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I had been thinking about deleting my post about being sick of the excuses that people give for not losing weight. It was a little harsh and not like me. I am usually the biggest cheerleader you could meet. I am the person who you can talk to about these things. But lately, something has clicked in me that I can't seem to explain. I have been thinking about my near decade struggle with fat and the struggles of millions of others. I wondered today if it is because my goal seems so within my grasp. I mean, it is nearly 60 pounds away, but so close compared to the original 130 pounds at the beginning. I am starting to feel the pre-pregnancy me again and remembering how amazing it is to live in a smaller body. This is a feeling that everyone deserves to have. And I am so amazingly sad that so many people deny it of themselves with excuses and fears and self-loathing and cheese fries and giant pants from Wal-mart. I feel like our culture enables us to be fat, wants us to be as fat as we can possibly be. That way we eat more and buy more clothes to fit our ever expanding bodies. That way, we need more pills to keep our hearts working and our keep our sugars in check. That way we are slaves to their food and their things and their cars and their health insurance. Oh and their weight loss products! The weight loss industry doesn't want you to know how easy it is to lose weight, believe me. They don't want you to know that is is about less food, more exercise! This would ruin their whole market. I know this sounds a little crazy. I know there isn't some huge fattening cabal out there. Men in grey suits shoving donuts down our throats. I know this.
But as I wrote in my comments on the post below, someone has got to stop enabling us. At some point in a morbidly obese person's life, someone has got to tell them what is what. Someone has got to be blunt and remind them that there is a whole other person under all those excuses. We tip toe around the fat people in our lives too much when they could really use a little a tiny bit of criticism. Maybe not from me, maybe from their doctor, maybe from their mom, but from someone. It is just time to start showing people we love that we want them to survive and that no, it is not ok to weigh 300 pounds. It is not ok to eat all the easter candy. It is not ok if you *seem* healthy. I only know this because I am nearing the other side of the fence. Yes, I am still fat. Yes, I am still addicted to food, but I can feel my own hip bones now and this alone is enough to shout about. This alone is enough to make me want to spread the word.
It is when my cheerleading falls on deaf ears that I get upset. I know I can't save everyone, hell, I can barely save myself. But I want to. I really do. I want the 35 year old mother of 3 in Iowa to put the cupcake down and think about her hip bones and wonder when she will see them again. And make a list of what she can do each day to make this meeting happen. And no, pills and surgery aren't allowed! But willpower and a comfortable pair of sneakers might be a good first step.
So, I am sorry if I seemed mean.
I submitted my entry for Fred Flare's Next Big Thing Contest, have you?
Here's my entry:
They are currently available in my etsy shop, but hopefully they will win the contest!
Something has really been making me angry lately and I am having a hard time containing this anger. I rarely feel this way, must vent a bit. Ok, I have recently found a chat on a website that I use often, I won't say which one because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Anyway, in this chat room, I often meet really interesting people. But I am also coming into contact with extremely normal women. This is fine, whatever, I am far from normal and know this and have found myself many many times feeling uncomfortable around people who aren't open minded, etc. I often have to hold my tongue when people stop to pray before a meal or talk about "weirdos" or assign gender roles, etc. Fine, not everyone thinks the way I do. I understand that.
But there is one topic that I will not hold my tongue on anymore. And that is weight loss. I find that surrounded by "normal" women, the topic of weight loss always comes up. Now these people don't know me, they don't know my story, they don't know what I have done, they don't know what I am currently struggling with. So I sit and listen to how they can't lose weight. Now these are people who are not my friends, so let me preface this with, I love my friends. I love anyone who I know who is struggling with. I don' t want to hurt their feelings, but I am currently ready to tell everyone else what I think. I just had an argument with someone about weightloss. My premise is that anyone can lose weight. ANYONE. This is coming from someone who has done it, is doing it. All you have to do is believe in yourself, get off your ass, put down the candy bar and make a life change.
Too many people are weak, me included. I am weak. I just gained back 2 pounds after a binge-y week. And I am weak and I know this and I just spent this whole day fighting my way out of it. I almost baked a cake. A frelling cake! Instead, I turned off the oven and ate some sorbet. I know this addiction and battle it every day. So, don't tell me that not everyone can lose weight. Don't tell me you need surgery to do it. Don't tell me you tried "enter diet here" for two weeks, went to the gym and then stopped. Don't tell me you have special health problems that make it hard to drop the pounds. The weight is making you sick! You have to make lots of changes. You have to get out of the car and walk somewhere. You have to stop drinking pop and you have to want it. You have to want it more than anything else. You have to deal with your emotional issues and flush the god-damn easter candy and make a commitment to yourself. And if you can't or don't then you are weak. And if you are weak then you have to own that weakness. I am so sick of people not owning up to how amazingly weak they are. I own my weakness everyday. I see her, I know her. I accept her. And she is sick of your whining.
All of this said, I often have good interactions with people who really need and want help. I love this. This helps me in my own journey. This reminds me how much I know and how many tools I have to work with and how far I have come. I remember weighing 300 pounds. I remember being depressed and huge and not wanting to leave the house. I remember not looking in the mirror or getting on a scale for weeks at a time. I know what this is like, but I also know what it is like to win and to have victories and I wish to god that I could communicate this more to people in that horrible situation.
Anyway... I didn't think I would have another emotional place like this. This is good. But I do have to say that I am ready for weight loss to be behind me. I am ready to not have to associate with this anymore.
Ok, sorry if that was adversarial, you can now return to your regulary scheduled positive seamonster.
Every day, we exercise our laughter.
I say, "ok girls, it is time to laugh." Our fake "hahas" always turn into big real laughs. This is fun. This is nice considering 80 percent of the rest of the day is sounds like this, "no, do not bite your sister. no, do not write in that book. stay on that potty or put your diappy back on. please stop screaming. leave Archie alone." To most of these things, Rachel has now started to say, "Go away, Mommy. Go away." Then Ani chimes in half heartly, "go away." Then Rachi to Ani, "go away, AnYA, go away."
Me and my chorus of "go aways." I am not angry at this. I love that Rachi is asserting herself. I love this, but I also wish my daily life was not so full of fighting. I often feel like the girls really dislike one another and this makes me sad. There are small moments, though, when one helps the other take off her pants to potty or one finds a toy for the other that give me hope. Sometimes I look at the girls and think, "you are two who came from one." This must be so cosmicly messed up. Ya know? Like how does that feel at some sort of core level? I keep thinking of the season of Farscape when Crighton was cloned and he became Crighton Green and Crighton Black and one of them got to go off and fall in love with Aeryn and the other was just stuck on that stupid ship. I know the girls barely even know where they came from, that they were very briefly, so small and round and red in my tummy as one. It was really only days, I think. But they started off as one and I cannot help but think that this has got to do something to you in some way.
The photos below show that my laughing exercises have paid off. Here Rachi poses, laughing in my zombie shirt:
And here, Anya looks like she should be named Tawny or something. So bubble bubble laugh laugh:
And here, the girls crack each other up while their Nanna sets them up in Easter hats and scarves.
It has been so hard to keep the Sometimes I Worry about Zombies shirt in stock in the girlie sizes that I have set up a custom order listing for it on my etsy shoP!
Check it out here.
A custom link for kid's sizes might be next, if those orders keep coming in!
This morning, the scale gave me:
Oh my, it has been 6 days since I last wrote. That is crazy crazy. Here is the view from our 3rd floor apartment window. Jeff walks Archie with the girlies:
I firmly believe that when one is attempting the great smallening that one must not not not eat pasta. One does not know how to portion such nummies. One then eats way too much. That said, I spent the whole day yesterday insanely hungry (this was followed by said nummies), something I haven't done in a few weeks. It reminded me of how hard this war is. I am now wearing the only pair of size 20 jeans that I own. The 22s just fall down. The 18s zip up, but are too tight. Ah and I remember when the 24s were tight. This is a good place.
We have been in all winter. Some winter days weren't wintery at all, but this mamma was tired and depressed, so we would hide out. All winter. Little hostages they were.
Now, there is sun and warmth and more room to play inside and ceiling fans make us feel like we are at a resort. We look out the window over the big family bed and see the ruins of an old house. An old door that doesn't open at the top of crocked stairs. I whisper that sealed inside is possibly another world. One that is like our own, but with fantastic secrets. I whisper that this world and door used to be under the ocean and we are in a submarine and have finally found it. I whisper "i love you." and you whisper it back with your little square teeth framed by your tiny mouth. Your sister is jumping on the bed because she sees a squirrel. Finally it is a squirrel and not a rat. But wait, two squirrels. And arbol, trees, two arbol, two trees.
We get shoes and socks and go outside. I promise we will see more squirrels and birds and Archies. There is much pointing and more words in Spanish that I can't make out. The little hostages are enjoying freedom.
U Street smells like the boardwalk at the beach. All the cigarette smoke and fried food. All the people and the music. The hip hop clothing store has a huge display of giant polo shirts featuring graffiti AND Popeye the sailorman. This makes no sense to me, but makes me laugh. Popeye creeps me out. I wonder if this is the point. The post office line is insane as usual. We let an ancient grandma with a walker go to the front of the line. And I think of how maybe we aren't supposed to live to be so old and tiny. That perhaps our minds go so that we don't have to remember how terrible we feel.
The wind picks up as I pass the Black Cat and by the time I am at Studio Theater, Rachi is asleep and Anya in the front seat is getting hit by all kinds of windy dust. Big drops of rain are falling on us and I tell Ani to just close her eyes and enjoy the walk. It is just wind, I yell. A clean, new mom with one baby has her plastic cover over her stroller and looks at me like I am the worst nanny in the world. I know she is thinking this.
The drops don't last long, so we go to Whole Foods and buy strawberries for me and chocolate for daddy and Pirate's Booty for the girls.
At the playground, Rachi is still asleep. Ani is freed from her stroller and looks around at the world like it is the best thing she has ever seen. She squeals with delight and sits at the bottom of the slide to take it all in. Her sister wakes up and is amazed to be somewhere new. We play for a while, but mostly just watch the other children with a crazy intensity.
Some days I feel like I can't handle the girls at all on my own. The terrible twos have arrived early and I find myself in the weeds earlier and earlier each day. The answer to this is new adventures. I know this, but must remind myself daily. No more little hostages. No more babies. It is time for me to grow little girls. We have lucked into another city year and I must make the most of it.
I made a ton of new stuff for the Cal Robbins Benefit show last night, but didn't sell a whole lot. No worries. I am slowly adding it to my etsy shop and you can see new items as they pop up over there on the right in my etsy mini badge. My etsy shop is making me wonder if I even need a shop of my own. Will see, but I should figure it out at some point so that I don't have to update two shops.
I got to see and talk to lots of friends, old and new last night and it was nice to feel alive in the world. Megan and I spent the evening catching up and telling each other ghost stories as some drunk people tried to figure my stuff out. Liz of the trees gave me some skirts to write on and I bought a wicked cute lime green one with fishies on it. It is a wrap skirt, but I can barely get it around my waist. This is my new goal, to wear this skirt someday.
Right now, Rachi is saying over and over again, "archie scary ghost coat byebye" I have no idea what this means. Today Anya said, "teriyaki" but it sounded like "terry rocky". Both girls are learning spanish from watching Dora and tell me about the birds and the árbol (tree). They also love to yell, "Tico, el boate," but sometimes it is "Toto, boato!". Eileen, you would be proud.
The moving was physically good for the weight loss, but we ate a lot of junk, so I have been up and down. Today, I was 235, so not bad for too much pizza. I am back to hardcore point counting now, though. Feeling a bit boney and my pants are still too big.
Moving on my own last Thursday when Jeff was at work was like moving your apartment while herding cats. Cats that will not stop biting each other. I would wrangle the girls into the elevator and down the hall plus a grocery cart of things. Each trip took a good 30 minutes. On one run, they both insisted on taking their Elmo chairs with them. They struggled carrying the bulky things. Said Elmo chairs also giggle and shake when moved. We were a sight.
Of course, that was just the first day and I was crazy to think I could do much while herding the cat girls. All moved into our new bigger apartment now with much help from family and friends. It was slightly hell and I can barely walk now to prove it. I have not had such a bum knee since I was super fat.
The girls now have their own room (and bathroom!) and we have our first ever kitchen table. We sit there and eat like normal folks now. No more dinner at the tv. Today, Rachel had a tantrum about going outside and said, "home" and I realized she doesn't understand this is her new home. Poor Rachel. They have Dora toddler beds and I have found each lounging and reading on them.
A few pictures from their Nanna:
Rachi is super cool moving the dvds without shoes:
Both girls dancing in mommy and daddy's shower:
Gone is the view from the 7th floor solarium, instead now we have a 3rd floor view of the street and all the people walking by. It is a bit like having a front porch.
Today I dreamt that I went to my own website and it was totally brand new, with all new products. Exciting things I had never thought of. Perhaps this means other parts of my life need an overall, a move, a new front porch.
More pics to come. I am tired and it is late and one must sleep sometime.
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