Visibility

When you are overweight you don’t want to be seen. You hide behind your fat, behind your size 22 clothes. You carry a big purse in front of your stomach and wear all black so the color of your clothes won’t draw extra attention your way.

All of the above was, and sometimes still is, true for me. I would not wear shorts because I hated my chubby legs, especially around my knees. I spent every summer with just my feet in the pool because I refused to wear a swimsuit in front of other people. At bars and clubs, I had to be really drunk to go out on the dance floor. I didn’t like to be looked at, wouldn’t look anyone in the eye, and yet all I ever wanted was for someone to pay attention. Someone to see beyond the weight and size 22 clothes. I hid, but I wanted to be seen.

I’ve spent most of my life wanting to be seen for the person I am inside, the person I am despite the numbers on the scale or the tag on my jeans. Now that I feel more comfortable wearing a pair of shorts and I’ve bought my first swimsuit in over ten years, I still want to be seen for the person I am inside, but I’m ready to go out on the dance floor without alcohol in my system and put more than just my feet in the swimming pool.

The hard part is that I’m not used to being visible. I’m not used to having people pay attention to me. It’s all new to me – being complimented on my clothes, feeling a man’s eyes linger longer than necessary. It’s so new to me that I tend to interpret everything as scrutiny, judgment, disgust. I have a hard time believing a man is looking at me because he’s attracted and not because he’s repulsed. My whole life I’ve wanted to be visible to people, especially the opposite sex, and now that the fog is starting to lift… I don’t know what to do with it. I react the wrong way. It’s scary and uncomfortable, and a little thrilling.

I guess it’s like a lot of things, something to get used to. Just as I have to adjust to my new shape and size, I have to adjust to being seen differently by other people.

A Few Tips

For a while, after 30, 40, even 50 pounds had disappeared from my body, I wondered if I looked any different. My clothes were bigger, but no one seemed to notice. I looked in the mirror and thought I could see the changes, but I needed affirmation from other people. It seemed like once one person noticed, everyone could. Suddenly, I found myself telling my story several times a day.

Everyone wants to know, “How did you do it?” I could give them the long story about how I’m still doing it, about getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise, about the torture of passing on brownie cheesecake at Easter, but instead I usually give the shorter version.

I exercise and watch what I eat. I drink mostly water. The key ingredients are walking, water, fruit, vegetables, and chicken.

People tell me I should write a book, should bottle my secret, etc. I would probably be pretty rich if I could charge people every time they ask how I’m losing weight, but I think it should be free advice. One thing a lot of people ask is how I can still manage to go out to eat, so here are a few things I’ve picked up along the way.

• Ordering a salad doesn’t mean you’re getting a healthy meal. If there’s chicken involved, make sure it’s grilled and not fried. Watch out for excessive amounts of cheese, croutons, bacon, egg. Stick with salads that include other vegetables, like tomato and cucumber.
• Take your own salad dressing. I’m sure if you look at the nutritional information for almost any salad at a restaurant, the majority of the fat grams come from the dressing. If you don’t want that hassle, ask what kind of fat free dressing they have and get it on the side so you can use it sparingly.
• Most major restaurants have web sites. Before you go out to dinner, look at the menu and nutritional info so you can make your choice ahead of time. If they don’t offer the calorie and fat count, at least you can browse the menu to make a healthier choice.
• Use common sense when picking a dish. I look at the healthy portion of a menu and cringe because most of it is not really healthier. Stick to fish, chicken, brown rice, vegetables. If you’re only option for a main course is not as healthy as you’d like, at least make sure your sides are fresh, steamed veggies.
• If you’re at a coffee shop, get everything with skim milk and sugar free syrup. Cappucino has less milk than a latte, so that gives you less calories and carbs.

Over the course of the last year, here are some restaurant meals I’ve enjoyed:

• Applebee’s Orange Chicken Bowl (the meat is crispy, but the veggies are always fresh, and the brown rice is very filling).
• Friday’s has a couple good fish options, and you can specify for them to leave off any unhealthy toppings.
• Smokey Bones has a chicken dish that I recreate at home a lot. It’s grilled chicken with a salsa that includes cucumber, tomato and dried cranberries. I usually add sliced almonds or bits of walnut for a little crunch. It’s light and fresh, good for summer.
• Even though I try to avoid most breads, I’ve recently discovered veggie sandwiches. A lot of chain sub restaurants have them, but the best are at local cafes. Of course, they do add cheese or mayo or some other kind of sauce, but you can skip those.

A Long Term Relationship

I was an average sized child until the age of 5, when I started kindergarten. I had already crossed over to being quite heavy. Despite my young age, I knew that I was unhealthy. I knew the difference between “bad” and “good” foods, and that I was more likely to eat the bad ones. The first question my bus driver asked every young passenger on the way to afternoon kindergarten was, “What did you just eat for lunch?” I learned quickly that if I said something like pizza or peanut butter I would be met with a comment on my weight. If I responded that I’d had a salad, I’d be ridiculed for eating such an adult meal. But I decided that I’d rather be laughed at for eating a salad than have someone look at me and think, “The last thing that little girl needs is a slice of pizza.”

My bus driver’s nosiness may not be what began my life as an overweight girl, but that is one of my earliest memories of my relationship to food, how I was perceived by others, and how I saw myself because of what I ate.

Until I reached a year of healthy living and had shed 100 pounds from my body, my longest relationship was with food. Some of my best memories are centered around food – the lunches my grandmother and I would prepare together, the birthday dinners, Christmas meals with my family, stocking up on candy for slumber parties. I can’t remember a time I didn’t use food as a means of celebration and comfort.

In elementary school, I couldn’t wait to get home and watch my soap operas while I ate a snack of nutty bars and potato chips and cookies. I was excited about high school because I knew the cafeteria sold raw, frozen chocolate chip cookie dough. Food was reliable when people weren’t. I didn’t know if I’d make friends, but I knew I could count on good, tasty food. And when I did make friends, the food was a means to connect, to celebrate with them. Food was always at the center of everything, a major priority. A long road trip? I made sure there were enough snacks. Someone’s birthday? I’ve got the cupcakes covered.

When I started losing weight, food was still a major priority. I planned breaks from my healthy diet based on holidays or other events that I knew would involve desserts. Being successful, though, was about changing my food priorities and my relationship with food.

Losing weight is a major committment. That is how I’ve had to think about it in order to stay on track for the last 14 months. It’s not something to take lightly. I’ve had to take that energy I used to put toward planning my meals and snacks and turn it into more positive energy – toward exercise, healthier choices. Now, my biggest priority is exercise. I’ve got to work later, when will I get my second walk in? I have to leave an hour earlier, so how I can I still fit 90 minutes of exercise in today? Rather than focusing on sugary sweets, I give priority to vegetables and fruits. I feed my hunger with those healthy foods, making sure I get at least three servings of each a day.

It’s certainly easier and more fun to think about desserts and salty snacks, but unlike my five year old self on that hot, sticky bus, I want to respond to the question of what I had for lunch with pride. Whether I say pizza or salad, I want to know that I’ve exercised and ate the food that is going to most fill me up, most satisfy my taste buds and my desire to be healthy. If I choose to have pizza, I don’t want to say it with shame. After 20+ years of having a pretty shameful relationship with food, I’m ready to turn it around.

The Scale AKA My Nemesis

When you’re trying to lose weight, taking on a new fitness program, starting on a new medication, or doing any number of things, there is always conflicting advice. “They” say to do this, and “they” say not to do that. When it comes to weight loss, some of “they” say that stepping on the scale as often as possible will keep you motivated, and the rest of “they” say not to do it too often or you’ll get obsessed and fret over every fluctuation.

In the beginning I weighed myself at the same time, under the same conditions, every morning. It was both motivating and infuriating. It was motivating when the numbers were dropping, and aggravating when I’d experience a seemingly pointless gain (I cut back calories or increased my exercise, so why did it go up two pounds?!?!). During the holidays, or any other major splurge, I got out of that habit. These days, if I’m having a good run, I check often. Whenever I splurge on sweets, I wait several days to weigh myself. Why? Because the truth is, I know if I’ve gained or lost. If I’m eating well and exercising, chances are it’s going to make me happy to see the numbers on the scale. If I’ve had a piece of cheesecake, I’m not going to like what I see.

Why do I put so much stock in what the scale says when I can practically predict what it’s going to read? I get so mad over every gain, so disappointed, so angry at the scale. Clearly, it’s not the scale’s fault.

I came down with a cold on Friday. I’m not one of those people that loses her appetite due to an illness. If anything, I want to eat even more because the food is nourishing, makes me feel good, etc. And when you’re feeling crappy, what’s better than comfort food? The weekend was one long vacation from my healthy life. I didn’t want to weigh myself, but I couldn’t stay away from the scale. It wasn’t as bad as I’d predicted, but I still feel like I got set back a lot. These days the weight is taking even longer than 1-2 pounds a week. But I can’t yell at or kick the scale. I’m the one that at the cake and cookies.

Dessert Is Not a Food Group

At some point in my life it was decided that no meal was complete without something sweet to finish it off. While this is certainly not the one and only cause of my lifelong struggle with weight, it didn’t help.

I was ten years old when my pediatrician put me on my first official diet. He had always been nagging me about my weight and I loathed going to the doctor, and still dread it today because of that obligatory stop at the scary scale. The previous year he had detected a heart murmur and put me through a series of tests at the hospital. I thought I was going to die. I wanted to die after he pointed out my unacceptable weight for the thousandth time. My mother and I left his office with a list of acceptable foods and recommendations for exercise. He had gone over the Food Pyramid with me, but I already knew about the food groups from school.

It was summer vacation. I slept in. I got up and took a short walk. It was 11:00 so I decided to go right to lunch. I followed the Food Pyramid and poured a glass of milk, fixed a fat free ham sandwich, dropped a few carrot sticks on my plate, and sliced an apple. The meal didn’t look complete. Where was the ever important Dessert Group? I added a couple Snackwells sandwich cookies. That was the beginning of the end of my first “diet.”

For the rest of my life, no meal felt complete without dessert. I couldn’t understand people that didn’t like chocolate, that could say no to cheesecake. These foods were more important to me than any hamburger, pizza or bowl of pasta.

This has been one of my greatest challenges over the last year – eliminating sweets. I had to train myself to consider a meal complete without a dessert at the end. I started out by having fruit at the end, or maybe a handful of raisins or dried cranberries. In the beginning, when it was hardest, that only made me want something chocolate and creamy even more.

If I make a bowl of trail mix – almonds, walnuts, raisins, cranberries, and five chocolate chips for a treat – I just want to gorge myself on candy bars and brownies. Those few chocolate chips light a fire in my taste buds and I want more, more, more. I’ve had to remind myself that dessert is a once in a while treat. It’s for emergency situations. It’s something I simply cannot have at the end of each meal, or even once a week. Some people can, I can’t.

The bright side? Not having dessert with every single meal or a few times a week makes it more of a treat. Now, when I do indulge in a gooey cookie or creamy cheesecake, it’s a slice of heaven. Sure, it’s sometimes impossible not to reach for another one or five, but I’m still learning the proper food groups.

When I Am Thin…

A good part of my twenty-six years on this earth have been spent thinking about what I would do if I were thin, if I were in better shape, if I had more confidence in myself and my body. I’m tired of thinking about those things; I want to experience them.

I’ve decided to make a list of the things I will do when I reach my goal weight. I’m sure I’ll add things, and hopefully, soon, I will be able to start crossing things off.

• Buy a bathing suit because it is cute, not because it hides all the trouble areas.
• Wear bathing suit in a public place without large pieces of clothing to hide myself.
• Buy a sexy little black dress.
• Start wearing shorts again.
• Buy a short skirt.
• Wear tank tops.
• Go to a day spa for a massage, facial, and to get my hair and make-up done by a professional.
• Get professional pictures of myself taken.
• Go wall climbing.
• Join my friends on a float trip and wear a bathing suit.
• Take an aerobics class with a group.
• Sign up for dance lessons.

Breathe

Me minus 105 pounds equals an easier time doing a lot of things. I can walk long distances without turning red and feeling like my heart is going to explode in my chest. I’ve always been very flexible, but now I can lie down on the floor and lift my feet all the way above my head. I can carry something heavy for a short or long distance and not get out of breath or be sore for days afterward.

Whenever I start to feel lazy or sick and tired of all the exercise and healthy food I think about how much more my body is capable of now. During college my friends lived in dormitories and when I’d go to visit someone, it was difficult to make the trek from the parking garage, across campus, and up winding flights of stairs to their dorm room. So many activities, from a long walk to going up the driveway after getting the mail, would leave me out of breath.

I spend so much time focusing on these last 15 or so pounds I want to lose, how to avoid overeating, the clothes I still don’t feel comfortable wearing… sometimes I don’t think enough about the improvements I’ve made. If I had a Tip of the Day, today’s would be to remind yourself every day of a positive benefit to losing weight. Mine is breathing easier.

Comfort Food

I’m currently reading Tales From the Scale by Erin J. Shea. The contributors all describe the moment/event that really opened their eyes to just how out of control their eating had gotten. I have so many, but there are two that stand out. Everything that happened in between these two moments pushed me toward losing weight.

Leading up to my senior year of college I lost quite a bit of weight. I spent the summer walking for up to two hours a day. I was religious about exercising and only eating foods that had nutritional value. The scale frustrated me because it rarely seemed to budge, yet my clothes were getting smaller and I could see the difference. I was motivated by so much – final year of college, unknown future, a trip to California at the end of the school year, a boy. I felt unstoppable! And then I graduated with a degree in Creative Writing.

I tried and tried to get a good job, but I was stuck in my part-time college job at a craft store. I was practically on campus during work and surrounded by happy, hopeful students with sensible majors like Education or Business. The store’s biggest item was candy – four aisles of chocolate, gummy candies, salty chips. The summer after graduation was dismal and I found comfort in the candy that I sold to little kids and those happy, hopeful college students. Fall rolled around and I had already gone up two pant sizes.

Shortly before the holidays I decided, like so many times before, that I was going to lose weight. I did okay for a couple weeks but Christmas was full of sweet temptations. On the day before Christmas Eve I was determined not to eat very much because I knew the next two days would be all about my Aunt’s gourmet meal, layers of chocolate, and cookies, cookies, cookies. But I was surrounded by candy and cookies, homemade Chex mix, and all of my family’s other staple Christmas treats. I decided to treat myself to a lunch that consisted of my mom’s special slaw, a sandwich on my favorite white bread, chips, and a couple cookies as a treat for dessert. After lunch, though, I wanted more cookies. I couldn’t let my family see me go back for more, so I concealed three large chocolate chip cookies under a magazine. Those weren’t enough either, though, and I found a way to sneak a handful of holiday candy into my room. Then I remembered that we had banana nut muffins and I took a couple of those. Cereal! I missed cereal with cold milk, and so I fixed a bowl of Chex. But I couldn’t carry it back to my room and have everyone see, so I took it to the basement bathroom. Before heading downstairs, though, I took some more cookies. I sat on the cold tiles with the exhaust fan on so that if anyone asked, I was getting ready to take a shower. I sat on the hard bathroom floor and ate the cereal and then the cookies. My stomach ached, my jaw hurt. I sat there ashamed and stuffed. I was sad for myself because I had a crappy job and everything I wrote was crappy and other people were so much happier during the holidays, and all of the food tasted so good. But I couldn’t believe I had resorted to eating for what had to be over an hour straight, using the bathroom floor as a table.

With my empty cereal bowl on the tiles, I wondered if I could make myself throw up and erase it all. I leaned over the toilet and coughed, tried to gag myself. I was never able to and only ended up with a stomach ache and a sore throat.

Fast forward to a few years later. My two best friends have gotten engaged. I’ve been asked to be a bridesmaid. It’s hard to be happy about anything because I have a painful bump under my left arm – what I fear is going to be the return of an infected gland. I had one years before and spent months on antibiotics and undergoing painful treatments. My doctor told me it had to do with hormones and being overweight.

I went to an urgent care facility so I wouldn’t have to be weighed, but the nurse asks for my weight. I have no idea because I’ve avoided a scale since that day in the bathroom when I ate cereal and cookies on the floor. I’m put on antibiotics and given another speech about losing weight. The next morning I swallow my fear and shame and get onto a scale. I’m pleased that when I gave the nurse my weight, I had overestimated by almost 15 pounds. But the number frightens me – at 258, I’m closer to 300 than 200. I probably weigh over 100 pounds more than most of my friends. The idea that you could subtract 100 pounds from my weight and I’d still be above average for my height was frightening.

Those two moments – overeating in the bathroom and facing the numbers on the scale during a potential health crisis – opened my eyes to how serious my problem was. I needed to lose weight not just to feel comfortable in a bridesmaid dress, but for my health, my well being.

Introduction

My New Year’s resolution, like over half the population, is usually to eat better and exercise. In 2006 I started my resolution a couple months late, but it was the first time I ever kept it.

On 12/31/05 my two best friends announced their engagement. A short time later I was asked to be a bridesmaid. The thought of walking down the aisle in a dress at my current weight mortified me. I was also on the verge of a weight related health crisis (infected gland). Without a lot of thought, I set my alarm one night for twenty minutes earlier than usual. I got up in the morning and took a walk. I ate a piece of plain toast and fruit for breakfast instead of cereal or a poptart. For lunch I had salad and fruit, and dinner was chicken and vegetables. Without a lot of thought or planning, I was changing the way I lived my life. I stopped heading toward the Burger King drive-thru after work. I grabbed a banana for an evening snack instead of five handfuls of potato chips. I took a walk whenever I felt my mouth watering for something chocolate. I was not on a diet. I told myself, and everyone around me, that I was not on a diet – I was changing my lifestyle. I was being healthy. I was going to lose weight before my friends wedding.

I had not weighed myself in years. I was astonished by the number I saw when I finally stepped on the scale, but I opened a blank Word document and typed it and the date at the top – 258 pounds. Every few days I weighed myself and recorded the date and number. I counted the months to the wedding, and once I knew how many pounds I could average a week, I set monthly goals for myself.

After one month I had lost 8 pounds. Two months passed and I had lost 16. I managed to maintain an average of 2 pounds a week by walking for 20 minutes a day and sticking to a sensible diet of fruits, vegetables, chicken, fish, whole grains and water. I ate yogurt instead of dessert with my lunch. Raisins and almonds became a delicious, healthy snack. After three months I added 10 minutes to my morning walk. June arrived and I had lost 30 pounds. I was starting to get comments, and I had gone from a size 24/22 to a snug 16.

Every year, I always wanted to be thin for my birthday. I wanted to look and feel good while celebrating another birthday. With November looming, I added fifteen minutes onto my morning walks and started taking a second, shorter walk in the evenings. I lifted weights a few times a week and added other aerobics from time to time. By my 26th birthday I had lost 70 pounds and could wear a size 14.

The holidays were a dreaded time. I had lost close to 80 pounds by Christmas, but I knew it was going to be hard not to overeat. I increased my morning walk to 60 minutes and tried to average 30 minutes in the evening. Between Christmas and the middle of January I only lost a couple pounds, but by the end of February I had lost 90 pounds.

My friends’ wedding date was getting closer. I wanted to have lost 100 pounds by the wedding, and on March 24th, the day of the bridal shower, I had reached my goal. I was wearing size 10 jeans and weighed 158 pounds. It was rough to continue losing with all of the wedding activities and the food/drinking that went with them, but by the day of the wedding I was down to 153 pounds.

Standing on the altar with my friends was a celebration of their relationship and future together, but for me it was also a celebration of 12 months of hard work. I was 100 pounds less of a person than I had been 1 year ago, but so much more whole than sI had ever been. I felt good, confident, and happy. I was overjoyed for my friends, for their new marriage, for their friendship – and for giving me the motivation to be healthier and happier.

Although I can say I’ve lost 100 pounds, every day is a struggle to keep that off and continue toward my ultimate goal.