Why the secrecy?

I have one question that bugs me more than anything. What do I really look like? Oh, don't get me wrong, I know I look like me, but we live in a world of comparisons and benchmarks. It's also a world of lies, spins, deletions, obscurities and omissions. A woman's weight definitely falls into that category. It's considered more appropriate to ask someone their salary than it is to ask a woman her weight. These numbers are guarded like state secrets, and I'm really wondering why. I've been diet blogging for over a year now, and have still never directly mentioned exactly how much I weigh. It took me nearly a year before I could 'fess up to having weighed over 300 pounds.

Regardless of what size I wear or the inches I measure on a tape, I have no clue how that compares to other women. I've always felt like the largest woman in whatever room I was in, no matter what I weighed. I drive my family crazy by asking, "Am I about her size?" I'm never right. With my weight loss, I can't even eyeball clothing and guess that it would fit. My initial choices in clothing are always too large, and I always pick women who are a little smaller. Fearful/wishful thinking? I don't know.

So, what's the big deal? There's no denying I'm fat. Will people think I'm a much worse person if they know the number that goes with the fat than they do if they guess? Am I just moderately repugnant at say 190? a little disgusting at 225? gross at 250? katie bar the door obscene and a threat to our values at 300? or am I the same smart, sweet, funny, thoughtful, provocative, open minded, over the hill southern belle you've come to know and love? (See, I have done some work on that self esteem thing!)

So, when I came across this challenge, it floored me. People, this takes courage! Heck, I've never even had the guts to put out a full body pic in nearly four years of blogging. Looking at the results of her straw poll guessing game was even more interesting. I'm not the only one who has no clue what size people are!

So, I'm inspired, and I'm tired of hiding. I'm Cynthia. I'm 47 years old, 5'8", I weigh 259.6 and wear a size 24. I think I look pretty damn good.

The weekly weigh in, year 2 week 3

Weekly summary: Weekly change, lost 5 pounds. Total weight loss, 76.6 pounds. Average weekly loss, 1.42 pounds.

I've been in a rough patch on my diet. I think it might be in part caused by hitting my anniversary. As many diets as I've been on in my life, I've never managed to last this long on one before, and I've never lost this much weight before either. Unfortunately, it's only normal for me that when things start going well, I start looking for things to go badly, and subconsciously, I look for ways to screw things up. It's taken me a helluva long time to realize that I do that, so I'm actually kind of proud that I've recognized it this soon and started doing something about it.

For the first time since I started this diet, the cravings for certain foods have kicked in. I've wanted not just pizza, but greasy pizza. The baked chips I've come to enjoy wouldn't do, and I had to have original Ruffles with canned onion dip. My onion dip is tastier and healthier than that junk, but that's what I wanted. I even had cravings for cake frosting, straight from the container. When I get to that particular craving, I know I'm in deep. The thing with Weight Watchers is that I can eat all of that stuff if I want it. The key is to keep an overall balanced diet, listen carefully to my body's hunger and thirst signals, and eat reasonable portions. But is that what I did? No, instead I just ate too much and wallowed in the guilt that I was blowing it Yet Again.

Then, my better brain kicked in again. I asked a few hard questions. Is my health where I want it? Well, no. Is the state of my body interfering in the way I want to live my life? Yes. Physical activity is still a burden and a chore. I can't really go hiking in the woods the way I want to. I have to stop and rest too often. I still get winded too fast and I still feel far weaker than I want. I'm still flat worn out in the evenings. My feet are still swelling, though not as much or as often. Has following this diet been hard? No. It's not easy to maintain a fairly tight grocery budget when you're eating good for you foods, but it can be done. I also don't like having more dishes to wash from more cooking, but I'm honestly eating better, more delicious foods than I have in my life. Haven't the results of this diet so far done more for your self-confidence than anything else that's happened in the last year (granted that this year has sucked royally otherwise)? Yes, so what's the problem?

this process involves
as much thought, emotional energy and honesty
as it does food planning and exercise

That was the kicker. The problem actually has several different aspects. The first I'd recognized. My poorly developed but growing self-esteem is not used to me thinking of myself as a success at anything, so I was pulling myself back into a comfortable pattern of failure. This has nothing to do with pounds lost, but with food and lifestyle choices. Meeting my goals means enjoying living a healthy life, and damn it, I have been and will be successful at this.

Lisa nailed part of it right on the head when she said something along the lines of my feeling like I'm betraying a group (fat people) I've advocated for most of my life. I am changing my body, and I like the results, and I still feel like all people regardless of size deserve a level playing field. Fat people don't get that, and most people don't recognize that fat bias is a heavily institutionalized prejudice. People can be healthy at many sizes and shapes, but I'm not healthy at this weight. I don't know if I'll ever be thin, but I don't want to be this fat. It's my body, my choice. (Hey, doesn't that sound vaguely like another feminist issue?) My dieting doesn't change the way I feel about people and respect, and if other voices fighting fat prejudice think that mitigates what I have to say, well, they can kiss my fat ....

Another problem is the tracking that Weight Watchers Flex Plan needs to be successful. There's nothing wrong with food journalling. It's not for everybody, but it's been a very useful tool for me though. Like most tools, if not used carefully, it can be dangerous, and I overdosed. I hate the obsession that can come with dieting. Constantly thinking about food, portion size, points, pounds, inches, exercise, my body, skin and muscle tone, water consumption and excretion has been driving me crazy. Yet, tracking is a tool I still need. I've been at this for over a year now, and I still work on proper portion size. Though I've made tremendous progress, learning my body's cues on fullness and hunger is still a journey. I needed to keep up the points tracking, but I had to back away somehow.

I've been using a WW 12 week journal. I switched to the weekly trackers that you can pick up at no additional cost at any meeting. In the weekly tracker, you can either write down everything you eat and the points or just check off the points that you consume through eating or gain through exercise. I started just checking off the points. That still felt like too much, so I got out the WW points bracelet that a friend gave me when I'd lost 20 pounds. It has a charm that can be moved around the faux pearl beads of the bracelet. Each bead is one point, and the bracelet is cutely divided with grey and black pearls to mark the five point marks and the beginning. It looks like any other costume jewelry bracelet, not a diet tool. That has definitely helped scale back the obsession but still keep track of my food.

These are just a few of the battles I have to fight to keep on with this program. There's just so much more to dieting than fewer calories in and more calories out. This process involves as much thought, emotional energy and honesty as it does food planning and exercise. The first three are really harder. I am making progress though. Today, when I stepped on the scales, I had lost another five pounds.

health and wellness, diets, Weight Watchers, weight loss, fat acceptance

The weekly weigh in, year 2 week 2

Once again, I missed getting to a meeting this week, and once again, I gained weight. I'm struggling here, and that's all there is to it. I was getting pretty cocky about how easily my diet was going, and pride does go before a fall...or a gain. I know what I need to do.

However, the biggest thing that I need to do isn't to watch my food intake, my points or my exercise. It's much, much harder than that. The husband's been here for a couple of doctor's appointment and to visit the womanchild. With him came his potato chips, crackers, Little Debbies and Fig Newtons, his frozen pizzas, french fries and onion rings. My kitchen which was well stocked with healthy food is now overflowing with the junk I don't need or want to eat but am anyway. My grocery budget accommodated his tastes, not my needs, and I'm the one paying the price.

I could go off here on how this compares to other areas of our life, but I won't. It's time to get assertive. With anybody else, this is a problem. It never has been with him. I don't want to get bitchy though. Regardless of the separation and intended divorce, we're always going to be family. Nothing will change the fact that we're Mom and Dad, and I want us to respect that.

However, I'm going to respect myself and my health needs. I can't have a lot of junk food in the house and eat healthy. When shopping means either broccoli or chips, broccoli will win out if I'm doing the shopping, and that's simply the way it's going to be. I don't want to blame all of this on the husband, even though it is tempting. I don't think it's a coincidence that I didn't start consistently losing eating good foods and exercising until he was out of the house. He doesn't want to eat healthy, and it's no longer my problem. I can't let it become mine again.

health and wellness, diets, Weight Watchers, weight loss

New milestone

For a few days, my daughter and I have been sleeping in the same room. When she doesn't feel good, she wants comfort, and my nearness is comforting. (Watch this mother's heart melt.) I don't use my CPAP when she's with me because the air release vent which allows me to exhale and the noise bothers her. Yesterday, she told me that I'm not snoring like I used to. My snoring used to be epic. You could hear me from any room in the house. So was my sleep apnea. My initial sleep study showed that I quit breathing roughly every seven seconds.

Well, the only thing impacting my ability to breathe that has changed has been my weight. Unfortunately, I'm still smoking. My allergies with this otherwise wonderful change of seasonal weather are in full swing. I also know that I only consciously woke once last night. Before I started using a CPAP, that usually happened about four times a night. I also didn't struggle with restless legs like I used to.

Even though I 'knew' that sleep apnea and excess weight were related, I hadn't thought about this getting better. It might be time to schedule another sleep study. The pressure in my CPAP might need to be adjusted. I might eventually not even need to use it. Oh, wouldn't that be nice. I almost can't imagine sleeping without tubes running from my nose now.

sleep apnea, weight loss

Eating for pleasure

One of my favorite foods this time of year is muscadines, but it's a rare indulgence. This is the taste of late summer for me. When I was a kid in the suburbs, the land behind our house had not yet been developed. The edge of our lawn held a small vine of domestic table grapes that never really thrived and then a barbed wire fence covered with their wilder cousins. That rustic fence separated the tailored lawns and gardens of my very proper and self consciously new upper middle class suburb from an undeveloped field and patch of woods. The cotton field behind that is now filled with more subdivisions and commercial properties, and that wild vine disappeared when a more genteel wooden fence took the place of the barbed wire.

My friends and I would take the risk of tetanus shots and cuts from that rusted wire because those muscadines were just too good to resist. Nothing compared to standing barefoot in the weeds with our shirts held out to hold as many as we could get. Being suburban children, we'd cross the fence again and run through my backyard to wash the fruit under the garden hose. That rich heady fragrance seemed to hang in the air and linger on our hands, as we'd then collapse in the grass and eat our wild treat right then and there.

It took one decisive bite to pierce the thick skin. The fruit would then plop onto our tongues. You had to let it slide around your mouth before biting into it. You bit only so you could spit out the largish, flattened oval seed before letting the fruit slide down your throat. Then and only then did you chew the skin with its rich sweetness and faintly tart aftertaste.

Though muscadines range in color from grape green to bronze to burgundy to almost black, I always think of the black ones as true muscadines. Though not technically true, I think of the white ones as scuppernongs, but that is actually only one specific variety. The paler muscadines taste like sweeter grapes to me and lack that edge that provides the finish of the darker fruit. Because of my childhood, I also think of muscadines as a wild fruit, even though they've been cultivated for wines since the 1600s. I usually pick them up at vegetable stands, because you just don't see them in grocery stores often.

Last week, they were overflowing the produce aisle at my usual grocery store. I bought five quarts and started eating the first one on the way home. I finished the last of them today before I could realize my dream of making muscadine jelly. Since I've never made jelly unless I was at my mother's side, I knew this particular dream had little chance of becoming reality. However, I was transported back to a time when summer meant wildness, sweetness and freedom, when the heat was as enjoyable as it is now oppressive and food was just something to be enjoyed and wasn't laden with so many subtleties and confusions. My manners have become somewhat more refined since then. I did refrain from spitting seeds at my family, but I ate my muscadines with the innocence, the sensuality and the abandon I did as a child, even though I did check the points value. (I used the value for grapes, one point per cup.) I want to eat that way more often.

food, eating, muscadines

The weekly weigh in, Year 2, Week 1

Summary: Weekly change, gained 5.6 pounds. Total weight loss, 72.8 pounds. Average weekly loss, 1.4 pounds.

Well, I'm starting my second year of serious dieting with a gain. Well, isn't that fun? I know my eating was out of control this week, and I had the monthly gap between prescription refills. Three days without diuretics and my feet turn into balloons, so I'm hoping a lot of this is water. On top of that, this is the week to get my insurance pre-approval, so no meeting for me this week.

Since I gained a little over a pound last week and now have a big gain this week, I have to admit I'm a little scared. It's the first time since I started Weight Watchers this time that I've gained two weeks in a row. Every time I've done this on a diet, it signalled the beginning of the end, and I don't want this to end. I feel so much better than I did this time last year that it gives me a lot to look forward to when I lose more. I'm writing this with my foot elevated because the swelling has made my ankle stiff and sore. I also had a bad blood pressure related dizzy spell today. In short, I don't feel good, at all, and this is still so much better than I used to feel. I don't want to go back to where I was.

In the longer range, this truly has been more of a lifestyle change than a diet. The mechanics aren't hard unless I fall into dieting mentality. Dieting mentality means thinking about what I'm not eating all the time. It's an all or nothing mindset that says I have to stamp out cravings by denying myself foods I enjoy. That complete black and white thinking also tells me that since I've had two weeks in a row where I've gained weight, it's hopeless, and I just have to accept that I'll regain back everything I've lost, like 95% of all dieters. It's obsessing over my appearance and specific body parts, losing the overall image of myself because I'm caught up in the details.

So, the big question is how do I handle this? Well, the tangible thing is to get my food back within my daily points allowance. I've tracked religiously this week, and I know I've eaten too much. I've felt that bloaty, too full feeling more than once and asked myself why I couldn't quit eating. I knew it was stress management eating. Feeling too anxious felt worse than feeling too full. So, I've got to get my emotions more under control. Having several days without my anti-depressant medication did not help, and hopefully, I'll feel more balanced in a couple more days. I need to watch the night time caffeine so I can sleep better. Better sleep means less stress and a more efficient metabolism. My routine is somewhat off, and I need to make sure I include time for prayer, meditation, and if I really, really need it, time for positive affirmations. Even though it makes me feel like Stewart Smalley.

Mainly, I need to remember that this diet is just part of an holistic progression towards better personal health of body, mind and spirit. When I neglect one aspect of myself, the others suffer as well.

health and wellness, diets, Weight Watchers, weight loss

The weekly weigh in, week 52

This week marks one full year of following Weight Watchers for me. It doesn't feel like a whole year, primarily because it doesn't feel like a diet. I really have learned a better way to eat. I've had rough days and weeks. I've lost rapidly, slowly, plateaued and I've seen my weight rise temporarily, but despite all of that, My weight has gone down a lot, and my health is better.

I started this diet last year after I woke up on my bathroom floor. I'd fainted from high blood pressure. I had never had high blood pressure, shocking more than one doctor who couldn't believe that a fat person didn't have high blood pressure. That was a real wake up call that I could no longer take my health for granted. My doctor, as doctors tend to do, said that you need to lose weight. Since I started dieting at the age of five, there haven't been a lot of diets that I haven't tried. Sick of the hassles and harassment that come with being fat, I'd already mentally capitulated and thought bariatric surgery was my only option. Before my insurance would greenlight surgery, they wanted to make sure that less extreme measures would work, so I went to Weight Watchers.

My first few weeks this was my attitude: I'll give it an honest go, but I know it's not going to work. I'll lose some weight, get fed up with all the restrictions and then I'll just regain what I lost and more. After all, it's what I've done my entire freaking life. I yo-yoed my way to nearly 400 pounds. Incredibly saddened and overwhelmed by own size and the limitations it was putting on my life, I lost 50 pounds by making small changes in my life in the two years prior to starting Weight Watchers. After a few weeks, I started seeing some noticeable results in weight loss, but beyond that, this program had nothing that I had hated about previous diets. I didn't feel like foods were forbidden. I didn't feel like portions were ridiculously small. I didn't feel socially isolated. I could eat out, drink, and have appetizers and desserts if I wanted them. Honestly, most of the challenges I've faced have come from my own disordered thinking. What I did have to do was think rationally about food and plan what I would eat. Well, a year down the line, I'm still working on that.

Let's talk tangible results. What have I got for the investment of one year's time, a good bit of energy, a lot of good thinking and an equal share of obsessive compulsive thinking? The biggie is that I have lost 78.4 pounds, 23% of my starting body weight. That translates to 6 clothing sizes smaller than I was this time last year. I was too much of a chicken to take my measurements when I first started the program, but in the last six months, I have lost half an inch off my upper arm, which is also noticeably firmer. I'm down four inches in my bust. Since I had it to spare, this is very, very good news. Down, 4 3/4 inches in my waistline, 3 1/4 in my hips and 4 1/4 in my thigh. That's 16 3/4 inches lost in six months.

Those are the superficial measurements. What about the more stringent measurements of health? It was after all my blood pressure that got me started. The day I passed out, it measured 190 over 160. I was seriously scared. Two weeks ago, it measured 135 over 95, high enough to keep me on medication but I'd still call that a serious improvement. My cholesterol has dropped from 240 to 208, and since I hadn't fasted prior to the blood test, I wonder what the results would be if I had. My triglyceride count was 130. My favorite accomplishment of the past year though came the day my daughter showed off how she could reach all the way around when she hugged me...for the first time in her life.

This is an anniversary for me, and I will celebrate it. I am damn proud of what I've done.

health and wellness, diets, Weight Watchers, weight loss

Dealing with the monkey on my back

I'm really trying to tame the obsession that following a diet brings. This week, I planned my menu for the week and then basically tried to forget about it, checking the menu and fridge only when it was time to prepare meals. The food has been under control, even if I have already used most of my bonus points for the week, and weigh in waits. I don't regret indulging in barbecue on Labor Day.

I've also tried to put the body image obsessions aside. That has been harder. Much harder. Make that Much, Much Harder. The scales are still calling me far too often. To make it worse, little things that are driving me crazy. I'm in another one of those in between clothing sizes stages, where everything is either too tight or too big, and I feel sloppy again. Getting a horrible haircut recently doesn't help. Neither does finding out that both my favorite lipstick and every day eye shadow have been discontinued. Though I don't tan, my skin tones are changing (age, I guess), and my base makeup makes me look too pale, and then my blush makes me look painted. Replacing the bulk of my makeup at a time when I have to replace my wardrobe is not a pleasant idea. On top of that, all of my shoes are getting too big. I'd heard that my feet would change sizes, and that's happening now too. With my feet sliding around inside my shoes, I feel even more graceless than usual. I might as well mention that I don't like feeling like I'm superficial, high maintenance or materialistic.

People are also making it harder now, not by sabotage, but because my weight loss is all anyone wants to discuss when they're around me. This week alone, I've been asked five times how I'm losing my weight. One incident even gathered a small group in the aisle of the grocery store. (Too bad Weight Watchers doesn't pay finders' fees.) I've had one person tell me that I ought to just lay off weight loss for awhile because my face is getting too thin. Since I still have a distinct double chin and pinchable cheeks, that point is debatable. However it made me wonder if what she really meant is that I'm looking older. I've had another person tell me that I had to keep it up because my employment, my marriage or pending divorce however that works out, reputation and very life depended on my losing more weight. I've had another place all the blame for my recent bout of frequent migraines on the chemical changes caused by weight loss. Almost everyone has been kind, loving and even enthusiastic, but it's getting old. This has really made me reflect on what supportive really means in the context of friendships and diets. Complicated, complicated stuff. The kind that could make up more than one blog entry.

There is more to my life than my diet, and those other areas are where I want the emphasis. For years I've preached that character, choices and activities are more important than size. I've felt like a hypocrite though because I know how much power I've let weight, fat, and shape hold in my life. It's time I lived up to my own principles. I know I've helped create this one topic conversational emphasis. I wanted positive, supportive feedback to help me diet, and I worked to make sure that I got it. Now, I need to make sure that I get it for the rest of my life as well and make sure that I offer it to my friends as well.

obsession

Hey, I'm obese

I know that's a big surprise, but after checking my weight today, I also decided to look at a few other measurements. Well, one -- BMI. If you have any reservations about your body fat percentage, the BMI is a shaky tool to use. Bodybuilders count as obese using the BMI because their muscle isn't considered. When you have no questions that fat makes up your weight, it's okay.

What I found out today is that I am no longer morbidly obese. I'm just obese. Let's celebrate! Woo-hoo! It's party time! Irony aside, there is part of my brain that is having to readjust to being less than 100 pounds overweight. Granted, I'm damn close to that, but I remember clearly the day a doctor told me that I was morbidly obese and the deep sense of shame and failure I felt. I was 27 years old. He told me that I'd be lucky to live until forty without major health complications, like diabetes or a heart attack. Well, I'm 47 and high blood pressure manageable by medication is the most serious health problem I have that can be related to my weight. We'll just not mention all the other things that it could be related to, like age, since blood pressure was never a problem until lately.

Those words, morbid obesity, are just so grim. They make it sound hopeless. Honestly, it sounds like a death sentence, and there are plenty of people out there who would say that it is. The unintended side effect of that for me was it helped lead me to thinking that there was no point in trying. I felt too far gone to salvage, and all I could do was deal with the wreckage.

What ticks me off is the vagueness of the definition of morbid obesity. After browsing website after website full of meandering medical language, I finally found two somewhat clear definitions. The first was morbid obesity exists when a person is 100 or more pounds overweight. That sounds clear enough but it still failed to list an appropriate weight that one could be over, and height and weight charts hold great variance. The second was easier for me to handle than the first. A BMI over 39 is considered morbidly obese if you accept the validity of the BMI. Personally, I think the best definition is you're morbidly obese when you're the fat person that makes other fat people feel good about their looks.

So, I've changed labels and degrees of fatness. Now, it's up to me to reject the labels. Morbid obesity wasn't a death sentence for me, even though I was told it would be. Being fat hasn't stopped me from being beautiful, sexy, wonderful, appealing, etc. -- all those things I was told I never would be. Buying into the labels just made it hard for me to enjoy all of the above. I think I'll really have this healthy living thing down when I quit checking what the "official" standards are and know just from my own body.

morbid obesity

The weekly weigh in, week 51

Weekly summary: Weekly change, lost 3.2 pounds. Total weight loss, 79.8 pounds. Average weekly loss, 1.6 pounds.

I didn't make it to a meeting this week, despite my best intentions. I wish I had, but all in all, I'd still rather have slept late today than force myself out the door this morning. I rarely sleep late. I usually wake a little before 5:30 a.m. when my alarm goes off, but last night's migraine medicines knocked me out. A good night's sleep is one of the best gifts I can give myself, and though medication impaired sleep is second rate, it's still more sleep than I have had in weeks.

Stumbling to the scales this morning, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I know better than to do this, but I've been weighing every day again. That's such a stupid habit. I'll be up one day and down the next, and that's normal. Since I've been on another plateau, I've been very disciplined about my food intake this week, making a serious effort to keep my focus on fresh fruits and vegetables, gauging my hunger levels and then trying to ignore food, weight and size the rest of the time. The first two I did well, the last, well, not so much, and that may be the hardest thing I have to learn -- to live without obsession.


health and wellness, diets, Weight Watchers, weight loss