Here I am. My shrink (OK, a psychic I went to on a whim) said that I should start journaling. Journaling? Pen to paper? Where my family might pick up my looped and lined thoughts, my shredded emotions, and read them? Not my style.
So here's my take on this. I've been a fat chick since I graduated college. I started gaining weight the minute my car hit the open road to head out on my own, and I never looked back. Well, OK, I DID look back. But I started my love-hate relationship with food and my own body right then and there. That was 15 years ago in June. I was a size six at my college graduation, and a year later I was a 12.
Since then, I've gotten married, started a family, and packed on more pounds. Can't blame baby weight for the mess I'm wearing. Baby weight should have melted off years ago. This is just me.
Growing up, one of the things I remember most about living at home is that my mom was always on a diet. Now, my 7-year-old son can say the same thing about me.
What I can say with 100% certainty is that my adult life has always centered on weight. I think about food (what I'm eating or should not be eating), exercise (how much I hate doing it), water (how much I need to drink it, but don't) and my own discomfort untold dozens of times a day. I find that I orient myself to some stage of dieting at all times. I'm always thinking about the most recent time I was "fit" ... I had a dieting success four years ago, hit size 8 in November, and was back up to size 12 by March. I'm always counting ahead how many months it would take me to get back to that size if I could just start tomorrow.
I constantly compare myself to the woman in the next office, car, pew, dressing room, or conference room chair.
What I need to start doing is to compare myself to me. What am I doing to make myself happy? What can I change to get my health under control and my energy back? What am I willing to make happen so that I can run with my son? And who am I doing this for? I've figured out that it can't be for my family, my co-workers, my high school friends. It's got to be for me, or it's not worth doing.
Something else I've learned: the diet doesn't matter. Yes, I'm signed up for a plan. But what plan isn't as important as what I do to stick to it. I've done everything under the sun before, from Weight Watchers to HCG injections. What I'm doing now is a low-calorie (but not drastically low), monitored diet plan.
So here I go .... my weight, as of this morning, was 229 pounds [cringe]. That's a BMI of 39.3 [double cringe]. That's actually down from where I started this latest phase a couple of months ago. I started out at 241 pounds, a BMI of 41.4.
What's my goal? Of course, when I started this latest diet, I had to profess a long-term goal. And I did. But I'm not even naming it now, because yet another thing I've learned is that looking at the finish line is too far away for me. My ultimate goal is to be healthy and active again ... oh, yeah, and feel sexy :) ... but right now I'd settle for a weight that starts with a one. And to be able to wear clothes from a department not labeled "WOMAN."
Step One ... get over the fact that I just inhaled half a bag of Cheerios snack mix and a microwaved mac-n-cheese. And realize that I don't just start this thing tomorrow ... I need to start right now.
So here's my take on this. I've been a fat chick since I graduated college. I started gaining weight the minute my car hit the open road to head out on my own, and I never looked back. Well, OK, I DID look back. But I started my love-hate relationship with food and my own body right then and there. That was 15 years ago in June. I was a size six at my college graduation, and a year later I was a 12.Since then, I've gotten married, started a family, and packed on more pounds. Can't blame baby weight for the mess I'm wearing. Baby weight should have melted off years ago. This is just me.
Growing up, one of the things I remember most about living at home is that my mom was always on a diet. Now, my 7-year-old son can say the same thing about me.
What I can say with 100% certainty is that my adult life has always centered on weight. I think about food (what I'm eating or should not be eating), exercise (how much I hate doing it), water (how much I need to drink it, but don't) and my own discomfort untold dozens of times a day. I find that I orient myself to some stage of dieting at all times. I'm always thinking about the most recent time I was "fit" ... I had a dieting success four years ago, hit size 8 in November, and was back up to size 12 by March. I'm always counting ahead how many months it would take me to get back to that size if I could just start tomorrow.
I constantly compare myself to the woman in the next office, car, pew, dressing room, or conference room chair.
What I need to start doing is to compare myself to me. What am I doing to make myself happy? What can I change to get my health under control and my energy back? What am I willing to make happen so that I can run with my son? And who am I doing this for? I've figured out that it can't be for my family, my co-workers, my high school friends. It's got to be for me, or it's not worth doing.
Something else I've learned: the diet doesn't matter. Yes, I'm signed up for a plan. But what plan isn't as important as what I do to stick to it. I've done everything under the sun before, from Weight Watchers to HCG injections. What I'm doing now is a low-calorie (but not drastically low), monitored diet plan.
So here I go .... my weight, as of this morning, was 229 pounds [cringe]. That's a BMI of 39.3 [double cringe]. That's actually down from where I started this latest phase a couple of months ago. I started out at 241 pounds, a BMI of 41.4.
What's my goal? Of course, when I started this latest diet, I had to profess a long-term goal. And I did. But I'm not even naming it now, because yet another thing I've learned is that looking at the finish line is too far away for me. My ultimate goal is to be healthy and active again ... oh, yeah, and feel sexy :) ... but right now I'd settle for a weight that starts with a one. And to be able to wear clothes from a department not labeled "WOMAN."
Step One ... get over the fact that I just inhaled half a bag of Cheerios snack mix and a microwaved mac-n-cheese. And realize that I don't just start this thing tomorrow ... I need to start right now.
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