The list

I can cross my legs.

I can put my socks on.

I can walk upstairs without stopping on the landing.

The other day I recognized when I was full and I actually stopped eating.

I like fruit.

I was stressed yesterday and the first thing I thought of was going to the gym.

I have wonderful supportive people who care about me and want to help me get healthy.
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I got on the scale this morning and it read 230. I looked around the dial up to the 280s...that's a long way. I looked back the other way to the 180s...that's a long way too. And the critical voice in my head started having a field day.....

Why did I get on the scale today? Why did I feel the need to do that?

I get on the scale because I expect it to mean something. So then, what goes on in my head when I get on and see that number? I want to capture those thoughts so I can conquer them.

Today I realized I expected it to validate something, or maybe invalidate something.

I am uncomfortable with myself today. I have a meeting and a photo shoot at the Times Union today and they told me to wear something I feel fabulous in. I don't feel fabulous in anything. Frankly, I don't have much to wear right now. I've been trying things on for weeks and I can't find anything. No matter what I try on I rip myself apart. I either immediately laugh out loud at how bad it looks, or I turn every which way until I find every flaw and say, well that looks disgusting, and I take it off and move on. If I do find something that looks halfway decent, I can't buy it until I get verification from the sales staff that it doesn't look gross. I started my day by doing that. Trying on clothes and taking them off, trying just to find something I could settle for and leave the house in hoping the photographer can work magic. This one shows my stomach, that one's still too small, did I ever really fit into this tiny thing? Arggh!

And then I got on the scale. Interesting.

As I took that trip around the dial I listened to the critical voice in my head. I heard it tell me, yes, you've lost a lot, but look how far you have to go. You have no right to feel fabulous, you are still fat, look how much more you have to do! I could hear myself saying these things, and stood there a while, listening to what the scale meant. It was validating that I've lost but invalidating my right to feel good about it because I still have so far to go.

Before I got off I decided I should not let the critical voice take over. I decided to take a little stock here and be reasonable about where I really am and think hard about the changes I have made and what is different now...I took the time to think about what I felt like in February...and decided I needed to make a focused effort on defining the positive changes that have nothing to do with the scale. Finally, I am listening to the people who have been supporting me for months. I heard them sink in. So I got off and started the list. I am heading out to the stores again, but focusing on adding to it when I get back...hopefully with something that makes me feel fabulous in hand....

A Disclaimer

I ended my last post with a question. What hope is there that any woman who struggles with body image will ever be satisfied with how they look? Is there any hope for me that I will ever be?

I hope that anyone who is taking the time to read this narcissistic spewing of what is inside my head reads Karli's reply to my post. Karli's help is so precious to me. I could never explain how much she has done for me. If you read it, you will understand how brave and brilliant she is and why I am so lucky to know her. She cares enough to straighten me out.

Yes, the tags hanging on those suits got to me as I stood there disgusted with myself. I know that in order to not have to go through this again, I have to come to terms with the struggle of who I am versus who I look like I am...with my perception of myself versus my perception of what others think of me...

As Karli says, with my shell...

I know am not alone, yet I appear so self-centered.

I have tried to say all along that I have no answers. These posts come with a disclaimer - I am no expert. I have no answers. Just a lot of stuff inside my head that needs to come out. I was talking to a friend at work today and she said that when this started, she was shocked that I who have always been so private, would ever do such a personal thing as try to lose weight publicly. I am trying to remember why I decided to. I am trying to decide what I am hoping to accomplish. I am not sure why I think anyone else should care.

Lots of people are talking to me about what I have been saying. Lots of people tell me it hits a nerve or a raw spot. Why do we keep these things in the dark? Shame? Do we think no one really cares? Do we not care enough ourselves? Do we think there are no answers?

I am full of questions.

Hiding

I have to find something to wear to the Resolution Solution final dinner next week. I am at the point where my pants might be a little too big, but they hide stuff well, so I am trying to decide if, without knowing anything about my journey, someone looks at me...would they say my pants are too big? I have to admit, yes...they are too baggy in the legs and I look silly. Maybe I can take them in and still hide my misshapen stomach? Or maybe I need to go pants shopping again...crap...

Karli is out of town, and I walked 3 miles in the 90 degree heat on the bike path today...we texted several times along the way, but I did it, and I ultimately felt great. It was sweaty hot, but beautiful out, and I really relaxed. So, I decided to go look for something to wear to the dinner. This is the first time in years I thought to go look for something to wear...not something that fits me and hides the ugliest bits...a BIG difference.

Kohl's was totally depressing. I held a bunch of tops up to me and tried to see if could stretch them over my belly to no avail. Then I tried one top on in a 2X (still!). I looked pregnant. I left and thought I would try Macy's...I haven't been there in about 2 years....as I recalled way deep in my mind, their stuff was cut well and of good fabric, which I think is crucial to looking good, so I headed there.

I walked towards where I knew the "Womens" section was, but it was now "Petites". "Womens" used to be across from "Petites! I remember this because an outfit would catch my eye and I would say, "oooh,. I like the cut of that..." then I would realize it was "Petites"...ooops...not for me...and turn towards the "Womens" section...moving on...

Where was "Womens" now? I asked a salesperson who waved her hand around the area, and then I opened my hands around my shape and said "plus size". She said, "Oh, downstairs"...Really, I thought?? We "Women" are now relegated to the basement?!...trying not to be insulted, I headed for the escalator(note, no stairs to gain calorie burn), which took me to the designer purse section. I wandered until I found the "Women's" section and looked around. Ahhh...there are the "Womens clothes! Made just for me! I stopped and took it in and tried to estimate the total square footage of the whole store dedicated to us women and it just depressed me further.

Who makes these clothes? Who thinks I want to wear brightly-patterned sleeveless high cut tops with banded bottoms and ruffles cascading down the front? What do they think I am trying to hide? The one thing I have going for me is cleavage. Why would I want to hide that?

I tried to concentrate on pants but since it is a transitional season, there wasn't much suitable. Who was I kidding..I am transitional. I am in between. Is that the problem? Is it just me???

So, I did it, I gave up on style and grabbed a bunch of stuff in different sizes and tried them on. I even tried a dress! It was AWFUL!!! I looked horrendous....misshapen at best, disgusting at worst. I tried to reconcile things by saying that the problem is the designers do not understand simple things like the way they cut underarms for "women" ...we need them higher cut to hide our blobby things, but again, we like our cleavage, so don't overlook that. And a straight dress does not work...I am way beyond having a tummy and if you cut a straight dress in knit, it shows every enormous lump!

A skirt looked halfway decent. Really?!...I haven't worn a skirt or dress since Donnie's wedding 6 years ago. I started to wonder if I could get some good dark black panty-hose that held me in and hid my varicose veins...did they still make panty hose? I haven't worn them in many, many years...but gosh, if they did make them in whatever size I now need, did I have shoes that worked? And we still had the problem of the top which I had tried, but could not find AAACK!!!!! I was tired...I wanted pizza...

I decided to buy the skirt. In 10 pounds it might look good, if not for next week.

I wandered till I found a cashier. There was a long line. As I waited, I suddenly realized I was waiting in the bathing suit area. Two teeny tiny ladies with ridiculously flat bellies (clearly, they were not "Women") were sorting through bathing suits. I was standing in a section that had very large tags hanging on the suits that said "Miracle Suits. Look 10 Pounds Lighter in 10 Seconds!" Look it up online...I am not kidding. These suits were size 6 - 12. Is it true that these teeny tiny ladies are trying to hide something too??? I was now completely depressed. I felt hopeless.

After waiting 15 minutes, I paid for the skirt and the "black enough to hide my varicose veins" panty hose, but I asked the salesperson, if I couldn't find a top that worked, could I return it? She said, yes, as long as I keep the tag on.

I am keeping the tag on because I am not sure if I have the nerve to wear this thing.

I have made strides, but want to look good...what does that mean anyways? I have so much to hide...but that is because I am "Womens", right?... yet, if a size 6 still needs to hide stuff, still thinks they have ugly bits, what hope is there?

238.6

That was how much I weighed when I finally got weighed at Weight Watchers for the first time. A great struggle preceded that moment on the scale. In fact, about a year before, I had spent weeks thinking about whether or not I should make the big leap and go in. I drove up many times and drove away. It was an excruciating decision, but I finally did it and walked in. I looked around, and it was not what I expected. I think I expected a panel of non-judgmental psychologists and nurses who would put their arms around you and give you a hug and a strawberry and a magic mirror or something, but certainly not a scale right away.

Instead, there was a long line of people who seemed to know what they were doing. They were comfortable. I was not. I stood for a long time and waited while they went through their stuff. Some of them had on shorts and tank tops and flip flops with their big Winter overcoats over them. It seemed weird and curious. Many of them were talking to each other like they had known each other for years. I felt like a misfit who didn't belong. It reminded me of being in 7th grade and the new weird thick-glasses kid in school who was looking for a place to put down the lunch tray. I almost left, but then I was pretty sure that someone who worked there might have looked at me, so I went to the wall that had the WW items for sale and pretended to be interested...till I was sure no one was paying any attention. Then I left.

It was a long time and many more pounds before I went back. But, I did it. I went back, and was somehow surprised that nothing was different, but I got in that line and asked the first person I saw what was going to happen. A very nice lady pointed me towards the clipboards and told me she would hold my place while I got one. I came back and jumped back in line and 2 other women groused...tough...I filled out the paper work and finally got up to the front. The woman behind the counter took my paperwork and asked me to get on the scale. I was terrified. Were they going to announce my weight??? Berate me for being such a blob??? What was going to happen. I got on the scale, heart beating so that I felt like I was going to faint, and all she did was take out a little booklet, write my weight in it, put the booklet in a plastic sleeve, hand it to me with a bunch of other papers and pamphlets and tell me to go into the meeting and be sure I stay for the new members' meeting after. I walked towards the meeting room and in spite of my trepidation because I had no idea what was going to happen next, I could not contain myself..I had to know...how much did I weigh on a real scale??? I looked.

238.6

How gross was I???? I used to think I was fat when I weighed 145. 238.6???! I will never forget that moment.

For some reason that number has stuck with me ever since. I used it to propel me through a 72 pound loss with WW. Then I started gaining. As I noticed I was gaining again, I began dividing it up into 10 lb increments, and I would say, oh well, at least I am not near 238.6.

Then, it happened. I passed it, and then I kept going. I got to the point where every morning when I stepped on the scale that freaking number...238.6...haunted me. It was awful. I stopped measuring..then I got to over 280....approaching 290.

I have been on either side of 238.6, and that freaking number haunts me. Why? What on earth does it mean. I got below it, came back above it, and it's still there.

The reason it is popping up today is because I want so badly to get below it. I am teetering around 240...yes, lost around 45 pounds...and that number is so close.

As I look back over my experiences trying to come to a solution, I see many mistakes and problems. For me, and I am sorry to those of you for whom it works, WW added to the problem. Too much to go into here, and it was indeed a personal journey. And that freaking WW number...that 238.6 haunts me.

I now weigh 240. I cannot wait to lose a few more pounds. I am hoping with all my heart that I will move past this 238.6 obsession and just freaking forget about it once and for all.