I'm OVERWEIGHT!!!!
I'M OVERWEIGHT!!!! I never thought I would be happy to use those words...much less want to shout them from the rooftops!
The label "Obese" has dogged me for the last few years, and I have felt the stigma. It has affected my relationships with others....and it has affected my relationship with myself. I have punished MYSELF and thought less of myself for being obese...and I am ashamed to admit that.
Today - I shed the label "obese". I am finally "overweight". Am I a svelte, rockin' goddess? No. Will I ever be? Probably not - at least not without the help of plastics...and I am not sure whether it will be important to me or not in the future.
This feels like a graduation...a promotion...a label that signifies that my work over the last six months has been recognized with a new title. Fine, there is still stigma attached to that label, but I choose to wear it proudly. To me, it says, "I am a fighter, committed to changing my life and health...and I am well on my way to reaching my goals."
I am still almost 34 pounds away from my goal of 145. It's slow going. I am a stair-step loser. I drop a few pounds...then I stall for weeks. I drop a couple more, then stall for a month. It's definitely not the wild downward ride I was expecting...my body is marching to the beat of its own drummer, that's for sure.
There are people with similar pre-op stats and goals who were sleeved when I was sleeved....some of them have already shed all of their weight. I feel a little pang of jealousy when I see that. I wanted to be a sleeve superstar - - I wanted to be the girl who dropped 103lbs and hit goal by my 6 month surgiversary. It didn't happen.
Why not? Well - - my body doesn't WANT to let go of 103lbs. In fact, my body is not happy that I have given away almost 70lbs of padding and insulation. I guess I can understand that. It is letting go of this weight at its own pace, when it wants to, how it wants to..and in the TINIEST DARN INCREMENTS POSSIBLE.
I can guarantee that I wouldn't be this far along if I wasn't working my tail off. I am not one of the lucky ones who will ever hit goal by diet alone. And, I mean that. I hit the treadmill 6 days a week, for at least an hour each time. Most days, I am in the treadmill for an hour in the morning...and an hour in the evening most nights, if I am not cursing at Jillian Michaels while sweating.
Even with adhering to pretty strict nutritional guidelines, I am proof that one can stall for 6-7 weeks at a time. I have done it. It sucks. You get discouraged. That chocolate bar starts to look very inviting. The french fries start calling...and the burger looks better than it has looked for years. It's hard to be strong. Very hard. I haven't been perfect, but my eating has been very clean most of the time. And, if I have slipped...I have gotten up, dusted myself off and have taken stock of WHY I slipped. Did stress get the best of me? Was I in a social situation where I felt I couldn't decline something? Was I depressed, or in a hurry? What would have been a better decision for me?
I am an addict. Plain and simple. My drug of choice is food -- specifically simple carbs. I am self-destructive when I have them. I can't have 'one chip'. I can't have one bite of ice cream. So, for now...it's best that I don't have them at all. That doesn't mean that I have to give it up forever. It simply means that I am not strong enough, NOW, to have a healthy relationship with them...to use them in moderation.
Now more than ever, my mind is occupied by thoughts of food. But, the WAY it is occupied has changed. It used to be full of thoughts of cravings - - I wanted pizza, I wanted fries, I wanted a lot of chocolate. I wanted, wanted, wanted. Now, it is a constant carousel of "I need to log my breakfast...how many grams of protein do I need to fit in before my 10am meeting?" or "I have 88 oz of water in for the day...I really need to fit in at least three more glasses between now and bedtime." And I even have the requisite, "If I want this extra piece of beef jerky, I need to spend 15 more minutes on the treadmill and drink at least 16 more ounces of water to account for the additional calories and sodium."
It sounds obsessive, and it is. But, for right now...I need it. I need accountability, I need structure....I need to learn how to FUEL my body in a healthy manner and to treat food as that fuel, and not a reward or a pleasure. That doesn't mean that I won't take some pleasure in food...but it means that I need to make logical choices, instead of snap decisions based on mood or cravings.
I still have a long road ahead of me. I am nowhere near done. And, I am seriously earning every last ounce I am losing, earning it in sweat and effort and committment. It's not easy. This isn't taking the easy way out.
I am working harder than I ever have in my life. And, for once, I am successful.
The label "Obese" has dogged me for the last few years, and I have felt the stigma. It has affected my relationships with others....and it has affected my relationship with myself. I have punished MYSELF and thought less of myself for being obese...and I am ashamed to admit that.
Today - I shed the label "obese". I am finally "overweight". Am I a svelte, rockin' goddess? No. Will I ever be? Probably not - at least not without the help of plastics...and I am not sure whether it will be important to me or not in the future.
This feels like a graduation...a promotion...a label that signifies that my work over the last six months has been recognized with a new title. Fine, there is still stigma attached to that label, but I choose to wear it proudly. To me, it says, "I am a fighter, committed to changing my life and health...and I am well on my way to reaching my goals."
I am still almost 34 pounds away from my goal of 145. It's slow going. I am a stair-step loser. I drop a few pounds...then I stall for weeks. I drop a couple more, then stall for a month. It's definitely not the wild downward ride I was expecting...my body is marching to the beat of its own drummer, that's for sure.
There are people with similar pre-op stats and goals who were sleeved when I was sleeved....some of them have already shed all of their weight. I feel a little pang of jealousy when I see that. I wanted to be a sleeve superstar - - I wanted to be the girl who dropped 103lbs and hit goal by my 6 month surgiversary. It didn't happen.
Why not? Well - - my body doesn't WANT to let go of 103lbs. In fact, my body is not happy that I have given away almost 70lbs of padding and insulation. I guess I can understand that. It is letting go of this weight at its own pace, when it wants to, how it wants to..and in the TINIEST DARN INCREMENTS POSSIBLE.
I can guarantee that I wouldn't be this far along if I wasn't working my tail off. I am not one of the lucky ones who will ever hit goal by diet alone. And, I mean that. I hit the treadmill 6 days a week, for at least an hour each time. Most days, I am in the treadmill for an hour in the morning...and an hour in the evening most nights, if I am not cursing at Jillian Michaels while sweating.
Even with adhering to pretty strict nutritional guidelines, I am proof that one can stall for 6-7 weeks at a time. I have done it. It sucks. You get discouraged. That chocolate bar starts to look very inviting. The french fries start calling...and the burger looks better than it has looked for years. It's hard to be strong. Very hard. I haven't been perfect, but my eating has been very clean most of the time. And, if I have slipped...I have gotten up, dusted myself off and have taken stock of WHY I slipped. Did stress get the best of me? Was I in a social situation where I felt I couldn't decline something? Was I depressed, or in a hurry? What would have been a better decision for me?
I am an addict. Plain and simple. My drug of choice is food -- specifically simple carbs. I am self-destructive when I have them. I can't have 'one chip'. I can't have one bite of ice cream. So, for now...it's best that I don't have them at all. That doesn't mean that I have to give it up forever. It simply means that I am not strong enough, NOW, to have a healthy relationship with them...to use them in moderation.
Now more than ever, my mind is occupied by thoughts of food. But, the WAY it is occupied has changed. It used to be full of thoughts of cravings - - I wanted pizza, I wanted fries, I wanted a lot of chocolate. I wanted, wanted, wanted. Now, it is a constant carousel of "I need to log my breakfast...how many grams of protein do I need to fit in before my 10am meeting?" or "I have 88 oz of water in for the day...I really need to fit in at least three more glasses between now and bedtime." And I even have the requisite, "If I want this extra piece of beef jerky, I need to spend 15 more minutes on the treadmill and drink at least 16 more ounces of water to account for the additional calories and sodium."
It sounds obsessive, and it is. But, for right now...I need it. I need accountability, I need structure....I need to learn how to FUEL my body in a healthy manner and to treat food as that fuel, and not a reward or a pleasure. That doesn't mean that I won't take some pleasure in food...but it means that I need to make logical choices, instead of snap decisions based on mood or cravings.
I still have a long road ahead of me. I am nowhere near done. And, I am seriously earning every last ounce I am losing, earning it in sweat and effort and committment. It's not easy. This isn't taking the easy way out.
I am working harder than I ever have in my life. And, for once, I am successful.
Your story sounds alot like mine. I definitely feel like I had to work on my weight loss after month 4. I admit I got derailed during the holidays & I paid for it but sounds like you & I want this bad enough to do what it takes to reach the goal I want. I also have to work my tail off working out but it's a lot easier when I'm 80 pounds lighter & still have plenty more to go but I'm up for the challenge. 
Thanks for sharing your story.
Thanks for sharing your story.
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