Getting rid of your fat habits..........

Last night I spent a wonderful evening with a bunch of ladies, most of whom I'd never met, trying on and exchanging clothes. It was sort of a spontaneous get-together, formed on a Facebook page, and the best part was all the clothes were size 14 and up.

Some may think "plus-size" is a one-size-fits-all description - in a word, FAT. But some would be wrong.

What I saw was a group of beautiful, kind, loving and supportive ladies who enjoyed an evening of trying on clothes, giving honest opinions, taking the shirt of their back (literally) to hand it over to another who would "look better in it." Sure, we joked about the lady lumps we don't love as much as other parts of our bodies, but mostly we rejoiced in each other's unique assets. Even if many of us wore the same size, we found that the same top looked completely different on each of us. We all took home armfuls of new-to-us clothing in sizes 14-3X - and yes, most of us had something in nearly every size!

I arrived at the event wearing shorts and a tank top - seemingly a normal summer-y outfit. But for me, it was way outside my summer uniform of capris and a cute short-sleeved top. I rarely wear shorts OR tank tops and this was the first time I was meeting most of these women. First impressions are important, right? Not when it's hot out. Because I didn't care. I liked my outfit. And I felt comfortable.

Of course I have criticisms about my own body. Of course I'm always striving (with varying levels of success) to get more fit and healthy. And by that I mean - more fit and healthy. I did not say skinny. I am not skinny. I've never been skinny. I've not always been fat, either. But none of us (and I mean YOU) are ever going to fit perfectly into some media-driven ideal size or measurement. We all have lumps and bumps and skin that is not taught or perfectly smooth. And we all have reasons - having children, going through a divorce, taking medication, having a thyroid problem. But who cares?

No one - and I mean no one - should have to "explain" why they are a certain size. So, stop doing it. That is the first "fat habit" you should get rid of. Why is it anyone's business why you are the size you are? It's not. So, don't bother explaining. That would be akin to making someone explain why their hair is blue or they have a nose piercing, or why they have tattoos. Because they do. That's it.

Another "fat habit" I'd like to get rid of is thinking "I can't wear that." If you can put it on and breathe in it, you can wear it. I once saw a post online that said "How to get a bikini body. Buy a bikini. Put it on your body." Exactly! If you want to rock a bikini, go ahead! If you're not comfortable, for whatever reason, don't do it. Same goes for sleeveless shirts and dresses - they're just arms - everyone has them. Shorts and short skirts? You have legs. We all do. So maybe yours are a bit lumpy or, like I've been known to say about mine "tree trunk legs." It's hot. Wear shorts. If you don't want to, don't. Wear what makes you feel pretty and comfortable - there are cute clothes in all sizes out there so buy something that fits and wear it. Don't squeeze into a size large t-shirt if you are not a size large. Tags are just tags. Cut them out if they bother you. I remember reading an article once about a woman who lost a great deal of weight. She said she never used clothes as a reward because "I think women should buy clothes they love in EVERY size." Yes! Buy and wear what you love, regardless of whether or not you are happy with what the little tag inside says.

When you go out to eat, do you feel self-conscious about what you order in front of others? STOP IT! That is the third "fat habit" I'd like to see banished! For goodness sake, you are lucky enough to be eating out at a restaurant. Hopefully, you are with friends, someone you love, maybe a first date. You are there to EAT so stop ordering a house salad with dressing on the side when what you really want is a bacon cheeseburger. You don't eat out every day, so enjoy the opportunity to savor something you wouldn't normally make at home. If that's a salad chock-full of yummy goodness, then go for it! If it's a slice of cheesecake, have it. We all know how to eat healthy. We know we need fruits, veggies, grains, low-fat dairy.......so focus on eating those most of the time. And when you go out, enjoy your food. Two incidents stick in my mind regarding this "fat habit" - one, when I was in college and went out with my then-boyfriend (who later was my first husband). We went to Denny's in the wee hours of the morning, following a night out at the bars, and of course we were starving. I immediately requested an order of fries and only after they were delivered did I notice every single other girl in our group had ordered the side salad. Who the FUCK eats a side salad at two in the morning? I know those bitches wanted fries but were too concerned about how it would make them look. I felt self-conscious, but only because my boyfriend gave me a "look" (I divorced him many years later because he never let me eat french fries. Kidding! About the fries...). The other incident has happened twice - my husband, who isn't much of a bread fan, often orders his burger "low carb" (without the bun) and enjoys a Diet Coke now and then. I like my burgers with a bun, and I might be inclined from time to time to enjoy a Bailey's shake. When our orders have arrived, I am immediately given the low-carb/Diet Coke order and he is given the "loaded" order. BULLSHIT! Girls eat, too. I may have just enjoyed a smoothie with fresh fruit and kale that very morning, but when I'm at a restaurant, I want FOOOOOOODDDDDD! So, stop ordering what you think the universe is telling you to - because, guess what? No one cares. It's your stomach, your hunger, and your food. Eat it.

The next "fat habit" I would like to discuss is working out. Specifically, thinking you can't work out at a gym because you're "too fat." What the??? Anyone can work out at the gym. I know people who have actually lost weight BEFORE they join a gym so they will "fit in." Are you kidding me? Last time I checked, no gym discriminated based on size. The gym would love to have you working out right alongside the toned athlete next to you. The important thing is that you MOVE. Everyone needs exercise. So, go out and move. Who cares what you do? If you want to walk slowly on a treadmill, do it. If you want to take a water aerobics class, do it. If you sign up for a triathlon and you are the VERY LAST person to cross the finish line (guilty) so what? You did it! Anyone, any size, can and should exercise. Last year, at a local 5K race my husband participates in, the last person to cross the finish line was a very obese man. Most of the spectators were long gone by then, but the few that remained gave this man a fitting celebration. Why not? He did it! If all you do it ten minutes of light weights or break a sweat washing the car in the hot sun, GOOD FOR YOU! Just move. No matter what size you are. Never stop moving.

Finally, the last "fat habit" I would like to banish is thinking that you are fat. Who decided what is "fat" and what is "skinny" in the first place? Sure, we have BMI charts, but even those are flawed and don't take into account many factors that affect fitness. Why is one size admired over another? What IS fat? Ask a size 0 girl and she might say "size 6." A size 14 girl might answer with size 20. Is fat just "fatter than you?" Is skinny just "skinnier than you?" My children tell me, all the time, "Mom, you are NOT fat." I wear a size 2X. Is that fat? Is anything over sizes "small, medium, large" considered fat? Is fat relative to the relationship you have with the person who is judging you? We are not fat. We are not skinny. We are not the sizes on the tag in our shirts. What we ARE: people who are all different shapes and sizes. That's it. Nothing about that speaks to anything we are in our hearts and minds. Size does not equal intelligence or ability, or capacity to love and be loved.

Get rid of your fat habits. Once and for all.

The conversation went like this...........

Tonight, Jeff and I went to the Outback for dinner. He had a gift card taking up space in his wallet since Christmas, and the kids were all gone to watch the high school talent show. So, kid-free (and FREE) dinner! WIN!

During dinner Jeff was lamenting that he had wanted only a salad for dinner because he "felt fat." Um, excuse me - GIRL WORDS! What guy says he feels fat? Well, my husband does. But that didn't stop him from downing steak and lobster AND a chocolate Thunder from Down Under dessert.

At any rate, he mentioned he needed to be "a little bit fat" because when he was out in the woods doing his mountain man/elk hunting/scratching-his-balls thing, he needed some fat reserves in case he got lost in the woods and was starving.

Me: You know, that's why women survive better than men in those types of situations. Because we have more fat.

Jeff: Yeah, like that guy we know who couldn't finish the Ironman? That guy was all skinny and shit, but that one lady? She was WAY heavier than him, AND older, and she finished!"

Me: Exactly. I mean (gesturing up and down my body), I did TWO triathlons! If this body can do it, anyone can!

Jeff: Well........there was a little less of you then.

Postscript - I'm planning to Nair off one of his eyebrows while he sleeps. Subtle, but effective.

So fat........

My daughter and I were talking about weight today. Mostly because I've reached the age/weight where my doctor wagged her finger in my face, reminding me of my high blood sugar and high cholesterol and gave me the "talk" that starts with "Well, things are ok for now..." and ends with "Stop eating crap!" Or something like that. I may be paraphrasing.

I know I need to lose weight. I'm the heaviest I've ever been and of course I don't love it. I mean, I still like myself - I don't loathe the person I see in the mirror. I'm much more than my body shape and/or size. But I don't want to be unhealthy. I don't want to be labeled with scary labels like "diabetes" and be put on scary drugs like statins. So, the lifestyle changes are happening.

But what should I weigh? The BMI charts say one thing. My doctor says another. My jeans say another thing entirely. I don't have a set number or size. I just want to be comfortable in what I wear. I want to buy things off the rack in the regular sizes and not have to think twice about it. I want to be the size that I could actually borrow a clothing item from someone without worrying if they have anything big enough.

And, regardless of what that number or size ends up being, I wonder if I will ever NOT feel fat? I've felt fat since I was in sixth grade and first became aware that fat and skinny were even important. I weighed 96 lbs in sixth grade. I was ten years old. I vividly remember two girls, both named Heidi, who were skinny and blonde. THEY each weighed 72 lbs and they let us know it. There was much discussion about "the Heidis" and how skinny they were. Everyone wanted to be a Heidi. Most of all, me. I weighed myself every day, striving for that magical 72 lbs. I started sixth grade wearing floral undershirts with tiny bows on the chest and ended it wearing my very first bra. I was developing, and it was normal, but I felt fat.

Between sixth and seventh grade, I went through puberty and all its horrors and weighed 125 lbs by year's end. I felt huge! I hated how skinny my friends were and if there were any girl fatter than I (there was) I didn't see her because she was invisible to me. Thus began the first of many diets and exercise programs that lasted a day or two before I got back to the business of being a kid. I had one sister who was skinner than me and one who was fatter than me, so I settled into the middle and didn't give my weight a lot of thought. Until I saw a picture of myself.

Fast forward to the end of high school and beginning of my college days. I weighed 119 lbs. For a LONG time. I didn't try too hard (although I was well-acquainted with my apartment's gym and some aerobics classes at the local YMCA). I ate whatever I wanted. And I felt fine. Until I put on a bathing suit.

A few years down the road, I got married. I weighed 140 lbs on my wedding day. I was aghast at the highest weight I'd ever seen on the scale, but my wedding dress fit like a glove and I felt beautiful. Three babies and one stint at Weight Watchers later, and I was down to 133 lbs, having seen the likes of 196, 155 and everything in between during those hectic years of pregnancy, nursing, and toddler-chasing. Still, that 133 felt pretty good. And it lasted a whole month. Until I stopped going to my Weight Watchers meetings.

I exercised. Off and on. I tried to eat well; being responsible for feeding young children made me vigilant about cutting up fruits and vegetables and insisting they eat them, but I did not always follow suit. I had a weakness for pastries and a new-found love for expensive coffee drinks. I lamented my figure, my size, my weight. And some days I was o.k. with it. Until I got divorced.

Then, I practiced emotional eating at its finest. I comforted myself with food, but my weight hovered around 155 with some creeping up into the 160s at times. I met the man who would become my second husband and I felt pretty. I was comfortable. And then I got a little too comfortable with his fabulous cooking and all the treats he would bring me and a few more pounds padded my contented self. Until my anxiety threatened to overtake me.

I started taking anti-anxiety meds, antidepressants (such a misnomer, I was never depressed). The pounds did not creep on slowly and insidiously. They took up residence with shocking swiftness and in a matter of months 40 lbs had taken up permanent residence. But I was calm and happy, and my anxiety didn't plague me day and and day out. I was able to do things and finally, finally feel "normal" for the first time in years. It felt like a fair trade-off. Until something changed.

And what that something is, I don't know but I have a few suspects in custody. Starbucks, Facebook, the stress of raising four teenagers with anxiety themselves. I was more active than I'd ever been, and then so inactive that I wouldn't exercise for months at a time. Some days I was just surviving. Too distraught over the latest chaos in the household to worry or care about health and fitness, I turned more and more to sweet treats and hours at the computer to escape. I wanted things to be different, I just didn't know how to do it.

Until.....now.

Because everything starts somewhere and the only way to accomplish something huge is to chip away at it consistently until it's conquered. I know what to do. I know how to do it. I just need to do it. And I am, tiny baby steps at a time. Sometimes those steps are miniscule. But every decision, every motion counts. I don't want to police myself forever. Some days I want to eat with abandon and watch a movie marathon. But I can no longer eat what I want and be inactive and expect things to change. My age, my metabolism, my genetic makeup, my emotional constitution...any one of these could be to blame. But blame does nothing for progress.

And it's hard. It makes me feel sad, overwhelmed, hopeless, fearful and defeated. It feels like so much work to think about everything I eat, to plan every day for activity that I'm always "too busy" to do, to even have to make it a "thing"....this business of eating right and taking care of myself. It's hard to look down the road and imagine myself smaller, lighter, healthier and happier. The roadblocks in the way seem insurmountable.

But what if? What if I were smaller, lighter, healthier? WOULD I be happier? At what weight, exactly, will I be happy? At what size? I'm pretty darn happy right now. Will the journey make me victorious or miserable? More importantly, do I believe in myself enough to KNOW that I will and can make changes and evolve into someone completely different, at least on the outside?

I guess there's only one way to know. Only this time I can't fail. The only person who can make me healthy is me. And that's a terrifying responsibility.

Uh-oh!

It's been two days and I haven't posted so I better because I might get in trouble with Monica! So, now I have to think up something to say.........hmmm............ok, so this weekend I am having two friends from high school over for a visit. I found them on Facebook. We graduated from Judge Memorial Catholic High School in 1985. I only went there my senior year! And barely knew these two, but after reconnecting on Facebook we've been writing back and forth for months. Jeff made a beer special for the occasion and called it "Bulldog Ale" (our mascot was Bulldogs). He tapped it last night. And then he said he didn't really like it that much! So, I'm thinking, great, I totally over-promoted my amazing husband and his fabulous beer and now they're going to be disappointed! Crap. Hopefully they like the beer. I haven't even tasted it. Then, I bragged about his cooking so now he has to cook for the crowd. At first, I was promising rib-eyes and prawns but then it turned into Italian. He made up this delicious pasta dish for our anniversary so he's going to make that again. And THEN, he invited a bunch of other people over, who I wasn't expecting. So, we're having a kegger. A middle-aged kegger. Nice. The worst part is I have to now clean my house from top to bottom and I only have a few hours tonight to do it, because tomorrow morning he's doing a triathlon and I have to go take pictures. Now, I would not have planned visitors on a tri weekend had I known but he wasn't supposed to be doing this one. It was a sort of last minute decision. He actually already did this one earlier when he did his double tri this summer. But this time he will just do the super sprint distance (shorter) and hopefully we'll be done and back home, showered and ready to receive visitors by 1 p.m. Yeah. And only my husband would drive to Vantage and back tonight to drop Arlie off (five hours on the road), wake up early to compete in a tri, and still go sightseeing and make dinner for five, plus have a bunch of buddies over to drink beer all in the same weekend. And then turn around on Sunday and drive those same five hours back to get Arlie! Better him than me I say.

And what is it about cleaning the house that I hate so much? Oh yeah, having to clean my kids' rooms because they are at their dad's. Having to touch their nasty bathroom that they never clean properly and leave bits of toilet paper and laundry and other disgusting detritus on the floor. Getting distracted while cleaning and saying to myself "hey, I should sort out this bookshelf". I really need a quick system for getting the house clean and presentable in under three hours. Think I can do that? I doubt it. I'm sure I'll be embarassed by something. And I can't start now because I have to leave in a few minutes to..........drumroll, please......get my annual exam at the dr.!! Oh joy! Nothing like getting naked under a paper gown in the middle of the afternoon and having the dr. look at your nether regions to cheer a girl right up. So yeah.....naked, come home, clean. Fun, fun evening. I don't know if I can stand all the excitement.

Well I guess I could at least throw in a load of laundry. And maybe peek at the challenge I'm facing in the kids' rooms and bathroom. Ugh. I need a maid.

Oh, and one other thing. I have developed this truly "spare tire" fat around my middle esp. when I put on my now-too-tight jeans (which are the biggest size I've ever worn and I refuse to buy a bigger size!). I put on my jeans today to, you know, do the whole stretch out thing so they will be more comfortable tomorrow? And so of course it takes "muffin top" to a whole new level. I tried to put on a loose shirt, but those can only perform so many miracles, and so this fat roll was pathetically disguised under my loose shirt. I went to work, and I have this new little boy I'm watching on Tues. and Fri. He gives me a hug and says "why does your tummy stick out like that?" Ok, I know, kids are brutally honest, so I just said "because my jeans are too tight" while his skinny as a stick mom apologized for his rudeness. So, all day I've been spilling out over the top of my jeans and feeling SO fat and now I have to go to the dr. who will undoubtedly TELL me I'm too fat and then reprimand me and give me a lecture about getting skinny. The dr. who runs marathons. Yeah. Why can't I have a fat doctor? So, now these people from HS are going to see me all fatness. I mean, yeah, lots of people get fatter as they get older but I think I've taken that little slippage to a whole new extreme. Time to hit the treadmill. Or tape the mouth shut. Or both.

Oh, and I have to do my roots tonight. Because being fat AND gray is just too much for me. How did this happen? This getting old and gray and fat part? Man, if I'd known what I know now, I would never have bitched so much about my thighs in high school..................

Is there really any other way to take it?

Jeff was just going through his mail on his desk and said (looking at a magazine) "Oh, look here's an article about obesity drugs! Do you want to read it and learn something?" I mean, really? How else should I have taken that (how did I take it you may ask? By being offended and hurt because 1. I know I'm overweight, and 2. He's usually much more supportive than that)? He said "you took it the wrong way" but I'm not seeing any other way to take that. I guess it's time to look into bulimia or perhaps a nice bout of anorexia would suit me? Geesh, he's not exactly going to make the cover of Men's Health anytime soon. I recently read an article that said overweight women have more sex. And I'm thinking, really? And why? Maybe because they already know they are overweight so they just focus on being themselves instead of obsessing over every cellulite dimple? And those guys who always say "Oh, sure she's gained a few pounds, but I don't pay attention to that - I love my wife no matter what she weighs." Really? Do they? Maybe, but is it like you love your grandma even though she has an ample butt and wears flour sack frocks over her lumps and bumps? Or do they really love their wives in a husbandly kind of way, as in, my wife is someone I'm proud to be with? I have gained a lot of weight over the past three years, partly due to poor eating and exercise habits and the emotional eating wrought by a painful divorce, but mostly due to antianxiety medication that caused me to pile on the pounds, even though I was stepping up my exercise and eating healthier. Am I doing everything I can to lose weight? No. I'm not on a diet program, I visit Starbucks a couple times a week and indulge in a pastry, sometimes I eat more than one chocolate chip cookie. But I try to exercise regularly and I know I need to lose weight and I'm trying. It's not easy, as anyone who has tried to lose weight knows. It's a struggle, made even harder by bad genes (my whole family is overweight!) Seems everywhere you turn, everyone is trying to lose a few (or many) pounds, and it's hard! I WANT to be fit and healthy, and at a nice weight where my clothes fit comfortably. I'm not obsessed with being a certain weight or a certain size. I just want to feel strong and healthy. And most of the time I do. But what I don't need is a reminder from my husband that I'm fat. Or pressure to take drugs or have surgery to remedy that situation. Geesh..........