Chicks Dig Me

I'm going to state up front that I'm not a social anthropologist.  I'm not even an anti-social anthropologist.  There is probably empirical evidence out in the world of human study that refutes what I'm about to write, but here's my blanket generalization. Having been fat, thin and every pound in between I have noticed a definite difference in the way people interact with me. 

Let me be the first, or the first on this blog anyway, to say that I judge people based on the way they look.  I'm not proud of it, I know I shouldn't...but every time I see you I am likely sizing up what you're wearing, how your hair looks, whether you've gained or lost any weight.  And those earrings!  What were you thinking?  You're thinking I'm terrible and wondering if I'm really that insecure.  Ummmmm...yeah!  I'm constantly measuring myself against you and most of the time finding myself wanting.

But here's the thing.  I don't think I'm the only one doing it.  Because when I'm fat I have very little problem with other women.  When I'm thin I find them cooler, more aloof and not nearly as vulernable.  Maybe it's because I put out a different vibe or maybe I'm seeing them through a different lens.  Or maybe they just don't want their men looking at my fine booty.  No really, it was fine once for about 30 minutes.

Men treat me differently depending on my weight too, but big surprise, right?  At the end of my senior year in high school I dropped some weight, not realizing I'd developed a thyroid disease.  Suddenly guys were coming out of the woodwork, even ones I'd wanted to date since sophomore year but who didn't feel "that way" about me.  Too bad they had to destroy my thyroid with radiactive iodine.  I could have skinnied my way through life.  What's a little vomiting, sweating, shaking, insomnia, loose bowels and palpitations in exchange?  As the years have gone on, I've determined that the magic weight at which I become invisible to men is 180.  179 and I get the up-and-down look, 180 and "POOF"!  Gone.

Today Ian and I played tennis for 45 minutes and I walked for an hour.  I am amazed at how supremely out of shape I am, until I realize that the extra weight I'm carrying is equivalent to Reid's entire body.  Wow.  So tomorrow is another day and I'll keep on keepin' on in the hopes that someday men will see me again and women will become bitchy.  I can't wait.

What's that burning sensation?

So, if you know me personally, you fall into one of three categories:

1)  You've only known me a short while and think this is how I've always looked...

You think I'm obese and you are correct, because you have eyes and I am in fact about 463 pounds heavier than is healthy.

2)  You've known me for a few years and know that I used to look like this:

This was taken in November of 2007 and yes, I still own and wear those pants though my thighs don't look nearly as lovely in them now.  People who met me when I looked like this wonder what the hell has happened to me but are too polite to ask.

3)  You've known me a good chunk of my life and know that my weight goes up and down more than a carousel horse:

Up:

Down:

Here's the thing.  I don't want to be fat.  I don't enjoy it.  Sure, eating whatever I want is super awesome in the moment but the long-term result is that I can work up a pretty decent sweat by loading the dishwasher.  I've lost all my flexibility, stamina and ability to wear cute underwear. 

I have at least 90 pounds to lose.  Don't you dare say "Oh no!  No!  Surely not that much!  Maybe a pound or two but you really look great!"  That would be sweet of you, but I'm pretty sure you were brought up not to lie.  I weighed 141 in the above "skinny" photos.  This is the same weight I was at in high school when I felt enormous.  Of course, it didn't help that my boyfriend was 20 pounds lighter and had legs that resembled swizzle sticks wrapped in the thinnest layer of beige tissue paper ever.  141 sounds pretty great from where I'm sitting, which is in front of the computer.  At 230 pounds.

Now, full disclosure.  Most of my adult life I've swung somewhere between 155 and 200.  I've lost significant amounts of weight several times by eating well and exercising and gained back every fucking ounce as soon as I stop doing those two things.  Getting down to 141 took a lot of hard work, but it was also partially the result of having health issues and an ensuing anxiety disorder.  When you feel your whole digestive system shutting down after 3 bites of yogurt it's really hard to eat enough to stay fat.  But I got past the anxiety thing with medication, therapy and time and was able to get really healthy. 

Then my brother died.

Am I an emotional eater?  Did you not read the part about me weighing 230 pounds?  Even though I know all the health risks of being obese, I've spent every day since Mark died eating myself happy.  Or at least mildly content.  But I have kids and I don't want to wind up like he did: gone because of a sedentary life, too much crap food and a kicky little clotting disorder that can produce an embolism that will take you out in under an hour. 

This blog isn't going to be all about me working on losing weight, but I will write about it when I need to, so aren't you lucky that it's a free country and if that kind of thing doesn't interest you, you can go back to whatever porn you were looking at before you came here?

So what IS that burning sensation?  It's that weird feeling you get when you exercise for the first time in a long time.  It's the feeling of blood flowing in my legs after the hour-long walk I took today.  It's also the feeling in my gut about getting healthy and getting back to who I'm supposed to be.  Today is the first day...so tomorrow won't be my last.

Thanks for reading.