Coming out as Fat

So, I was reading a series of articles/blogs and am inspired to write this, knowing it might make some people mad., upset, annoyed, or frustrated.  Just know how hard it is for me to write it and try to be patient with me.

I am officially coming out as fat.  It isn't like my fatness is hidden or secret, but it is something I have tried to hide, tried to run away from, tried to change for so long.  I don't know when I was first fat.  We have all seen the non-fat photos of me when I was put on a diet and began a lifetime of weight cycling, always gaining more than I had ever lost.  I can't help but wonder what size I would be if I had never been put on that first diet. Who would I be? But the ship has sailed on that.

I am a fat person. I just am. And, you know, I am always going to be a fat person. This realization hit me when I was walking down the stairs, and I glanced at a perpetually un-updated wall of photos. I realized that in all of them, I am fat. The ones I hid from. The ones I cropped myself out of. And the ones that are hanging there for all the world to see. There it is, over years and years.  Fat me.  And I thought about when my last non-fat photo would have been: when I got back form China, after a year of eating nothing and developing an ulcer from literally starving myself. (and I do mean "literally", since I kept records and on many days ate nothing more than 1 cup of cooked rice, some days less)  And before that? My wedding photos when I had spent a year starving myself.  And before that? In high school. In 9th grade when I starved myself. And each and every other photo of me--aside from those three snapshot moments in my life--is me, fat.  Either going up or going down in weight.

And I am so tired of it.

I am tired of hating myself.

I am ashamed of the things I have thought: hoping for the flu so I could lose weight, jealously reading about people who had their perfectly healthy stomach amputated , even knowing three people who did this and had a lifetime of vomiting, vitamin deficiency and, in the end weight gain.

I am sickened by the things I have done: taking medicine that made my heart race and put me at risk of a heart valve problem but told myself that at least I would be thin, making myself vomit so I could get rid of the calories, eating things I knew would make me sick in hopes of losing weight, swallowing a bottle full of pills because a fat life is no life. 

This morning Stan joked about putting our dog "on a diet" and DD1 said, no joke, "What is that?" And that made me feel so good. I answered that "It is when you eat less on purpose." And she gave me a weird look and walked away as if she couldn't fathom why someone would do that. She is 8; at her age I had already been put on a diet. Already failed at losing weight. Already begun the system that would fill me with guilt and shame and fear and self-loathing. I had already begun hiding behind baggy clothes, hiding at the back of a crowd in photos, stepping into the shadow to hide myself from view.

I tell the girls all the time to eat until they are full and food is fuel and they can grow up to be whatever size they are supposed to be. But I don't afford myself that same luxury.

I would never tolerate someone treating my children the way I treat myself.  I would never let them treat someone this way.  And I am done with it.

Not too long ago I was watching a clip of some belly dancers.  The girls were both fascinated.  They were intrigued by both women (One is thin, the other not) and they honestly did not seem to notice or care.  *That* is my success, that acceptance, that size-blindness. DD2 said "I like the one in the red."  (She is the not thin one.)  And I started to cry.  She didn't care that the lady was fat. DD2 liked her clothes and her skill and her technique and her smile.  She didn't care about her size.  Maybe, just maybe, I can instill that in them. To love me and everyone else equally, no shame or guilt or judgement.  People come in all sizes.  I am just....the size I am.

(Here is that video, by the way.)

Not long ago I was reading about the women who won the Nobel Peace Prize.  One of them is Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, the president of Liberia who brought an end to a bloody civil war and paved the way for peace and hope for millions of women.  Her mother was born into poverty, and Ms. Sirleaf, one generation later, is the president of the nation. She has several degrees including one from Harvard. And she has a Nobel Prize. Who, honestly, would want this mighty woman to waste even a moment of her life dieting? Who would want her to be less than she is?  How can anyone look at her and presume to know whether she is healthy or fit by her size? 

And then I think of all the time, all of the energy, all of the tears I have wasted hating myself, hating my fat, hating this fundamental aspect of myself.  What could I have accomplished with that energy? *That* is what I should be ashamed of, not who I am. 

So, this is me. I am fat. I am probably always going to be fat.  And now I need to learn to love myself. I may never learn to see myself as beautiful, but I am hoping that I will at least give me a fair shake.

I am done with dieting. I am done with putting my life on pause. I need to try to figure out who I am and where I stand and where I go from here.  But wherever I go, I will be fat as I do it.  And that is just the way it is. And, increasingly, I am at peace with that. 

Just some thoughts

I have really been wanting to blog again for a while, but hesitated. 

First, blogs are all blocked at work (Don't get me started) which, just as a function of blogging, makes it difficult. Difficult to post, to read, to edit, to comment.

Plus, I have just been sort of leery.  I have a lot of thoughts, but I am not sure I Want to put them out there.  They are private and personal, some feel dangerous, some rebellious. But I have this burden to unload them and there isn't really anyone I would do so with around here.  I also know that this blog is blocked from Rose entirely and has sort of fallen by the wayside for us as a group, so, I suppose that gives me a feeling of protective secrecy.  Like going to an abandoned house and telling your darkest secrets out loud. 

So I set this up to be able to post from email.  (My app is blocked at work too. Of course)  So, perhaps as time permits I might email some thoughts here.  And I might even not delete them. ;-)

Test

I saw this article and thought it was quite fascinating. 

Dare, indeed

Yep, the perfect thing for today!

Another year under the belt

YES! We did it! The half was great as Dorothy has already described.
hahaha ...yes, I did leap out of bed at the alarm. haha sigh
Yes, we did start in the last corral, yes we did stop an officer for directions,
but...
YES WE DID FINISH!!! WOO HOO!
A girl in front of us actually quit because her blisters were hurting.
Like Dorothy's shirt said: FINISHING = WINNING!
It was a great day, and even though I didn't train for about the last month due to being sick, I felt pretty well afterward. Sore and a couple little blisters (nothing like Dorothy's and nothing like last year's Marla). And it was FUN!! I took lots of pics along the way of Columbus, I need to post them if I can figure out how. haha
Today, almost a week later I went to the gym and did a full workout and I sweated through my shirt and it felt great!
A quick 5min on the bike to warm up,
My seven exercises-done twice,
then 30 min on the treadmill!
Yay!
I'm hoping I can keep this up regularly over the winter months.
This coming winter has been named the 'Winter of Work' in my house.
We are dedicating it to working hard and making money AND for me working in the gym too!
I have a goal and I really want to finally reach it since distractions like school and *hopefully boards will be done my then. My schedule at work is set. I counted. I work 12 days in Nov and 18 in Dec. PLENTY of time to get my booty to the gym for one hr a day. That's *really not much.

But anyway... I loved the half much better than a full. I can say, I've done a full and that's good enough for my bucket list. I want to do a half or two next year, just need to figure out which ones... Maybe the Columbus again. It was a lovely fall event. What do ya think Dorothy?

Blisterific! (tmi warning)

So pretty much my only negative consequence of the half was a colossal blister. I got several smaller ones but the problemo was my left foot and a blister about 3 inches x 2 inches. And under a callous which made it hard to lance.

Sunday I tried to deal with it but it hurt so I figured I would let it heal on its own. Right.

Monday I used some Dr Sholl's blister pads and by the end of the day I was nauseous and dizzy with pain. I came home, elevated my foot, then--once I no longer feared fainting--lanced it. I repeated that later that evening.

Tuesday It was tender.

Wednesday it was back to normal. It still looks awful, but it blends in with the Hobbit foot. ;-)

And here she is....

See! All better!

Columbus!!

Okie dokie....Here we go!

Ah, the two of us, fresh as a couple of daisies.

Yes, it was still pitch dark.  Though, to her credit you should have seen Blanche *leap* (and I do mean leap) out of bed when the alarm went off. hee hee

In our coral! Yes, the last one. Which in hindsight was probably not the best choice.  F would have probably been a better spot than G, but anywho...

Ah, a sea of humanity. :-)

They had fireworks!!  It was pretty cool.  The band was playing "Born to Run" and they launched a bunch of fireworks.  A pretty cool start.

I almost got trampled to take this pic but the sign says "Worst Parade Ever" which was pretty much the best sign ever.

Aaaaaand 13 miles, a whole lot of spilled Gatorade, several blisters, one stopping a policeman for directions, and a lot of fruit snacks later here we were!!

spectacular

As I sit here right now my heart is racing.  I have no idea why.  Then I realized that it is that old, familiar feeling creeping in: panic.

I tried to calm a bit, and did, as any person today would do, a quick Google search, hopped over to Mayo Clinic and found this:

Panic attack symptoms can make your heart pound and cause you to feel short of breath, dizzy, nauseated and flushed. Because panic attack symptoms can resemble life-threatening conditions, it's important to seek an accurate diagnosis and treatment.

Panic attacks typically include a few or many of these symptoms:

• A sense of impending doom or death
• Rapid heart rate
• Sweating
• Trembling
• Shortness of breath
• Hyperventilation
• Chills
• Hot flashes
• Nausea
• Abdominal cramping
• Chest pain
• Headache
• Dizziness
• Faintness
• Tightness in your throat
• Trouble swallowing

And there we have it.  This is now the second in a few days.  What in the world is wrong with me? 

I guess the weirdest part is that the feeling of impending doom is just...so real.

Ah, my old friend

Several times in the past two weeks I have had what I would call either minor panic attacks or the first stages of a panic attack. The most recent one was yesterday.

Out of nowhere (I can look back and speculate at antecedents, but I have nothing concrete) I felt complete *terror*. I had been ont he porch and went inside. My heart was racing, I felt nausous, and I felt this feeling of impending doom. I tried to explain it to Stan, and he was understanding, saying that he feels stress a lot too.

But this, this was not stress. It was terror. I even noted the time (6:45) in case I later found out something horrible had happened. I jokingly described it as the way Obi-Wan Kenobi describes the tremble in the Force when Alderan is destroyed.

Looking back, I see what it was, but at the time....I was just so....scared. And this has happened 3 or 4 times in the past couple of weeks. It has been quite some time since I have had a PA and there was always a clear antecedent (cave) so this, well, this is quite disconcerting.

So I stood there, tried to calm down, breathed deeply and with purpose. I thought about what there could possibly be to be terrified of, tried to reason my way out. I felt my heart racing and tried to just calm down.

Eventually the feeling sort of dissipated, but I still have this lingering concern. These are out of nowhere and with no cause. Spectacular.

Outrage

<------------------- This is where I am firmly planted.

So, I am in the process of reading Snow Flower and the Secret Fan.  It is a really beautiful story, though painful and filled with sorrow.  It is the story of a girl and her best friend in China.  One of the central aspects is the girl talking about her foot binding. I had always been horrified by the very idea, but as I read I became more and more interested and started to do some research. The more I read and saw the more outraged I became.  What in the world is wrong with people?  How can something so despicable be accepted, encouraged, or practiced?!? 

How can women willingly wrap the feet of their 6 year old children? How can they break their feet, reshape the bones, reform the foot? How can they reconcile themselves with the idea that a 7 centimeter foot is the ideal???

And this comes on the heals of my reading Half the Sky. 

It is a heartbreaking book, mostly because it is totally true.  The suffering of women around the world is so terrible, complex, and tragic.  The things taht cause suffering that are treatable here.  The things taht cause death that are not even a concern here.  

But mostly I was outraged by Female Genital Mutilation. 

How in the world can people do such a thing? How can women tie down their own children in order to cut them? How in the world can this go on?

I keep thinking that things like this will change, but I see how foolish this is.  How can this still go on? 

Women are more than half the world.  Women hold up half the sky.  Why in the world are we not united? Why don't we help each other? Why don't we encourage our sisters, both in our family and out? Why don't we take care of the daughters throughout the world? Why do we stand back and let women get abused, manipulated, bartered with, sold, enslaved? And what in the world should I do about it?

Saga of the skin

The Saga if My Skin

Complete with gruesome photos  (some are icky)

So, a couple of months ago I stopped tanning. Not really consciously at first; it was just inconvenient and I went less and less. Eventually I decided to stop going.

Then I noticed my eczema/dermatitis/psoriasis trifecta manifesting again. It was slow at first then got worse an worse and spread.

Finally I decided that since I had paid for the tanning for the month I would go a last few times.

Before I went I took these pics:

My skin is bubbly with blisters, cracked, bleeding, and peeling.

This was two days after tanning. Blisters gone. Skin is shiny and new under the old stuff.

And now, a week later....

Now, that may not *look* better, but it is. It is all the old stuff flaking off to reveal the new skin beneath.

I am amazed. I don't know why. I mean, I know tanning helps. It helps my skin. It got rid of my Vitamin D deficiency. I know it helps.

I guess I had just convinced myself that maybe it was a placebo or a coincidence or something. Additionally, it is cheaper than seeing a dermatologist and works better than the creams they gave me.

In and out of weeks and almost over a year

"That night in his very room a forest grew, and grew, and grew until the ceiling hung with vines and the walls were the world all around.  And an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Max, and he sailed over night and day, and in and out of weeks, and almost over a year..."

This part of Where the Wild Things are has always moved me. Actually the whole thing does, but that is another story. There is just something about his imagination and the passage of time.  How, when we are in our own little world an evening feels like a lifetime or a day feels like a moment. Then you blink and realize that time has continued and you are either right where you were or nowhere in particular and the world is there.   

This really struck me this past week on what *should* have been the Quad Cities half.  Well, it was the half, just not for me.  I found myself being really sad about that and introspective, wondering where I am, where I am going, and how I am to get there. 

Then this morning out of pure lack of planning I had no clean pants to wear. I dug through the pile and came across some I had packed away for some time, figuring I was too lardy to wear them. I put them on and, surprise surprise, they fit.

I have known that I was not gaining weight. I have been eating well, walking occasionally, living my life in a way that led tome being really, honestly, totally happy. I am learning to love myself and forgive myself. I am learning to do the things I want and not put myself down.

Depression, it is no secret, has been a huge problem for me for a long time.  I have to think that all of this--the guilt, the shame, the failure, the negtivity, the hating myself--has to contribute to that.  So I see this as a way to deal with my mental health.

Was I at the Quad Citites half? no. Will I be there next year? Maybe. I am thinking of leaning more toward a triathlon.  Will I be att he Columbus half? You bet!

But wherever I am I am happier than I have been in a while.  I am fine to be who I am and teach my children to eat until they are full and not be critical of themselves or others. I am happy to learn that my husband loves me, for whatever reason, and that is good enough for me. My kids love me, and I need to work every day at living up to that, not trying to earn it through diets and fasting.

It has been quite a year, but I feel like I am back into the night of my very own room, my dinner is there, and it is still hot.

Now, let the wild rumpus start!!!

So, I was reading this blog and came across this gem

A little questionnaire for you all:

1. How many years of your life did you put into trying to be thin?
2. How much of your life did you put on hold while you tried to be thin?
3. How old were you when you first remember being told you were fat?
4. How many diets have you been on?
5. How many exercise “plans” have you been on?
6. How many years of your life have been taken up with eating disorders?
7. How many people have told you that you are fat?
8. How many people have treated you badly because you are fat?
9. How many years did you spend counting calories, watching the number on the scale or the size label on your clothes?

I was going to try to answer these but it just so  completely summarized where my mind has been going lately.  

1 I have been on a diet or maintenance plan essentially consistently from the age of 8

2 I have put my entire life on hold during that time.

3 8

4 Well, if you don't count my own cockamamie plans, it would be around 12 or so.

5easily over a dozen

6 Since compulsive overeating is considered an eating disorder, and when I am int he clutches of it mine is quite severe I would say I have actively lived in CO for about 20 of the past 28 years

7 Wow, many. dozens. A hundred maybe? Out loud at least. ;-)

8 hahahahahahahahaha oh, gosh. that's rich.

9 Well, that would be all of them from are 8 on.

And here I sit. Still fat.

I wonder why I feel like a failure? I wonder why my self-esteem is filled with grief, shame, and disgust.  

I have *wasted* my life.  And THAT makes me so mad.  Mad at myself.  How could I let this happen?