Out of Context: A 24 Day Journey: 24 inches Closer

You have to keep reading to see all the before and after pictures. 

I share my struggles with my weight and body image in the hopes that it helps someone somewhere. It isn't always easy to be so transparent and to put personal things about myself in print, but I am a teacher by trade and our nature is to help people.

This was during my Wanna-be Barbie phase that I discuss in
How Blondes Made Me Fat

            When I physically looked my best, I was extremely unhealthy. My size was not earned through proper nutrition, exercise, and dedication. I loved junk and I hated exercise and in reality, I did not like myself.

            As I matured, I thought that I had overcome being so self-destructive. I didn’t. I just change my modus operandi (method of operation). I was still consuming processed junk and was still leading a very sedentary life. Although I thought that I was doing less harm to myself, I was becoming more and more unhealthy. With a Body Mass Index (BMI) of 38.4, I was at risk for an array of things that I was already genetically predisposed to having, specifically diabetes and heart disease.

            From 2001 to 2014, I tried a plethora of diets and fads. The specific ones are not important because the issue was me and my relationship with my food and my health. Most of the things that I tried had made me feel sluggish or jittery. I found ways to cheat around the restrictions or guidelines of other ones.

            The only “diet” that had worked in all those years was the dreaded “Divorce Diet.” I lost 47 lbs. In 2009 while going through my divorce and I can assure you that the weight loss from that was not healthy at all. Anyone who has been through a divorce knows the illness that comes with that much of a life change. I was deteriorating physically, as well as mentally.

            Fast forward to six months post-divorce and I was right back to my BMI of 38.4.

            I had fallen in love with someone who truly loved who I was and thought that I was beautiful no matter what size I was, what I wore, or how my make-up looked. He loved my heart. Yet, I looked at myself and was disgusted. I was uncomfortable and ashamed.

The picture that hurt me. 

            My middle sister got married in September of 2013. It was this picture that made me decide that something was going to have to change. I had honestly believed that I looked cute that day; the pictures showed otherwise. My features were getting lost to the roundness of my face!!!!

            In January of this year, a hot, new gym was opening down the road. When I went to cancel an existing membership, the rep said, “Oh! I see it has been 453 days since you last came to the gym and it doesn’t look like you came but a couple of times during your three years as a member. How is this new gym going to change your desire to get fit?” I hated that I couldn’t hide the red that was rising from my neck to my cheeks and tears rolled down my face as I cancelled the membership. He actively tried to apologize and explain that it was a mentality and not a station. I wasn’t hearing it! Obviously, it was the place, right?

            I started the hot, new gym with full gusto. Yet, I wasn’t focusing on myself. I was focusing on the thin girl who looked adorable in her workout clothes and the woman that was much larger than me, but was actually running on the treadmill. I tucked my tail and cancelled my membership because I chose to compare myself to others, not knowing their journey, instead of giving myself the gift of health.

Excuses I found at the gym included a jealousy and a feeling of inferiority of women shaped like this. 

            In February, I was told that my blood pressure was getting dangerously high and that I needed to make drastic changes or I was going to have to start taking medicine. My blood sugar was also higher than it should be for the first time in my life. Knowing that my grandmother died of heart disease at the age of 64, I got scared. I looked at my 7 year old son and thought, “What am I teaching him?”

            I went back to the old gym. The same guy was there and he was so eager to talk to me and explain himself once again. I simply nodded, but I knew that this time was going to be different because that doctor’s warning and those numbers were what I saw now in place of the thin young lady in spandex and the bigger person running.

            I began consuming less junk and giving way to the gym. I couldn’t do much at first and sometimes I would cry in the parking lot because I felt like such a failure. On days that I couldn’t emotionally face the gym, I went for walks in the park with my son instead. I just knew that I had to keep moving.

What I didn’t know was that all of the diet cokes and the processed foods that I thought were acceptable were still causing me troubles. I had managed to lose just about weight and throw off my BMI down to 33.8, but it wasn’t enough to begin lifting the blood pressure and blood sugar problems. Plus, my weight had plateaued. I was stuck and I needed to do something different.

            At the same time that I was getting annoyed with all my friends for posting about weight-loss on social media, I was researching every item they were discussing. I had to find an answer. A good friend of mine had found a product that she said was changing her life. “Isn’t that what they always say?” is what I thought.

            Two days later, a science instructor at my school spoke to me about the same matter. She even said the same thing, but she had a slightly more scientific perspective on it. I looked at her and said, “There is no way that I can live with coffee and cokes for over a 24 hour period.” She simply articulated, “Yes, you can.”

            I researched the information on my own and decided to try this one last thing before talking to my doctor about weight-loss surgery, which I did qualify for at the time. I thought that it would be better to invest in myself a little bit before taking out a loan for surgery.

            IT WAS THE BEST DECISION THAT I EVER MADE FOR MYSELF!!!!

24 Day Challenge Kit

            I started Advocare on May 1, 2014. My two friends were not lying or seeking personal gain when they shared that Advocare had changed their lives. In four days, I began to feel better. It is difficult to explain, but I physically felt a calmness in body, nevertheless I had energy. I had no jitters and no periods of being sluggish. That was definitely a first.

            The difference was that I wasn’t simply on some diet plan. I was on the path to a lifestyle change. I was discovering how to feed my body the nutrients that it needed and breaking away from the processed and carbonated junk that had ruined my self-confidence and body for so long. I liked how I felt and that was plenty for me. I couldn’t possibly imagine the changes that were waiting for me 20 days down the road.

This was my little guy's first belt testing a few years ago. He still loves it and he motivates me. 

            About a week after starting Advocare, my 7 year old said, “Mommy, when are we going to stop eating healthy? I want to start having McDonald’s all the time again.” I had not put my son on a diet, then don’t imagine that. However, because I was cooking for myself, I started to incorporate “clean eating” at the family table. My heart immediately dropped. I had done a great disservice to my child. My son is slim because he is very active (like all boys are at all times) and he takes Taekwondo. Yet, I had allowed him to indulge on fast food and processed to the point that it was all he wanted. My lesson on Day 7 was that it was my job to model proper nutrition and exercise for my son. I was further motivated.

            Let’s take a time out to talk numbers because that is what everyone really wants to know.

	Day 1	Day 10	Difference	Day 24	Total Difference
Weight	216 pounds	208 pounds	-8 pounds	202 pounds	-14 pounds
Neck	15 inches	14.5 inches	-.5	14 inches	-1 inches
Chest	48 inches	45.5 inches	-2.5	44 inches	-4 inches
Bra Size	42DDD	N/A	N/A	38DD	N/A
Waist	42 inches	37 inches	-2	35 inches	-7 inches
Hips	49 inches	47 inches	-2	45 inches	-2 inches
R Thigh	28.5 inches	27 inches	-1.5	24.5 inches	-4 inches
L Thigh	28 inches	27 inches	-1	24 inches	-4 inches
R Arm	15 inches	14 inches	-1	13 inches	-1 inches
L Arm	15.5 inches	14 inches	-1.5	13.75 inches	-1.25 inches
Total Lost					-24.25 Inches

                I have gone from a 20W to something smaller than a 16W (I wear dresses all the time now because I don’t want to buy new dress pants until I absolutely have to for the next school year). I am still a plus-size woman and I still have a couple of rolls from my 4^th Trimester body (Okay, my unhealthy eating body). I did notice little things on the latter part of my 24 Day Challenge: my coworkers (and students) were commenting on my noticeable change in shape and energy, sitting in the swing at the playground was more comfortable, and I could wrap a regular size towel around my whole body for the first time in 15 years.

Advocare was not about achieving a miracle and becoming the Barbie that I used to crave being; it was about changing my life and becoming healthy. I will continue this journey for the rest of my life, but the difference is that I now have support and guidance from fellow Advocare Advocates and the knowledge to fuel my body with what it needs. Most importantly, I have the ability to teach my son a way to love himself through nurturing his heart, mind, and body. 

Until next time, LIVE LOUDLY!!!! 

P.S. I still have the awesome Dr. Who shirt, but I have to wear a tank top under it now because it hangs on me so differently now. 

Out of Context: How Being Fat Made Me a Better Friend

Fat. People do not like that word. They don’t wish to be called fat and they don’t like to hear others refer to themselves as fat. That is my word of choice. I could state that I am morbidly obese, which based on doctor’s measurements, I am. That just sounds like the creeping death and essentially it is. I could say that I am fluffy which has a bit of Southern charm. Still, that isn't an accurate description. Fluffy implies that my obesity is comparable to a kitten.

It’s not.

The first time that clothes at The Limited no longer fit me, I cried. When my friend suggested that we walk across the mall to Lane Bryant, I argued, but went out of desperation for clothes that fit. She and the sales lady were very supportive and picked out several nice things for me to try on that day. I wept in the fitting room for an hour like a baby.

I had been in full denial of what depression and binge-eating had done to me physically.

I tried to accentuate my figure, but I looked more like a stuffed sausage than a statuesque bombshell. In hindsight, it was embarrassing. After that, I hid behind clothes that were very somber with little strain. That turned to letting myself go completely because what was the purpose? I felt like I was just trying to sell a rag doll as a porcelain rarity.

I noticed that people treated me differently as time went passed.

After crossing the threshold of a plus-size woman, any attempt to buy clothing for my younger and smaller framed sisters was immediately met with a saleswoman who would say, “Clothing for full-figured women are over there.” At first, I lashed out and let them have it like I was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and they had just lost some great commission. Realizing that places like Dillard’s didn't make commission, I eventually started to sulk away instead of stating my purpose.

I have hidden behind these smaller beauties for years in pictures. 

I eventually began to accept that I was a big girl. I dealt with it through self-deprecating jokes and comments about how I was a real woman. I was no more a real woman than any other woman, but it was how I masked the shame of walking in my skin.

Going out with my husband presented problems as well. On three occasions, as I was much larger than The Ex Husband and The New Husband, waitresses have made flirtatious passes towards whom I was with at dinner. I know that some waitresses are a bit flirty with the man because they assume they will get a bigger tip. This is not what I am talking about in regards to the three incidences. Nope. These were outright attempts to get dates. Once I flashed my wedding ring (okay, I made a scene and cussed the girl out the first time it happened), the waitress became very sheepish. One even said, “I didn't realize that you were together.” The prevailing attitude appeared to be that a thinner guy must be with a larger woman for fetish reasons or for pity; it did not seem to occur to some that I could be loved.

I had been called many names in my life. I had even been called fat. However, when you become a teacher of teenagers, everything about your outward appearance, expressions, and mannerism can easily be turned into an insult. It isn't because teenagers are awful people who want to hurt everyone on a deeply personal level; it is that they have raging hormones and a lack of control that turns their fits of anger full into pure vitriol. Fat, ugly, and dumb seem to be the favorite adjectives to add an unflattering name when a teenager is triggered.

Teachers, avoiding this facial expression and the use of a pointer finger while explaining instructions that were plainly listed will save you from triggering a teenage tantrum. 

Yet, adults have called me worse with the same adjective, most recently a neighbor who happens to be much larger than I am.  People like my neighbor are just hateful, but some of the best meant comments hit the proverbial gut even harder. People would randomly say things to me like, “You have such a pretty face. You should try to be a plus-size model.” Plus-size models are actually the size of the average American woman and I was way larger than that.

If these models are considered Plus Size, then I must be Super-Sized.

I also suffered years of unsolicited dieting advice. I have even had co-workers who would make commentary on what I was eating. During a meeting a couple of years ago, one of my co-workers said, “That salad would be healthy if you didn't have cheese in it.” Maybe so, but I was so embarrassed and hurt. Meanwhile, the hypocrisy was that several of my co-workers were using fad products or starving themselves while “helping” me.

At an art show once, I noticed that a lady kept staring at me. It was a very uncomfortable stare and I could feel that this person was full of rage. When she approached me, she said, “Do you remember me?” I did not and this turned her rage into full wrath. She said, “You were the cruelest person that I ever met and you made fun of my every day in junior high and you don’t even remember me?” She was very beautiful, articulate, and fit; she shredded every ounce of dignity that I had left.

Having lost the things that allowed me to be a wannabe Barbie, I had to reevaluate who I was and who I had been in life. I had not been kind to others. I could easily find someone’s weakness or insecurity and I would use it to tear them down to somehow make myself feel better. As I mentioned in How Blondes Made Me Fat, I had no love for myself. It is easy to see and hard to accept.

Yet, this is when I stopped suppressing the things about myself that were truly valuable and could not be built from plastic. I started to allow myself to stop acting like I was a bimbo. 

I actually began to engage in intellectual conversations and to explore my options in life. Deep down, I had wanted to be an educator since I was in 2^nd grade. 

I mean it when I say that teaching is my dream job. I love it!

I was also a closet geek lover. I was not necessarily a full-blown fan girl, but I loved Sci-Fi and Fantasy. I only got to experience that through the guys in my life when I was on Mission Barbie (Fun Loud Fact: Every serious relationship that I have ever had has required frequent trips to the comic book store). I was also very serious and tried my hardest to not be goofy. In reality, I am an extremely goofy and playful soul. It wasn't until I became fat, that I allowed myself to embrace these things about myself.

It is rumored that The Honey Island Swamp Monster is my real father.

It did not bode well with me when I realized that I was a D.U.F.F. (Designated Ugly Fat Friend) that was used to enhance the attractiveness of an already beautiful friend. I became a walking character foil. Because my self-hatred was so extreme, I reverted back to using my aggressive wit and loud mouth as an endeavor to maintain value with a group of toxic people. I was proud to be “The Enforcer.” I was not permitted to be vulnerable, frail, or nice outwardly because it wasn't what the other Barbie wannabes wanted from me as I approached 250 pounds.

After a string of events that demonstrated that I had allowed my feelings of worthlessness control my life, I had to walk away from it all. I left my first marriage, as well as the other Barbie wannabes.

When you drop the things that superficial people want to use you for, you become very solitary.

This lead me to selecting actions that I needed to take in my life; I allowed myself to be loved for the things that could not be picked up in a mirror. I grew closer to my family than I had been in years. I married a man that has loved me equally regardless of my size because the things that he loves about me cannot be weighed or measured. I learned how to start loving myself because I had a child who needed me to be whole in order to be the best mom that he could have.

I hide behind him in pictures, too. He loves me all the same. 

I also became more mindful of how I talked to others who did not look like society suggested they should. I made eye contact, I made conversation, I made sincere compliments, and I made real connections with real people. Becoming fat should have been the most difficult thing for me, but the most difficult thing was actually confronting the cruel and fake person that I used to be. Becoming fat did to me was give me perspective and an acceptance of those who are different than mainstream society. In fact, I embrace different now.

A true friend is always willing to make a fool of themselves with you. 

As I am working to develop healthy eating and exercising habits, I cling to my geeky, silly, and idiot-savant (I still have some airhead moments, but they are never intentional). I am on my path of losing an excess of 80 lbs. that came from a self-hatred, but gave me a love of life and people. Part of that love of life is the excitement of giving that little boy who used to love to cuddle with his “fluffy” mommy, a mommy who can run wild with him on great imaginary adventures. 

He requires an active mom. Photo courtesy of one my sisters. 

Most importantly, being fat forced me to stop being a bully because I learned what it felt like to be treated sub-par. I do not want to raise a child to make people feel that way, so it is my job to teach him by always striving to do better. 

My next weight-related entry will be – The Gym Verse: “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.”

Until next time, BE LOUDER THAN MOST!!!!

                    

Out of Context: How Blondes Made Me Fat

Barbie

I think every woman that I know has been affected by "The Barbie Effect." I was a child of the 80's, a time when even cartoon heroines like Jem and She-Ra looked like Barbie. It was what I was supposed to be. I spent my entire childhood wanting to have blue eyes with a large bust line and a small everything else. I was already blonde, so I dreamed of completing my Barbie transformation once puberty hit, including the mandatory blue contacts.

I was around six years old when I decided that I did not want to be fat. I looked at my family, and most of them were obese, a fact that many of my school mates loved to point out when they were in an especially aggressive mood (the tomboy in me delivered playground justice for this infraction). My father most resembled a Gorg from Fraggle Rock from where I was standing. The only people in my family who were not overweight was my bulimic aunt and my naturally petite mother, who was always on a diet and did 99 crunches every night.

http://kumquatwriter.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/the-gorgs-garden.jpg

Marilyn

http://www.movieposterskey.com/postersimages/marilyn-monroe-chanel-no-5.jpg

In my tween years, just as I started the awkward phase of pre-puberty, I discovered Marilyn Monroe. She altered my vision of future me slightly because she was not a plastic doll or a cartoon. The vision of an ideal me was reinforced by a real person who was admired by so many. It had not occurred to me that she was, sadly, a plastic, cartoon, used "Barbie" doll herself. I had no such insight at that age. Observing her in only still shots, advertisements, and a few funny movies, I came to the brilliant conclusion that planning stupid along with my future Barbie/Marilyn look would be the best route to take in life. 

Good bye, Winnie Cooper. You almost had me because you were close enough to a tomboy, and you made smart okay, but the illustrious lure of being a pampered Blonde Bombshell seemed like it would be more fun.

http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/47/f8/93/47f893c165080d83f3b8c8d196d2b5d2.jpg

Pamela 

http://byebyepie.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54f9367fb88340133ece40cfe970b-pi

As I entered my teen years, the popular stars on cable TV were Rhonda Shear ("Up All Night"), Christina Applegate, Jenny McCartney, and, the epitome of "The Barbie Effect", Pamela Anderson. I learned very quickly that I had to start adding an amount of sex appeal into my act if I was going to truly accomplish this, which I learned from watching 90210.

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These were my role models, despite my mother who was  desperately tried to get me to focus on the quality of my character and the importance of my education.

Once I got breasts (it felt like overnight process from nothing to a 32D), I just knew that my life was going to be made forever. Most teenagers are self-absorbed and vapid on any given day, but I had unknowingly turned myself into a plastic shell.

Plastic shells are hard, cold, and empty. I lived many years that way in an attempt to be a source of perfection with my own pink Dream House and a pink Corvette. I thought that I would work on the side as a singer and fashion designer, but mostly, I would simply be lavished upon by some perfect Ken.

SLAM. ON. THE. BRAKES.

As I mentioned, most of my family was obese. I had a small body with a big chest for about a year before my hips and thighs caught up with me. I was taller and had broader shoulders than almost every girl I knew and now, I was getting wider. During the early 1990's, no one was talking about eating healthy or the importance of exercise. The exception was my mother, who had learned how vital a healthy body image was for girls by this time; but, what teenage girl listens to their mother? The solution for me was bulimia.

When you become an empty, superficial person, you are very susceptible to becoming an equally dark and angry person. This happens for a few reasons, but for me it was a combination of a fake identity, a self-hatred for not being Barbie or Pam, and past "demons" that alienated me from being able to reach out to anyone with anything other than anger, hatred, and manipulation. 

Although I was surrounded by family and friends, I stayed alone in my dark world. The only thing that made me feel better was eating a gallon of ice cream or an entire pizza. Afterwards, I would feel the shame and regret that all bulimics do and simply want the horrible feelings to be gone.

I struggled with my bulimia on and off for almost 15 years. After paying over $8,000 to fix teeth that I had damaged over the years, I decided that I would not binge anymore. It was a rare occasion that I purged after paying those dental bills.

What I didn't stop doing was binge eating.

By this point in my timeline of life, I had no clue how to love anyone, especially myself. Any attempt at intimacy in my adult life was plagued with my deeply-rooted insecurities, which I masked by transforming myself mentally into some Marilyn Monroe/ Pamela Anderson mash-up character, fulfilling whatever fantasy that I thought would work.

http://37.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyosu86Bev1rocqroo1_400.jpg

The binge eating went from being a solution for a bad day to a daily pattern of sneaking to the gas station to fill my heart with the love of Little Debbie and Mr. Pibb. They made me feel whole and gave me warmth, yet my self-hatred grew along with the rest of my body. The more I hated myself, the more I ate. I was still blonde, and I still wore Pin-Up Girl make-up, but I had ballooned to a B.M.I. of 37.6 (245 lbs.). I was no Barbie, no Marilyn, and no Pam. I was an empty mess who had managed to turn everything that was good in my life into a reflection of the darkness that grew inside me (NERD ALERT: feel free to insert a Red Witch comment here).

What was I going to do now that my life-long idea of the only thing that would make me worthy had not only failed, but had also destroyed me?

My next weight-related blog will be - Being Fat Made Me a Better Person

Until next time, BE LOUDER THAN MOST!!!!