"Saboteurs are Poisonous!"

"It makes your butt look too fat!"  So said the best friend of a lovely voluptuous bride-to-be on the TV show, "Say Yes to the Dress".  The woman in the bridal gown, who had once been a pageant queen, turned pale, just a shade lighter than death.  She had been very excited about this particular gown, even commenting to the bridal consultant how well it shaped her derriere.  Beyond devastated, she silently walked back to the dressing room.

Over the next few episodes, mothers and sisters and aunts and fathers and brothers, not to mention fiances and best friends, of the brides-to-be continued to rail at what they considered to be flaws in their beloveds body.  "Your belly is huge in that dress!"  "It makes you look fat!"  "It doesn't make you look thin enough!"

What on earth would possess anyone to make such judgemental, sizest comments?  Why do we, the people who are closest to someone, feel the need to point out what we consider to be their worst features?  Just what gives us the right to cloak our judgements in statements pretending to include the obese person?  "You don't want to look like you're fat."  Really?  How do you know what I want to look like?  "You're an obese woman.  You need to figure out how to hide it."  I don't think so, friend.  Why would I waste my time on such a futile project.

I don't care if folks have opinions about my weight.  I don't care if those opinions differ from mine.  And, I certainly don't mind discussing obesity with others.  What I do mind is the constant barrage of criticism and advice that comes from well-meaning friends and family members.

"Have you thought about losing weight?"  What am I supposed to say to that question? "No, frankly, I didn't know I could lose weight.  Thank you for suggesting it."

This sort of question does not truly include me in the topic of my weight loss.  It is a presumptuous query meant to say I think you should lose weight.  I think you are too obese and I don't understand why you don't do something about it.  It focuses on your opinion of my weight and sends the signal that losing weight is the most important thing to do.  It does not share your anxiety over my weight or your fear of what my obesity might do to me.  

Now that is a conversation worth having.  My weight might worry you; it might give you nightmares of disease and early death; and if that is the case, you are welcome to discuss it with me in a loving, non-judgemental manner.  I will listen to your concerns and I may sympathize with you; but I will not allow you to make me feel as if my obesity is ugly, or disgusting, or something I should hide.

I think another important question to look at is, why does fat allow you to intrude on my personal life?  Would you intrude on the weight of my thinner sisters?  "Angie, I really think you should plump up.  You have no cushion in your butt."  Would you accompany your sister or best friend to a bridal gown consultation and reject dress after dress because it showed off her curves perfectly?  Of course not.  And, why is that?  This is the question everyone should ask themselves.  Why is it okay for a woman who weighs 125 lbs to look sexy and radiant, while a woman who weighs 275 lbs needs to be embarrassed and find a way to hide her curves?

If I want to walk up the aisle with the person of my dreams, I should be allowed to do so without fear of recrimination from the people I am closest to.  My wedding day should not be sabotaged by my well meaning friends and family, regardless of my affection for them.

My weight is not open for discussion with saboteurs.

"Against All Odds"

I had the pleasure of staffing an information booth at the PDX City Parks 5K Run at Gabriel Park in Portland, OR this last weekend.  And, I do mean it was a pleasure.  This was a great place to be reminded of who I am and why I have the goals I do.

First, let me say that I am in awe of folks who dare to participate in life at this level.  Other than running as a child, I have never had an urge to use running as a sport for the sake of just that... running.  When I was a child, I loved running bases and I adored playing Hide and Go Seek, Tag, and other playground games; and of course, as I got older, there was the Catch the Toddler game that every parent has been forced to play.  You know the one... as they dash for streets and ponds and other hideous life defying challenges, you run as fast as you can to try to catch them.  Not nearly as fun as Tag, but it does get your heart pumping at cardio level.

The folks who attended the 5K Run at Gabriel Park all had one thing in common... they wanted to be there, they wanted to run, and they wanted to cross the finish line.  I did not spot a single person there that day who looked as if they had been forced to attend the event; instead they appeared cheerful and ready.

The other thing I noticed was the variety of shapes and sizes and age groups present.  From children to adults, there were tall people and short people; small people and large people; thin people and obese people.  There were young folks and old folks, and given that the entry fee was a mere $5 bucks, I would imagine that the income levels were just as diverse, because it was affordable.

The courage on display, while not flaunted, was, nevertheless, remarkable.  I could barely walk while weighing 316 lbs, yet, here were, not one or two, but, many obese people, elderly people, and unfit people.  There were people of varying abilities throughout the spectrum of human experience.  It certainly fortified my trust and belief in the "against all odds" paradigm.

Extreme acts of courage run rampant throughout our society, yet we often do not stop and observe the immense spirit it sometimes takes to just be who we are.  Take Caitlyn Jenner, who recently was the recipient of the prestigious Arthur Ashe Courage award at this year's ESPY (Excellence in Sports Performance Yearly) ceremony.  This award is intended to honor "people whose contributions transcend sports through courageous action."  ESPN released a statement last month, saying, "This year, we are proud to honor Caitlyn Jenner embracing her identity and doing so in a public way to help move forward a constructive dialogue about progress and acceptance."  

FYI, in case my readers live inside a rolled up sock without access to gossip or news from the outside world, Caitlyn Jenner was once Bruce Jenner, the former Olympic Champion track and field athlete.  She is a lovely woman, who has not only won the Olympic Gold Medal (the highest award given to athlete's for their prowess on the field), but has now also been honored with the highest sports award for courage.  

To me, the fact that Caitlyn Jenner has fully shared herself with the world, despite criticism and controversy, is a stunning act of courage.  She has given yet another strong voice to the transgender community, opening another opportunity for understanding and the elimination of discrimination.  I will always love her for that.  

Yet, for her, the act of speaking publicly while reading from a teleprompter at the ESPY awards took a dual amount of courage; one, because of her fear around her childhood dyslexia, and two, because she is not yet happy with the pitch of her voice and she wanted people to hear what she had to say, rather than observing the pitch of her voice.  Our own inner demons are probably the worst, most poisonous voices we will ever hear.

Like Caitlyn, the obese men and women who showed up to run at the 5K event, regardless of what others might think of them; regardless of what they might look like in others eyes; and regardless of the pain they might feel in their joints, both before and after the event; these people are my heroes.  They are willing to cut through their own fears to live life to its fullest, and by doing so, they both impress and enable each of us to do the same.

  

"The Dreaded Plateau"

It's July 9th and this is the week I am supposed to schedule my knee surgery.  I have not done so yet, and I won't be able to do so anytime soon, simply because I am on a freaking plateau.  I haven't lost one pound for over a month now, which means that I have not come any closer to attaining my doctor's goal for me, which is a BMI of 40.0.  In fact, if truth be told, I have gained 10 lbs since March 24th, which has me at a BMI of 44.6.  Ouch!  (Remember that yo-yo thing we talked about last week?)  

So right now, I am 30 lbs away from my goal.  I've been trying to convince myself that it is all water weight.  My legs are certainly swollen, and have been for most of this last month.  I have also had an excessive amount of pain in my knees while walking... standing, sitting, sleeping,  Both are telltale signs that I am holding excess fluid in my body.  It is also true that I have been somewhat lax about taking my diuretic medication on a daily basis.  Given my history of long, drawn out plateaus, with a sudden drop in weight of 5-20 lbs inside a week's time, my story to myself might even be true.

But what if it's not!  What if I have truly gained this entire 10 lbs, thereby destroying the painstaking work I put into losing that 10 lbs in the first place?  What's going to prevent me from gaining the entire 85 lbs that I have lost so far?  And, more to the point, what will prevent me from gaining another 85 lbs beyond that?

I forget the terror of being unable to draw a deep breath... the pain of attempting to stand and the agony of walking even one step away from my chair.  It is all too easy to forget what life used to be like before the changes that I made to make myself more comfortable in my body.

I spent years weighing 225 lbs.  Regardless of how much weight I lost, I always returned to the 225 lb mark.  That is until I quit smoking and found myself eating my way up to 316 lbs within a year's time.  What is interesting to me is that I actually lost 85 lbs in my twenties... I went from 225 lbs to 140 lbs... and I kept that extra weight off for a number of years.  However, when I did gain weight again, I managed to return to the original 225 lbs, and then gained yet another 85 lbs for good measure.  Imagine!  I actually doubled the 85 lbs I had originally lost, and found a new high weight to settle into.

Sound familiar?  I took off 85 lbs a few years ago, and then gained 45 of them back.  Fortunately, I came to my senses before reaching 280 lbs.  But here I am, having taken off that same 45 lbs (returning to a total of 85 lbs lost) and what is happening?  Again, I ask, what will prevent me from gaining double what I have currently lost (170 lbs), and finding yet another new weight high to settle into???

I am hoping that the answer is myself, even though it hasn't felt like it lately.  I managed to lose the rhythm of my hope, excitement, and yearning for my new knees.  I forgot what it felt like before I lost 85 lbs... I forgot that my new knees are dependent upon a goal weight and BMI... I even forgot how easy it is to regain weight after losing it.

I haven't stopped myself from consuming more sodium than is healthy.  Nor have I followed my weight loss plan... I haven't written in my journal; I haven't posted to my blog; I haven't kept track of my food intake or my portions or the types of foods I am consuming.   Basically, I have not been doing anything to prevent holding the water or gaining weight.  I have not been accountable to myself or anyone else in any way, shape, or form.

So now what?  How do I get back on track?  Believe it or not, my swollen fluid filled legs are a painful reminder of what lies ahead if I totally lose control.  They are my first step in remembering what I do not want to return to.  Memory is the key, I think.  I need to remind myself of why I am on this weight loss journey.

This blog is one of my memory tools... I remember through writing about being obese.   Writing centers me and gives me a sense of purpose that I can translate into losing weight and becoming fit.  So let me be accountable to both you and me.  I will post my thoughts to this blog on a more regular basis.  Hopefully, I will pick up the rhythm of hope, excitement and yearning in the process.

"Her Butt is Fat!"

"Her butt is fat!"  So said the cherubic 5 year old child standing next to her mother.  She was pointing at me, or rather, my large rear end, her eyes wide as she looked to her mother for approval.  Of course, the mother was mortified and attempted to shush her young child, avoiding my eyes.  "But, mommy, her butt is fat!"

I laughed... genuinely amused by this frank admission from the girl.  I smiled at her mother, stealing her eyes away from the suddenly very interesting floor.  "She's young," I said, matter of fact and friendly.  I did not need to add the obvious.  The child was correct in her observation.  

I knew it.  She knew it.  Her mother knew it.  Frankly, everyone within hearing distance knew that the little girl was not lying.  Had it not been such a frank exclamation of astonishment, devoid of judgement, I would probably have been mortified.  However, the child exuded a startled innocence matched only by her own mother's startled shame.

Frankly, I am well aware of what my body looks like.  I know that I walk with a limp because one leg is shorter than the other.  I know that my upper body does not match my lower body.  I have a very large bottom paired with a much smaller torso.  Somehow, as the years have passed (and while I was avoiding the mirror) my proportions became pear shaped, rather than the more even proportions of my youth.

I do not pretend to be smaller than I am.  My girth is unavoidable.  However, the soul of me feels small and perfectly proportioned.  I often catch myself picturing a nimble leap from my chair, a swift pace across my living room, and a fast jog across my yard to retrieve my missing book from the car.  I find myself thinking that a bike ride would be great, and before lumbering to my feet, I see myself grabbing my bike from the shed, jumping aboard the comfy seat, and pedaling with athletic grace through my neighborhood.

None of this actually happens, of course.  As soon as I start to stand from any prolonged length of sitting or lying down, my knees tighten up and my legs turn to lead.  Taking a step becomes a huge process of will over mechanics.  I hold onto my end table, my dresser, even a door jamb, or whatever else is a steady surface that can support my weight.  I steadily pull on the object to begin a forward momentum.  Once I get my legs to take a few steps, it becomes easier, and the limp becomes less pronounced.  Easier, though never easy.

Walking is definitely a skill that is taken for granted by the majority of folks that never have to give it a second thought.  I have always prided myself on my ability to empathize with others; to be compassionate, sensitive, and kind, regardless of a person's abilities.  So it came as a surprise to find that when I was younger and able to walk long distances without worry, I had no clue about the true lives led by the differently-abled people I encountered along the way.  Those folks bearing canes to guide their way or maneuvering wheelchairs or walkers or electric scooters were simply beyond my understanding at that time.  How could I realize the inconvenience of a body that would not do my bidding?  I had never been subjected to a painful debilitation that exhausted me both physically and mentally.  And, being young, I did not understand that inside the bodies of these extraordinary human beings were the spirits of people who could see freedom from the prison of a body that did not work as well as it once had; with a single thought, they might picture their own gracefully pointed toe stepping off the curb without worry or care for whether it might hurt; because within the resiliency of our minds and spirits, we are forever able to see beyond our limitations.

So, this young child, who had no idea that she might cause me discomfort or shame or anxiety, because she saw the size of my butt and couldn't fathom a reason to not exclaim the news to her mother, this child is precious to me.  She has an innocence that will soon be lost in a world that demands that we be polite; for by virtue of being polite and proper, we are not allowed to discuss certain subjects and, therefore, appear to lose the ability to truly see beyond the obvious.

I want honest conversations to happen with regard to obesity that go beyond the obvious.  There is so much to talk about; so much education we can learn from, within these conversations.  So much shame that can be laid to rest; so much anxiety that can slide from our shoulders; so much relief, that can lead to even more conversations.

"Yes, sweetie, the lady's butt is fat... I wonder why?  Do you suppose that is why she is walking with a cane?

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"I Want to Be Fat When I Grow Up... Don't You???"

Some folks actually think that being fat is a choice; like I woke up one day and said, "Self, wouldn't you be happier as an obese woman?  Wouldn't you like to be able to eat anything you want AND gain enough weight to make your knees creak when you walk... to gain weight until you huff and puff just reaching for an extra donut?  Doesn't that sound like a deliciously sweet life, Self?"  And with that, I would have made a conscious, well informed decision to gain enough weight that I could be split into two medium sized people.

I don't know about you, but I never had that conversation with myself and I certainly never made that conscious choice to grow from a painfully thin adolescent into an obese woman with diabetes, high cholesterol, and absolutely no cartilage left in her knees.  And once these things happened, I did not continue to make this stubborn decision to hurt my body and self esteem... at least, not consciously.

Let me ask you... How many of you folks believe you are fat because it seemed like the right thing to do?  How many of you wish you could gain enough weight to make walking an excruciating process?  Do any of you obsess about being able to ride an electric scooter, because it seems so damn glamorous?  And, gee, wouldn't it be fun to have people whisper and point and laugh about your fat butt as you walk by?  Just how many of you would raise your hand and say amen to being unable to run and play and jump with your children?

"But you like to eat, don't you? That's why you are fat."  Someone actually said this to me, in a distinctly quiet and sober tone.  "Maybe you should go on a diet."  Ya think?  Unfortunately, this one sided conversation happened at a time when my self esteem was at an all time low and all I could feel was shame and the undeniable truth of what they were telling me.  

It was all my fault that I was miserable, because I liked to eat and I was fat and the diets were incredibly awful.  It was also at a time that the world had no tolerance for obese people and diets were viewed as a penance for being out of sync with the "normal people". Half a grapefruit and a quarter cup of cottage cheese for breakfast, followed by a hamburger patty and carrots for lunch and a cup of salad with a teaspoon of oil and vinegar for dinner.  Yum yum.  Sign me up now.

If that conversation were to happen today, I envision my response being, "Yes, I like to eat.  Do you like to eat?  Please take that potato chip out of your mouth and tell me that you don't like to eat."  Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I wouldn't say this, because I believe in kindness and the people who insist on saying such foolish things are victims of their own ignorance.  If I want this world to change and be more informed and loving, then I need to take the high road and respond without contempt.  I need to initiate understanding for the path of obesity in all of it's many forms.

Some people gain weight through their genetics; some have an eating disorder; and still others have no understanding of the ridiculous calories in junk food, until it is too late.  FYI, I recently took a "free day" from my self imposed diet, which I will tell you about later.  It was Super Bowl Sunday and we ordered a Papa Murphy's Family size pizza - the Murphy's Combo.  While recording the caloric content of my slice of pizza, I discovered that the total calories in a Murphy's Combo Family Size pizza is 4,277, meaning that a 1/12 slice of pizza equals 355 calories.  Wow... to think that I used to eat 4 slices at one sitting is incredible.  I was eating at least 1420 calories for one meal, which didn't include any cheesy bread or hot wings or chips.  You get the picture.

There are a myriad of reasons that we become obese, and just as many reasons why we have trouble with weight loss... but no one that I have ever met has become obese because they were dying to check out the "Obese Lifestyle".  No one in their right mind would ever choose to take on the pain and shame and life threatening reality of obesity.

Being fat is not a choice.  Accepting who you are is a choice.  Deciding who you want to be is a choice.  And these choices do not have to conform to anyone else's choices.  For me, I want to lose weight.  I am tired of "being fat".  I am tired of working so damn hard just to walk from point A to B.  I am tired of the excruciating pain in my knees and I am tired of pretending that it doesn't matter.  Don't get me wrong.  I am not tired of being me... I just want to explore a different path that may give me more comfort than the path I walked in my youth.  

I don't want to be thin because being thin is attractive and cool.  I no longer believe in the fairy tale world of magazine models.  I want to be less fat, because I want to walk anywhere I choose to walk; I want to dance and dance and dance without thought to my knees; and I want to take back my life from the diabolical hands of diabetes and it's many allies.  I choose to live my life free.

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