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Food, Food, Food

For years I ate everything that didn't eat me first. From morning to night, I thought about what I could eat. Now, here at MFP, I think about healthy food and healthy meals and how much I am allowed to eat. Then and now -food is always on my mind.

I go from one extreme to the next. About 15 years ago I hit the gas pedal and drove full speed into a fat life and now I am in full reverse into a thinner, healthier life. What can I eat and when? How do I adjust my meal plan if I slipped a little? 

I am like a puppet on a string and food is the puppeteer.

If I could ask the diet fairy for one wish, I would ask her to make food less important to me.

A friend of ours forgets to eat at times. I am not sure if he is from this planet because I don't think that's normal behavior. How can one neglect to eat?  To him, it doesn't matter, food is just not that important. I would love to walk in his shoes for just a short while. I would love to know how it feels, to not think about food. How can he even exist and be so annoyingly happy?

As a child they had to call me in at mealtimes, I had to be reminded that it was time to eat, because back then playing with the other kids was more important than eating. Over the years this has changed. I grew up and life took over. I stopped playing and meals became my entertainment, what doesn't make any sense. 

I have a wonderful man on my side, great kids, a good career and, compared to others, I am fairly healthy. It's not that I need any more entertainment, my life is pretty entertaining the way it is. 

What is it with me and food? 

My instinct tells me I need to find a healthy balance between my life - food - my dreams, my wishes, and reality. Maybe I just should make more room for playtime. 

This journey here on MFP is like a complete makeover and perhaps that's what it's supposed to be. It's not just about changing the way I eat, it's changing me in the process.

Being thin is about changing the way you think about yourself. It's about saying that you deserve to be healthy.

Well, I deserve better than being fat.

Play more - eat less, it actually makes sense.  

 

Another ½ pound is gone! 63 pounds gone – Only 77 to go!

Life is good! 

A woman called Rose

I had already checked out, my friend -as usual- took her time; she was not even near the register. I had time to kill, and I sat down on the bench close to the checkout and watched the people around me. I am in no hurry on Saturdays, I can piddle around as I please. 

I love to watch people. We are an interesting species, we often tell a story without talking. I saw Mom's with their kids, who were in desperate need of a vacation -or a drink. (The Mom's not the children.)  I saw couples holding hands, and others standing apart from each other as far as they could. Buddy language is an interesting thing. 

And then I saw her. A store employee, an older woman; she was very little, not taller than 4'6" or 4'7". She walked from one register to the next and helped wherever she was needed. She rolled the carts away, helped packing the groceries and wished everybody a good day.

She walked funny. Her upper body was moving from one side to the other with every step. I saw her legs; they were short and curved sideways at the knees. I bet she was bullied all her life and people made fun of her bow-legged look. 

I am not a medical doctor and I don't know anything about her condition, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that she probably had numerous surgeries throughout her life. The way she walked showed her pain; the way she walked and held her head up high also showed pride. I felt terribly guilty. 

I don't know the woman or her history, but I bet she fought hard to be able to walk without any kind of help. I thought about my previous blog post and I felt ashamed. 

A couple of days ago I complained about my self-inflicted inability to walk, while there is a woman, who probably fought all her life to keep on walking as best as she could. 

I felt the urge to hug a stranger and did so in my mind. When she came closer I saw her nametag. "Rose, is helping you," it said, and so she did. Not knowingly she had sat my head straight today. I will not complain about walking anymore. I will stop feeling sorry for myself. 

I had one small surgery on my leg and it has healed perfectly. I have problems walking because I am fat and I have been lazy for too long. My weight is my obstacle and my current condition is my punishment for eating too much -for way too long.  How lucky am I, that I will be able to fix, what only feels broken.

Sometimes, life has a way of putting things in perspective.  No more whining. I will walk and I will push myself a bit harder.

Thank you, Rose.  I wish I could tell you how much you helped me today, perhaps one day I will.

Working out at a snail's pace

"Why haven't you logged your exercise?" One of my observant friends here at MFP had noticed, and sure enough, he sent me a message. "Busted," I mumbled, and I told him about my cold.

Then the next one messaged me, and sure enough, he too was persistent and dared to ask me about my missing workout. "With friends like this I don't need any enemies," I thought to myself and felt guilty.

"Start slowly," both said. "Don't compare yourself to others." That's easier said than done. 

I look at my friends here at MFP, and I am very proud of them -they are killing it. They walk mile after mile. They spent hours on ecliptic riders and other torture machines, what makes them superheroes in my eyes. This can't be normal.

I hate working out. I hate it - I hate it - I hate it. Have I mentioned that I hate it?

I shouldn't call it "work out" anyway. I am trying to walk, and it's so hard on me.  It hurts before and after; it doesn't give me any pleasure. I still think about my leg. I can't breathe, I feel uneasy and very uncomfortable. How can just a few minutes exhaust me so much? I am a sweaty mess; have red cheeks and look like a Leprechaun.

Exercise, that is part of the deal here at MFP.  Deep down I know I have to get going, I just wish it would be easier. "Just do it," the voice of reason inside me whispers, and while I agree, a part of me wants to stomp her foot and scream like a little kid; "You can't make me!"

Then, Friday last week an MFP buddy who is struggling, decided to make his diary private. "This way I won't feel embarrassed when I overeat," he wrote, and I jumped on my broom and was on his case in lightening speed. "While you will be able to hide the truth from us, you won't be able to hide it from yourself," I answered and then it hit me. Am I a smart cookie or what? I call him out on something I am doing as well. Brilliant!

I didn't log my workout attempts because I felt ashamed, just like him. "This way I won't feel embarrassed when I am so far behind everybody else."

He opened his diary up on Monday, even thanked me for helping him through his conflict. The same day I logged 8 minutes at a snail's pace on the treadmill for the first time. Unbelievable, I burned 38 calories. Yesterday, three days later, I pushed myself to walk 10 minutes without a break and it almost killed me. I still cling to the handlebar, but I did it. A new Leprechaun look - 47 calories burned. Yeah, me!

Logging and seeing the numbers hurt, perhaps it has too. This is not easy; this is hard -almost as hard as being fat.

"Alright Pumpkin, swallow your pride. It can only get better from here." I can do it.

62.5 pounds lost - Only 77.5 to go

 

 

Finally! Bye-bye 250

I woke up excited. Thursday is my weekly weigh-in day, and I had high hopes for today.

Last week had been extremely hectic and it had forced me to move around more than usual. Perhaps it would show on the scale? 

I felt like a little kid on Christmas morning. I couldn't wait to get up and I eagerly started my daily routine. Take care of business - Brush teeth - Take a shower and then finally step on Victoria -that's the name I gave our new scale.

I felt so much excitement and couldn't believe my eyes. It was indeed the victory I had hoped for and so much more. It's not just that I lost over 60 pounds, I also shattered the 250. Finally, the scale showed 249.5. Some days I weigh in twice -just to be sure. Not today. "Thank you Victoria, I take it...see you next week!"

I can't describe the joy I felt at that moment.

Once upon a time, in January when I signed up here, I weighed over 300 pounds; thankfully I didn't know it back then. Our old scale was kind and inaccurate; it spared me the pain of actually seeing the real number. Months later, when I traded it in for a new digital model, I quietly adjusted my weight here at MFP and didn't talk much about it. 300+ pounds is nothing to brag about.

I took me 249 days to weigh 249.5.  What a coincidence; it's magical. Once again I feel like the diet fairy sprinkled some fairy dust on me. Finally, I hit the official workout mark my doctor had asked for. Sadly, that means no more excuses, I will have to keep moving even if it's at snail speed. 

Another milestone - another reward! Tonight, I will shop online and will order the peacock lamp I promised myself in January when I wrote my weight loss contract.

I am happy, and I am proud of myself. I am doing it, I am going down. 

I am doing it with the help of some wonderful tools and amazing friends here on MFP. What would I do without them, my hardcore friends, who cheer me on, but also gently nudge me, when they feel I might be drifting off?

I know there will be bumps in the road and I feel uneasy when I think about the upcoming Holiday Season, but today I feel unstoppable. I have come this far, I will go further and will declare Victory in the end -because if not I would have to rename my scale. 

62 pounds lost - Only 78 to go!

Life is spectacular! 

Fat, or not Fat?

Some people have asked me to stop using the words "Fat" and "Morbidly obese" when I talk about myself, and I thought about it.

There are other words I could use instead. CHUBBY -  OVERWEIGHT -   BIG  -  WELL ROUNDED   all of them sound so much nicer and that's exactly why I will not use them. I have used them in the past. "If it doesn't sound extreme, then it can't be bad." That was the logic behind it.

I even made fun of myself; used the old Garfield joke and proudly declared that I just wasn't tall enough for my weight. I looked at myself through rose-colored glasses. The glasses came off that night in the movie theater when nobody wanted to sit beside me. That night I became"The Fat Lady." The word FAT hurts, it hit home and hit hard.

Interesting enough, I would never call anybody else fat that would be rude and uncalled for. I try not to hurt people -I know better. 

However, I will continue to call myself "Fat" and "Morbidly obese" because that's what I am - at least for the moment. These words only define my weight, not me as a person.

I am not trying to put myself down, that would be hard right now because I am flying high as a kite. I am walking on clouds, feel like I am floating on air.

Being here and finally losing the weight makes me feel like I sparkle. I feel special, even pretty now and then.

Calling myself "The"Fat Lady," is a conscious decision.

I am enjoying the title, hoping I won't carry it for very long. Another fat lady -or a fat gentleman- will be crowned after me, and then another one, and another one after that.  Silently they will step forward, will take the invisible crown and will proudly wear the title "Fat" during their journey to a healthier and lighter version of themselves.

Perhaps, I call myself "The Fat Lady" because I am terrified that I could lose focus. I am afraid I could get cocky about my weight loss because I don't want to stop until I am not fat anymore.

Imagine, one day I will drop the word FAT and I might just be a lady. Until that day comes,  I will kick and scream, laugh and cry, curse and sweet talk myself; anything it takes to stay focused on my goal. 

I am a happy fat lady! I am a morbidly obese woman on a mission.  Just half a pound more and I will have kicked 60 stinking pounds to the curb.

59.5 lbs lost! - Only 80.5 lbs to go

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