I spent 45 minutes trying to get dressed this morning. I'm not injured or suffering from pain. At least...not on the inside. That sounds super emo but fuck if it isn't true.
I'm fat. Like icky fat. And I'm not trying to be self deprecating (defensive much?) but I know the difference between plump and whoa. I'm so much closer to whoa than I want to be. And I know why.
I eat. When I'm sad. When I'm happy. When I'm bored. When I'm cranky. When I have pms, when I don't. When I'm alone and when I'm surrounded by friends. I wedge myself into restaurant booths and want to cry as I'm reaching for the appetizer.
When I waited tables, there was a woman that came into the restaurant frequently and she was a large lady. She wasn't particularly friendly either and because I was young and thought I'd never in a million years be the weight I am currently, I made fun of her. I wasn't alone in this. My coworkers and I created cruel nicknames about her behind her back. I won't repeat them now because I'm ashamed.
It didn't necessarily come from a need to be cruel, I just couldn't understand. Why was she so big? How did she get that way? Was it a health condition? Her habit of clutching a candy cane (or other sort of hard sucker) while eating pancakes and biscuits and gravy told me it wasn't likely. But I was curious nonetheless. How did she let herself get to such an uncomfortable place?
I wish I hadn't judged so harshly. Because now, I understand. It's actually really easy to gain weight. It's not that I wanted to, but I certainly didn't try to control it. I currently weigh the most I ever have and even though I'm not as large as the lady from the restaurant, I feel much larger.
So much of this is a mental struggle and I wonder how many people understand that. If they do, why don't we talk about it more? We live in an age where all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds are much more accepted. Are we where we should be? No way. But in the 20 years since I've waited tables, I've seen things change and it seems to be headed in the right direction.
But I digress.
I'm fat. And this could be where I begin the mantra of I'm tired of feeling like this, I want to be healthier, I want to FEEL better, I don't like looking this way.... And all of those statements are true.
I'm not very good at being kind to myself. But earlier this week in therapy, we started talking about how I could be. It's going to be hard but life is teaching me that most of the things that we desperately need to better ourselves, ARE hard.
I've received a lot of advice over the years to help myself either lose weight or embrace the weight I am. Things like the no/low carb diet. Or, drink lots of water and exercise more. Try meditation so you don't stress-eat. Go for walks by yourself or with a buddy! Go to a plus size yoga class, plus size swimming, plus size support group. This last suggestion is often followed by well meaning positive people. Embrace yourself and all your fat! You're beautiful just the way you are! Just be you! If you can't love yourself, how the hell you gonna love anyone else?
That last one is actually pretty easy for me. I just give my love to everyone else and stop thinking about me altogether.
Turns out that's a problem.
So when it was suggested I look at my past to see how food might tie into traumatic or even non traumatic events, I sort of freaked out. Going inside, rooting around in my past...it's not going to be pleasant. But maybe that's why it will work.
One of the first things suggested to me was to truly work on being kinder to myself. I mentioned before it was hard. It sometimes feels impossible. I don't think of 'eating healthy' as being kind to myself. It feels like I'm depriving myself of what I really want.
My Fella is able to have the sort of mindset of, "If it's not in the house, I won't eat it." I'm not like that. I'll go to the store and buy it if I really want it. If I'm already at the store, somehow I end up on the ice cream aisle. If I have time to kill, I'll check out the new grocery store down the street. I can find food anywhere and will use any excuse to have it.
Food with friends is a favorite thing. I don't drink so instead of "let's go get a drink" it's "let's go have dinner!" But dinner so often includes appetizers and dessert because then we get to chat longer. It's not even always about the food (although it often is). It's about spending time with people I enjoy. So spend time together doing something else you might suggest. Like exercise? Do you know how challenging it is to have a conversation when you're huffing and puffing around a track? Is that all I can do? No, but do I even want to exercise in the first place? Exercise is NOT FUN to me.
I was counseled to focus on other things I can do to help myself that don't necessarily involve diet and exercise. In other words, start small. During my 45 minute costume change this morning I was reminded. I need to get rid of all the clothes that don't fit me. That's unfortunately going to be quite a few items because I have a tendency to just go buy more clothes when I 'outgrow' others in a sad attempt at making myself feel better. It usually backfires. I don't feel better having to buy a size up. While riffling through my clothes this morning I tried to think more along the lines of 'this will help someone else if I donate' instead of 'look at all the fucking money I wasted on clothes that I hoped might fit one day'.
Another suggestion was to have mirrors all over the house. I felt sick at the idea at first and couldn't understand how that could possibly be a good idea. It was explained to me that the purpose behind all that...exposure..is to learn to see yourself. I felt I had this down since every time I pass a reflective surface I wince but evidently that's not the point of having the mirrors. Seeing my reflection consistently might show me every flaw at first. But then, maybe over time, if I can learn to look deeper, I'll see that I have nice eyes. Or that when I turn a certain way, and the light catches my hair the color is nice.
This journey is different from other weight induced voyages. I mean, I KNOW that eating ice cream and bread and pasta and chips and basically anything delicious isn't good for me. I KNOW that moving around and doing that hated exercise thing would probably make me feel better once I got past the sweat storm. And maybe I'll get to the point that those choices will be second nature to me.
But I'm not there yet. I'm going to have to start small to feel less big.
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