BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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And Now This…

Well hello. Long time, no see.

My apologies.

I could give you a list of excuses, but let’s just not do that, ok?

Frankly, I haven’t had the writing mojo lately. I haven’t had much mojo at all lately, if I’m really honest. My house is a mess, my body is worse, and my get up and go got up and went. And then I went to the doctor.

You see, I’ve had a difficult year. Nothing bad has happened. Not. One. Thing.

My son is fine, my sweetheart is fine, even the dog is fine. Thank goodness.

My work was rewarding, my class was one of the finest I’ve ever taught, and I enjoyed the way our team organized our teaching this year. Even our new administrator surpassed my expectations, so all the work boxes were checked.

So, what then?

What’s been holding me back? Zapping my energy and motivation?

I’m not sure, but I think that having my son go off to college was a little harder for me than I anticipated. Silly, really. He was in the next suburb. The one where I work. I saw him about once a week. And there were nice things about having an adult only home, like no dirty socks in the family room, and no dirty dishes all over the house. But in truth, I didn’t adjust very well.

If I’m totally honest, I think I was a little depressed, and since old habits are hard to break, I went back to my favorite method of self-medicating, food. So. Much. Food. And not the good kind, either, At least not usually.

And then, somehow, I managed to miss my bloodwork. And I missed it again. And again. Until the doctor’s office refused to authorize my medication and I had to go in. I did. And it wasn’t good.

My healthcare provider (who happens to be a PA, and a damn good one) called our appointment my “Come to Jesus” meeting, and he laid it on the line for me. Damn. So now, again, I have to start over. Have to. No choice. No excuses. Sad or lonely or whatever, too bad. I have to get this done.

I don’t want to weigh what I weigh.

I don’t want to become an insulin dependent diabetic.

I don’t want to have to buy two airline seats.

I don’t want to have low back pain from just walking around.

I don’t want to have to pay a premium for clothes that fit and look nice.

I don’t want to take so many pills a day.

I don’t want to huff and puff when I exert myself.

I don’t want to hold back my sweetheart or my son.

I don’t want to be embarrassed to be in family pictures.

I don’t want my mother to worry about me.

I don’t want to shorten my life.

I don’t want to be stared at.

I don’t want to feel less than.

I don’t want to feel incapable.

So yes, I HAVE to. So I will. Again.

It’s time. Time to pull myself up by my bootstraps and get going. I have some positive steps already in place and more planned. Writing more is one of them. Accountability, baby. So if you’ll indulge me (and so many of you have, over and over), here we go again.

I know I’m not alone. I know we all have challenges we face, and things that we ought to do, but find difficult. I hope you’ll join me in trying to refocus on what’s important, so we can all improve our quality of life, for ourselves, and for our loved ones.

 


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The One Armed Wonder, or What’s My Excuse?

(One of my earliest blog posts. I was so inspired by Ryan! Originally published June 27, 2013.)

 

tumblr_mozfa2rZOp1rri1fao1_400Did you happen to catch Extreme Weight Loss on ABC last night? It featured a young man from Appleton, WI who not only started losing weight at 410 lbs, but did so with one arm. This young man, Ryan, gave it all he had and lost over two hundred pounds over the course of a year. Ok, he had help. Lots of help. But so what? Could I do it, even with help? Could you?

Here’s the thing, I have help. Maybe you do too. We all (well, you and I anyway) have the internet, so we have TONS of resources, right? And if you’re anything like me, you already know plenty about health, fitness, and nutrition. I’ve often said I could write the book… but would I read it?

Maybe you’re stubborn, like me. Or a slow learner. Or a procrastinator. Or in denial. Maybe you are so incredibly stunningly gorgeous that the very thought of altering your appearance in any way, including by losing even an ounce, is unacceptable to you. Or maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to try. Again.

That’s what this is all about for me. Allowing myself the space to try again and again and again. That’s what it’s going to take for me. I’m fat. Really really fat. I could stand to lose at least 100 lbs. Seriously. You’re welcome to come along, or stand on the sidelines and watch. Laugh when you want to, sob if you feel like it, but do something. This business of doing nothing is crap.


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But What Is My Body Saying?

This eat the right thing and get enough sleep and make sure to move my body thing just hasn’t been working out recently. I could give you all the reasons, but honestly, it will just sound like a list of excuses, so I’ll spare you the details and just skip it.

This, of course, has been an ongoing battle for me. Sometimes things click and I do well, and other times I slip into my old bad habits and any progress toward improving my health habits quickly disappears. It’s frustrating, especially since it’s purely my choices that derail me.

I had a conversation the other night with a yoga instructor about some of these struggles (as we were enjoying our cocktails and hors d’oevres). She has worked with all sorts of people over the years, with all sorts of body types and issues. She is also human, as has had her own struggles over the years. She has changed her diet more than once, and her advice to me was, “listen to your body.”

It sounded like good advice. Our bodies, after all, are incredible. They do so much for us, and they constantly make tiny adjustments without us even thinking about it. The whole keeping the heart beating and keeping the lungs breathing routine is awe-inspiring. The body is no dummy, so it makes sense to try to listen to it. I’m okay with this idea. In fact, I kind of like the thought.

The problem, however, is that my body and I don’t seem to speak the same language. I have no idea what it’s saying much of the time. I confuse fatigue with hunger, and I often allow myself to get to the point where I’m completely parched, or the opposite, my bladder feels as though it might explode. How come I don’t take care of these things earlier? I just don’t really seem to notice or understand the signals that my body gives. Either that, or my body gives me the wrong signals.

That was certainly the case during my pregnancy. I didn’t even know I was pregnant for five months. Yes, you read that correctly. And no, I’m not a hillbilly, I took Human Growth and Development in school. It’s just that my body didn’t react the way that most bodies do. As in, I didn’t know I was pregnant because I was bleeding every month. TMI? Sorry, but it’s true. By the time I knew I was pregnant at all it was late December, and by the time I found out my real due date (at my first appointment with an actual MD), it was the last day of February! My boy was born, full term, on April 1. Fitting, don’t you think?

So that’s a brief history of the lack of communication between my body and me. Yes, I will try to listen a little bit closer, but jeez, it doesn’t always work!