Overlooked?

I have been overlooked all my life.  Always.  As a result, you (I) have a more heightened sense of being overlooked.  People who pay attention or don't pay attention.    It's difficult to describe that feeling.  Because all your life, you been an invisible passenger on the road of life.  In your heart, you know, no matter how hard you try, heavy/fat/obese people are continually overlooked because of their weight.  Overlooked because you are not the beautiful thin girl.  Overlooked by a prospective job/employer.   Overlooked by men.  Overlooked by so many people.  Overlooked on so many levels and in so many situations.  Overlooked because you are, simply stated:  fat.  Not worthy.  Hopeless.  Overlooked because you are not skinny.  Overlooked.  Always.

I don't want you thinking, like most people often do, that I have low self esteem. I don't. I have never allowed my weight to determine my outlook.  I have had those moments.  But my public persona, the person you see is full of life, self-assured, outgoing, funny, (one could say obnoxious at times) and most often, the center of attention.  I put on my armor, my smile, my laugh and the facade is safe.  Secure.

But facts are facts.   I know the facts. Faced them head on.  I know what I know.  I know what I see.  I know the truth.  No, this is not a pity party.  It's just what I have observed and what I have been a witness to while being a 'fat girl'.  When you are "the fat girl" you have a more heightened sense of people who pay attention to you for all the wrong reasons and those people who do not pay attention to you.  You continually want and wish certain ones would pay more attention to you but it never happens.  When you do receive the desired attention, it is negative, not wanted and crushing.  When you become invisible or overlooked, you see things that no one else sees; which saddens you.  You notice the good looks and the bad looks, the stares, the mean comments made while people look directly at you and side bar to their friend.  Mostly you recognize the non-verbal communication and the attitudes people exude. You witness these first hand.  Always.

I've seen it ALL my life.  And as much as I would tell my "thin" friend, "yeah that guy couldn't keep his eyes off you."  she didn't believe me.  Because I know they are NOT looking at me.  If they were looking at me, it was because I'm the fat girl and perhaps they're wondering "why does she even try?"   When you are overlooked and fat, you do become invisible to a certain degree.  No one pays attention to you in a crowd, in a conversation.  Nothing.  Ironic.  But so true.  Maybe that's why I thrived in that "live large, laugh loud and don't care what people think" environment for so long.  Always. Center of attention at whatever cost. Forever ago.  Hoping and wishing for the pursuit of a first look, a nod of approval from the opposite sex or an engaging moment.  Always hoping. Always looking.  Always waiting.

Blogger's note:  Prior to releasing this blog, I had a moment of clarity, self-discovery.  Did I allow myself to be overlooked all these years? Did I purposely create a wall.  A wall of fat.  A barrier so that I wouldn't be hurt?  Could my weight be my barrier to being overlooked?  Could that have hindered any hopeful connections?  The jury is still out.  

So for you who think that I am funny or have classified me the class clown or the girl who laughs or the funny fat girl...well, it's been because I have been overlooked.  Once you tune into your constant surroundings, your facade begins.  You may be aching, scared, sad on the inside but you're not going to let the outside world know that.  You laugh.  You smile loudly.  You find happiness as best as you can before the cloud of gloom and your daily persecutions kick you to the curb.  You validate your own existence by being the center of attention at any cost to yourself or others.  Mostly to yourself.  If you're funny, then it's ok - you're in. If you're not funny or the life of the party, you're invisible. Overlooked.

So for as much weight as I lose, I know I will continue to be overlooked.   I know my personality makes me a gorgeous person inside and outside.  I do not need anyone to validate that.  I validate that myself.  But I will never be model material, I will never be a size 5, 7 or 9.  This is not low-self esteem talking, it's facts.  You know there is that formula; that quotient where once you get to know people they become more beautiful, gorgeous than when you first discovered them?  Their personality, their humor, their eye twinkle make them unbelievably gorgeous, handsome, sexy, beautiful.  I believe in that formula, that magic.  Always.

Yes this journey is not only about weight loss and healthy living but it has become a journey in changing from the inside out.  It's on-going.  Cathartic.  Introspective.  A constant self-discovery of who I was vs. who I am.  Now.  I no longer will allow myself to be overlooked.  I am.  Beautiful. Worthy.  Soon to be thinner. Now and always.

Half way

Half way there.  Doesn't seem possible.  I am flooded, drowning with emotion.  Half the hurdles jumped.  More to come. So many more.  Higher.  Intangible. Harder.  No one said it was going to be easy.  I know it's worth it.  I'm worth it. 100 pounds down.  100+ more to go.  Will I win the battle, overcome the battle and take charge?  How can I possibly do that? Right from the start I set milestones for myself.  Because this journey is all about me, my milestones are personal.  Now after seven months I met and conquered two of them; met them head on and succeeded.  Amazing me.  So Proud.  Scared shitless.  They say if you set yourself up for failure, you will fail big.  If you set yourself up for success, you will succeed.  Now my quest, my mission is reaching the next three milestones.  How can I ever imagine to meet them?  This is the question at hand.  All those self-help, self-proclaimed gurus/know-it-alls say to break the next 100 pounds into smaller, more manageable (and celebratory) goals.  Done. Sounds easy.  Everything sounds easy but it's not.  I know I am only half way there.  So the real test, the real challenge, the real fight is still ahead of me. Looming.  I see the hurdles. Unimaginable fear.  Intangible goals.  Big leaps of faith.  Still scared shitless.  
So, how do successful people succeed?  What is their secret?  How do they succeed, reach their goals and have their amazing success in life?  The secret, I have discovered, is a positive mental attitude.  It is the one simple trait found in the world's most successful people.  It also seems intangible.  There are days that one could say I possess a positive mental attitude.  And other days, it seems the world is falling on top of me.  The strength to overcome is overwhelming and the negative seeps in.  Like tar, it weighs you down, pulls at you until you have no strength and does not free you...it stymies you, it negates everything.  You become a part of the muck and mire around you.    You could be surrounded by your best friends, best people in your life and yet you feel like you're drowning.  I'm one of the lucky ones.  I have an amazing support system that just keeps growing.  But know this, I have my days where my demons and my negativity beat me up.  
If we surround ourselves with people who are successful, who are forward-moving, who are positive, who are focused on producing results, who support us, it will challenge us to be more and do more. If you can surround yourself with people who will never let you settle for less than you can be,  you have the greatest gift that anyone can hope for. - Tony Robbins.  
I have achieved much success these last many months.  I was recently asked how I do this, day after day, calorie after calorie.  I hesitated, contemplated my word choice.  Finally I said, "I just do it."  No rhyme, no reason.  It's what I do now.  I don't have any after thoughts; I don't have any regrets. I just do it.  It's a part of me.  Then my friend asked me if I wanted a donut, a candy bar, a bag of candy, anything off the menu, dessert, anything sweet.  Hell yes I do.  I crave it everyday but I know that success isn't built on going backward.  This misstep would cause, what I know would be, an avalanche of wrong eating, wrong habits and again, negate, all that I have achieved.  I am not that person who sabotages myself.  At least I consciously do not.  I have had friends and family attempt to sabotage my journey by telling me how great I've done, now treat yourself.  Ha.   I 'treated' myself for so many years, wasted years.  Treat after treat got me to that 3-digit number and abstaining from those treats will get me to that desired 3-digit number.  Seriously.  I see the finish line, the goal line.  It's a distant blur, but will soon come in focus. It is attainable.  It is goal-worthy.  I am worthy.  

Three more milestones; 365+ more days, countless work-out sessions, endless calorie counting, healthy eating choices and ultimate fear.  Am I ready for the hard work to begin?  I am scared.  I am so scared that all this will be for naught; that I will regress, lose sight of my end goal and not have the strength to overcome my internal sabotage.

"Don't let anyone every break your soul.
You have to stand on your own two feet and stand up for yourself.
There are those what would give anything to see you fail, but you must never give them the satisfaction.
Hold your head up high, smile and stand your own ground."

The journey is worth it.  I am worth it. I see the hurdles, the so very high hurdles, the impossible and intangible hurdles.  I can do this - 21 weeks and 40 pounds will be realized.  Here I come Milestone #3!

Change

Everyone has gone through something that has changed them in a way that they could never go back to the person they once were.  Very true.  Much to my surprise, I have changed.  Over the course of seven months, change has found me.  I opened the door, greeted the change and embraced it with a fervor like never before.  Change has become my new best friend.  It's the worst and best relationship of my life. We are like Siamese twins; bonded for life, stuck together forever.
Change has seeped into every corner of my world.  Every day, I find myself conscious of my niche in this changed world...more so than ever before.  It's funny (strange) how life surreptitiously transforms around you once you make a conscious and concerted effort to change one thing in your life.  One change.  A million changes later.  What surprises me the most is how conscious I have become of my eating habits, my physical body space, my thoughts, my feelings, my attitudes, my relationships, my new-found behaviors, how I move, the level of life exposure. Everything about me has changed.  Dramatically.  Change will do that for you.  I find myself comparing this change to a loss or, rather, a found loss?  Much like a blind person seeing for the first time: everything is new, more vivid. Alive. You actually see for the first time. The blinders are off.  Your conversations change. Your 'active' life changes.  Your social life changes.  Your day changes. And for me, my focus on both eating and exercising has changed...it consumes me like never before.  In essence, your world, as you know it, has evolved before your very eyes.  You find yourself talking about things you never imagined you would.   And as much as you fight the change, convince yourself you haven't changed...you have. You are the change - inside and out. Continually. Constantly.  Change does not stop. It scares you. It pleases you.  It depresses you. It wills you.  It makes you re-evaluate all that is "you."  You look in the mirror or listen to the words coming out of your mouth and it's not the same person.  It's perplexing. It's amazing.  It's confusing.  Everything about you has changed and this person, this body, the thoughts you possess, this new voice you have...it's not the same. Who are you?  You start to question everything because you have redefined yourself so much so that you don't even recognize "you".  And that is scary good.  Because as much as you say you would never change, you have.  And not just the outside.  Your friends and family notice - they validate the external changes, the outer shell they see.  The begin to notice the internal change(s).  Your voice clues them in.  And yet your change continues to be scrutinized every day.  All because of change.
Often times, your conversations actually start with your journey, your story and, sometimes, your struggle.  Food is no longer your best friend.  Change has taken over.  The mental, emotional and physical "you" has changed.  Change does not allow you to center your life on food anymore; only when necessary.  Your obsessions have altered.  Surreal.  A few weeks ago, I posted a comment on Facebook about how I loved to work out.  (Did I actually say that out loud?)  Change made me say that.  It's shocking.  Those words did actually eject from my mouth, straight from the heart.  The irony is that if you asked me six months ago OR one year ago OR five years ago OR even ten years ago, those words would have never been uttered from me nor would the words have had any action behind them. Cliche after cliche. I had no real staying power.  I was great outta the gate, but had no stamina.  I was all talk and no action.  My motor was running but the clutch was slipping.  I talked the talk but didn't walk the walk. Cliches done.  Excuses done.
Change is good. Change is hard.  Change is my friend.
So.  The decision to change and to accept change is not easy. Whether I like it or not, I'm holding onto change for dear life.  Still clinging.  Stuck for life.

Surreal

On days like today, I remind myself of the amazing 'surreal' self-discoveries, renewed relationships and new experiences that this journey and this weight loss has brought to me thus far.  The word "surreal" keeps popping up.  I find I use the word ALL the time.  It certainly describes the euphoria felt on this journey.  Surreal.  
- It is surreal to know that as of today, I am within days of reaching a 100-pound weight loss. (I wish I could say it was a straight 100)  Frightening.  Exhilarating.  Overwhelming.  Humiliating.  Shameful.  Exciting.  (OMG, that is a person!)  I'm riding the emotional crazy train.  That mere thought makes me sob.  How did this ever happen?  And then I think: 100 down, 100 to go.  Still riding the emotional crazy train.  Still holding on for dear life.  The ups and downs make my stomach heave.  It's too high.  It's going too fast. It's going to slow. Arms up in the air.  Eyes closed. Still screaming! Will the ride ever be over?  Not soon enough. 
- It is surreal to know that I thoroughly enjoy (ok love) working out, want to continue to pursue a healthier lifestyle and ultimately make better food choices (are you sure this is me?)  You would still recognize me for sure. But you would not recognize the changes made regarding what I eat, the way I think, the inner me and the somewhat new 'physical' me.  Very surreal.  I look in the mirror. I look at my plate of food. I really look in the mirror and cannot believe the real seen and unseen change(s).  
- It is surreal that I can actually shop in a regular store like JC Penney's, Kohl's, Younkers, Target and buy clothes that fit!  I know my bank account reflects the surge of new apparel and clothing in my closet. I recently purchased a few new outfits, new dresses and even jeans. After removing my many purchases from the abundance of shopping bags, I had to sit down.  All the tags reflected such a drastic size change that I couldn't help but cry.  Who is this person wearing that size?  I don't think I know her anymore.  Considering what I was wearing or couldn't wear seven months ago, I'm riding the emotional crazy train again.  Tears of joy.  Tears of shame.  Lots and lots of tears. 
- It is surreal to look in the mirror and see actual results.  Day by day.  Week by week.  They are there if you look real close.  It's slow-going but reflective.  Still emotional and very mental.  
- It is surreal to clean out your closet knowing the clothes you wore a mere seven months ago no longer fit nor can you ever imagine that you wore them. This, by far, is the hardest and most emotional surreal a-ha moment for me.  For years I wore the same dreadful clothes over and over again. There were weeks and months that I would wear the same three things each week.  Ordering from catalogs was the norm as there were (few and far in between) stores that stocked my size and if they did the clothes didn't fit or were dreadful.  So very shameful.  So very humiliating.  
- It is surreal to do things that you didn't do a few months ago (in fact for many many years).
- It is surreal receiving extra attention or an extra look-over (I know, right?) for your inner beauty once they see your outer beauty.   It's the second glances.  It's the nod you receive. Amazingly surreal.  
- It is surreal to be able to buckle my seat belt, any seat belt without help or an extender.  How many years did I not buckle my seat belt?  Far too many to count. Shameful to admit. 
- It is surreal to realize the years of missed opportunities that have come to light.  Far too many to mention. 
- It is surreal to say that I am proud.  Do I have continual doubts that I can actually follow through.  You bet! I am not the only one who is amazed at my tenacity and follow-through. And to know that I have not wavered once is big.  Seriously. These are not easily pinned attributes; they are not words that I would use to describe myself.  New beginnings.  Proud.  I see the end goal and it is within reach.  
And lastly and most importantly...it is surreal and humbling to be called an inspiration.  It's hard to live up to.   I don't see myself that way.   I know others do and I am forever grateful for their words, their support and their inspiration.  I have many inspirations in my life when it comes to this journey; I just didn't picture myself as being that to anyone else. I am flooded by emotion when I am told that.  Then I wonder, how am I an inspiration?  How can I inspire when there are so many friends, family and people in my world that inspire me daily.  I am motivated by their words, their actions and their journey(s).  Too many to count. So many amazing journeys. 
So for one to be an inspiration or to inspire you must:  
1. To affect, guide, or arouse by divine influence
2. To fill with enlivening or exalting emotion
3.  To stimulate to action; motivate or to affect or touch
4. To draw forth; elicit or arouse
5. To be the cause or source of; bring about
I don't think I have the stamina or the fortitude to live up to those definitions.  I am not worthy to be called an inspiration...yet.  It's a pretty big responsibility to shoulder.  Me?  This is what I do know:  inspiration stems from within. I aspire to reach that each and every day.  To be inspiring you need to beat a path that may be rarely tread and know you will shine the way for others; one must speak from the heart knowing that no matter how many people touch your lives or vice versa, each of you will walk away thinking about your journey, your verve for life, your energy, your light and your faith in their and your ability to be great.  Surreal.  Maybe it is the demonstration of infectious enthusiasm?  Probably.  All the while, tooting your own horn (blogging).  You must possess passion, share your experiences and voice your most inner thoughts.  Cathartic.  (And very difficult I might add!)  To inspire you must shed insight into your truth, your story.  All this can be unimaginably difficult.  But you must be careful.  Too much truth, too much honesty, too much surrealism can hurt.  Maim.  Destroy.  Haunt.  This I do know:  my story mirrors many. I'm just a sounding board, a vehicle to help deploy the feelings, the emotions behind so many journeys that we struggle with.  It comforts those who think they are alone.  I was alone once, too.  

So...how can I be an inspiration when my end goal is so selfish?  This journey is all about me; because of me, by me and for me. Always has been.  Always will be.  How could that ever be inspiring to others.  I'm still wondering.  Do I have the qualities to influence change?   Maybe.  My advice today and tomorrow:  stay the course and love the journey. 

Such a surreal journey. 
  

Not a Good Day

Every day we battle something.  We battle our thoughts.  We battle for control.  And every day we struggle.  I struggle.  Today I am struggling.  It's not that I don't know why I am on this life changing journey and know the end result is worth it.  A post from one of those self-help/positive quotes Facebook groups said it best:  "it's not going to be easy, it's going to be worth it."  I know without any doubt that it is.  I've seen progress and that excites me to no end.  It's just today is not a good day. I cannot just 'smile' my worries/problems/thoughts away.  I am an open book so to mask my corrupt and negative thoughts is hard; I cannot just shelve them and forget them.  Emotionally.  Mentally.  Physically.
We all have these days in life.  And when you're on a journey for self-control, we tend to fall off the path for one reason or another. We reason with ourselves.  We beat ourselves up. We provoke the sudden fork in the road.  We worry about the big and little things.  Or should we say "I".  Me. Myself and I.  Did I tell you that I am a worrier?  I am one of those people that continue to think, tread and worry about things constantly.  24/7.  Once I'm 'stuck' on something, my mind never stops.  You could say I become obsessed.  I am in constant thought; analyzing it, dreaming about it, worrying about it and figuring out what I could, would, should do.  Some days, like today, become too much for me. I cannot escape my mind and my thoughts.  
I keep replaying the movie Eat Pray Love about 'stilling our minds'.  “You need to learn how to select your thoughts just the same way you select your clothes every day. This is a power you can cultivate. If you want to control things in your life so bad, work on the mind. That's the only thing you should be trying to control.”  Why does that sound so easy and yet be the most challenging?  I cannot still my mind to save me from my worries, my fears, my daily persecutions and demons.  On days like today, I am my worst enemy.   There is nothing I can say or do to change this.  I mentally 'beat' myself up.  I cannot seem to 'still' my mind; I have no control.  It's my thoughts that hinder me, berate me and blind me.  I cannot 'turn' them off.  I am powerless.  What an awful feeling!  And this lack of power has plagued me since May where I find myself in a hurricane of early morning thoughts.  They race around my head.  They keep me from sleep.  They keep me from reason.  I am controlled by my worries, insecurities and so much more.  I wish I could lay blame on someone or something else for these stirring thoughts that invade my dreams, my sleep, my day, my night and keep me from seeing the end goal or for that matter, any goal.  I could tie these emotions, these thoughts to anything:  a comment made about me, the attention sought but never received, a look from a stranger, a phone call, a simple text, tv show, a song on the radio or even from a conversation with a dear friend...it just doesn't matter on days like today.  I blame myself for not being strong enough to conquer those raging thoughts.  

Today is not a good day for me.  But tomorrow will be.  I am the lucky one for I have an amazing support circle of friends and family.  Because of them, tomorrow will be a good day.

The day we walk away from things that hurt our souls is the day our soul sprouts wings.  

Thou shalt be strong

I am stronger than what I think I am.  At least that's what I tell myself.  And yet this, too, is a constant mental, physical and emotional struggle that I battle every day.  I know it's just a matter of will power and finding that elusive and intangible desire to be strong.  Easy to say.  But for me it's a matter of centering myself on the end goal and result. I arm myself every day with this 'mantra' or this so-called strength that I think I have.  Every day I try.  Every day I try to find strength to conquer, to work on a fit body, to overcome, to not eat that which I want to and make better choices.  The strength truly does derive from within but you need friends, family and often times that one stranger giving you that extra attention, nod, smile and approval.   Whatever the case may be, we all need assurance and a support system.  We all need that empowerment to create our own inner strength.  Often times we are not capable of finding it ourselves.  We continually grasp for that hidden power.  We seek strength in food or an unwelcome and negative relationship or a bad vice.  I chose to drown myself in food and ignorance. I chose to be weak.  I mean, I KNEW what I needed to do but I just made wrong conscious decisions; I chose to ignore the voices, the suggestions from friends and the advice from family.  Don't get me wrong...I am truly not a weak person.  I have strength just not the strength needed to make the right choices and to overcome my food addiction and sedentary lifestyle.  I may be contradicting myself here but I was strong for all the wrong reasons.  Strong in appearance because I didn't care what people thought.  Strong for the girls and women I work with.  Strong in my relationships.  Strong in my work ethic.  Just not strong when it came down to ME - the one person in this world that matters the most.  Oh how I would like to shake my former self, slap her in the face and tell her to wake up! This journey has also come with a price; a deeper emotional need to prove to myself and to so many others that I have the strength to see this through.  Strength to not fall victim to my own demons, my own persecutions.   I fail myself daily.  I've heard it all before:  the strength lies within.  No one or nothing can make you do that which you do not want to do.  True.  And no one or nothing can take the power your possess away from you; only if you let them.  More true.  I allowed myself to take away that power.  I let myself down for so many reasons and for so many years.  Wasted years.  

They say a strong woman is one who is able to smile every morning like she wasn't crying last night. So true on so many levels.  For years I cried every Sunday night; crying over the failed promises of the week before.  Those lonely Sunday nights, I vowed to myself that this week would be different. That this week would be the week that I would take charge and start moving, start losing weight, start working out.  I would make all these promises as I cried myself to sleep knowing how hard it was going to be and wondering if I could actually see it through.  I would watch each week and each month pass with broken promises, unbelievable sadness and a desire to change but no strength to see it come to fruition.  I did not the have the power to take that giant step, that leap of faith.  Seriously. My 'armor' kept all these emotions, problems under lock and key.  My facade never cracked. I never seemed to be able to answer that internal question: why?   Amazingly, now I can.  I know that I have regained the power to change.  I see it as I look in the mirror and remind myself daily; I am more stronger than I could ever know.  I can overcome.  I am not alone.   So here, in this moment, I find the courage to tell my story so that others can be empowered.  So that I can continue to be a strength to the one person that counts the most:  myself.

As. you. are.
Stronger than you know.
More beautiful than you think.
Worthier than you believe.
More loved than you can ever imagine.
Passionate about making a difference.
Fiery when protecting those you love.
Learning. Growing. Not alone.Warm. 
Giving. Generous.Quirky. Sexy. Funny. 
Smart.Flawed. Whole. Scared. Brave.
And so, so, so.much.more.

the Battle - part 2

"You can have results or you can have your excuses. You cannot have both." - Unknown

I never chose to be fat.  I made excuses all my life about being fat which led to the unconscious decision to be fat.  I can say that now.  Excuse after excuse after excuse.
Excuse #1 - I have big bones.
Excuse #2 - I'm not really an exercise person and I don't really have time to exercise.
Excuse #3 - Everyone else is eating that so why can't I?
Excuse #4 - Life is too short to spend it dieting.
Excuse #5 - People should accept me as I am. There is nothing wrong with me; I'm perfect as is!
Excuse #6 - I inherited the tendency to be heavy - it's genetic!
Excuse #7 - I never eat and I'm still fat.
Excuse #8 - I was taught bad eating habits.
Excuse #9 - It's too close to the holidays; I'll start January 1.
Excuse #10 - I like being fat. God meant for me to be fat.
Excuse #11 - Losing weight is hard.
Excuse #12 - More cushion for the pushin' LOL.
and Excuse #1001 - I have my MRS degree now.
How many more excuses?  Hundreds. Could I ever be stronger than my excuses?  Yes. 35+ years later the excuses are done.  Here's the question - does one actually make a conscious decision to be fat?  For years I knew I was a big girl or 'the big girl' and apparently had such a distorted picture of myself that it didn't bother me.  That was a part of my "war" armor.  I knew I was pretty, funny, outgoing and dressed decent.  I had validation from friends and family.  The problem was that I actually thought I was much smaller.  That aided in my confidence, killer smile and charismatic personality.  Like Charlie Brown's Pig Pen, I walked around in a cloud - a confident cloud. And until I was on the receiving end of a mean look or stare that was demeaning, it never truly was an issue.  But then I avoided clothing stores and tried my best to ignore the mean joke, comment or brutal cat call that often followed me.  You'd think after all these years part of my armor would have included thick skin.

People think that just because you're fat, overweight, obese you never tried.  It's not that I never tried.  I did.  Seriously. Did I put my heart and soul into it?  Obviously not. Here's the question - Do you really think I planned or wanted to be known as the 'fat girl?'   Yeah no. That certainly was not my life's mission but it may seem that way.  I mean it's not like it was on my 'bucket list.'  I tried diets on like clothes.  I had the luxury and financial support to attempt the expensive diets from Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, Weight Loss Clinic, LA Weight Loss...and so many more.  Excuses or made-up reasoning, nothing seemed to work.  I was told to "envision yourself as thinner person.'  God I hated when they said that.  I mean, some of the diet plans worked; worked for a short time.   Was I following it exactly?  Doing everything they told me to do?  Probably not.  I remember when the Biggest Loser first aired, I had hopes of being on the program - I even printed the paperwork and filled it out but just couldn't submit it because of fear. A few years before I was married I joined Jenny Craig.  It was expensive, created false hopes and offered me untrained staff.  I ate the food they gave me, never supplementing the meals and then soon plateaued.  I lost over 50 pounds in a short amount of time but was frustrated when the scale didn't budge.  I thought I was in the zone. I had uncompromising will-power; no one or nothing could shake me!   All the compliments came my way and washed all the negativity away.   It all felt good but soon diminished when I resumed my old habits.  Right before I was married in August 2000, I gained back most, if not all, the weight.  Depressing.  More excuses ensued.  Soon after the wedding and a job change later, the scale at the doctor's office confirmed my worst fears - I was tippng the scale at a 3 digit number that horrified me. Extremely embarassing and shocking.  And yet, my compulsions did not stop.  Mentally I knew what I needed to do (I could write a book about what I should and could do); physically my body screamed out "you're killing me!"; and emotionally, I locked my racing thoughts in a vault so I could forget.  I just put on my smile, put on my armor, ate and continued on...
Until now.

the Battle

The battle of the bulge.  It's a constant, on-going, obsessive issue with me.  I know I'm not alone.
I've heard the negativity, felt the shame and witnessed first-hand the cruelty and the impediments of being (I hate this word) obese all my life.  I don't recall ever being a part of the "thin population."  Maybe one time:  the summer of 1982.  I swam every day (sometimes twice/day depending if Mike or Murray Stanley were life-guarding at the Expo Pool), I walked and biked every day to the pool (afternoons and evenings) and was attempting the fit 'thing' during those first three weeks of volleyball practice as I began my freshman year.  I remember going to bed tired, not hungry and sore.  That fall I went to The Buckle and bought my first pair of 'designer' jeans that were a size 16...a first!  Since then, since always, it's been a struggle, a fight for dignity and a battle of my will.  I have always prided myself on looking good, no matter what - perfectly coiffed hair (I mean completely bitchin' hair), make-up, cute clothes (to some extent) and placing a big confident smile on my face.  I never really thought I was "that fat" until recently.  Let's face facts:  I am (I hate these words) morbidly obese.  I have an issue with food.  I think we all do at some point in our life; unfortunately I have had it ALL my life and never truly dealt with it. The problem is that you need food to survive; you need food to function.  You eat what tastes good! You eat what you want! You eat because you want more!  You eat on the go!  You eat because you want to; you think you need to and you overeat.  You eat because you are suppressing feelings.  You eat because everyone else is eating.  You eat because you want seconds.  You eat because it's just there.  You eat until you're a big blueberry (I am so Violet Beauregarde).  Then you wake-up, like I did and see what all this "eating" has done to you.  You are not the picture you have set in your mind; you actually see the person, the 'fat' person in the mirror and cannot believe it!  Oh the flood of emotions:  Where do I start?  What can I do?  Oh how I have let myself go!  What happened?  No wonder!  OMG!  And then the shame, the disappointment and the "shoulda, woulda, coulda's" start in.  You receive advice from strangers, from friends, from family. They all sound the same: do surgery!  No way!  That was not for me and frankly, will never be a part of who I am.  Weight loss surgery.  Hell to the no.  So where does one go from here?  For me, I did nothing.  I shoved it under the rug, I ignored the mirror; ignored advice; ignored my inner voice.  Ignorance is bliss, right?  The jury is still out on that but for me, as you know, the war continues to wage and rear its ugly head. But now, I am stronger than I have ever been - mentally, emotionally and very much committed to a goal and end result.  I am constantly pushing back, fighting the battle and now, Thank God, seeing progress and healing the battle wounds.  Don't worry, I have scars that will always haunt me and  remind me.  But I have a long, long road ahead. One that starts and ends with me.

Me? A writer, a blogger...I never kept a diary!

It's true.  I never kept a diary. I think there were two periods in my life that I attempted to document some life moments but I'd always go back and destroy them or roll my eyes and try to imagine "what the hell were you thinking, Christina?"  Mortification.  Giant step for me.  No time to recant or check my thoughts (there  always the delete button lol!).  Perhaps, once again, I will regret this and do what I did in 6th grade - blush deeply, roll my eyes and "die of complete and utter embarassment!"
Truth is...I am not a writer and I don't pretend to be.  I have always admired my sister for her ability to tell a story in person or on paper.  She has some mad skills. Me?  I am constantly checking, rephrasing and thinking about what I write for days when it comes to personal communication.  If you ask the 'professional Christina' to compose a letter, brochure, any type of pr, etc., there is absolutely no problem - I excel.  I think that's why I haven't pursued a Christmas letter in the last two years...it takes too long to compose; noting the ability to be succinct on a 5x7 card.  You need to be funny while telling about your "oh so wonderful" life because you want everyone to think you lead this enthralling life.  It's a constant battle:  make chicken salad out of chicken shit.