Beat Down

I didn’t fully realize until recently how badly the culture we live in has beaten down not just me – but the people around me as well. On so many occasions of late, I’ve had a smart, attractive, funny, well loved person turn to me and admit that their self esteem is terrible.

And I, genius that I am, can only stare at them mystified and ask; “why?”

I’ve been trying to figure out what it is about our world that instills such a poor sense of self worth in so many truly worthwhile people.

Why are we so hard on ourselves?

There’s the obvious reasons of course; if you’re a woman (and to a lesser degree this is true for men as well) the advertising and Hollywood industry holds up standards of eternal youth and beauty in front of our faces that we normal folk cannot possibly hope to achieve.

For example; I occasionally watch a clothing design show called Project Runway that’s hosted by the gorgeous Heidi Klum. She noted to one designer that his outfit had aged his early-twenty-something model by about ten years. She followed this up with saying “and model years are like dog years.”

Heidi herself, despite still being outrageously beautiful, is now too old to be a model – that’s why she’s moved on to hosting reality TV shows.

However I don’t think this is the whole picture… most of us look at movie and print ad images and sort of blow them off. I know I do. It’s like those people aren’t even real. And honestly, they’re not real these days. Go to You Tube and type in “photoshop makeover” and you’ll find hundreds of hits of people taking photographs of fat or in other ways unfortunate looking people and turning them into identical little model cut out dolls.

Even models aren’t beautiful enough to be models anymore – see the attached article and the photo that Ralph Lauren doctored of their ‘too fat’ model if you’d like proof:

http://www.politicsdaily.com/2009/10/14/ralph-lauren-model-fired-for-being-too-fat/


Honestly – is this even attractive to anyone? The photo they doctored of this girl makes her look like some kind of bizarre Close Encounters space alien. What world are these people living in, anyway? Do they even know what men find attractive? Women who look like teenaged boys is not it, I can tell you that with pretty good certainty. It’s called BOOBS – look them up.

So if the fashion industry is just a joke at this point; why do so many people still feel so bad about themselves?

Is it Hollywood? The Hollywood ideal isn’t like the fashion industry’s ideal. In Hollywood women are supposed to look like women, not young boys. As thin and muscular as possible with huge eyes and lips and huge boobs is I think the perfection they’re looking for. But are any of us even trying to attain that? I mean – how can we? I have nice enough eyes, but they’re pretty small and there isn’t any way for me to make them bigger. I pretty much gave up on trying to look like a movie star since… well, lets be honest – I’ve never had any illusions about looking like a movie star.

I really don’t know where this is coming from, I wish I did – because then I could more effectively reason with the bruised souls around me. Then again, I’m sure they share my frustration as they try to ease my bruises as well.

As a side note; I just noticed that I’ve lost enough weight that the Daily Plate has recalculated my recommended calorie intake for a two pound per week weight loss. I went from a top number of 2,050 to 1,990 or so. Although I’ve set my own goal of roughly 1,500 per day, it’s kind of cool to see that little bit of progress in my tracking system.

A Good Time Had By All

Sunday night we got home from Ubercon; exhausted but happy. For the unlikely folk reading this blog who do not already know me; Ubercon is a gaming convention in Edison, NJ that a good number of my friends and I trekked out to this past weekend.

A gaming convention, for the uninitiated, is one of those wonderfully nerdy events like a Star Trek convention where folk of like interest in the realms of Sci Fi, Fantasy, Computer gaming, tabletop Roleplaying Games and general costumed madness get together to celebrate the stuff they love.

Ubercon is a con that a few of the fantastic new friends I made this year (hi Liz and Tali) help to run. I mentioned to Ted on the way home that this is to them what the LARP is like to me and Sandi – a huge labor of love. We were so happy to be able to go share it with them and appreciate all the hard work they put in.

Also… best Con party I have ever been to. Ever. ‘Nuff said on that…

I’ve let myself believe over the past five years or so – that the time in my life where I’d feel really good about how I looked was behind me. That being admired was a happy memory from my twenties that I’d always take with me and appreciate, but that I had put to rest and had no need of any longer. After all I have the constant warmth of my husband’s regard and honestly it’s been more than enough. Ted makes me feel like the most beautiful thing in his world on a daily basis.

This weekend I rather awkwardly re-discovered the part of myself that doesn’t mind being considered attractive by other folks as well…

Let me explain.

The world of conventions isn’t really like the real world… the Hollywood standards of beauty don’t apply. As such, a moderate looking girl such as myself who can properly fill out a corset draws appreciative glances. And I won’t lie; you know it’s not the real world… but it still feels good.

This ties into my love of costuming… every day clothes are boring – but costumes rock! My mother instilled this love of non standard attire when I was little and she’d work every year to make me a unique Halloween costume. I was a dragon, a Unicorn, a gigantic egg (my sister was the chicken) all in costumes lovingly made by her hand. I looked forward all year long to Halloween and getting to dress up.

Then I became an adult and Halloween sort of went away… the chocolate was nice, but it’s the costume part that I truly loved and missed. Until I blundered into the world of RPG’s, conventions and Renaissance Faires and discovered – with joy – that these people dress up crazy whenever they feel like it!

In past years and at various conventions I’ve been part of an all-girl pirate crew, a gothy fairy, and this past weekend part of a roving Steampunk Science Squad (you need to see the attached pic to truly appreciate this one) among many others.


After putting on my costume I was acutely self conscious… Ubercon isn’t a huge costuming convention so there weren’t a ton of people dressed up. I kept telling myself it was okay because we had a purpose – we were passing out flyers for next year’s Steampunk LARP. It took time, but gradually I relaxed. By the time we got to the party that night I felt great. This is largely due, as usual, to my fantastic friends. When someone who loves you tells you you’re beautiful, you believe them. As awkward as it was for me (I’m better at giving compliments than receiving them) it was wonderful too.

For awhile now (and by awhile I mean years) I just kept thinking; why bother to dress up? You’re just gilding a fat lily. No matter what you put on it, it’s still just… fat. And that was just so, so silly. The crazy thing is; I’m only twenty pounds lighter. It’s a significant change but not that significant – I’m still 260 lbs. – and that’s a lot of woman. What changed that let me find the joy of costumes again is my head. I’m making positive changes in my life, so I feel better about myself – and that’s all I needed.

I’m not abandoning my effort of course; my goal is still to loose about 130 lbs. total before I’m done. But here’s the cool thing… I realized that I do not have to wait until then to feel good about myself. I can go ahead and do that right now.

Let Go

Another Friday weigh in – today’s weight: 260 lbs. With my (assumed) starting weight of 280, that puts me officially at twenty pounds shed. I’ve heard a lot this week about not putting too much weight (haha) on the numbers, but I really really needed this.

Today’s song…

Drink up, baby down
Mmm, are you in or are you out
Leave your things behind
'Cause it's all going off without you
Excuse me, too busy you're writing your tragedy
These mishaps
You bubble wrap
When you've no idea what you're like

So let go, jump in
Oh well, whatcha waiting for
It's alright
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So let go, just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's alright
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3Cg1wxgX6M

I was working out to this on the Eliptical today, and sort of crying like a big whacko too... I can only hope that the people around me at the gym who might have noticed my red eyes chalked it up to the general redness my face acquires when I exercise.

On a side note; I really like the older folks who are there with me on Fridays – but when they sit on the weight machines chatting instead of moving along and get in the way of my rotation; it’s really irritating.

And now I’m off to Ubercon…

"Boobs is News"

I can type with my breasts. Not on purpose, it happens when I lean over my desk at work to reach for something far away while I’m working on a project. I’ll then look back at the computer screen and notice something to the effect of:

“bbbbbnnnnnnnnnnnnnnonooooooooooooooooooo……..” or just a whole lot of extra spaces since the space bar is the easiest key for me to activate with my womdigious mammaries.

I’m not saying I type well with my breasts, I’m just saying I can. I wonder if I’ll still be able to do that when I’m slimmer? Hey at least I’ve found a use for them; they’ve never done anything particularly talented before; like feed a child as is their purpose for instance. Thus far they’ve done little except sit around looking impressive in tight shirts and effectively filling out a corset.

Honestly I’m extremely well endowed; a recent nightmarish measuring that took place at a Department store revealed my cup size as triple D. TRIPLE. I thought I was a plain D, not even a double – but no, I was triple. The supportive friends who were with me and had to watch all the color drain out of my face at the revelation quickly tried to reassure me and remind me that men (most importantly my husband) adore huge boobs. We were there in the first place because they had noticed that I appeared to be wearing the wrong bra size. My cup was running over… and over… so to speak.

It’s not really the point though… to me it’s all just fat. I have huge boobs because I’m fat. I know this because when I’ve lost weight in the past, my boobs have always been the first thing to shrink.

Now for example as I’m approaching the twenty pound mark; I’ve noticed two differences in myself. One – that my wedding ring has started falling off; I briefly lost it in the freezer last night when I reached in for something. And two – that the new bras I purchased the day of the humiliating fitting are slipping off my shoulders and seem slightly too big.

And apparently I had fat fingers and didn’t even realize it… my hands do look big to me (not man-hands big, just female-big) but they never exactly looked fat. Except of course in pictures… more than once I’ve seen a picture that showed my hands and forearms and had to eye back and forth between it and the live image in front of me trying to figure out why they looked so pudgy in pictures.

My hands look so normal to me when I’m just looking at them; I don’t know if I’m seeing the truth in pictures or if it’s that “camera adds ten pounds” thing.

Anyway… there’s my hidden talent; boob typing. Sign me up for Letterman’s ‘Stupid Human Tricks’.

Selfish

Last night, I was selfish.

I was supposed to go have a fantastic dinner with friends, followed by a fun RPG – and I bailed and went to the gym instead.

Okay I know it sounds more like I’m being a diet martyr than selfish but you have to follow my reasoning. For one thing, I have a lot of guilt when it comes to not showing up for activities where people are expecting to see me. I perceive that people are disappointed in me and put guilt on myself on their behalf – even when most of the time they’re like as not perfectly fine and respectful to what I decided I need to do.

But on top of that – my time at the gym is all about me. It’s for me, it’s focused on me. Most of what an adult woman such as myself does in a given day is not generally all about them; we’re either working for somebody else, or we’re home cooking for a group, or taking care of an errand or chore. These things are for us of course – but they’re also about the other people in our lives. The gym is totally selfish. It’s my body, it’s my goal, and it’s my dream.

Last night I favored it over the group of friends who I adore seeing and hanging out with – and I had to push past feeling guilty about that, because these are the same friends who totally have my back so to speak. They get it. They know what I’m doing and they’re there for me.

On a normal week this wouldn’t have been necessary but you see I’ve got a challenge coming up – a weekend away from home for the first time since I began. I’ll have another opportunity to exercise Friday morning but then I won’t get in my weekend excursion; so it was twice as important to squeak it in last night.

I’m actually not all that worried about the weekend away. There will be no less than five or six different people there watching out for me, like I’ll be watching out for some of them. And a few of us already have an agreement to seek out the hotel pool or weight room if available while we’re there.

So last night I was selfish, I was all about me. It’s like my determination to leave work early enough to get to the gym on a weeknight. Like my avoidance of certain buffet restaurants right now and my requests for healthy alternatives when invited to dinner. Somewhat contrary to my customary nature of people pleasing – but sort of liberating nonetheless.

Motivation

“I just don’t understand how people won’t stay on a diet – they just can’t be bothered.”

That’s what I had to listen to today, and believe you me, I saw red. My response is that naturally slim people trying to understand why fat people can’t loose weight is a lot like me trying to understand why smokers smoke – why would I understand an addiction that I don’t suffer from?

Right now I want to put heads through walls.

Instead I’m going to say thank you. Thank you to small minded, judgmental, self righteous slim people – thank you. Thank you for believing I will fail. Thank you for thinking I’m just weak willed and a pig. Thank you because every second of your smugness pours motivation to succeed into me just to see your surprise when I prove you completely wrong.

Thank you.

This is Halloween

Halloween actually wasn’t quite as bad as I thought it would be, and planning to get out of my house and go to a party was helpful – so I had no reason whatsoever to buy a single bag of Halloween candy. This is good, because in past years I have sat on my sofa all night eating mini-heath bars and watching Ghost Hunters Live while my butt slowly (or quickly) grew larger.

Considering some of my past binges sometimes it’s a wonder to me I’m not even bigger than I actually am.

So I purchased no Halloween candy, got up that morning and got the Ghoulash cooking in the crock pot, then ate my Big Saturday Breakfast (pile of broccoli, mushrooms, cabbage and snow peas glued together with a single egg) and off I went to the gym. After 35 minutes of cardio I was home and too busy with showering and making myself up as the Zombie Prom Queen to bother with any more eating – picture attached.

The party when we arrived was unsurprisingly saturated with food. Fried food. chocolate food, cheesy poof salty food, whipped cream covered food. I was absolutely terrified to eat anything for fear that the floodgates would open and I’d consume anything (and everything) in my path. However by then I was pretty hungry, so I had to eat.

I started out with a small bowl of my Ghoulash (not bad) and meandered my way through a fried chicken thing, a fried mushroom, Frankenstein’s fried monster, two bite brownies, a cupcake a single piece of Halloween candy, chips and some raw vegetables. In the end when I went home and tallied everything up I came out at around 1,998 calories or so – in short I squeaked by barely making it under my maximum… again.

As I’ve learned from the past few weeks, when I get close to my maximum I stay the exact same weight, I don’t loose. I can only hope that the rest of the week will go well enough that I’ll be able to make up for the indulgences.

As you can tell if you read my last post I was a bit discouraged last Friday; in fact I flipped out on my husband on the phone: “you don’t have to live with being hungry all the time!!! When you’re hungry – you can eat!!!” Yeah, it wasn’t pretty and I’m not proud of it. As if the way my body works is his fault. And to his credit; he’s been cutting back on late night snacks and skipping desserts just to support me. He didn’t deserve my freak out, but he was patient and kind and I haven’t quit despite the disappointment.

Gloria was totally right in her comment from that day; I didn’t get here in a day and I won’t get back in a week. I named this blog ‘The Long Road’ in acknowledgement of that – and yet still managed to forget.

Thanks all for the support and encouragement everyone… I’m still walking the road.