Bless Me Father, For I Have THINNED
My weight is like a yo-yo. Always has been.
I am only 5'1 1/2, but I always tell people (and myself) that I am 5'2". This makes me feel better. I don't know why, but it does.
I'd rather be 5'5" tall, but there is no hope for that now.
Why do I want to be taller? That's another story for another post. I could go on and on and on about why it would be great to be taller, but I wont.
At 45, with no hope of a growth spurt, I only wish to be taller so that my height would actually be in proportion to my weight. For once.
I think I had my best proportional weight when I was twelve years old; after that it was all down hill.
I was a pretty active kid. I was always playing outside, climbing trees, riding bikes, and swimming - (heck, we had no choice back in the 60 and 70s - there were only three TV channels back then) - but you grow up and things change.
My dad owned a corner grocery store when I was in elementary school. That meant that there was no end to the free popsicles and candy bars that were made available to me and my friends. Believe me when I say that I never then (or now) turn down a free popsicle!
When I got old enough to make my own money, I mainly worked in places where food was a staple.
First, I worked at a snack bar at the local town beach that sold hot dogs, fries and coke.
Yummy.
Then, Dear God, they built a McDonald's in my small hometown, and I got a job there when I was sixteen. If we worked a certain amount of hours at McD's, we got a free meal. Yummy.
Did I gain weight at Mickey D's? NO. Although I loved the shakes and fries, my stomach didn't handle the food well and eating the food there, well, made me lose weight. It "ran right through" my digestive system and soon those lovely rust-colored polyester uniform pants started falling off me. From a teen standpoint, this was good. I got to eat all that "food" and still lost weight without even trying! Heaven.
Then I began waitressing in restaurants. Free meals. Uh oh.
Then I began bartending in those restaurants. Free drinks - (or discounted drinks) - after work and left over Happy Hour food became a staple. Uh oh. Waistline expanding.
I maintained a fairly even 115-120 lbs on my petite frame, but never had "six pack abs" ever - that's a dream I still have, but I will be honest and admit that I do not ever want to work hard enough to get them.
I barely passed in a one-piece bathing suit after the age of 12. I also was genetically pre-disposed to carrying most of my weight around my abdomen - or what do they call that? A "pear" shape? That's the one they, (medical people), say is pretty much a determining factor as to whether or not you have a good chance of having a heart attack. I call it my spare tire, my shelf; my husband has told me that it is known as a "nav-pack" in the world of men. (Or is it just sailors?) Whatever. It's fat, it's there, and it is the only thing holding my pants up.
So, I will admit here and now, although I'll never show you a photo, that at my very worst, I got to be - ready? Two hundred and ten pounds! Ugggggghhhhhhhh! Even writing it makes me ill.
My thyroid quit working in 1993, and I gained sixty pounds in four months, but heck, do the math and before that , if I'm going to be honest here, I was just plain heavy. After the gain of sixty pounds, I moved in to the "enormous" category. I remember a doctor writing in my medical chart, ( I peeked at his notes while he briefly left the room, ) "PT (patient) is OBESE."
I thought, "Dear God, I am now OBESE. That means something."
My answer - "I'd better eat some Cadbury Eggs to quell the pain from reading THAT. Rude doctor. I'm not coming back to this jerk!"
So, up, down, up, up, higher, higher, highest. FATOLA. I began shopping in the LADIES department, where the 1Xs and up in ladies' clothing live, and that still didn't give me a clue. (Denial IS a river in Egypt in my world). I maintained that FAT and size 20 for a while, (well, years), even though I did get my thyroid to be stable in about one year from it quitting - 1994. So, there's no medical excuse for all those years following 1994 in which I was HUGE.
I used to watch Oprah years ago - religiously. She has had a lot of good guests, and I've learned a lot of good stuff like how to fold fitted sheets and make the best omelet ever (Martha Stewart was on). The one thing I remember and can relate to the the most over the years was the show when Oprah said: "THE WEIGHT THAT YOU CARRY IS THE WEIGHT THAT YOU CARRY."
I understood that. It made sense to me. I've never forgotten it.
I was unhappy and miserable, and, well, I was fat. But really I wasn't miserable because I was fat, I was fat because I was miserable.
(Isn't it interesting how people mention the weight gain of a friend/relative/acquaintance and they say, "Oh, Maureen has let herself go! Isn't that too bad?") I think they are right - Maureen did let herself go - TO THE FRIDGE AND BACK - TO THE PANTRY AND BACK, etc.
If a man gets fat they say, "Why, did you notice that Steve has matured? He's got a beer belly now." (As if beer bellies are so much more acceptable on men than fat on women!) Thanks, COSMO, PEOPLE, VOGUE, etc. We live in an airbrushed society, don't we?
Anyway, I wanted to change my wicked ways of eating, eventually. I cared enough about ME to do that. But it took a looooonnnnnng time. I successfully changed my eating habits. I no longer ate the same huge cut of steak that my husband did; and I started to work out. (I HATE WORKING OUT. I WILL NEVER BE A GYM-ADDICT.) I went on The Zone diet, and got healthy. (I believe this is the diet Jennifer Aniston swears by and lives on - or at least she used to - (I don't watch much TV - but I didn't do it because of her. I did it because of me and I didn't call her to see if she knew about it, either. Jennifer just looks better and makes more money than me, and I don't know her personally, otherwise I might have called her and said, "Wow, have you heard about THE ZONE diet?" Like I did with my other FRIENDS.) But the diet worked for me - and I felt HEALTHY. Ate LOTS of veggies though, and really how much broccoli and lettuce can a person eat? Other people - lots. Me, not so lots. But I still try and eat Zone-ish when I have my wits about me. I highly recommend it. It makes sense and works, but the book is TOUGH! (I'm hoping they've streamlined the scientific stuff into laymen's terms since I read it). Otherwise, awesome stuff.
So, I felt great. Kept a great deal of weight off, but my weight traveled up and down the scale when I was miserable and not paying attention TO ME. I always kept plastic bins full of clothes in my garage - all different sizes of clothes - for when I eventually went up a size or down a size. No shopping - only a visit to the garage. "Ahh, I'll eventually be a 16 again, so I'll KEEP these large shirts with GIANT FLOWERS on the front for later." I call this my "Fat thinking."
So, now, with a bit of stress in my life these past two years or so, I've actually THINNED. Quite a bit.
I have found that if I'm bored or depressed, I graze.
If I am stressed out, I starve myself. Not on purpose, of course, but, eating is hard to do when you are stressed to the max. I do try and make sure that I eat a decent meal to start my day - (which for me equals coffee, toast, and fruit) - even if I only have a few bites of each. If I'm lucky, I eat lunch,(as an example to my kids), and I pick at dinner. I have too much worrying to do. (I think I read somewhere that worrying burns calories, but I'm not sure). I have taken on the attitude I got from one of my very wise aunts, (and I have a few), who said "I don't live to eat, I eat to live." (Kudos, Ag). That's what happened to me, and I didn't mean for that to happen, but I feel better thinking that this is a wise attitude to have in the face of becoming the INCREDIBLE SHRINKING WOMAN.
So, although I have dropped,(without trying), about 30 pounds since November, I don't FEEL healthy. I just look thinner. Thinner with more lines on my face. Stress.
But, I have actually run out of clothes in my garage bins, and I am now having to shop in the "petite medium" sections of stores once again. I'm there, spending money I don't have, my pants hanging around my hips, worrying, and I have that "woman-who-didn't-mean-to-lose-that-weight-anyway-because-if-she-did-her-clothes-would-fit" look.
I really don't care about how I look right now. I find it rather ironic - I have lost enough weight to buy new clothes, should be jumping for joy and celebrating, but I'm just not.
It's a real crime; a crying shame.
The thing is, I think I'm gonna keep shrinking, so why buy new clothes now? I need to wait until I find where I'm actually going to STAY on the scale first.
When the stress subsides, and it will, as most stress does, I'll know I feel better because I'll actually shop for clothes to feel good about myself. That's how I'll know I'm out of it. (Oh, and I'll actually WANT to shave my legs, too).
Unless I actually work out, I'll just be thinner and the fat will look looser - not in proportion; still. Nothing in my life seems to ever be in proportion anyway, so it's really normal for me. I live a yo-yo life, I guess. Am I alone? Maybe, but I'd like to think I'm not.
I mean, it's not like I can just hop in to a bikini now. I still am disproportionate with fat to muscle ratio. Unless I find my calling in my mid-life as a female body builder, I am going to accept the fact that I've never had a great shape, probably never will, and really, I don't care. I'll never be a model, I'll never be famous and chased by paparazzi, I'll just always be ME. Short, stubby me. Not too bad, really. (Except I like the "Short Stubby Me" minus the "side of stress" much better).
I can count on one thing for sure...my good old abdominal fat - spare tire - shelf - nav-pak - will always be here with me. Heart attack predictor or not, it's part of me, and heck, what would I be able to do if I could actually SEE my whole foot when looking down? That's a shocking view I don't want to see - really. (Please refer to blog post "Oh, By the Way, Fred Flintstone Called. He Wants His Feet Back."
Everything's a trade-off, right?
Happy Memorial Day.
To our veterans past and present, I am grateful for your service to our country.
Cheerth!!!!
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