Being real with myself is at times one of the hardest things to do, especially when it comes to looking at myself in a full length mirror mentally butt naked exposed. I'd almost liken the nakedness to that of any awkwardness that a heavy person would feel being partially or completely naked in a communal changing room or shower. I want to hide, albeit from myself at times, but there's nowhere to go. I try to cover up the hurt that I feel in regards to my weight, but just like at a spa, my mental towels are no bigger than the complimentary that they hand out to you. And as you accept them, you can't help but wish that they were super dupa beach towel size, instead regular bath towels that against my nakedness look no bigger than a wash cloth.
Everyone knows that a regular bath towel, barely wraps around to both arm pits when your 200 plus pounds of fat. So here I am, my upper peach shaped dimple butt covered, and my lower rhino sized butt and ham hock thighs fully exposed. Middle back and all the wobbly bits that help to make up my middle back hidden, but all my upper rolls exposed, I feel totally naked even with a towel the size of a postage stamp around me and as I cling to my insecurities, I tightly pull the towel snugly to my pits knowing full well that the rest of my frontal area is well and truly exposed. Belly hanging over like a fleshy fig leaf covering my oh I know it's there private parts.
So I'm naked (hypothetically speaking) in front of you and myself as I document my gain, exposing where I've slipped yet again, exposing how a few days of victory seemed to fade as quickly as they came. I am now 228.5 lbs. up from 221.5 a solid 7 lb gain. sigh. And I'm stumped, yes stumped because even though I'm up again because of my own doing. I want to be slim, but what I want keeps butting heads with my worst enemy ME!
It's I who keeps putting road blocks in my way. Me, who feels as though I could move mountains and yet when I turn around, all I've shifted is tiny gains of salt, pour water on it and it disappears, taste it and you know it was there, kind of like the evidence that proves to myself that I had lost 11 lbs. Only now all that remains of that is a memory.
Sounds depressing, at least the last 3 posted entries, but hey I feel depressed and I'm trying to shake it by releasing my feeling. I truthfully felt the benefits of that 7 lb loss that helped to make 11 pounds in total, I felt it when I lost it and I feel it now that I'm carrying it around on me again. In fact I feel heavier, even though I'm technically now 4 pounds lighter than when I first started.
And what's totally crazy is that I don't want it to be up and down, hit or miss, on program or shamefully backsliding off program. Each time I backslide meaning, a full fledged pull away from what I know is good for me, it gets harder and harder to get back to it. To mentally gear up and start over. It's hard to go from limited carbs here, and a whole lot of carbs there. So I have to wonder if I'm carbaholic junkie, hooked, dependant, and completely addicted? Or, am I scared of who I will become once I loose the weight? Which is the bigger of the two and the lesser of two evils. I've proved that I can loose the weight, but then something like 11 lbs sends me to the light of the refrigerator and I'm standing there frozen like a deer caught in the head lights of a on coming car. Frozen with a spoon of Ben and Jerry's in my mouth. And then suddenly it's on. Full continental breakfast, mini snack, brunch, lunch, after lunch snack, pre dinner dinner, then dinner, then snack, then night cap snack.
Scared of my own success? Makes me wonder, makes my already over worked brain question, and suddenly I'm in soul searching mode only it's all cob webby and dusty and stuff because to soul search you have to throw off the postage stamp sized towel and be NAKED, in order to get down and find the answers within your self. If only I could reach a place of saying as Iyanla Vanzant put it that "One day my soul just opened up." wouldn't that be something? Arm's open wide, head thrown back, big smile and a exhaled breath, Naked as a Jay Bird, light and free and happy with my head in the right place to just get this thing done.
I read success and how I failed to succeed stories, about people who battle obesity so by now I know that what I'm experiencing isn't unique, I don't own the copy rights because the market on obesity started and ends with me. But I want my own success story, I want the I conquered Everest feeling, yet instead I have a postage sized towel and thimble full of diluted salt and all I wan to do is to shake myself because time and time and time again, I find myself belly aching about the same I want but I don't have a handle on my weight story.
How can I say, my mind set is...... when with another voice I'm asking or is it? Is loosing weight really the issue or is shedding all the other shit a prerequisite to actually doing it.
Like a college credit, you have to put in the work to get the degree. Now there's food for thought! grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr see what I mean, FOOD for thought, FOOD!!!!!!! Not now there's a thought, but it has to be FOOD for thought. Go figure. Guess I have to let out a tiny laugh here. hehehe lol.
Anyway, I'm not giving up, I'm not giving in, I'm not going to stop trying. Because there are moment's like the ones I'm going to write about now, that make quitting not even a option.
Take something as simple as getting in and out of my car.
Because I'm fat each and every single time I get into my car, it seems as though I have to practically throw my rump down on the seat just to get in. Picture this, leg in the car, rump plops down before my leg has a chance to touch the carpeting. So as my buttocks lands I end up getting a deep in the crack of my butt wedgie needless to say that whilst I'm about on my travels my right butt cheek is always panti-less. That's getting in, now getting out has it's own story. When I have to get out of the car, since I have to practically roll myself out my belly and right thigh always presses up against the steering wheel turns it to a half movement, causing the safety locking feature on my steering wheel to engage even when I don't want it to. Time to adjust the steering wheel? Hell no!!!!!!!!!! Time to loose the weight!
So there it is. secrets of a fat women, oh geeze there's a title for a new extension to this blog, how freeken frightening is that.? So, In the meantime, let me say that as much as I gripe, belly ache, rant, vent blow off seem, one thing I can say is, that even though I'm a lot fatter than I ever dreamed I would be, I'm still grateful that I have a car to get around in.
Notadumbbell.
