I did pretty well with food choices yesterday. At around nine p.m. I went to watch a little TV and then really, really struggled. I had to remind myself constantly not to go into the kitchen and take a couple of cookies. I’d get myself under control and at the very next commercial I was having that conversation with myself again.
In the end I went to bed a bit hungry, which is how I want to go to bed. I hope for another good day today.
Today is a bit unusual. I’m going to the kids center at 8:30 a.m. and then I’ll see what the pool is like in the afternoon. I’ve only been there in the a.m. so I hope it’s okay. More importantly, I hope I go.
Yesterday I began to go through my parent’s old photographs. I’m going to scan them and make a video of the family for my dad’s birthday and their anniversary which no one celebrates because they were divorced for several years and we’ve all lost track of when their new anniversary date is. At any rate, my mom was deprived of a 50th wedding anniversary celebration so I thought I’d take on this mammoth job.
Hardly any photos exist of me in the last 20 years. I made sure to hide, or to be the photographer. But I came across photos yesterday that made me just stop in my tracks.
I looked very, very bad.
I have small features, small nose, mouth, eyes, and when I’m fat they just disappear. So the things that made me look a bit delicate when I’m at normal weight appear almost featureless when I’m obese.
I ran across photos of me and my ex-husband (the good one) and I admitted I had really let myself go. I felt like calling him up and saying, “I’m sorry” because I looked NOTHING like the beautiful woman he married. Nothing at all.
I can blame my horrible psychiatric state, or all the many psychiatric drugs I was on, but I can also blame myself. I’ll never really know why I let that happen. But once it started, I could not control it.
My husband didn’t deserve to have my appearance change so drastically. Love isn’t completely blind!
Anyway, besides seeing a very fat woman, with huge breasts (thank God for the reduction I had later), I also looked very sad.
I think I was fat for even longer than I care to remember. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still fat, but nothing by comparison. For the first time in forever, I weigh significantly less than my driver’s license photo. How often does that happen!
I guess you might say I’m cautiously optimistic right now about my dieting and fitness routine. I do not want to weigh 200 pounds forever. The very minimum I’ll “accept” is 180, which at my height and build would probably be a size 12. At 56 I could deal with that as my new normal as long as I’m fit, strong, and have muscles.
I just read yet another accept your fat and love yourself article. I feel so sorry for the woman who struggled with her weight for years and when she gave up she found happiness, because that won’t last. Her body cannot carry that load without consequences for decades at a time. There will come a time, probably in her mid fifties where her weight will cause all sorts of health issues.
We should not excuse ourselves. That is not to say we should berate ourselves. We just have to get real and, as when people attempt to stop smoking, they have to try, try, and try again before they succeed, losing weight is even harder because we have to continue eating. But we do need to keep trying.
If I gave up now, and succumbed to all the things I feel like eating, I’d regain that 70 pounds in under three months and I’d no doubt stop going to the pool. After seven months of really hard work and discipline, that would be a horrible shame. For the sake of the future I hope to have, I cannot let that happen.
Oh, and I’d become suicidal.
As I said before, my severe depression, I’m certain in hindsight was largely due to the fact that I despised myself for being fat. I could not recognize myself. I didn’t know who that person was. I will not succumb.
On the Chump Lady website they often make their goal to get to “meh” and I totally understand what that means. It’s not high and happy and life is fantastic, but it’s far from the darkness and depression we feel in the early days of our betrayal. I feel a bit closer to “meh” these days, and when I let myself stop and acknowledge it, that feels pretty good.
One last note that I’ve been meaning to write about. There has never been one time in my life where I have consistently exercised for this many months in a row. I have tried lots of gyms and aerobics, walking, and cycling, but never before have I stuck with something like I have with swimming. I am proud of myself for that and I hope that I never give it up.