Guilt and Shame! Only $22.95 a month! (plus tax)

I can't believe it's been this long, but over two years ago the husband bought me a three-month trial to a women's only gym. At that time, I was heavily invested in the low-carb diet and losing pounds quickly. I dreaded going to the gym. I dragged my feet,whined, cried, then quickly admonished myself. And, once I got there, it wasn't so bad. I never graduated past the stationary bikes: those ellipticals looked dangerous, and I figured I would definitely injure my clumsy ass. I would grab a trashy women's magazine, turn up my mp3 player and walk three miles on the treadmill to the beat of The Violent Femmes. I felt good afterwards. Three miles in an hour is a marathon for me. I felt so good that upon the end of my trial membership I signed a three-year contract. Signing my name 15 times on the dotted lines pretty much insured that I would never step foot in that gym again. And I haven't. That is so indicative of how highly I value my health. What is it going to take to realize this mass of fat surrounding my heart is going to kill me someday? I rationalize by saying I don't have any health problems, yet. I'm only 26. I've got plenty of time. But, my knees ache walking up and down stairs. I have to walk two flights of stairs to get to my class. I have contemplated taking the elevator. Would that be the last straw for me? Having to take the elevator because I'm so obese that I ache and get winded? I don't know. I do know that my motivation from last week is fading. I'm tired of thinking about food, what to eat or what not to eat, when to eat, where, how much. I want to get up and move around, sweat and ache from physical exhaustion, use my body as a physical machine, instead of just as a host for my sparkling charm and witty intellect. Only six more months and my membership will be over. So too will the guilt and shame. But hey, since I'm semi-human it's safe to say that somewhere, somehow, I will fuck up again. At least I never disappoint myself in that regard.

Willpower? No Thanks.

I think that one of the reasons I haven't been able to lose weight is because I have an abnormal view of my body. I know I weigh 245 pounds. I know I am grossly obese. When I look in the mirror though, I see how my body should look, not how it actually looks. My husband took a picture of me recently. I saw it for the first time tonight. I didn't know he was taking the picture and you can tell. It's the most unflattering angle, my head tilted forward, a mound of flesh where my neck should be. Two years ago, along with a lot of others, I started the low carb diet. When I started the diet, I weighed 275 pounds. I lost seventy. I never did see below that 200 pound mark, but I went from a size 26/28 to an 18. Needless to say, I slowly started slipping back into my old comforts, having a cheeseburger here and there, then back to eating fast food for lunch everyday. I know food is my drug. What makes it so hard for me to lose weight is that unlike other addictions, I have to eat. I know that when I run through a drive-thru, I'm not trying to stave off hunger... I eat without tasting. I take huge bites and swallow without chewing. I eat hunched over like someone is going to take my food away. I don't like to eat in public (I do, but I don't like it) because I am afraid I am going to eat the way I do when I'm alone. One of the things I'm doing right now, and had done for two weeks before the road trip, is making a menu for the week and shopping only for the food on my list. Most of everything has to be cooked to be eaten, so I don't have a lot of junk to mindlessly snack on. I haven't had any fast food since we returned from our trip. Ugh, it's going to take a lot of work. No willpower. I don't have that. When I do have willpower, it usually dissipates in a couple weeks anyway. Nope, just hard work and time. Huh... Whaddya know? I've got lots of time.

City of my Girth

My husband and I traveled to the city of my girth, pardon me, birth, over the weekend. Before that he was gone four days on business. Those first few days of being by myself usually result in several binges, fast food and sweets. The first three days, I did great. I cooked a healthy lunch, mostly stir-fry, before class and had leftovers for supper after class. But by the fourth day, I had eaten everything in the house, had spent hours upon hours writing a paper for class, and I was hungry. Starv-ed, some might say. So I went to Wendy's. Ok, not bad. I had a freschetta, supposedly healthier than, say, nuggets. But I had the fries. Still not that bad. But, um, I had Arby's for supper. Who can pass up 5 for $5.95? And.... (you knew there was an and) when I picked my husband up from the airport, he too was starv-ed. SO.... I took him to Wendy's and ate again at midnight. Yeah, I feel sick just thinking about it. The next day, my body was in Hell. I thought my body was in Hell before, but, nope, that was just Purgatory. That's still not the end. As I said before, we went to my hometown, which consisted of a six-hour road trip. Ahhhh, fun times. At least we rented a car with AC. But you know what I do with a six-hour road trip? Two of my favorite hobbies: irritate my husband and eat. Continued stuffing myself at three hour intervals the entire weekend. Got home Sunday evening and ordered a pizza. That was it. I decided that I need to prepare ahead next time, take along cooler full of healthy food or a g-tube. I made a delicious spinach salad for supper yesterday with a low (almost non-existent) sugar french dressing. If anyone ever reads this and would like the recipe, I would love to share. Tonight we are having slaw with an Asian dressing (sugar-free, but yummy), tons of veggies and grilled steak. I have discovered through my hilarious weight-loss adventures that even when I stuff myself on healthy-food, it's a different feeling than when I stuff myself on carbs. Because you know, if I can't stuff my face I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

The Alien LifeForm

I was standing in front of the mirror looking at my body tonight, as I am wont to do every now and again, and I realized something for the first time ever tonight: The fat that is attached to my body is an alien parasite, sucking the life out of me. I looked, and I do mean looked at every inch of my pallid, bloated, doughy body tonight and repeated the word obese over and over, trying to rid my mind of the word fat in reference to my body. Because fat puppies are cute. Fat piglets? Ditto. Fate babies? Even more so. Fat does not even accurately begin to describe the condition I am in and tonight, for the first time, I am scared at the possibilities of what being in this shape could do to me.
I see those extremely obese on tv, or in magazines. I am talking 600 pounds of one single person. Even I, weighing in at 245 pounds, am horrified when seeing these people. I cannot even imagine what its like to be that heavy. How trapped all that weight must make you feel as your bones are practically swimming in fat. And I ask myself, how could someone let themselves get to weigh 600 pounds? But really, how do I let myself weigh as much as I do? There isn't really much of a difference between them and me.
I was eighteen and 200 pounds and a size 20. I looked in the mirror and said Ok, but my face is cute, and my figure was shapely, I loved my hair, and I hated myself.
I was twenty and I weighed 225 pounds. I looked in the mirror and said, Oh, but I was married now, and my husband loved me, I wasn't trying to impress anyone and I was depressed.
I am now twenty-six and 245 pounds and a size 24. I am unhappy. I have been for a long time. And my excuse for being unhappy is the excuse I am sure a lot of you use; my unhappiness is blamed on how fat I am. Excuse me, Obese. The obesity is a factor yes, but only one of many. Regardless, I want to start being writing down how I feel, and be accountable. I want to start a journey, and was wondering if anyone would like to join me? I would like there to be a place for us to hold each other accountable, lean on one another, and with understanding from others try to become better people. I started. Who's next?