Weigh In: May 2009

Just a standard weigh in, which is going to be on the 2nd of every month from here on out. Just throwing that out there.

Previous Weight: 16  stone

Measurements: 50″ 46″ 48″

Current Weight: 16 stone

Measurements: 48″ 45″ 47″

No weight lost but check out those inches! Two whole inches on my bust, that’s pretty flipping awesome. Onward HO!

The Trenches

Yesterday I finally schlepped myself to the gym. I am not sure where in my brain the misfire happens, but I always forget just how fantastic working out can make one feel. The endorphins! The flexibility! That impossibly lovely redhead who always decides to work the chest press in front of me in the weight room!

I think I’ve settled on my workout and now I’m going to share it with you. Because I love you all that much!

MWFs are pure cardio days. I usually do a mixture of different machines comprising of a warm up, main set, and a cool down.  However! I’m starting on two separate regimens: swimming and running, and they’ll take up the entire hour I spend every day at the gym. Beginning with the running and finishing with the swimming.  If I stick to this I’ll be running 3 miles in two months. [Insert appropriate laughter here]

TThs are weight training days and these are going to be boring. I’ll start with my running workout as the warm up, do my weights which target mostly my weak ass upper body and then cool down with some easy elliptical work.

*punches the air* I am MOTIVATED! Next update? Thinspiration and Me.

Ready, Steady, Go: A Reminder

Instead of writing the usual admonishments about wagons, the falling off of them, and then the consequent scrambling to get back on, I think I will instead use this as a marker.

Today I am starting my health regimen all over again. The End.

Current Weight: 16  stone

Measurements: 50″ 46″ 48″

Weight Goal: 10 stone

Measurements: 36″ 25″ 36″ (or size 10-12)

Diagnosis: You’re Doing it Wrong

A week ago I stretched out on a medical table, while a woman squeezed cold gel onto my back and then pressed down–hard. The last time I was in such a situation, it was my belly getting the fabulous sticky service and a tiny life was growing within me.

Now there are cysts. In fact, there probably have always been cysts.

I’ve been reluctant to bring this up in journal because over the past three years I have been in and out of doctor’s offices, and every time they come up with some new diagnosis. I then go throw myself into the motions of treatments, but after the first few months and no results I toss in the towel. One can only take so much failure before they begin to blame the system.

Honestly? I feel like a hypochondriac every time I shift around in that paper gown on a cold examination table. They run their tests. Insulin resistance. Low blood sugar. Pre-diabetic. Diabetic. But most of the time they just look at me and say “morbidly obese”.

This time I waited to go in. Instead of jumping the gun I waited until my period lasted two months, until my blood sugar levels became so aggravated that not eating the moment I woke up would cause violent nausea for the rest of the day. I waited until I developed yet another bald spot. Then I sat on that table, glared daggers at the whip thin OB who had told me to “do cardio for an hour a day, and cut out all grains”, and asked her what was happening.

Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. It would explain the insulin resistance without it being diabetes. It would explain the stomach weight that never seems to go anywhere as I lose inches on my arms and legs. It would explain the mood swings, the horrible periods. Basically? Everything.

I have four cysts on my right ovary. Two and a possible third on my left. The radiologist thinks they’ve been there for some time. Maybe even before I conceived Abigael. Making her a miracle baby. Glorious. What I can’t help but wonder is why, when all my symptoms were the same if not worse a year, two years ago? Why did it take until NOW for them to figure it out?

The Vow

I have come to openly accept that my eating in the past decade has been disordered. I teeter on the precipice of binge eating or complete starvation to assuage emotional and mental issues. Issues I have been dealing with for over twelve years, and still refuse to let go. I need to let go.

So here is my vow. To my daughter and to myself, may the internet witness me.

• I vow that while counting calories I will not ignore healthy fats or proteins to lower that daily number.
• I vow that exercise will not exceed one hour every day, and that hour will be divided into cardio and weight training.
• I vow to never use surgery or diet pills of any kind to substitute for my own will power. I will only get a breast reduction if my chiropractor and PCP agree it is medically necessary.

I will be myself. I will be true to the body God gave to me and not attempt to harm it or starve it into what I believe is beautiful–because the world is wrong. I am wrong and I am going to fix this.

• I vow to go back into therapy.
• I vow to keep all psychiatrist, psychologist and chiropractor appointments.

So say we all. Amen.

An Open Letter

To those who oppose Healthy at Every Size,

As I pour over the endless support blogs, articles and scientific findings provided by the fatosphere, I also have the displeasure of finding all manner of trolls. Or worse professionals who have not taken the time to read our manifest, and instead jump to conclusions. So here I am going to set some of you straight.

The New Paradigm does not support or encourage binge eating. It does not support sitting on your “fat ass” all day eating ho hos. It does not support neglect, or negligence to your person. Every single one of us in the movement knows and is aware of our health. We understand and know how we got to where we are, whether it was by genetics, or gaining baby weight after one or multiple pregnancies. It may have been a bout of depression after a traumatic time in our lives, or it just might be unavoidable. Or maybe it’s the eight cokes we drink a day to keep ourselves awake as we work two shifts, or attend higher education.

Or it could just be that the size we are naturally isn’t the accepted aesthetic. We could be healthier than our size six counterpart, we could run every day and eat nothing but the healthiest of foods of appropriate portioning, and we would STILL be considered obese.

We are not shirking personal responsibility. We are arguing something much bigger, much more treacherous than whose fault it is that we fit in plus size apparel.

We are fighting a ridiculous and often unattainable standard. We are fighting the cookie cutter cute, the one size fits all beauty the magazines and media sell us. We are spreading awareness about the dangers of dieting, the lies that are told to young woman and men by their schools, peers and parents. Because no one knows any better, because this is how it has always been.

We are fighting for the right to be understood. That yes. We are overweight. But there are reasons we are, and they are more complex and dynamic than “we eat too much and never exercise.” Because we are human beings, and nothing is as simple as black and white when it comes to an individual.

So spare me your lectures on fitness, and that “just walking every day” is going to fix my problem. Because I have been down that road, I have followed all of your rules, and I am still considered obese. I have been obese since I was 14 and on a competitive swim team. So please. Spare yourself the trouble, and actually READ our manifest.

Then come back and tell me I’m less of a person because I have a higher BMI than you do.

There was a time when I would wake up in the morning and immediately set to doing thirty minutes of cardio. Before anything else was done in the day, I was on my DDR mat or out jogging the neighborhood–swimming, biking, anything to start my day off with at least three hundred calories down.

I would then write down every last thing that passed through my lips including beverages and measured out condiments.

I totaled my calories for the day at mid afternoon, divide them in half. I would then do another bout of cardio to make sure I annihilated that half from my system. I drank nothing but water. I made sure that I had three meals a day, but they were broken up into tiny snack sized portions. I ate no more than 800 calories after exercise. For an entire summer I did this, every single day and was applauded. I managed to drop into a size ten pair of pants, down to about 130 at my thinnest.

It has been the only way I have ever lost substantial weight.

I recognize my disordered eating, I was never completely anorexic–the headaches, the crushing migraines kept me from it–but I wanted to be that thin. Bones and skin and beauty all wrapped into a neat, minute package. The fatosphere and all it’s comfort and support won’t rid me of that underlying self hatred.

I can’t say that I no longer want that ideal. I know I will be healthier, happier at my Betty Paige goal. But sometimes I honestly believe I deserve to starve.

Whitney

A show that is near and dear to my heart is America’s Next Top Model. I’ve felt that for years now Tyra Banks has promoted the healthy, curvy figure that so many girls need to see in high fashion.  I don’t expect the fashion world to wake up one day and instantly realize that they’ve been promoting disordered eating.  Because I think they all ready know. The entire industry is built around external beauty, no one should be shocked that it’s built on self destructive behavior.

But I think Tyra is genuinely trying to make change happen, and for that I tip my glass to her.

AntM is contrived and campy. The challenges they put the girls through are exaggerated circumstances of the modeling world but let us face it, we love watching it. We love the eliminations, we love the photo shoots–and most of all we love the drama. You can’t tell me that when they were picking the final thirteen for the show, they weren’t saying “these two are NEVER going to get along. Let’s stick them in a house with ten other girls!”. It is first and foremost about entertainment.

So when you read the accusations that Whitney was asked to gain weight for the show (so she could be a whopping 8 to 10), or that she was guaranteed a spot in the final three? Believe it. I have no doubt that could have easily happened. And I don’t think it devalues her win whatsoever.  Her portfolio was one of the strongest, and compared to her competition Whitney could take direction like a fish to water.  I think it would have been better TV if she had gone up against Fatima in the final round, because I felt that girl could rake Anya across the coals—but I digress.

In the end it doesn’t matter how or why she got the grand prize–it’s that she did.  Even if it was a contrived victory, that still means the producers felt a heavy enough pressure to maneuver her into the final three. Which means we’re being heard, and change is starting.  Yes we need a clean win somewhere else, but I think the required bone density scans in Italian shows is another massive step forward.

So kudos to you Whitney, well played.

Weigh In: Month Four and Five

Hello neglected blog, I swear I haven’t forgotten you. Really, it’s school. It keeps eating all my time, but I swear to you baby I’m going to start treating you nice. Take you places. Just give me one more shot.

We will not speak of the month of March. Dark times. Dark times. Instead lets turn to happier things, month four’s weigh in.

Previous Weight: 16 stone

Measurements: 50″ 45″ 48″

Current Weight: 14 stone

Measurements: 49″ 45″ 47″

Are those results I see there? Who knew exercising and eating right would actually work. Crazy talk! I’m going to post pictures this week for visual reference. The lauded Before pictures everyone wants to see once you’ve become fabulous. I might even *gasp* write in here! Don’t hold your breath kids.

Weigh In Redux?

Due to my overwhelming frustration with my lack of weight loss, I hopped on the scale at my gym today. Because nothing cheers you up more, than reaffirming the giant number you add up to. I ticked the weights to 200 and then 25. It didn’t balance out. Perplexed, I skittered the smaller weight towards the lower numbers–still too heavy. The hell? I continue to do this until I get right down to 205–it balances out. I hopped off. I walked around, got back on. Same. Number. I ran out to the desk biscuit, and I was like “could you come weigh me, because I think I’m doing it wrong.” She laughed and agreed, apparently there are a lot of women with incorrect scales at home.

Same number.

I asked if there was any possibility that the number before us was wrong? Perhaps the scale had missed it’s recent maintenance. She laughed again and said that it is accurate by an ounce.

…
…..

So give or take an ounce, I weigh 205. So. Updated Month 3 Weigh In:

Previous Weight: 16 stone

Measurements: 50″ 45″ 48″

Current Weight: 14.6 stone

Measurements: 50″ 45″ 47″