Tag: weight

A single white hair broke away from my beard and floated to the tile floor

I backslid last night. I do that and sometimes for months at a time. A double bacon cheeseburger, a chicken sandwich, some egg rolls, chicken pita (with cheese, gross), breakfast burrito, and breakfast biscuit. By my count that’s enough food for six people. I almost didn’t type it out. Failures don’t occupy my conscious mind but they do pile up in some corner outside my field of view. How much before it it can’t be ignored?

Progress ground to a halt. No weight loss over three days despite restricted meals. Maybe it was that discouragement that did it. It was certainly that I was out past 10:00 PM. Not quite too late. A time of night when thoughts are loud and I don’t want to be alone with them.

I hear and see people talk about the gym as a simple part of their day. Running is popular. When I say “Oh man, I wish, I hope, someday, maybe,” they say, “It’s just, do it, one step, that’s all,” and no part of it connects. Not one word. I think though I hear them I may not be listening.

Of course, this is only one day. It happens. I will be home early tonight and for the rest of the week. I will go for long hikes this weekend as I did the last. If I can rely on anything it’s bursts of droning discipline.

A single white hair broke away from my beard and floated to the tile floor

I backslid last night. I do that and sometimes for months at a time. A double bacon cheeseburger, a chicken sandwich, some egg rolls, chicken pita (with cheese, gross), breakfast burrito, and breakfast biscuit. By my count that’s enough food for six people. I almost didn’t type it out. Failures don’t occupy my conscious mind but they do pile up in some corner outside my field of view. How much before it it can’t be ignored?

Progress ground to a halt. No weight loss over three days despite restricted meals. Maybe it was that discouragement that did it. It was certainly that I was out past 10:00 PM. Not quite too late. A time of night when thoughts are loud and I don’t want to be alone with them.

I hear and see people talk about the gym as a simple part of their day. Running is popular. When I say “Oh man, I wish, I hope, someday, maybe,” they say, “It’s just, do it, one step, that’s all,” and no part of it connects. Not one word. I think though I hear them I may not be listening.

Of course, this is only one day. It happens. I will be home early tonight and for the rest of the week. I will go for long hikes this weekend as I did the last. If I can rely on anything it’s bursts of droning discipline.

324.

nudewave:

anaeeats:

This is what I weighed on July 6th, 2016 and at the end of the day, it’s just a number. I may have weighed more or less at other times and it’s an important thing I learned on that day but not the most important thing I learned. 

I learned that I was gluten intolerant, something I had suspected for a while but had ignored as I ate more grains than I knew what to do with.

I learned that I was in the very early stages of insulin resistance or as the kids call it, pre-pre-diabetes. Essentially, an early reservation for the diabetes train.

I learned that I had some symptoms of IBS and that my dietary choices were making perforations in my GI tract which caused nutrients to leak out into my body and cause inflammation. This especially made me sit up because the inflammation in my body had me in so much pain in the past months.

It was a really weird conversation and I’m not sure it entirely sunk in at that moment. I talked to my dietitian about setting up My Fitness Pal, about the things I should be avoiding, setting up our next few appointments, about how I should be thinking about what I ate on a normal day. I left there and directly walked to 7-11 on the way to subway and got a Slurpee. I sat on the train drinking it and thinking about everything I had eaten that day and remembered that now two hours before I had had an everything bagel with cream cheese and a bottle of Coke on the way to this appointment. I looked at the Slurpee in my hand and had a moment of realization that this is probably why I felt like shit every day.

The next few days, I ate pretty much the same way I had been eating but I began tracking in My Fitness Pal what I was actually eating and realized that I was a) eating a lot more than I should be and more importantly b) eating a lot more shit than I should be. Or than I thought I had.

I am no stranger to a diet. I grew up the daughter of a woman who struggled with her weight all her life and who had tried every diet, pill, shake, trick, and gimmick on the market only to see her weight yo yo and then balloon. My mom had gastric bypass surgery when I was 13 and I remember her telling me beforehand it was to save her life and how she would feel better after; this was hard to believe watching her throw up regularly if she more than a golf ball size amount of food. She lost weight and then gained some more and then lost some more. It didn’t really seem like gastric bypass did anything other than place a physical limit on the exact same habits and the same self hatred she always had. If you were a woman in my family, you hated your body and you hid any struggle you may have with it. That was that.

Since I quit doing 30 hours of ballet a week at age 14, I filled out in ways I didn’t appreciate. Big thighs, big hips, the same double chin my dad has. I kept it in check in high school for the most part but inside, I felt like dying. I wanted more than anything to be skinny. I went away to college and immediately lost some weight my first semester because I was too anxious to eat in the common space in my dorm only to gain that weight back and more when I discovered that being on your own meant that you could eat what you wanted whenever you wanted. I was in relationships where I was loved no matter what my body looked like but I felt like shit about myself.

To say I had issues about my body and about food is an understatement. I remember the years where I would never take a photo of myself below the neck for fear of friends from high school or blog readers to know I was fat (even when I wasn’t that fat! not that even really fucking matters!). I deactivated my facebook after becoming exhausted at untagging photos of my full body. I bought so many beauty products to focus on my face and try to draw attention that I was so uncomfortable in my body. I would feel my anxiety flare up the moment a fellow fat friend referred to us in the same group. I hated myself to a point where looking back, I’m not sure how I made it out alive. That sounds so dramatic but I truly, truly existed feeling so ashamed of my physical form.

I’m not sure what happened next or in what order. I know that I went to therapy and did a lot of work on heavy stuff in my life. I know that I fell in love with a man who made me feel worthy of being loved no matter what. I know that I began to live in the moment more. I know that I began to be proud of the things my body was and what it could do. I know that I started to share photos of myself from head to toe because I liked my outfit or my new tattoo or whatever. I know that I started to feel like my body was mine to do what I wanted with and not something to be ashamed of. I know that I watched my mother’s body riddled with cancer and thinner than I had ever seen it leave this earth. I know that I learned that our bodies are so much more than what they look like and more what they can do and how they can feel. I know that I want a longer life than my mom had and I know I want a happier one.

So I did my research. I figured out the things I couldn’t eat and what I could. I didn’t want to restrict anything except the things that would actively hurt my body and cause it to function poorly. It has been six weeks now and there has been trial and error. Like, I learned why you should eat more protein because it really does keep you full! I learned that sugar is very addictive and that’s not just something people say. I learned that you feel so much more full when you eat real whole foods. I learned that you can still go out to eat with friends as long as you look out for what you are eating. I learned that you can also go out to eat with your friends and eat a treat now and then too. I learned that it’s not really about will power at all and more about making peace with yourself. I learned that it’s not about numbers or calories or anything other than caring for yourself inside and out.

I have been lucky in the past six weeks. I am so glad that I have lost 20.2 pounds and 18 of those have been fat. I am so glad I have found a fitness studio where I can do both yoga and strength training in small groups with supportive people. I am so glad that putting good things in my body has not only made me feel better physically but emotionally. I am so glad that my dietitian focuses not on meal plans but on the reasons why I have overeaten in the past and what I can do to become whole emotionally and physically. I am so glad to feel better.

So essentially, this is a place where I will write about this stuff. Not just updates on weight and food and fitness but about the whole journey, from way back when I was a thin kid who thought it was normal to eat cake frosting in the pantry so no one would see you to now with a much larger body that I am learning how to move and nourish and use to live my life fully. I have a goal weight up there but I’m not sure what it will end up being to be honest; it could be lower or higher. I’m trying to really be present and just listen to what my body needs and where it’s going. I am trying to be well to myself and to others. I am excited for where this journey is going even if I am not sure where the hell that is.

And remember: that number up there is just a mile marker just like all the other ones in your life. It’s where you are at the moment and that’s ok; it doesn’t mean anything other than what you need it to.

You guys, it has been about 45 days on this wellness journey of mine and I have had a lot of thoughts and a lot of feelings that I have been putting on here to share with you. I was raised to feel ashamed of my body and that if it wasn’t perfect, you needed to hide it until it was, that you needed to do whatever work you had to do to it in private.

Well, I think that’s bullshit.

No matter where you are with your body or your mind or anything, there is nothing to be ashamed of. The whole reason I was even able to start this whole journey is because in the past year I finally stopped hating my body. I am proud of where I was when I started and I am proud now as I change and grow. I am going to keep talking about it, warts and all, because I am sick of people I know feeling bad about where they’re at. Be proud and be well! Don’t be angry or ashamed of your body, be proud of what it CAN do and nourish it inside and out.

Anyways, this was my long winded way of saying that I have started a place to talk about my journey and about wellness and about food and about fitness so feel free to bookmark or give a follow or share.

And thanks for being a great soundingboard for me, folks.

Anaïs is wonderful and so is this, all of it. I’ve read it four times now.

I weighed in at 306.8 the other day and feel a real fire right now to breathe it all the hell out, but “making peace with yourself” is the part that I’ve never grasped in that spiritual sort of way that one needs to grasp a thing in order to make a lifelong change. I rely on fire when I suppose it’s more about nurturing life than briefly struggling against doom.

In any case, Anaïs is not alone, I’m not alone, you’re not alone. Maybe I’ll share bits along the way, too, where I’m brave enough. You know, to try not to go it alone.

324.

nudewave:

anaeeats:

This is what I weighed on July 6th, 2016 and at the end of the day, it’s just a number. I may have weighed more or less at other times and it’s an important thing I learned on that day but not the most important thing I learned. 

I learned that I was gluten intolerant, something I had suspected for a while but had ignored as I ate more grains than I knew what to do with.

I learned that I was in the very early stages of insulin resistance or as the kids call it, pre-pre-diabetes. Essentially, an early reservation for the diabetes train.

I learned that I had some symptoms of IBS and that my dietary choices were making perforations in my GI tract which caused nutrients to leak out into my body and cause inflammation. This especially made me sit up because the inflammation in my body had me in so much pain in the past months.

It was a really weird conversation and I’m not sure it entirely sunk in at that moment. I talked to my dietitian about setting up My Fitness Pal, about the things I should be avoiding, setting up our next few appointments, about how I should be thinking about what I ate on a normal day. I left there and directly walked to 7-11 on the way to subway and got a Slurpee. I sat on the train drinking it and thinking about everything I had eaten that day and remembered that now two hours before I had had an everything bagel with cream cheese and a bottle of Coke on the way to this appointment. I looked at the Slurpee in my hand and had a moment of realization that this is probably why I felt like shit every day.

The next few days, I ate pretty much the same way I had been eating but I began tracking in My Fitness Pal what I was actually eating and realized that I was a) eating a lot more than I should be and more importantly b) eating a lot more shit than I should be. Or than I thought I had.

I am no stranger to a diet. I grew up the daughter of a woman who struggled with her weight all her life and who had tried every diet, pill, shake, trick, and gimmick on the market only to see her weight yo yo and then balloon. My mom had gastric bypass surgery when I was 13 and I remember her telling me beforehand it was to save her life and how she would feel better after; this was hard to believe watching her throw up regularly if she more than a golf ball size amount of food. She lost weight and then gained some more and then lost some more. It didn’t really seem like gastric bypass did anything other than place a physical limit on the exact same habits and the same self hatred she always had. If you were a woman in my family, you hated your body and you hid any struggle you may have with it. That was that.

Since I quit doing 30 hours of ballet a week at age 14, I filled out in ways I didn’t appreciate. Big thighs, big hips, the same double chin my dad has. I kept it in check in high school for the most part but inside, I felt like dying. I wanted more than anything to be skinny. I went away to college and immediately lost some weight my first semester because I was too anxious to eat in the common space in my dorm only to gain that weight back and more when I discovered that being on your own meant that you could eat what you wanted whenever you wanted. I was in relationships where I was loved no matter what my body looked like but I felt like shit about myself.

To say I had issues about my body and about food is an understatement. I remember the years where I would never take a photo of myself below the neck for fear of friends from high school or blog readers to know I was fat (even when I wasn’t that fat! not that even really fucking matters!). I deactivated my facebook after becoming exhausted at untagging photos of my full body. I bought so many beauty products to focus on my face and try to draw attention that I was so uncomfortable in my body. I would feel my anxiety flare up the moment a fellow fat friend referred to us in the same group. I hated myself to a point where looking back, I’m not sure how I made it out alive. That sounds so dramatic but I truly, truly existed feeling so ashamed of my physical form.

I’m not sure what happened next or in what order. I know that I went to therapy and did a lot of work on heavy stuff in my life. I know that I fell in love with a man who made me feel worthy of being loved no matter what. I know that I began to live in the moment more. I know that I began to be proud of the things my body was and what it could do. I know that I started to share photos of myself from head to toe because I liked my outfit or my new tattoo or whatever. I know that I started to feel like my body was mine to do what I wanted with and not something to be ashamed of. I know that I watched my mother’s body riddled with cancer and thinner than I had ever seen it leave this earth. I know that I learned that our bodies are so much more than what they look like and more what they can do and how they can feel. I know that I want a longer life than my mom had and I know I want a happier one.

So I did my research. I figured out the things I couldn’t eat and what I could. I didn’t want to restrict anything except the things that would actively hurt my body and cause it to function poorly. It has been six weeks now and there has been trial and error. Like, I learned why you should eat more protein because it really does keep you full! I learned that sugar is very addictive and that’s not just something people say. I learned that you feel so much more full when you eat real whole foods. I learned that you can still go out to eat with friends as long as you look out for what you are eating. I learned that you can also go out to eat with your friends and eat a treat now and then too. I learned that it’s not really about will power at all and more about making peace with yourself. I learned that it’s not about numbers or calories or anything other than caring for yourself inside and out.

I have been lucky in the past six weeks. I am so glad that I have lost 20.2 pounds and 18 of those have been fat. I am so glad I have found a fitness studio where I can do both yoga and strength training in small groups with supportive people. I am so glad that putting good things in my body has not only made me feel better physically but emotionally. I am so glad that my dietitian focuses not on meal plans but on the reasons why I have overeaten in the past and what I can do to become whole emotionally and physically. I am so glad to feel better.

So essentially, this is a place where I will write about this stuff. Not just updates on weight and food and fitness but about the whole journey, from way back when I was a thin kid who thought it was normal to eat cake frosting in the pantry so no one would see you to now with a much larger body that I am learning how to move and nourish and use to live my life fully. I have a goal weight up there but I’m not sure what it will end up being to be honest; it could be lower or higher. I’m trying to really be present and just listen to what my body needs and where it’s going. I am trying to be well to myself and to others. I am excited for where this journey is going even if I am not sure where the hell that is.

And remember: that number up there is just a mile marker just like all the other ones in your life. It’s where you are at the moment and that’s ok; it doesn’t mean anything other than what you need it to.

You guys, it has been about 45 days on this wellness journey of mine and I have had a lot of thoughts and a lot of feelings that I have been putting on here to share with you. I was raised to feel ashamed of my body and that if it wasn’t perfect, you needed to hide it until it was, that you needed to do whatever work you had to do to it in private.

Well, I think that’s bullshit.

No matter where you are with your body or your mind or anything, there is nothing to be ashamed of. The whole reason I was even able to start this whole journey is because in the past year I finally stopped hating my body. I am proud of where I was when I started and I am proud now as I change and grow. I am going to keep talking about it, warts and all, because I am sick of people I know feeling bad about where they’re at. Be proud and be well! Don’t be angry or ashamed of your body, be proud of what it CAN do and nourish it inside and out.

Anyways, this was my long winded way of saying that I have started a place to talk about my journey and about wellness and about food and about fitness so feel free to bookmark or give a follow or share.

And thanks for being a great soundingboard for me, folks.

Anaïs is wonderful and so is this, all of it. I’ve read it four times now.

I weighed in at 306.8 the other day and feel a real fire right now to breathe it all the hell out, but “making peace with yourself” is the part that I’ve never grasped in that spiritual sort of way that one needs to grasp a thing in order to make a lifelong change. I rely on fire when I suppose it’s more about nurturing life than briefly struggling against doom.

In any case, Anaïs is not alone, I’m not alone, you’re not alone. Maybe I’ll share bits along the way, too, where I’m brave enough. You know, to try not to go it alone.

They’re gorgeous by virtue of being with me. There’s nothing for it and I don’t accept arguments to the contrary.

My black and white nature is guiding me these days and, more importantly, inhibiting my creativity; my productivity suffers. Unacceptable. I’ve connected with people and applied to get the job I want through all the channels I can think of. Employed my innate ability to find hard-to-find information on the internet. I think I’ll have to move up to the city, which’d be new. And expensive. Sacrifices must be made in the pursuit of satisfaction.

This new girl I called off backpage wasn’t shy about digging her fingers into my stomach to tell me I should lose weight. I had to demonstrate honesty first, so I told her her stretch marks were like the tributaries of a river. Striations in the land. Meant to be explored. It’s in the telling when you say things like that. You’ll make a fool of yourself if you don’t mean them. She pointed out that my dick would be much more impressive if that pubic fat wasn’t there. When I told her I’d had issues with my right arm going numb she seem genuinely concerned. I took it on faith that she was. I told her to stay although I wasn’t sure if I could muster any more of my energy. I couldn’t afford too many hours, but I wanted the female company just then. She went to shower and I slapped my stomach. I suppose I have gotten too fat again. Parts of me are taut and others soft. My ass like the proverbial wad of dough. I stretched in front of the wall mirror and decided, sure, I could go again.

They’re gorgeous by virtue of being with me. There’s nothing for it and I don’t accept arguments to the contrary.

My black and white nature is guiding me these days and, more importantly, inhibiting my creativity; my productivity suffers. Unacceptable. I’ve connected with people and applied to get the job I want through all the channels I can think of. Employed my innate ability to find hard-to-find information on the internet. I think I’ll have to move up to the city, which’d be new. And expensive. Sacrifices must be made in the pursuit of satisfaction.

This new girl I called off backpage wasn’t shy about digging her fingers into my stomach to tell me I should lose weight. I had to demonstrate honesty first, so I told her her stretch marks were like the tributaries of a river. Striations in the land. Meant to be explored. It’s in the telling when you say things like that. You’ll make a fool of yourself if you don’t mean them. She pointed out that my dick would be much more impressive if that pubic fat wasn’t there. When I told her I’d had issues with my right arm going numb she seem genuinely concerned. I took it on faith that she was. I told her to stay although I wasn’t sure if I could muster any more of my energy. I couldn’t afford too many hours, but I wanted the female company just then. She went to shower and I slapped my stomach. I suppose I have gotten too fat again. Parts of me are taut and others soft. My ass like the proverbial wad of dough. I stretched in front of the wall mirror and decided, sure, I could go again.