Sassy Sexy Shapely

“No question about it, tomorrow is back on track.  But it does bother me that I’ve had this attitude lately. UGH! Do we EVER conquer this problem?!“

I have felt like that SO many times!  It was unbelievably refreshing to read this on Tatum’s Mom’s blog.  i am grateful to bloggers who share their ups and downs.  It means a lot to know I’m not struggling in isolation.  But the question remains: do we ever get over it, past it, through with it?  Or, do we continue to battle against being a fat person for all eternity?

I’m still in that phase where I’m 3 pounds above my goal, and it’s frustrating.  What’s weird is that, inevitably when this happens, someone runs into me and asks if I’ve lost weight, complimenting me on how I look.  It happened just this morning.  As I exited the stairwell, I ran into someone from another office that hadn’t seen me in several weeks.  He said, “Have you lost weight.  You look great!”  Naturally, it was a morale booster.  It also reminded me that exercise can make you look smaller while adding a bit of weight to your body.

I’ve recently increased the weights I use during my strength routine.  Plus, I’ve tried some new workouts: Muay Thai and Cardio X.  I’ve even installed a pull-up bar, doing daily pull-ups, albeit only one at a time.  It could be that these changes are keeping the scale up while whittling my middle.

Thank goodness for blogs and people who share compliments when they have ‘em.  It provides much needed perspective.

Fashion critics calling Karolina Kurkova fat have created quite an uproar.  People are outraged, as well they should be.  If the pictures shown as evidence of her “weight gain” are any indication, it’s a patently ridicious assertion.

In reading about it, I stumbled across a comforting little tidbit.

For the record, I’ve been to several of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Shows (of which Karolina is a star), and ya know what? Almost every girl has a bit of cellulite–some more than others. Why? Because most women, even (gasp!) models, have cellulite, that’s why.

How nice to know!  Most of us aware of the airbrushing that modifies nearly every image we see, but it’s still easy to forget and accept what’s presented to us as reality.  I am *very* relieved to find out that even the most beautiful among us have less than perfect skin.  Maybe I’m not as far off the beauty mark as I sometimes think.

Turns out, reading a fitness magazine while exercising can demotivate, rather than inspire, according to a new study authored by Ann Wertz Garvin, a health and physical education professor at the University of Wisconsin in Whitewater. 

“The results suggest that negative effects of reading ultra-fit magazines may cancel out the mood-boosting effects of exercise, says Garvin. Exactly why is unclear, though she speculates that women may become depressed because they feel they’ll never look as good as the magazine models or that the women already look fit but have low self-esteem and seeing the images doesn’t help.”

I can relate to these results although I don’t read while I’m exercising.  (The workouts I do now don’t allow for reading, but even when I went to the gym, I listened to music or watched TV instead of reading.)  I suscribe to several fitness magazines, including Oxygen, which was used in the study, and I can confirm that thumbing through them is sometimes depressing.

The mags periodically bum me out because they set standards that seem impossible to achieve, at least for me.  I occasionally come away from reading them with the feeling that I’m not working hard enough.  Unfortunately, that feeling doesn’t inspire me to work harder; it just makes it harder for me to keep working out.

Thankfully, this isn’t a huge issue for me.  I’ve been extremely consistent with my exercise since I started my lifestyle change nearly six years ago, and I suspect I always will be.  The mags are more disheartening from a body image standpoint than anything else.  Of course, that’s an issue I have struggled with for a long time, so I certainly don’t fault the publications for it.  I have learned, though, to stop reading them during times when I’m feeling particularly negative about my appearance.  No need to add fuel to the fire during a difficult spell.  The mags will always be there when I am feeling more optimistic and can really benefit from the great ideas and advice they offer.

Yesterday, I gave a website presentation at a trade association luncheon.  As the luncheon wrapped up, one of the attendees approached me and asked, “Are you an athlete?”  I was stunned.  I looked at him curiously and said, “No.”  He commented that my arms were very muscular and that I must work out a lot.  The president of the association hugged me and said, “I’ve been hitting on her all afternoon.”  The attendee, who was apparently a friend of the president, said, “But you’re married, and I’m not.”

I grinned all the way back to the office.  How fabulous that someone noticed my arms and complimented my muscularity!  I have to admit that it’s not the first time; friends down at my BF’s and my favorite bar have said something to me before.  But, this was a complete stranger, and the comment came entirely out of the blue.  It really boosted my mood because I often worry about my arms.  They are, indeed, muscular, but I suffer from the batwing problem that many formerly fat people have to deal with.  It’s not horrendous, but it’s obvious to me… to the point that I am sometimes self-conscious when I wear sleeveless tops.  This made me feel great, extra proud of all my efforts to stay in shape.

And, to think someone thought that *I* was an athlete??  Wow!  I have been the total opposite of an athlete for most of my life, so it’s practically inconceivable to me that someone would view me as such.  Sweet!!

This weekend was difficult, so difficult I didn’t know what to write.  My weight has been hovering between three and five pounds up, and this weekend, it really got me down… really, really down… hide-my-head-in-the-sand-forever down.  I was uninspired, couldn’t come up with a “bright” side, couldn’t find or think of anything positive to post.  Since many of my friends read this blog, I am hesitant to post anything too negative.  So, I didn’t post.

Interestingly enough, it was Barnes & Noble that helped me raise my head to the sunshine again.  My BF and I made a visit on a balmy evening, and there on a table near the front was “The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted: And Other Small Acts of Liberation” by Elizabeth Berg.  The title chapter is first, and it’s great.  The main character decides she’s going to eat whatever she wants for a day, and she takes us on that journey.  After breakfast at a donut shop, lunch of a juicy burger, salty fries and a creamy shake at another cafe, and dessert at yet another eatery, she says:

“By now I was feeling the shame but also defiance.  Like here, I’m carrying the banner for all of you who cut off a little piece wanting a big one, who spend a good third of your waking hours feeling bad about your desires…”

“A good third of your waking hours feeling bad about your desires…” So, so, so true!  I am fighting what I want A-L-L D-A-Y L-O-N-G.  It is exhausting!  Reining those urges and impulses takes a tremendously tiring effort.  And, it’s so frequently disappointing.  If I could lay back at the end of the day and enjoy 30 minutes of genuine self-congratulation and satisfaction, it might be worth it.  Instead, I lament the tiny failures, the lapses in control.

There’s more to this gem of an essay, and nearly all of it suits me to a tee.  I highly recommend picking it up.  I am looking forward to the “other small acts liberation” in upcoming chapters.  It’s nice to have a “safe” outlet for those undesirable desires of mine… nice to be able to read about people who are not staying in their boxes, doing the right thing.  I don’t want to throw my lifestyle change out the window (usually), but I would like to be a bit freer.  Maybe this inspirational book will help.  Actually, it already has.

Yesterday was one of those extremely rare occurences: a perfect eating day.  I stuck exactly to my calorie goal and ate 100% clean, even with stopping briefly at our favorite bar after work and even with my BF taking me out to dinner.  This happens VERY infrequently; 99.9% of the time, I do not achieve my diet goals exactly as I’ve set them.  There’s that golden 0.1% of the time, though, when something miraculous happens, and I’m able to do it just right.  Yes, yesterday was one of those days, and thinking of it makes me smile.

Today, however, was not one of those days.  It was a more typical day, a “pretty good” day.  I *mostly* achieved my goals today, but I wasn’t perfect.  I am always vaguely disappointed by these days.  There’s a subtle feeling that I’ve let myself down.  I remind myself that, for example, I fit in my 15 sets stairs despite an incredibly busy day, that I ate quality, nutritious food when I really wanted a greasy burger with salty fries, that I stopped myself from gorging when I got home with a voracious appetite.  But then a movie trailer featuring Angelina Jolie flashes on the TV screen, and my flaws come soaring to the forefront, flaws that it seems like I could fix if worked hard enough.  I am discouraged by my inability to make myself the absolute best I can be. 

So, I comfort myself with the thought that tomorrow is another day, another opportunity to get it exactly right, to achieve my goals perfectly, to be strong enough to resist the urge to veer off course.  Tomorrow may very well be one of those wonderful rare occurences, and that possibility sustains me, gives me hope that, if I just keep at it, if I don’t give up, I can do it.

 Today is my birthday.  As many of us do when a birthday arrives, I’ve been thinking about where I am in my life, at this age.  Excitingly enough, my life is the best it’s ever been.

• I’m the smallest/lightest I’ve ever been as an adult, wearing a size 4/6.
• I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in, getting in four to six days of cardio and two sessions of weight training consistently every week.

Even though it makes sense to list these things first because of the blog’s subject, it still seems like I’m giving them too much importance.  But, the fact is, they are important.  For me, losing weight and exercising has not been about vanity, although appearance has played a role.  These accomplishments are the result of me taking charge of my health and wellbeing… watching the physical deterioration of people I loved and deciding to do everything I could to keep that from happening to me.  They represent years - literally, years - of persistence and commitment through really tough personal challenges.  They represent starting over again, time and after time, because I was unwilling to give up in spite of how hard it was… and how hard it continues to be.  This says a lot about how I feel about myself and my ability to stick to it, whatever “it’ may be. 

• I have wonderful boyfriend to share my life with.

Wow!  This truly is incredible.  As my marriage went south, I began to doubt that a quality relationship was in the cards for me.  The divorce and subsequent dating misadventures reinforced the doubt.  And, yet, here I am, a year and a half into an amazing experience that’s blossoming into a genuine partnership.  We had some ups and downs at the beginning, but we overcame those to start again with an appreciation for what we both bring to the table.  We continue to get better as we go along.  It’s beyond cool.

• I have a terrific job that is intense, exhausting and exhilarating all at the same time.

My new gig has taken me in an unexpected direction and is a daily learning experience.  Plus, I am finally back to the salary level I was before I relocated here, actually a little bit more.  Not to mention the excellent retirement benefits.  Woohoo!

• I remain blessed with a fabulous family and fantastic friends.
• I am the proud of owner of The Best Cat on the Planet.
• I live in a spacious condo which I’ve been able to fill with my own original artwork. Even better, it’s on the second floor, so I get at least an additional set of stairs in every day! 

Happy Birthday to me, and a giant “thank you” for all the blessings I enjoy every day!

These two articles really resonated with me.  I hope you find them as insightful as I did.

Are you too obsessed with the scale? by Margarita Bertsos

Powerful Paragraph:

“This weekend, when I got on the scale and discovered I’d gained a few pounds, I had a moment of sheer panic–panic that I will never reach my goal, that I’ll never get the body I want and that I’d let all of you down who’ve been reading about my journey. After 24 hours of sulking (and washing it down with far too many servings of frozen yogurt), I force-fed myself a major reality check: I am NOT perfect. And being a shape-up blogger does not require that I am. I will have days when I dip into the office peanut-butter cups far too many times; and days when I’ll have no good reason not to go to the gym and yet I still won’t get there; and moments of thinking (irrationally) that, just because I put back on a few pounds, all of the progress I’ve made so far means nothing. I’ve got to cut myself some slack to do and feel all of these things–and then I’ve got to get back on the shape-up horse and move forward!”

Body of Work: Weight-loss surgery is the easy way out  by Anne Fitzgerald

Powerful Paragraph:

“I took the easy way out, after all. It was too hard to love myself at 300 pounds. I wasn’t healthy, sure, and I needed to be lighter for my knees, my heart, my blood sugar–but I also bought into everything that told me I was ugly, unpleasant to look at, not good enough. It’s still frequently difficult to love myself at 140 pounds, to tell you the truth–nobody is immune to self-esteem issues, to insecurity and doubt, and it’s not fair to suggest that a thin person is not allowed to feel as uncomfortable in her body as a fat person. They’re just as subject to the pictures of flawless, Photoshopped bodies and taut thighs and sculpted abs maybe they’ll never have. But it is entirely fair to suggest that they sure have it easier, in a million tiny ways.”

I love to read the Back in Skinny Jeans blog. Steph tackles tough issues as well providing handy diet-and-exercise tips and poking fun at the kookier side of our looks-obsessed culture. In short, there is always something interesting and frequently thought provoking to read at Back in Skinny Jeans.

I was particularly impressed by her post about “The Leather Jacket Metaphor“. In it, Steph discusses how for years she avoided relationships because she felt she was too flawed to be loved. She then relates how someone once shared The Leather Jacket Metaphor with her.

“But put simply, some guy told me this metaphor years ago about flaws. He said that people love old leather jackets because over time the jacket becomes more interesting and full of character after years of the leather being beaten up, abused, and weathered. The jacket feels more real and soft over time. Who wants a brand new, shiny, stiff, leather jacket? The imperfections is what makes the distressed version more desirable.”

Lord knows, many of us have probably worried we’re too scarred – literally and figuratively - to warrant a healthy, loving relationship. This isn’t a new issue. But, somehow, this metaphor – which I’d never heard before – captures the essence of what we need to know about ourselves. Our quirks and idiosyncrasies, along with our ability to overcome challenging, sometimes horrendous, circumstances, make us the intriguingly complex creatures we are. They give us depth. They demonstrate our resilience. This makes us attractive to others because it shows that we’re able to appreciate and support a partner who’s been scarred in his or her own way.

I will remember this metaphor. It’s a great way to see myself.

At the end of our off-roading adventure this weekend, one of the guys on the trip surprised me, as we were all saying our goodbyes, by commenting, “I also need to thank you.”  “For what?”, I responded.  “For showing me that old, fat, bald guys can still get beautiful women.”  I was shocked.  First of all, I wouldn’t characterize my BF that way, although he is, indeed, a burly guy who shaves his head.  But, more than that, I was surprised that this fellow saw me as a beautiful woman. 

Today, as I was walking out of work to head to a meeting, a gentleman said, “Mmm…mmm” to me as he gave me a once-over with a big grin.  Again, it took me completely by surprise. 

Part of the reason these things were especially unexpected is that I’ve been appalled by the pictures of myself that we took on our trip.  I look awful in them, and consequently, I think I look awful in the flesh.  In fact, the horror of these pics has been weighing on my mind, really troubling me the last couple of days.  Having seen how I looked out there on the trail, I can’t believe our off-roading buddy would find me beautiful.

There’s a disconnect somewhere, and I’m not sure how to navigate it.  I know the reality of how I look, and yet I receive compliments that are counter to that reality.  I can’t believe the compliments are true.  They seem to me to be merely kind words that various people felt inclined to bestow on me for whatever reason.  It was their day to be kind to strangers or something.  I know what I see in the mirror; I know the truth of those pictures.  Yet, there must be some truth to the positive feedback; it comes from too broad a range of people - in varying circumstances - to be completely discounted.

I’m not sure what to do.  I believe I have so much improvement to make physically, much of which cannot be obtained without surgery.  It feels overwhelming and discouraging.  I try so hard not to overeat only to be confronted by these flaws that won’t go away… and the knowledge that it will only get harder as I get older.  It makes me want to scrap the whole thing.  It makes me long for the early days with my ex-husband when we were two fatties who loved each other and ate without regard for pant size.

As usual, I will keep on keepin’ on, although sometimes I’m not sure why.  Fear?  Lack of money for a new wardrobe?  The hope that one day I’ll attain some sort of peace?  That’s it; I still believe, somewhere down deep, that one day, I will be at peace with my physical self, that I will see the beauty that others, however weirdly, seem to notice.  Maybe then the compulsive cravings will stop, too, and I will be okay with it all.  Let’s hope.