  Don't pressure me into signing a long term contract.  I know some might disagree on that one, and I also understand that is the nature of the beast in some places.  But here's the deal.  I'm afraid.  I'm scared I won't make it past next week much less into next year--that I'm on a new year, new me high, and I'll get over myself by February.  And certainly don't tell me that the contract is "for my own good"--that's kind of insulting.  

     Do  understand when I want to check out other facilities.  I'm probably not ready to make a snap decision.  Even if you are offering a deal that expires in an hour--I need time to think it over and consider my options.  

    In the end, I joined the last gym I visited.  It is actually in the same location where I had been a member previously, it is just now under a new name and new ownership.  They offered me a great teacher discount, I didn't have to sign a long term contract, and they had all new cardio equipment.  There aren't many bells and whistles, and there aren't any stripper silks, but it felt comfortable, and that was important.  Now it's just up to me to make myself walk in the door.  I keep telling myself I'm going to do it.  

     

Fashion Forward

     I'm back on the weight loss and fitness track after falling off the wagon for a bit.  I'm proud of myself.  I really am.  I'm taking steps toward reaching my health and wellness goals.  I rejoined a gym today, bought a Fit Bit, and have been drinking green smoothies for the past week.  Those changes ought to make a girl feel good about herself.  But one of those healthy choices unwittingly led to a punch in the gut today…
      Since I rejoined the gym, I figured it might be prudent to see what kind of work out wear I could find to make myself look at least presentable while I'm sweating away at the treadmill.  Now ladies, I'm not stupid.  I knew better.  I really did.  But…I decided I might just want to peruse a certain high end workout wear establishment---you know the one.  I walked in.  I tried to be unobtrusive.  I wanted to see what was out there if I ever do get to my goal weight.  Here were my take aways:
1.  Nothing in that store comes in a size larger than 12.  And, let me tell you, it was a rather small looking 12 at that.  You know, I get it.  I do.  Companies are brand conscious.  They want to portray a certain image. (Remember the uproar Abercrombie and Fitch caused a few years ago?).  I guess my fat ass stuffed in their overpriced pieces of spandex doesn't exactly fit the prescribed mold.
2.  It didn't help my self concept to go in there.  I kind of felt like Julia Roberts in that one scene from Pretty Woman.  There she is all decked out in her finest hooker-haute-couture when those bossy bitches suggest that "they don't have anything for her," and she was obviously, "in the wrong place." Now, I'm not saying that anyone unceremoniously tossed me out on the street, but I felt like the sales associates were judging me.  One came over and asked if she could help me.  I told her I realized I probably wasn't in the right place (meaning I wouldn't be able to fit my big toe into any of their clothing).  She informed me that, "Well, this is a workout store."  Really chick--I couldn't tell--but thanks for the info.
      So why is it so hard for us "fuller figured" gals to find decent work out attire?  Here's the thing. Women like me, women who are my size, want to and need to work out.  I'm doing it not just for my health but also my self esteem.  I know no one wants to see me in a wireless sports bra and short shorts, but come on,  it would be nice to find at least a cute outfit to make me feel better about myself instead of having to scrounge through the selection of plus size sweatpants available at Walmart.  Maybe I'll hang up this teaching gig and open my own workout wear store for plus size women.  I'll call it Go Go Grapefruit--The Same Sass With a Bigger Ass.