In the U.S., we have become fat desensitized. Since about 1/3 of all Americans are obese, we have a new concept of what normal weight is. And it's technically obese. It is so normal for one to carry around an extra 20-30 pounds without worrying too much about it. Well guess what? Gain 20 more pounds and you're now obese. This may shock you, but you don't have to be that fat to be obese.
When I think of the word obese, I think about certain family members of mine who are more than 500 pounds. That's actually called super obese. (I'm not making this up, BMI over 50, look it up) Or maybe someone around 300 pounds, like my younger sister weighed on her wedding day, but that is considered morbidly obese for someone of my height. The definition of morbidly obese is 2 or more times your ideal body weight.
Growing up in a family full of fat people, I had a different sense of normal. Yeah, I knew they were fat, but I thought they were just plain old overweight. I see a person carrying around 20-30 extra pounds as normal, and a person with 40-80 as overweight, and then maybe around 90-100 or more is obese.....right? Wrong! I might be wrong, but I bet a lot of people think the same way. Maybe only skinny, health nutty people and Europeans actually already know these things I'm saying. Or maybe I'm just learning a little late, because I never thought it applied to me. I used to be really skinny, you know. Just sayin'.
Through it all, I take comfort in knowing that my weight is my fault. It's not my parents' fault, it's not "getting married"'s fault. It's my fault. I actually like figuring out when something is my fault because it also helps me figure out that I have the power to change it. The good thing about accountability is that we can take credit for the good things we do, too! We have a lot to do with the way our lives turn out. We can't control everything, but we control enough.
So, when I talk about being obese, it's not just because it's a super fun way to describe myself. I do it because it's the cold, hard truth. Sure, I only have 6 more pounds to lose before I'm not clinically obese anymore (Go me!), but in the meantime I'm still obese and I'm soaking in this feeling. But don't go thinking I'm gonna be posing for any of those graphic postcards of really huge ladies in thongs. I'm probably not as fat as you think.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
I Have a Dream...with my apologies to Dr. King
I can't remember if it was 2003 or 2004, but I woke up on MLK day in NYC and told my friend Sarah, "I had a dream". She gave me one of those looks reserved for only the dumbest of jokes. I was confused for a minute until I realized what day it was. That year MLK day was, for me, a convenient weekend to take a vacation.
Fast forward 6 or 7 years, and here I am, still dreaming. Of course my dreams are different than they were back then, many of the old ones having already come to fruition just beautifully. Aaaannnd, there are also some new "developments" that I now need to dream and mobilize my way back out of, preferably in a non-violent fashion. Okay, let's just be frank. I got fat, ya'll! That's not to say that losing weight is my biggest or most altuistic dream, it just happens to be what this particular post is about. And I don't have a lot of other problems at the moment. (See other posts re: Wal-Mart, Coupons, etc.)
If a civil rights activist ever reads this, let me apologize right now. As I'm writing this, I have exactly 3 followers and they know how seriously I take civil rights for all people. So I hope nobody gets offended that I, too, am inspired by Dr. King. Even as a white, college-educated woman, from a middle-class, two-parent household, he speaks to me. And from his grave, he directs me to follow my dreams, large and small. This particular one may seem small in light of real problems in the world (see Haiti), but in America, obesity is huge. Pun intended? You betcha! And if Dr. King can be an icon and a legacy of civil rights, surely I can lose a few pounds. Okay, more than a few.
Have you ever done anything wrong that you just couldn't stop? It is the worst type of feeling to be out of control. Mainly, because you don't realize that you've lost control until way too late. And when you realize that you have to give something up, you go through all the stages of grief backwards and forwards until finally.....Acceptance. And if that's not bad enough, you start the process all over again the minute you hit a bump in the road on your way to recovery. Excuses!! If-onlys!! It's different for me because ___ (fill in the blank). It's the same story no matter what you're trying to quit. The truth is, it's not different for me. I don't believe I'm a food addict, per se. There are definitely differences to my problem, but there are also many similarities. How many times have I puzzled over how someone could do something so stupid as to drink and drive, or inject a drug into their veins. Well? Those same people probably don't understand why I let my ass get so big. It's not as socially acceptable to wrestle a cannoli out of somebody's hand, they way others might do with car keys.
I've been scared of being fat my whole life, and it seemed predestined. I began yo-yo dieting somewhere around age 10 or 12. I was skinny then, but would routinely get up at 6am for Mousercize on the Disney Channel, or dig through my mother's exercise tapes on VHS. Sometimes I would do sit-ups in bed instead of going to sleep. I just knew that I was going to be overweight one day, and at that age, that was my solution. Just a few years ago, I asked my physician for help. Since my BMI was 24, she wouldn't help me. Even though I was 20 pounds overweight, I wouldn't be clinically overweight until my BMI was 25, nevermind that I was trying to avoid that. She told me to eat right and exercise. Well duh! I didn't need to be told what to do, I needed to be told HOW to do it. It sounds dumb, but I really couldn't figure it out! It really is like those commercials about relearning to do things without smoking. Part of our brain is malfunctioning and we can't do what we know we need to do. Well here I am now with a BMI of 31.3, clinically obese. (Check your BMI here) Was it bad genes, or a self-fulfilling prophecy? Or better yet: Was it programmed into me unwittingly by my parents in a perpetual cycle of low self-esteem and unhealthy relationships with food? Ding, ding, ding!!! But that's another post all in itself. And incidentally, it's waaayyy beside the point because I take full responsibility for every glorious cannoli in my adult life. They all meant something to me. :)
What's crazy is that, like many of my failures in life ,(posts on relationships soon!!), it took a very long time to realize that I have to do something. Big. Now. I just think we all have these images of ourselves that are hard to overcome. For most of my life, I've been in a healthy weight range, so I still feel like a normal sized person. You know how anorexics think they're fat? Well, I think I'm thin! It's not until I go shopping for pants, or someone tags a photo of me on facebook that I remember. And It has been very convenient living in Maryland, where my old friends can't see me, and my new friends don't know the difference. Even I was alarmed when I stepped on a scale in August for the first time since before my wedding. "Ouch!", said the scale. I just sit here and shake my head because never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this.
So here it is, January 18th, 2010. MLK Day. I don't know how many diets and exercise programs I've began and quit in my 31 years, most of them not even necessary. This one is necessary. I can't be obese. I don't want to have heart problems, thyroid problems, diabetes, etc. and pass these habits on to my children. And I'm just not made to shop in stores where all the jeans are made with stretchy material. (They're so awful!). So I apologize in advance that I am sure to have a long series of posts about my weightloss journey. I will try to pepper in some posts that the skinny-minis will find interesting, too. To be honest, it's difficult to even post this at all, since it's something I consider to be nobody's business. And I'm not thrilled about airing my inner-most thoughts about being fat to everyone on facebook, but I need the outlet. I need the support. I need to prepare for the day when I'm not motivated. This first two weeks and 7.4 pounds lost has been easy, but it won't last. Disappointment, frustration and tears are most certainly on the horizon, and I need to be ready. I need to have a plan so that I can wake up everyday believing in my dream, and believing in myself that I can overcome.
Fast forward 6 or 7 years, and here I am, still dreaming. Of course my dreams are different than they were back then, many of the old ones having already come to fruition just beautifully. Aaaannnd, there are also some new "developments" that I now need to dream and mobilize my way back out of, preferably in a non-violent fashion. Okay, let's just be frank. I got fat, ya'll! That's not to say that losing weight is my biggest or most altuistic dream, it just happens to be what this particular post is about. And I don't have a lot of other problems at the moment. (See other posts re: Wal-Mart, Coupons, etc.)
If a civil rights activist ever reads this, let me apologize right now. As I'm writing this, I have exactly 3 followers and they know how seriously I take civil rights for all people. So I hope nobody gets offended that I, too, am inspired by Dr. King. Even as a white, college-educated woman, from a middle-class, two-parent household, he speaks to me. And from his grave, he directs me to follow my dreams, large and small. This particular one may seem small in light of real problems in the world (see Haiti), but in America, obesity is huge. Pun intended? You betcha! And if Dr. King can be an icon and a legacy of civil rights, surely I can lose a few pounds. Okay, more than a few.
Have you ever done anything wrong that you just couldn't stop? It is the worst type of feeling to be out of control. Mainly, because you don't realize that you've lost control until way too late. And when you realize that you have to give something up, you go through all the stages of grief backwards and forwards until finally.....Acceptance. And if that's not bad enough, you start the process all over again the minute you hit a bump in the road on your way to recovery. Excuses!! If-onlys!! It's different for me because ___ (fill in the blank). It's the same story no matter what you're trying to quit. The truth is, it's not different for me. I don't believe I'm a food addict, per se. There are definitely differences to my problem, but there are also many similarities. How many times have I puzzled over how someone could do something so stupid as to drink and drive, or inject a drug into their veins. Well? Those same people probably don't understand why I let my ass get so big. It's not as socially acceptable to wrestle a cannoli out of somebody's hand, they way others might do with car keys.
I've been scared of being fat my whole life, and it seemed predestined. I began yo-yo dieting somewhere around age 10 or 12. I was skinny then, but would routinely get up at 6am for Mousercize on the Disney Channel, or dig through my mother's exercise tapes on VHS. Sometimes I would do sit-ups in bed instead of going to sleep. I just knew that I was going to be overweight one day, and at that age, that was my solution. Just a few years ago, I asked my physician for help. Since my BMI was 24, she wouldn't help me. Even though I was 20 pounds overweight, I wouldn't be clinically overweight until my BMI was 25, nevermind that I was trying to avoid that. She told me to eat right and exercise. Well duh! I didn't need to be told what to do, I needed to be told HOW to do it. It sounds dumb, but I really couldn't figure it out! It really is like those commercials about relearning to do things without smoking. Part of our brain is malfunctioning and we can't do what we know we need to do. Well here I am now with a BMI of 31.3, clinically obese. (Check your BMI here) Was it bad genes, or a self-fulfilling prophecy? Or better yet: Was it programmed into me unwittingly by my parents in a perpetual cycle of low self-esteem and unhealthy relationships with food? Ding, ding, ding!!! But that's another post all in itself. And incidentally, it's waaayyy beside the point because I take full responsibility for every glorious cannoli in my adult life. They all meant something to me. :)
What's crazy is that, like many of my failures in life ,(posts on relationships soon!!), it took a very long time to realize that I have to do something. Big. Now. I just think we all have these images of ourselves that are hard to overcome. For most of my life, I've been in a healthy weight range, so I still feel like a normal sized person. You know how anorexics think they're fat? Well, I think I'm thin! It's not until I go shopping for pants, or someone tags a photo of me on facebook that I remember. And It has been very convenient living in Maryland, where my old friends can't see me, and my new friends don't know the difference. Even I was alarmed when I stepped on a scale in August for the first time since before my wedding. "Ouch!", said the scale. I just sit here and shake my head because never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this.
So here it is, January 18th, 2010. MLK Day. I don't know how many diets and exercise programs I've began and quit in my 31 years, most of them not even necessary. This one is necessary. I can't be obese. I don't want to have heart problems, thyroid problems, diabetes, etc. and pass these habits on to my children. And I'm just not made to shop in stores where all the jeans are made with stretchy material. (They're so awful!). So I apologize in advance that I am sure to have a long series of posts about my weightloss journey. I will try to pepper in some posts that the skinny-minis will find interesting, too. To be honest, it's difficult to even post this at all, since it's something I consider to be nobody's business. And I'm not thrilled about airing my inner-most thoughts about being fat to everyone on facebook, but I need the outlet. I need the support. I need to prepare for the day when I'm not motivated. This first two weeks and 7.4 pounds lost has been easy, but it won't last. Disappointment, frustration and tears are most certainly on the horizon, and I need to be ready. I need to have a plan so that I can wake up everyday believing in my dream, and believing in myself that I can overcome.
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