Monday, April 12, 2010


I have a confession to make.

I haven't stepped on the scale in over a year. Yes, I said in my last two posts that I've gained the weight back that I lost. I don't know that for sure, but I do know how my clothing fits, what size pants I'm buying and how I look in the mirror.

I'm an avoider. I'd rather walk 1000 miles out of the way than face a problem head on. (Though if that was a literal statement, I wouldn't exactly be writing this, would I?)

I'm afraid to step on the scale. I don't want to know what I weigh. I don't want to face up to what I have to lose.

I'm a hard worker, but to be honest, this time around, I'm afraid of how hard I'll have to work to take off the weight. I'm absolutely ready to admit that it's not going to be easy, but I just hope I don't get frustrated and quit.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

How much do I have to lose before I see it?

One of the biggest frustrations I have, and the symptom that inevitably always leads to me falling off a diet, is that weight loss doesn't show up for me until I've lost a significant amount of weight.

Last year, when I dropped almost 20 lbs, I was wearing the same size. My measurements were different, I felt better, but I looked exactly the same. My boyfriend, who sees me naked or nearly naked didn't even notice.

I was so frustrated. I'm 5'9, and I'm fortunate that I guess I carry weight relatively well - I wear a size 16 (though lately that's been a tight squeeze), I shop in regular, non-plus size stores and I don't bloat a lot. A gain of 10 lbs doesn't show up as much as it would if I was petite.

But that's another problem. The discipline isn't there because it 'doesn't matter' if I slip up a little.

A few months ago, Gary's mom was visiting and the two of them were talking about all the weight she has lost. She's 59, and in the last year, she's started exercising, watching her diet and making better decisions. She looks great - and she's lost probably 20 lbs.

I was so frustrated, and so hurt, and so upset. Awhile later, I turned to Gary and told him that I was proud of his mom, but that I had lost the exact same amount of weight and he didn't even notice.

I seek encouragement from outside. Other people's opinions, criticism and praise have always meant way more to me than what I think. I guess what I've learned now is that I have to ask for it. I have to tell Gary, and my friends, and my family, that I'm making an effort. I loathe the idea of asking for compliments and praise, but that's what fuels my inner fire.

At least until I learn to motivate myself, and stick with that motivation.

Saturday, April 10, 2010


Hi there.

Sorry to disappear on you for...a year? My bad.

So last year, I was clicking along nicely on WeightWatchers, breaking a sweat and feeling pretty good. Then I stopped losing at as rapid a pace, started feeling quite angsty about my job, and went on a vacation that was all-expenses paid, and that meant a lot of eating.

I didn't recover.

Today I got up with my boyfriend, got dressed, and went to the gym. Gary goes to the gym every Saturday morning. I usually use that time to go browse through book shops, knitting stores, coffee with friends. Me time.

I've been trying to get going now for about 3 months. I've gained back all the weight I lost last year - almost 20 lbs, and pathetically, cliche-style: and then some.

I looked at myself in the mirror a few days ago and didn't recognize my body shape. I've gained weight in my thighs and hips, as always, but also in my face, my back, and my stomach.

I looked at my naked body. I didn't feel anything, really. I didn't want to cry, or run, or start eating nothing but greens and steamed fish. I actually felt a general sense of apathy. Nothing. Zip.

And I realize now that what I was feeling wasn't acceptance. It's not hatred, it's frustration. If I resigned myself to doing nothing, a year from now I'll have gained another 20 lbs. And then another. And another, until I'm so far down that spiral that recovering will seem absolutely impossible.

So I guess this means back on the wagon for me.

I just wish it was easier. That I hadn't gotten back to this point. That I had, just once, told myself it would be worth it in the long run to skip the poutine and maybe go for a walk to deal with the stress, instead of landing face first in a giant full-fat latte with whip cream.