FatGirl vs World

The ever awesome YumYucky reminded me of something that I may have forgotten: 

It's go time, baby! As your imaginary trainer, I command you to do what you love in a safe way.  But here's the kicker... you have to give it your all.  100% commitment and daily dedication to the process.  That is what this fake trainer requires of you.

People ask me all the time where to start the weight loss and health gain.  I've learned through experience that attitude is the main difference between people who are successful at weight loss/health gain and those who are not.  The people who succeed base their whole journey and experience in joy.  The people who fail base their experience in punishment and self-loathing (yep, those people exist).

On Friday, my neighbor had me over to show me his new setup:  a 150lb heavy bag in his living room.  Like a giddy little kid, I went over to his place with my boxing gear.  I threw a few punches, he threw a few punches.  Not only did I forget how much I like boxing, but I also forgot how much I liked giving people feedback on what they were doing.  I pointed out how my neighbor didn't get all the torque out of his punch that he could and made a few adjustments.  Apparently the adjustments worked -- within minutes we had knocked the bag off of its mounting.

Did I forget about this fierce fighter?

But that feeling of glee... oh dear readers... I had completely forgotten what that feels like, or rather, I had forgotten to cultivate and nurture that feeling of joy in every movement, in every meal, in every sweet dream.

In talking to my neighbor, I realized that in the year after my neck surgery, I hadn't even shadow boxed.  My body had recovered but my mind was lagging behind.  I think part of me abandoned the thought of ever being able to throw a punch again without ever even trying.  Though the doctor had cleared me, I had held myself back.

I wonder how many people out there reading this are afraid to start their own weight loss/health gain journey out of fear that they may not be the best at something, completely forgetting what Josie asked me to do -- to love what I do and be 100% committed to whatever it is.  As my first voice/opera teacher once told me, if you're going to sing the wrong note, sing it "strong and wrong." 

Have conviction in whatever you're doing. 

And yes, I'm giving you permission to have a dance party. 

I've had "See what 185 looks & feels like" up on my white board for over 2 years now.  You see, soon after I started this blog (2009), I got the focus that I needed by way of needing to fit in a bridesmaid gown. And by the time my friend's wedding rolled around (November 2010), I fit in the dress and weighed 188lbs (my lowest adult weight). 

Though it felt great to be at my new lowest adult weight, I also felt burnt out from running 100-120 miles a month and logging every little bit of food.  So I gave myself a break.  ((Did your stomach just flip flop over reading those words cause you know what follows??))Thus started the backslide.  But I also convinced myself that I could get back into it at any time and undo any damage that I had caused.

Boxing (starting March 2011) helped me get my focus and joy back. Slowly but surely I was losing weight and gaining muscle (my arms looked AWESOME).  More than that, I was pushing my mind and body more than I ever had.  And then I started feeling numbness in my hand (July 2011) and realized that it was a herniated disc and had to stop boxing at the end of 2011. 

2012 started with me getting an epidural steroid injection in my neck (if you've ever been on steroids, you know what that does to your body, appetite, mood) and ended with me having an artificial disc replacement when the conservative approach didn't work.

Most of 2013 was spent recovering and playing it safe (I was glued to my elliptical for 852 miles).  I'll be the first to admit that two things weren't optimal:  (1) I drank more alcohol than I should (hangovers when you're over 30 suck) and (2) I didn't pay enough attention to my diet (quality and quantity). 

So it's no surprise that now that I'm over the bronchitis/sinus infection that leveled me this past December/early January that I see this: 
I know some of it is period weight/bloating, and the rest is entirely on me.  I did this.  I let this happen while I chose to not look.  But now I know.  Now I'm tuned in. 

In one month (February 22), Alton Brown's Edible Inevitable Tour comes to the Lyric Opera House in Baltimore -- and I  have my front row ticket.  I have a dress in mind. 


I mentioned above that post-surgery, I've been hesitant and stayed safe. 
What do you want to see me doing? Be my trainer!

My mom once told me

PMS is NOT just premenstrual syndrome (a dis-order), but also stands for an internal "warning system" which alerts a woman that the (order-ly) changes are occurring inside her body.  Those symptoms prepare us to be ready for the monthly cycle and all that it entails: some times moodiness (not rage), a bit of water retention (bloating), maybe a mild back ache or headache, even sometimes a craving for a certain kind of food.

**raises an eyebrow** "Even sometimes a craving for a certain kind of food."


Mom was a habitual undereater.
I'm an emotional eater/chaotic grazer with binge tendencies.

When I PMS, I don't necessarily want a certain kind of food;

Yesterday, I knew that I was PMSing.  On the way back from a lunchtime walk, I stupidly stopped in a CVS.  These came home with me:




When it comes to PMS there's already this sense of "Well, I'm going to get bloated anyways, might as well stuff all the food in my mouth and deal with the fallout the other three weeks of the month."  Or "Since I have to deal with this horrible thing that happens every month, life owes me this small comfort."

But none of them scratched the itch that I was feeling.  Even so I felt that if I kept them at my desk, that I would eat all three bags by close of business.  So in a panic, I brought them to my friend/coworker's desk and was like "....help....me..." (luckily she works by 3 guys who never seem to gain weight)

This is what binge eating is for me:  the ability to consciously and logically realize that food won't fix what I'm feeling, but the absolute emotional panic of not being able to stop myself.

Fortunately, I don't always feel this way.  I know that it's worse when I'm PMSing and when I'm under stress.  I just need to remember that I am not the binge.  I am better than the binge.  I'm worthy of actual nutrition... and a heating pad.

My dad often loves to tell me that maybe I'm single because I'm in DC -- that perhaps I'd fare better in some hard-working Midwest city full of college-educated lumberjacks that like to build log cabins and rescue river otters in their free time.  Dad may have a point.

Dating in Washington, DC is "especially hard."
DC is one of the worst places to be single.
DC daters lie their pants off and everyone is an exceptional catch. 
And even if you've managed to date in DC, that long-term exposure might have dire consequences (okay, not so dire).

But even so, I found myself in a Google Hangout (albeit a little late thanks to a partially-frozen wifi hotspot) organized and hosted by Mary El (@CupcakesDC) with a special guest appearance by professional dating coach David Wygant (@DavidWygant -- YouTube videos).  In the chat were many of DC's most lovely eligible ladies -- @SmallTownGirlDC, @SassyMarmalade (I can personally attest to her sassiness), @MangoTomato, @NikkiRap, @Frijolita, and @KahRitzTyne.

Now, I've had some run-ins with "dating coaches" that were more like "pick-up artists" (ahem, assholes) that try to manipulate (ugh, negging) women into doing what they want (i.e., casual sex).  David wasn't like this -- his overall sentiment was to reinforce authenticity and self-awareness (i.e., don't change who you are, just notice how you are). He wanted us to approach dating with our eyes and hearts open.

Rather than go point-by-point on everything that David said, I just wanted to hit on a few points that specifically are applicable to me.

"You are not as approachable as you think you are"
David said that even the most approachable woman is not 100% approachable...and he doesn't blame us for having our guard up (it's the residuals from all the douchebags that have attacked us with cheesy lines and grabby hands).  However, we can help our cause by putting down the external barriers to being approached such as our cell phones. Distractions like phones (and constantly checking them like we do) prevent us from scanning the room and seeing who is looking at us (rather, for us).  If we put down the phone, it creates a situation where we can make eye contact, flash a smile, and invite a guy to walk over to introduce himself.

The thing is this:  women are intimidating even for the most confident guy.  We have the power and ability to tell them that they are not enough. We must wield that power carefully.  We don't have to raise a white flag and surrender to men, but we can lower our cannons and have a parley.

Cultivating openness takes practice -- "Spend 5 minutes people watching in every place you go. Make it a game. Have fun with it. It will open you up."  Notice how people react and interact with you. Throw out some fishing lines and see if the water is friendly.

Sometimes it's easier for a guy to parrot back what you said to him rather than (1) expose his true feelings/intentions (*gasps* vulnerability!) or (2) actually consider what he thinks/feels (*gasps* sincerity!).  I love the point that Patti Stanger made in her book "Be Your Own Matchmaker" -- that there's a difference between interrogating a guy and gathering intelligence on a guy.  A guy with an open-ended question will reveal himself (and sometimes hang himself) faster than when you're directing him towards an answer. Take notes, ask follow-up questions. Let him ask you questions, but don't volunteer an encyclopedia.

Most women (and men) have some sort of checklist of what they want (and don't want) in a man, and we use a first date to see how the other rates.  The thing is that dating (even online dating) isn't like online shopping where you can find the perfect product, read up on reviews, and even do personalized modifications.  People can surprise you if you let them.  And sometimes when you allow people to be who they are (i.e., give up control a little bit), they go beyond your wildest dreams.

"Sometimes you need to hit a man over the head with a brick"
Subtle is cute and sometimes you can get away with it, but more often than not guys don't pick up on the subtle cues that women throw out.  Men aren't just oblivious, they're just not always tuned to the same frequency as us.  Women need to know what they want (in a self-aware and thoughtful way) and know how to communicate those wants in a compassionate and constructive manner. 

....but that brick isn't sarcasm...
"Sarcasm comes across as bitchy in a woman..."  Again, don't be a passive doormat, but know how what you say (and the tonality of what you say) is being received.  Be nice, be charming, be sweet. Be direct. Guys will appreciate the refreshing honesty and constructive dialogue.  And if he doesn't, he's a dick.

"If someone's not able to give you what you need/want, let them go"
I think this is a lesson in grace and self-awareness.  I've always said that I'm "not in the business of changing men" to become what I want without realizing that I was always trying to change myself to be what a guy wants (or, rather, what he thinks he wants based on what everyone else is telling him).  It's okay if you've given it the good old college try and it just doesn't work.  Try to end things as amicably and compassionately as possible.  You never know who this guy knows.  Who knows? Maybe one day you'll fall for his friend and he'll say "Oh, I dated her, she wasn't right for me, but she's a really great person."  Karma, dolls, karma.

In summation....
I think what David was telling us was to be authentic and sincere, but most importantly to give guys a chance.  They're not all your ex-friend that done you wrong; they're more like puppies that just want open arms and positive reinforcement. And if what you want is a relationship, you have to be willing to provide what he needs as well as him providing what you need.

[Oh, and to address a Twitter comment that the problem in DC is "All the 6s thinking they're 10s" -- everyone is a 10 to the right person.  We're not trying to mold ourselves to be attractive to every person.  We're trying to find the enzyme to our substrate, the key to our lock, the Robin to our Batman.  Suggesting that we look for someone that is our counterpart on some subjective scale sells everyone short.  We should all have a high opinion of our authentic self -- both inside and out.  It's not vanity, it's not delusion.  It's self-love and confidence, and that's always attractive.]

The #GoTheDist challenge theme for 2013 was "Rebuild Yourself."  For me, it was a very tangible theme after having surgery on my neck.  Not only did I need to recover from the injury, but I needed to recover from the stress and uncertainty of what being injured meant to me.

In the end, it meant running (elliptical + outside) 851.95 miles (that's 51.95 miles over my goal), and taking almost 4.3 MILLION steps (4,283,066 steps logged with many days not wearing my BodyMedia armband).

Towards the end of the year, I got sick (bronchitis & sinus infection) but also felt very lost.   Turns out that when I asked you all about it, we all kinda lost our mojo towards the end of the year.  Ask anyone who is trying to redefine their life -- it's hard/exhausting work!  It's not always about making huge renovations, but even maintaining the small changes become arduous over time.  This is when we need to lean on each other the most -- to remember why we're doing it and to infuse the joy back into the process.

 I've been racking my brain to come up with a #GoTheDist theme for 2014 -- and either I'm landing on what you all are already doing (such as @RoniNoone's #WYCWYC/what you can, when you can) or what I've already done in the past.  So I thought about opening it up to you all.


In the meantime, I have "Something Sparkly" to shop for (my full-year reward for 2013) and some planning to do.  500 miles of running outside is a HUGE goal for me. 

 

---

How to Join #GoTheDist 2014: 

1. Click on the SUMMARY PAGE (bookmarking it would be a good idea as you will be using it often).

2. Fill out the next available line on the "Summary" spreadsheet.  You are responsible for filling out your biographical information (columns A–D), your tracking modality and goal (columns E and F), your quarterly goals (columns G, J, M, and P), and your half-year and full-year rewards (columns U and W).  

3. **CREATE YOUR INDIVIDUAL PAGE** (The information you have entered in step 2 should auto-complete to an individual page.  Check your line number and then look at the bottom of the page.  Match up your line number and double check that your information is correct).

4. Rename the tab "@[twitter name]" or if you don't have Twitter "[nickname]" 

5. Fill out the sheet as you wish.  See step #8.

6. Update your own individual page as needed (if tracking is too hard, consider printing out your page and filling it out by hand and updating it online once a week). The total mileage will automatically be updated on the Summary tab as you report on your individual page.

7. Follow #GoTheDist on Twitter for support if you need it or to support others when they do, to announce achievements, and find new/old friends!

8. PLEASE DO NOT DELETE LINES OR TABS! Do not SORT.  If you want to add columns, please add them to the RIGHT of the page.  Please do NOT move your page around! You CAN bookmark your individual page using your browser to find it easily.

---

 

New Year's Eve 1999-->2000 I was in Times Square with a few thousand of my closest friends.  The mood was celebratory, but a little tense.  No one knew what Y2K would do.  Would nothing happen or would there be a massive failure of all the world's systems ensuing in panic, rioting, and a police state?  Some people brought gas masks in case there was rioting, other people brought flasks.  We just didn't know.

I had gotten there many hours early so I could spend my first NYE in Times Square with a view.  I was supposed to meet up with my college friend Romy, but because he got a later start, he was unable to reach the area where I was.  Alone, I had no choice but to make friends with the people around me.  A very handsome guy from Wisconsin named Andy decided that every hour on the hour, he'd celebrate by kissing me.  I think we celebrated the New Year in six time zones, and few of the in-betweens.   (**waves to Andy, wherever he may be**)

I was thinking about this last night as the final minutes of 2013 were ticking down.  I've done the crazy NYE in Times Square.  I've done the NYE at home in pajamas with the cats and a half pound of shrimp.  I've been surrounded by family and friends.  I've also spent many New Years completely asleep.  How did I want to end 2013 and begin 2014?  

I looked around the room and there were plenty of random, unattached men who I could borrow for a few seconds.  There were friends I could hug and kiss on the cheek, but in the end, I took out my cell phone and decided that I wanted to reach out to the largest group of friends and acquaintances that I have:  the Tweet began like this, "May all of you come to know in 2014 the place you hold in my heart..."

Before I could finish the Tweet (...Like a Tardis, my heart may be small, but it's bigger on the inside.") and send it in the last seconds of 2013,  some random guy that I didn't know walked up to me.  As 2014 began, the bar erupted into a kissing frenzy.  He looked around, raised his glass to me, shook my hand and said "To the New Year's rejects."

I walked away when I should have slapped him across the face.  I walked away when I should have read him the riot act and told him to not include me in his pity party. All the good will, love, and gratitude that I had felt in the end of 2013 (I blame Love Actually) drained from my body, and I began 2014 like this (weird timestamp though): 


Instead of starting out 2014 the way that I wanted to (broadcasting a message of gratitude and love) I reached out to social media, my friends and my acquaintances alike, because I was just trying to keep a brave face (no one likes the crying girl in a bar). 

At the end of last week, I posted this on Facebook:

Much to my surprise, many of you have been feeling the same way.  ((HUGS TO ALL)) 

It wasn't until I ran into a friend/coworker that I began to make some sense of it.  She said that I was in a interstitial space.  ("An interstitial space or interstice is an empty space or gap between spaces full of structure or matter.")  In other words, I wasn't adrift in a sea of nothingness, but I was between two points in my life.

It seems that ever since starting this blog (and indeed, for a little longer than that even), that I've been engaged in many struggles to overcome injuries, moods, habits, relationships, etc.  More recently, I spent the past two years with my neck injury and its rehabilitation.  And now, for all intents and purposes, I'm healed.

So... now what?

I think for most of my readers, they get to this mental place when they hit their goal weight (something that I've yet to do), and they no longer have something to fight against.  The new fight becomes not just maintenance, but how to live when every day isn't a struggle.  When we've spent most of our lives suffering under the burdens we carry, and then this period where we learn our strength and cast off the burden, we then have no clue how to live each day with the aim to thrive.

Now, you must be thinking that the path is cleared for me to go full tilt, to actively go for my goal weight, and that's where my mind is.  But I still feel that isn't a fixed point.  I've never been a healthy weight in my adult life.  Finding out my balance point is pretty much a crap shoot.  I don't know what that's going to look or feel like, and I think that's making me scared.  So not only am I in between two points, only one of those points is fixed (my past). 

I don't think I've overdone it.  I know some people absolutely kill it, meet their goals, and then suffer some sort of whiplash.  Though I've done a lot in the gym this past year, it was at a slow and manageable pace.  I didn't push my body past where it wanted to go.  I just allowed for whatever my body would allow for. In the same time, I think I got apathetic with everything -- gym, food logging, food preparation, life.

Kudos to all of you who go out there every day and fight the good fight.  I applaud your motivation.  I applaud your courage.  But man, even being that motivated requires so much energy sometimes.  It'd be nice to have an auto-pilot sometimes that will just take me where I need to go without having to think about it so much.

Dr. Fuisz

1994 (age 13) was a rough year.

I have always had good taste in men.  Even the gay guys that I've had crushes on are exceptional men.  Even the guys that I loved as brothers were (and are) some of the most special people that I'll ever know in my life.  For the purpose of this blog entry, we'll ignore some of the shittier examples (like the guy that almost broke my neck).

As a 6 year-old on the elementary school black top (in a brand new town), I singled out the boy I'd have a crush for the next 11 years.  While I ended up being a bit of an outsider, he ended up being the captain and quarterback of the varsity football team, a great basketball player, an honors student, and an all-around nice guy. 

He taught me an important lesson:  I think he knew that I had a crush on him all those years (I have the subtlety of a sledgehammer sometimes) and he never once disrespected me for my feelings.  He was kind and gracious even when he didn't have to be (like the time I called him half an hour after finding out that my mother had died, and I just needed to hear his voice and have hope).  At a time when it was easy for everyone else to make fun of me, he never did (or if he did, he did it in a way where it never got back to me).

I think that I was keenly aware that from age 8 onward I was an overweight, pimply emotional wreck, though I was smart and talented.  I knew that I wasn't a catch or popular, and that I probably would never get a chance to date a guy like him.  I had a few other crushes over the years, but my crush on him was enduring and grounded me.  In a way, adoring him was a promise to myself to always aim high, to have standards, to not give up on myself.

This is my sexy face.

All of this is a very long prologue to what I actually wanted to say...which is... that it's ridiculously sucky that even though I'm a completely different person (that no longer resembles a goth Janet Reno), I'm still doing the whole "pining away for unattainable guys" thing.

But it was so much easier to swallow when I didn't think I even deserved a chance.  It was so much easier when I thought that I was dateless and unloveable when I didn't love myself.  Now that I've had a chance to know myself and love myself, I have no clue why guys aren't beating down the doors to love me. (It can't just be that I'm intimidating.)

Never once in my life have I had a guy relentlessly woo me.  I've never had a guy tell me that it would be the end of life as he knew it if I look his way.  I've never had a man stand under my window with a boom box (mp3 players just don't have the same gravity). No flowers sent to my office every day.

Thirty-two years spinning round the sun, and very little romance to show for it.  This makes me so very sad.  I've yet to experience the kind of person that I am or could be with reciprocal love under my wings.  I have the love of my friends (**hugs to everyone**) and family, but it's very different than romantic love, eh?

For many years, I think that I was afraid of loving someone because I know the absolute heart-wringing pain that losing that person feels like.  It's very natural to want to avoid pain like that, and so I did.  But all the same, I'm that foolish girl that runs straight at love, full speed, without slowing down to let it come to me.  I'm not afraid of my heart breaking as much as I'm afraid of living a life where it never gets to be used to its full potential.

I know that scares the shit out of boys.  Good thing I am looking for a man, right?

The view from my Dad's place in Brooklyn.

Dad and Hannah being silly.

Go BIG BLUE!! NY Giants!!

My dad cooked an amazingly delicious Thanksgiving dinner for just he and I.  The next day we celebrated my Aunt's **mumbles**th birthday.  It was great to hang out with my family (I don't get to see them that often because they're mostly in the NY/MA area.  A few of us aren't central to that).  My uncle paid me one of the best compliments ever -- that he uses me as a gentle example of someone who has been able to address her weight and health issues.  I'm glad that I can be a force of positive change in my family.

On Saturday, Dad and I had a very long drive back to DC (there were a few accidents on I-95).  On Sunday, we had lunch with my brother, SIL and niece.  Last night, Dad and I went to the NYG v. Skins game (Giants won! And Bear Pascoe waved to me!!).  I'm kinda a zombie now at work and still have enough fortitude to resist doing any shopping.  I'm not religious, but my family does participate in gift exchanges.  I just really hate the whole commercial aspect of it that is thrust upon the consumer.  I'm going to shop and spend money if and when I damn well please.

Okay, I was in a bit of a media blackout the past week and the long weekend, but was clued into the continuation of the Maria Kang saga by The Bert Show and Tony (The Anti-Jared).  

I am loathe to even mention her name here but I will, on the off chance that someone finds my blog and gets a bit of perspective and hope from it.  My POV is this:  any time a person tries to define what a "real woman" is -- you marginalize other people (same with any other "real [this or that]").  It's a "realer than thou"/"healthier than thou" attitude that does nothing to serve or enhance relationships between people and communities.  It's not my place to define who I am by excluding anyone, and it's not my place to define anyone else by my personal thoughts and feelings. We are all real and deserve a bit of respect, compassion, and the freedom to live a life that doesn't impinge on the rights of others.

Kang vented on Facebook, but deleted it and reposted on her site, but not without a long-winded disclaimer (no, I will not link her site, I don't want her making any money off of my readership).  I want to side with her on some things -- such as there being lots of free resources for people looking to make a change in their life and that the journey begins with self-love -- but there are far better people out there saying the same thing without perpetuating the idea of what health/fitness looks like versus what actual health/fitness is (behavior, mental well being, blood tests, etc).  And most importantly, I can't side with her because she breaks New Rule #4 as well as NR4(a-c):

4. I will not judge someone without recognizing the journey they are on first.

    4a.  I will not let someone else's judgment of me change how I feel about myself. 
    4b.  I am on this journey because of the courage I had when I took the first step.
    4c.  The journey is not a competition; it is a community, a movement, a calling.

The other part that really annoys me is this:  a photo of a person is just a slice in time.  And yet we load on a ton of presumptions about that person based on the photo.  We see the beautiful model, we don't see her sucking on juice-soaked cotton balls (something Crystal Renn wrote about in her book Hungry).  Even Kang makes the point about saying that her photo may look like she's got it together, but then gives a gazillion examples of how she's the every woman.  So then why can't we look at a picture of a larger person and make the assumption that she's taking care of herself?  We assume that fat equals neglect.  We assume that fat equals self-harm.  However, while she goes to great lengths to discuss the obesity epidemic, she says very little about the epidemic on the other end of the spectrum:  kids are getting eating disorders and are practicing self-harm at younger and younger ages.  We've infected them with our own self-loathing, and more than that, we (as a society) endorse it. 

When I look at a photo of myself in bra/underwear or a bikini (and no, I'm not going to post it here), I am proud of all the work that I've done -- work that started with an obese version of myself mustering up the courage to love myself no matter what anyone else said, and especially in spite of what other people would have me think about my own body.

I think about many of my friends here and on Twitter/Facebook that are still overweight/obese but are radically different people than they were before they had the epiphany.  Are they fitness models? No, but they're the model of fitness -- dedicated to exercising, good nutrition, and working on their emotional and mental landscapes.  I don't think Maria Kang gets that.  I don't think she ever will.  And the saddest part of all of this is that her crappy attitude is getting her attention and making her money.