Soldiering On…

My Honey and I had a fabulous homecoming from his disappointing and scary motorcycle race, and my mum’s husband is out of the hospital and doing well.

I started an intense and highly selective leadership program, and we just returned from a very fun camping trip with friends… our first camping experience as a married couple and in the rain.  Nothin’ like snugglin’ up with your man while the thunder booms overhead and lightning flashes through the mesh windows.

I enjoyed the healthy stuff I brought for the trip, but I also indulged in some goodies brought by others: Oreos, Doritos and homemade s’mores, which we managed to cook over a damp fire in between rain showers.  I talked to my girlfriend a little about my weight gain and how I’ve been struggling for several months being 7 or so pounds up.  She said she couldn’t tell, which was nice… made even nicer by the fact that she’s extremely direct and would tell me straight up if she felt otherwise.  It was nice, along with being away from the computer and cell phone access, not to have a scale around and not to keep track of every morsel.  I felt free to just be me and do what I wanted to do with some moderating.

Returning to the real world this afternoon, I picked up the mail and found the latest issue of “More” magazine.  Candace Bushnell’s column really resonated.  Titled “Why I’m a beauty scrooge”, it details why she is against cosmetic surgery.  She relates a story in which, earlier in life, she’s offered a half-price boob job. Even with a huge discount, she couldn’t afford it, and she realized she was “…just going to have to soldier on” with her “…grossly imperfect body”.

That is EXACTLY how I feel on most days: that I am soldiering on with a grossly imperfect body.  It was wonderful to read that Candace Bushnell, an extremely successful writer and a “cougar” with a much younger boyfriend, has felt this way for years.  As she says, the message is “change your looks, and you can change your life”. 

Here’s the funny thing, though.  I have done that!  I have drastically changed my looks, and I have drastically changed my life.  It’s actually pretty darned amazing.  The life I’m living now is one I never even dreamed of.  It’s miraculous to me.  I am doing things personally and professionally that are exciting and challenging and notable.  I am making a difference in my community, and going on adventures, big and small, with my new husband.  My life has a surreal quality. 

Yet, I am still “soldiering on” when it comes to my looks.  There are days – after I see myself on TV or after I see a Facebook picture of a friend in a bikini who never let herself get fat and then had to fix it – that I am utterly devastated by what I see in the mirror… so much so that the urge to hide in the closet is nearly irresistible.  But, I soldier on, knowing that I cannot discount the love of my man by dissing what he sees as beautiful… knowing that my contribution to work is based on my skills and attitude, not my face or body shape… knowing that my support and appreciation of my friends and family has nothing to do with the size of my jeans. 

I hope to get past the soldiering.  It’s admirable but tiresome, and in my case, it’s wasteful of valuable energy.  It helps me live life fully, bringing me a kind of stubborn resolve to try that new thing “in spite of”, but it takes a toll at the same time, leeching joy and peace.

Instead, I hope to be able to truly embrace my transformation and appreciate its significance now… and what it will lead to in the future that I can’t yet see.  I guess I’ll keep soldiering on toward that goal.

Are we ever “cured”?

In September, I will have been doing my lifestyle change for seven years.  That’s a long time, and it seems like it should have gotten easier.  Unfortunately… not so much.

I have been struggling for the last few months with a 7-pound weight gain.  I know why: I’ve got a huge amount of stress in my life right now.

1) I’m planning a wedding.  Even though it’s an untraditional wedding, low-key by wedding standards, it’s still a big event, and big events require a lot of work.

2) I’ve branched into doing TV for my work.  It’s extremely difficult to see myself on television.  To me, the flaws are glaringly obvious and exacerbated by the medium.  I’ve been fighting not to get depressed over it, but it’s tough.

3) I’ve been doing a lot more public speaking on evenings and weekends.  I am so excited to be doing this outreach because it’s critical to get the consumer protection messages out there.  But, there’s a lot of pressure when you’re dealing with people face-to-face who’ve been victims of fraud or are losing their homes.  They want answers, and they want those answers from you.  It’s also tiring to prepare and to work the extra hours.  It’s definitely worth it, but it takes a toll.

4) My fiance and I have been doing a lot traveling, off-roading and camping with various mishaps occurring along the way like wheels falling off vehicles, getting lost, flying at weird times of day, etc.  Lack of sleep and anxiety bring out my desire to munch.

Most of my stress is “good” stress, coming from positive events in my life.  But, when I’m stressed, no matter where that stress comes from, I want to eat.  When I get tired, I want to eat.  At times, that urge to eat is nearly irresistable.  In fact, it’s proven to be irresistable for me a lot recently, which is why I’m up seven pounds.

Do we ever get “cured” of overeating?  Will I ever be “normal” in how I approach food?  I don’t think so; I think I’ll always have this yoke around my neck.  It will be lighter sometimes, but it’ll always be there.

It’s an issue that obesity researchers continue to explore.  Irene Rubaum-Keller’s article “What is recovery from addiction?” asks, “If you are an addict, can you ever really get well or are you just destined to manage your tendency to be addicted to things/people/substances forever?”.  My experience tells me I will not “get well”, that instead I’ll just be managing the situation for the rest of my life.  And it bums me out that experts, people who’ve been researching this problem for years, don’t have any answers for me.

Rubaum-Keller says:

The bottom line is; we don’t know the answer to that question. The definition of recovery the committee came up with was this “a voluntarily maintained lifestyle composed characterized by sobriety, personal health, and citizenship.” It involves trading the easy drug/sex/gambling/food/shopping/alcohol high, with something more difficult to attain that is also more meaningful and lasting. Recovery does not just mean sobriety. It is a more holistic experience that involves improving one’s life in various ways.

I am committed to the path I’ve chosen, and for the most part, I’m glad I made the choice.  But voluntary maintenance is HARD.  I keep expecting it to get easier, and it just doesn’t.  That’s my reality.  For now, I can’t change it, so I’ve got to be aware of it and work with it the best I can.

In my current situation, I’m trying to focus on the fact that all I’ve gained is seven pounds.  I’m also proud of having taken on a very intensive exercise program with P90X.  My body is really strong; all my clothes still fit.  I’m having the adventure of a lifetime.  I’m managing the food situation successfully for the most part.  That’s the best I can do, and it has to be good enough for now.

Week 2 of P90X

I’m halfway through Week 2 of P90X.  It’s a terrific program.  So challenging.  Ab Ripper X, which I did tonight after doing the shoulders & arms workout, makes me use LOTS of foul language.  It’s tough, man!

The hardest one for me, though, is Yoga X.  That’s the one I have to do tomorrow.  I’ve always found yoga hard.  The longheld poses that seem to stretch the muscles endlessly kill me.  It will take everything I’ve got tomorrow to stick with it.  I can do kick-ass cardio and multiple weight reps forever (well, not really forever, but you know what I mean), but yoga… yowsa!  Sheer determination is the only thing that gets me through.

And, it’s a bit of a shame that it’s so tough for me because yoga is extremely good for you.  The whole mind-body thing is very important to good health and battling illnesses and stress.  I need to do yoga, even if I don’t want to.  As much as I recognize the importance of mind-body workouts, I have trouble making myself do ‘em.  I need to work on it, and this is an unexpected benefit of doing the P90X program.

I wonder, will I get “ripped” like the people in the ads?  I have some muscle definition, but it’s hard to imagine myself all cut like “those people”.  Supposedly it’s possible.  I just want to complete the program and lean out.

I’m a little apprehensive because we will be traveling on workout days over the next several weeks, so I will not be able to do all the workouts.  I will bring DVDs with me and do the workouts on the computer when we go to San Diego next weekend.  But, the week after we’ll be camping on the Grand Canyon, and I doubt we’ll bring the computer with us.  It’s a constant challenge with the life I lead with my fiance to stay on track.  There are ALWAYS special circumstances.  In fact, it’s really more of a special circumstance when there aren’t special circumstances.

I should give myself kudos for being able to adapt and adjust, but instead I usually feel frustrated and like I’m doing it half-assed.  Bottom line: I can only do what I can do, and clearly it’s worked for the most part.  I keep having to tell myself that!  Boy, it takes some of us a long time to internalize the message, eh? 

Anyway, I’m really enjoying P90X so far.  It’s great to be so challenged and to know that after another week, new challenges will come.  It’s great to save some money and to be home at night where I can do laundry or other things while working out.  P90X rocks!

Staying young by weighing more?

“Showing your age”, a slideshow on MSNBC, features photos of twins from a study on how we age.  The sub-head reads: “A new study finds that lifestyle habits affect how you visibly age”.  When I read the words “lifestyle habits” in conjunction with the words “visibly age”, I think of eating bad food, drinking too much alcohol, not exercising, and smoking. Given that preconception, I was surprised by what I learned when I delved into the article.

In all cases except one, the younger-looking twin was heavier.  Sure, a couple of them took hormones, and one was a non-smoker.  But, in nearly all the cases, the common element among the more youthful twins was the extra pounds they were carrying.  Fascinating!

I have been thinking about this as I hover around my ideal weight.  Depending on the day, I want to lose 3 to 7 more pounds.  Every now and then, though, I catch a passing glimpse of my face in the mirror and worry that my face may be a tad too thin, thereby aging me.  It has occurred to me that I am good right where I am because my face and body are nicely filled out.  Another area I’ve noticed this having an impact is in my upper tummy.  My literal transformation didn’t address the upper area, and if I get too thin, the skin there will sag unattractively. It needs a bit of fat to stay plumped.

As with the revelation that we need only 7 minutes of vigorous exercise a week to stave off Type II Diabetes, this gives me permission to ease up a little on myself.  Of course, it only seems to relieve the pressure for a moment, and then I’m back to feeling anxious about not exercising enough or about carrying two or three extra pounds more than my lowest number on the scale.  Maybe if I read enough of these reports, it’ll finally sink in, and I’ll be able to relax into the me that I am now without fretting.

The body that could have been

Today I did something bold, something brazen, something I have never done before: I wore a cropped top that bared my midriff in public.  Yowsa!  It was an angst-filled experience yet enlightening, too.

After undergoing a literal transformation – as well as the more metaphorical one I’ve been undertaking since I began my lifestyle change 6 years ago, I have opened myself to the possibilty of showing my tummy for the world to see.  I recently found a TapOut cropped exercise top at the Ross, and I bought it.  I decided to wear it to my next series of classes at the pole fitness studio, and today was the day.

I couldn’t bring myself to wear it without a light jacket when walking to and from the car, but I went full midriff exposure in the pole studio.  When I walked into the room, it felt like everything was happening in slow motion: putting my handbag down up against the back wall, shrugging the jacket off, turning to face the mirror as the jacket came down my arms, glimpsing my tummy in all its mixed glory reflected throughout the studio for the instructor and the students to see.  I waited to hear that quick intake of breath, to see the furrowed brows indicating displeasure.  I held my breath and… nothing happened.

No one yelped in horror at the sight of my imperfect belly.  So, I looked at it, really looked at it, and it was… okay.  I watched it as I sweated my way through Booty Camp and spun through Pole Tricks.  Most of the time, it didn’t look half bad.  Other times, though, like when I was in Downward Dog, the extra skin that remains hung in less-than-glorious teat-like folds. 

While the experience was mostly encouraging and freeing, I was overcome with emotion at the end of my classes.  I realized I was mourning the loss of the body that could have been.  I was grieving for the physique that robbed myself of by overeating from the time I was nine years old.  It was very powerful, and I had to fight to keep from crying as I left the studio. 

When I see young girls now with their unblemished skin and lovely figures, I want to tell them to be good to themselves, to eat properly in moderate quantities and exercise, because they won’t be able to get it back, no matter the promise of cosmetic surgery and pharmaceutical treatments.  I have pretty much done all I can to restore my body to what it could have been, but the stretch marks linger, and my lack of elasticity shows, depending on how I’m positioned.  The body that could have been is gone forever.  It will never be mine, and I’m angry and disappointed and sad about it.  I did this to myself, and there’s only so much I can do to fix it.

On the other hand, I’ve worked my ass off (literally and figuratively!) to get where I am today, and it’s pretty damn good overall.  My skin is generally quite nice, smooth and clear.  I am muscular with a pleasing, curvy shape.  I have endurance and stamina to rival many twenty-year-olds.  I move well and continue to challenge my body in new ways. 

But, until I get through the grieving process and release the body that could have been, I won’t be abe to embrace all the wonderful qualities of the body I’ve created now.  Thus far in my lifestyle change, I have not allowed myself that mourning period.  Based on my experience today, I think it’s time.

You never know what people are thinking

Isn’t it funny how you can go along, having a not-so-good day, feeling goofy about yourself, being just surer than anything that everyone else around you thinks you’re goofy, too?  Or unattractive?  That happens to me fairly frequently.  Because I struggle with my body image so much internally, I tend to think that others are seeing the “bad” stuff I see in my head.

Every now and then, though, I get a much needed reality check.  My BF and I were at our favorite bar last night, celebrating the birthday of the bar’s owner.  We ran into several regulars including one who had been at the bar for their Halloween party.  I was there, too, in my “Mod Bunny” costume, and had chatted with him briefly that night.

Well, last night, he took me aside to tell me that he had never realized until Halloween night, when he saw me in my short mod dress, that I had the most “amazing legs” he’d “ever seen”.  Wow!  How cool is that?!  He went on for a few minutes, telling me that he’s seen a lot of legs in his day, and mine were truly amazing.  He said he even remembered exactly when, that night, he’d noticed… and he described the moment to me.

It was awesome, and it’s another one of those snippets that will go into my “good things” memory vault, to be brought out when I am feeling unaccountably low. 

Not only was a great morale booster for me, but it also reminded me how important it is that we compliment each other when we appreciate something about another person.  You never know when or how those genuinely kind words will benefit someone.  And, you never know for sure what people are thinking.

How do you see yourself?

According to the British Medical Journal, “fewer people identify themselves as overweight or obese, even though they’re growing heavier“. 

Speculation is that we’ve become accustomed to seeing excess weight around us, which makes sense considering that more than 300 million adults in the world are overweight.  It is more common to see a heavy person than a person at a healthy weight.

I know that’s supposed to be bad news, but part of me, when I read this, was cheered by it.  I spent so many years feeling like a minority, always being the heaviest girl in the room, that it’s kinda nice to think that now there are more of “us”.  I remember vividly the sheer joy I felt when I walked into my first NAAFA meeting and saw all the people who looked like me, many of whom were wonderfully wider than I was by quite a bit!

What’s nutty is that I’m no longer one of “us”.  I’m moving into that rarer category of someone who’s at a healthy weight.  Weird how circumstances change, isn’t it?!

Weirder still is that I continue to see myself heavier than I am.  In many ways, I still indentify myself with the “round girls”.  In my mind, I’m thinner than I was but remain “round”. 

Perceptions are crazy things.  How do you see yourself?

You can say that again

Words of wisdom from Michael Rosenbaum, M.D., associate program director of the General Clinical Research Center at Columbia University Medical Center in New York City:

“Anyone who sustains weight loss, which is extremely difficult, has essentially reinvented herself and is worthy of the utmost admiration and respect.”

Snap out of it!

I just got off the phone with my BF’s brother, and talking with him gave me some valuable perspective.  I need to snap out of my dressing-room doldrums. 

My BF’s brother is dealing with several tough circumstances (some of which my BF has on his plate, too).  His mom has dementia and is a living with a cousin in another state.  Thankfully, the cousin is an amazing woman who gives my BF and his brother’s mom better care than any of us could.  But, the dementia is progressively getting worse, and my BF’s brother is understandably extremely concerned about it.  Also, his house has gone into foreclosure.  He’s adjusting to a new job as well as a new, somewhat rocky, relationship.  He’s only sleeping 3 hours a night.

He’s not the only one going through a rough patch.  Three of my friends have been laid off for over a month and a half with no prospects in sight.  My mum recently informed me that her husband is down to 17% kidney function; once he hits 10%, he goes on dialysis.  He’s looking into lap band surgery.  Nationally, the headlines get scarier every day.

And here I am, worrying that I don’t look like a 17-year-old in the buff??  Get over it!!  I have achieved great success in an area most people can’t: losing weight and keeping it off.  Losing 121 pounds – and maintaining that loss – is no small feat.  I have a truly terrific job that pays me quite well and, more importantly, engages my mind and creativity every single day.  I have a nice place to live.  Even the double flooding has lots of blessings attached to it, not the least of which is that my animals and stuff are unharmed, that my landlord is diligent about getting things fixed and that he’s also a high quality person who’s waiving next month’s rent.  I have an extraordinary man who thinks I’m totally beautiful and smart, does lovely little things for me, and is truly a partner in our life together.  I have good friends and adopted family here, people who’ll give me a shoulder to cry on or a place to stay in a heartbeat if I need either one. 

I am beyond blessed, markedly so in these tumultous times.  No more dwelling on the ridiculous anymore.  Many thanks to God and the Universe for blessing me.  May I always appreciate it and celebrate it and be there for others when they need me.

Yikes! My crib flooded twice!

My place has flooded twice.  What’re the odds?!?!  I wasn’t home the first time, but I was home today when it happened again.  I ran into the hallway where water was gushing from my air conditioning unit onto the tile floor, and promptly fell hard on my back.  At first I didn’t feel anything, but tonight, after all the workmen have left and things have calmed down marginally, I am sore and achy and down.

I’ve been trying to look on the bright side, the same way I did the first time.  My cat and hamster are unharmed.  My furniture and artwork and other important items are undamaged.  I have hot and cold running water, and my toilets work.  No A/C this time, but it’s finally starting to cool down here.  My landlord, who had offered me a discount on the rent the first time, is now waiving next month’s rent entirely.  Considering that all the repair expense is on him, I very much appreciate the recognition that my space has been thrown into turmoil and that I’ve had to take at least one vacation day from work.  It was the right thing to do, but he sure didn’t have to do it. 

Despite all the positives, though, I’m bummed out.  My BF is away, working in another state this week.  I always miss him, but I miss him even more at this moment.  I handled it all just fine, but I wish he was here to hug and kiss.

I’m even more bummed out by something unrelated that happened this afternoon.  In the process of the workmen pulling up the baseboards, they cut the wire to the modem’s power supply.  I especially need the modem with my current job because it allows me to check e-mail when I’m not at work.  I deal with the media, and timely responses are critical.  So, access to the Internet and e-mail are critical.  Anyway, I had some questions about replacing the power supply, and my BF was unavailable when I phoned.  So, while I was waiting for him to call me back, I popped into a clothing store I’d never tried before.  It was like a discount Bebe, and I liked a lot of what I saw… sexy, youthful stuff that I could never wear until recently.  When I went to try a couple of items on, I encountered a communal dressing room.  What?!  I’ve never experienced one of those before.  It was kinda creepy, but I bucked up and undressed among strangers. 

Here’s the bummer: seeing so many nearly naked “real” women that were young, little, and attractive – with wall-to-wall mirrors bouncing the images around the room - was a huge downer.  I was extremely discouraged, so much so that I text my BF and told him he should really dump me and get himself a hot young thing with a tight ass instead.  He answered that I was insane, that I was totally beautiful and that he was madly in love with me.  Isn’t he the best?!  Still, as much as I appreciated his wonderful response (that I don’t quite believe, btw), I remained – and continue to be – heartily depressed.  My body is not bad at all for 39, especially now that I’ve had a “literal” transformation.  But, I felt unbearably repulsive… too hideous to even look at.  The feeling lingers now, and I’m not sure how to get through it other than to weather the storm, so to speak, hoping it passes soon.

The logical part of my brain knows that my reaction probably has a lot to do with the flooding: feeling discouraged, frustrated by chaotic surroundings, and unable to control my circumstances.  Knowing that doesn’t help much, unfortunately.  I still feel terribly ugly, and I desperately want to eat, eat, eat to calm down and feel better.  I haven’t done it.  Fingers crossed that I don’t because it won’t help and it’ll make me feel worse.

It amazes me how I continue to feel “not good enough”.  No matter what I do, no matter how much I do, it’s not enough, never enough.  It feels like *I* will never be enough no matter what anyone tells me.  That’s a dangerous place to be.  Live in that place enough, and you can drive away those who love you.  Luckily, I don’t seem to get stuck there too long, or I am able keep the feelings enough at bay that I’m not pushing my BF away every day.  It’s one more thing to overcome.  I wish it was just gone for good.