I wanna be with you until the sun falls from the sky...

This last weekend my family, many of my friends and acquaintances all celebrated the marriage of my sister to her long-term boyfriend.  It's not strange that my sister is married.  I sort of knew all along that she would be the first of us to tie the knot.  She always was a serial monogamist.  It's not strange that Aiden now has a real and official Uncle.  It's not strange that my sister's last name is not the same as mine any longer, though since I have changed it in my phone, I do a double take every time she calls or texts me.

It's strange to say "brother-in-law".  It makes me feel old.

One of the best days of my life, hands down.  My biggest worry was that I wasn't going to fit into my dress, and miraculously, I did.

I will be the first to admit that I've gained some weight this summer.  My grandmother's death, my long-time-coming breakup with D, and now my limitless happiness with J.  Being happy makes me fat.  I have said that before.

So I need to kick this into gear.  I need to start eating better, drinking less alcohol, exercising more, lifting weights again.  I have 30 more pounds until my next big goal.

Encouragement is needed, and wanted.  I need someone to kick my ass into gear!

Ode to My Shrinking Bustline

I didn't set any goals for this month.  One, because I was too lazy.  Two, because I knew this month would be a whirlwind of trying to get things ironed out for the last few weeks of school, D opening his new restaurant, and me trying to focus more on health than weight.  That being said, I have to say that the month is off to a not too shabby beginning.

Now, the purpose of my writing tonight.  I am going to talk about my boobs.  Please forgive me.

When I began to lose weight, I noticed subtle changes in my body.  My calves, which I once believed to be muscular, started to actually show definition and slim down.  My stomach started to shrink.  Areas of my body I had expected to shrink, did.  I had actually expected to start losing in my bust area first.  I didn't.  For two and a half years, I noticed the weight coming off in the normal areas, tummy, thighs, arms.  I noticed it coming off in the not so common areas, feet, wrists, fingers, face, neck.  But I never once changed a bra size.

Then January 2012 rolled around, and I dropped 12+ pounds that month.  I am positive that it all came from my boobs.

Over the last 5 months, they have continued to shrink. Now, I don't have any delusions that one of these days I'll magically not have to wear a bra anymore, but when I wear a sports bra (which I do the majority of the time) they all but disappear.

Shirts I would normally fill out, too big.  Bras that I used to SPILL out of, that I couldn't wear to work because if I bent over my boob would fall out of, too big.

The good: I still have to strap them down when I run to keep them from bouncing, but I don't have to wear double bras and ace bandage.  I get by with a tight sports bra and under armour tank-top.  My back doesn't hurt much anymore, ever.  I bought a couple of tube tops, and I can actually wear them with my strapless bra that doesn't try to fall down constantly.

The bad: I HAVE NO BOOBS!

Merging the Fat Girl

Since June of 2009, when I saw photos of myself from my mother's 50th birthday party that made me stop and say, "wait a minute, that CANNOT be me."  I have been on a journey. A weight loss journey.  It hasn't been easy and there have been so many bumps along the way that I have lost count. 

I have injured my knees twice, not to the extent that I had to seek any sort of medical attention, but enough that I couldn't do much physical activity for a few weeks afterward.  I fell in love and we all know that love equals weight gain.  I battled with myself over my motivations.  I ate too much, I ate too little, I lost countless nights of sleep due to stress beyond my own control. 

In nearly three years I have lost 71 pounds.  That is more than my 8 year old son weighs now.  I have FOUR pounds to go until I weigh what I did when I got pregnant with him.  It has only taken me nine years to get back to this place.  I still have 25 pounds after that to hit my goal.  Numbers, numbers, numbers.

I don't want to be "skinny".  I never have.  I want to merge everything that is feminine about me, with health.  When I began all of this, I wanted to be able to look in the mirror and not absolutely hate what was staring back at me.  I don't know that I actually believed that any of this was even possible.  I think I started this, in an attempt to prove myself wrong.

My body has changed.  Muscles in my arms and legs have definition.  I am strong, and for the first time ever, actually look the part.  I look in the mirror every morning, and there are days when I have to stop and take a double look at myself, because I simply cannot believe it.  I am not the fat girl anymore, at least not physically.  Mentally, I'm still working on that one.

We see it on The Biggest Loser.  One of the biggest struggles with weight loss comes not from the outside, but from the inside.  We know in our hearts that this is going to take time, but when we're not seeing results that we want on the scale, or in our clothes, this poses the biggest threat to our success.  We become DE-motivated.

My biggest issue right now, is that I am not the fat girl in body, but my mind is trying desperately to catch up.  Shopping for clothes is my first example.  I automatically go for shirts two or three sizes too big for me, in order to hide something, when there is less and less of me to hide.  I wonder what the waiter taking my order is thinking when I order a salad, "is he/she applauding the fat girl's choice in trying to be healthy?" or even worse, when I decide to order something NOT healthy, "are they judging the fat girl who ordered the everything platter, thinking of course, this is why she's fat?"  People are going to judge me, regardless of what I'm choosing to eat, and I'm learning to realize that these voices, they are my own.

The gym used to be a huge obstacle for me.  I felt like the fat girl ALL THE TIME.  This lead me to stick to a routine, one machine, in and out, don't make eye contact with anyone.  This has waned, more to do with the fact that I see the same people over and over again every day, and in our own silent, non-verbal conversations, I know in some way they're rooting for me.  They've seen the changes in me.  Many of them have been in my shoes at one point or another in their lives. 

So how do you stop the "fat girl" thinking?  How do I rationalize with myself that even though my mind thinks of me, still, as "the fat girl" that this is not who I am?  I am proud of me, and all that I have accomplished and all that I am still aiming to accomplish, but how do I look in the mirror and see all of the changes, but not allow myself to believe them?

It is quite the liberating feeling when you realize that you are not allowed to actively think of yourself as "the fat girl" any longer.  When I'm putting on clothes that are mediums.  When I put my old underwear on and it literally FALLS OFF.  When I step on the scale and it reads a number that I haven't seen since I was 19.  It all feels like a dream. 

One, great big, gigantic, I don't want to wake up from this-ever, dream.  I am not "the fat girl" anymore.  So when do I start believing it?

"We feel it's unacceptable to be fat, when it has nothing to do with who the person actually is." -Gwyneth Paltrow

 For a very long time I have thought being fat meant being unattractive.  (This is only in regards to myself.  I have always found voluptuous women more attractive and easier to talk to than the skinny ones.  This is my own image of myself I'm talking in regards to.)  And being unattractive meant being ugly.  So this in turn meant that if I was fat, I was ugly.  I have been fat for a while now.  Fat people are invisible, and it's only now after I've lost close to 60 pounds, fit into sizes I haven't fit into since high school, and am actually able to look at my body and not completely hate it, that I'm just starting to realize this.

What I haven't yet learned is if we as fat people are invisible because society makes us that way.  It's not polite to stare at the fat girl, so instead we're just going to pretend she doesn't exist?  Or is it to do with my self esteem growing as my weight is shrinking?  Are people more apt to talk to me in the halls at work, in the grocery store, on dating sites, because I'm more likely to talk to them rather than avert my eyes and continue to be invisible?

In this month of reinvention, I have been reading blogs of people who at least appear to have their shit together.  They love themselves for who they are and nothing more, but certainly nothing less.  Things I have a problem with?  The majority of these bloggers are skinny girls who have always been skinny girls (not that there's anything WRONG with that) but I just can't relate to them.  In my own mind I'm thinking "Of course you're happy!  You've never been called fat!  You've never gone into a clothing store and not been able to find something you could fit into!  You have no idea what unhappiness is!"  All of this I know is completely false and everyone knows what it's like to be unhappy about one thing or another, but it's nearly impossible for me to follow the advice of a stranger telling me "love yourself!" when they've never REALLY been in my shoes.

Now onto the question of do I love myself?  More so now than probably ever.  I get very disappointed in my lack of progress over the last few months, but then I put on my clothes and they're all baggy.  I shave my legs and I don't get winded.  I can see and feel the definition of muscles in my legs and arms and back and shoulders and waist that I have never been able to feel before.  I can walk at an 8 degree inclined treadmill, and yes, I get winded, and yes, I get sweaty, but I can do it.  I sleep better at night (most of the time) and it's so much easier for me to get up in the morning.  There are still days when I absolutely hate myself and who I am and what I look like, but those days are fewer and farther between.

Now, onto the dating.  I have a really hard time believing someone when they tell me I am beautiful.  I have never taken compliments well, and when we get back to the whole fat = ugly issue, and there is a huge mess.  I chalk it up to taking good photos, and of course I wouldn't post the ones that are bad.  I take probably five bad photos to every one good one.  I am squishy and short and kind of have an attitude problem on even the best of days.  Beautiful?  Pft.  Stop lying.  It's also one thing to have someone tell you you're beautiful online. (which, sadly, is where I do most of my dating...) But to have them tell you in person, to your face, and your first response is "Shut UP!"

There's something wrong with me.

So, for any fellow fatties out there, what do you think?  Invisibility because that's what society is taught to do, or do we seclude ourselves from people unintentionally to try to hide our size?  Or a combination of both?  And what can we do to end it?

On Falling off the Wagon

I have my good days, and I have my bad days, but this week (probably more this entire month) I have completely fallen off the wagon.  What used to be a weekly ritual of going to the gym at least five days a week, has turned into one, or maybe two days.  What used to be a Sunday ritual of planning what I was going to eat for the following week, cooking brown rice and oatmeal, has turned into fly by my seat meal planning.  More eating out than I want, more guilt.  Entirely too much self-doubt. 

I'm glad I'm able to realize this early on, instead of letting it spiral out of control.  It's harder to keep track of my workouts when I'm not at the gym, especially when I don't write them down.  I've been biking, a lot, but it still doesn't feel like enough.  I still have 50+ pounds to go until I am where I want to be, where I have wanted to be for over a decade.

I am going to blame happiness.  The ever sought after thing, companionship.  Things with D are good.  They are SO good.  I am not trying to escape things like I once was, the gym being a way for me to do that.  Maybe I need to start looking at it as a way for me to escape these negative thoughts about myself.  I know I feel better when I exercise.  I know I feel better when I eat right, don't feel bloated and disgusting all of the time.  I know I feel better when I get on the scale every morning and the number has dropped, or remained the same. 

As a food addict, the giving up the greasy burgers, the french fries, the ice cream... that's the hard part.  Maybe not giving up, but eating in moderation.  Have you ever tried Weight Watchers?  Does it work?  Did it work?

I need someone to hold me accountable.  I also need to get my apartment back in order.  It is always very apparent to me my mental state when I look around and see the state of mess my apartment is in.  My mental state right now is "crazy and clinging to anything that will make me seem less so."

That being said, I am going to go shop.