Sunday, October 25, 2009

Chubbly? Not For Long!

I may be chubbly, but not for long.

Food and me? Well, we have an exciting relationship. We thrive off each other, really. Food makes me happy, and when I accept her, she likes to just glomp on to me and hang out. She thinks she's being funny, but really she's not. Food is just hanging around and making me fat.

It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't call on her so often. If I didn't call on her, she'd be comfortable when I needed to abandon her from time to time. But no. Instead, she's gotten so used to me needed her that she clings. She clings on my hips and my thighs. She clings onto my face, which is the worst for me as it is the most unbecoming. She clings to my ass like a crazed monkey. She clings on my boobs, though she knows she's allowed to stay there for as long as she'd like. That is the one place Food is welcome.

So, what to do about our crazy relationship?

It's time to cut the ties. least a little.

I have been chubbly my whole life. Why do I use the word "chubbly", you wonder? It's just that "chubby" sounds so gross, and "fat" is so degrading. "Chubbly" is cute. (Right?) Chubbly bubbly, chubbly cheeks...almost sounds like "cuddly", and who doesn't like cuddly?

Moving on...

I've always been a bit chubbly. However, it never hindered me, and I was always able to participate in sports, I had boyfriends and dates galore, wore clothes from normal, I avoided a lot of the stuff that typically befalls us chubbly women. How, I'll never know. Because if I wasn't being so nice to myself, I would just tell you that I was a fat cow. So how I fit into jeans from the Gap will always be one of life's greatest mysteries, but I won't complain.

My husband, who I refer to only as Hubs, has always thought I was gorgeous. He thought I was gorgeous last Christmas when I tipped the scales at a whopping 298 pounds. He grabbed my ass on a daily basis, always complimented me, and when I felt like piss going down the drain, he'd tell me I was beautiful. I always thought he was a liar, or at least a Chubby Chaser. (A not-so-nice term would be a "Fat Fucker".) He denies that he's a Chubby Chaser; time and time again he'd say, "But beautiful, you're not chubby!" But I knew different. And so did the scale. Because despite the fact that I'm 5'9 and a DD, 298 pounds is NEVER okay. It's just not. And when I had to buy a pair of size 20 jeans from the Gap sometime before the Hefty Weight of Christmas, I assured myself that their clothes were getting smaller...NOT that my waist was getting bigger. Nevermind that I was thoroughly enjoying a 640-calorie sausage, egg, cheese sandwich from Dunkin' Donuts every morning. Oh, and a 500-calorie cookie after that. Oh, and Hubs and I went out for dinner every night, so I was probably sucking down around 1800 calories for that meal. So while I wasn't sitting around eating several rotisserie chickens at once and washing them down with gallons of Tin Roof Sundae, I was clearly still eating like it was my job.

Fast-forward to May of this year. I was still hovering around 288 pounds, so...YAY ME...I lost 10 pounds with the promise of the New Year.

"I resolve to NEVER eat junk food again."

"I'm going to exercise EVERY day."

"No more desserts. NONE!"

Or something like that. And I guess it worked for a little while, but soon I was back on the Wagon of Disgusting. I traded my Dunkin' Donuts breakfast for an equally gross BK Lounge (Burger King, for those of you not in the know) breakfast. It was so bad that the little Mexican woman that took my drive-through order every day knew my voice, and the time I ordered "a Number 2, small-sized with a Diet Coke", she said, "Honey, do you mean a medium?" No, Rosa...I didn't. But since you mentioned it, that's what I'll have. I don't want to make you feel bad for being wrong, after all. So Rosa would be happy, and I would be simultaneously happy and repulsed as I ate my sausage, egg, and cheese on a biscuit with more greasy Crispy Crowns than I could shake a stick at. Thank God the soda was diet. [Roll eyes here.]

May brought my sister's birthday, and we went out and had a jolly good feast that day. That night, before Hubs and I left to come back home, my sister was despairing about how she needed to lose weight. I needed to lose weight, too; I couldn't walk up the steps without feeling winded, all of my clothes looked like total shit on me (because despite thinking that you can "dress thin" even when you're not, I looked like an uncomfortable cow in everything I wore), I had started foregoing certain activities that had a weight limit (sometimes because I didn't want to mention my weight, other times because I was just plain too fat to do something, like a zipline tour with a 240-pound weight limit), and I was getting awfully close to hitting the capacity on the scale at the doctor's office. What would they do with me then, weigh me at the zoo?

I was NOT going there.

So my sister and I made a pact that day. No more refined flour or refined sugar. Everyone knows that they're addictive, but few people know that it's actually the chemicals used in the refining process that make them addictive. So we found alternate sources of sugar, namely organic and unrefined sources. We sought out things made with whole wheat flour. We cut down our calories to about 1300 a day, which forced us to make good choices.

The week we stopped eating refined sugar and white flour, we felt like shit. I felt I had the flu for 3 days. I had tunnel vision and got dizzy every time I stood up. It felt like someone had a vice around my head. My sister stayed home from school for 2 days because she was exhausted. Considering the withdrawal we went through, I can only imagine how detrimental those things are to our bodies.

So here we are, 6 months later. I have lost 47 pounds since we started, 57 since the beginning of the year. We've felt comfortable enough to start incorporating the Forbidden Foods into our meals - but only on occasion, and really hardly ever. But if I go to my in-laws for dinner, I won't ask my mother-in-law not to use refined sugar or white flour. I either skip those things or I eat a few bites and leave it. Same with desserts. And I have a cheat meal every week, but just one meal, not a whole day. Visiting my parents is easier since my sister still lives at home. Their pantry is stocked with Kashi food, whole wheat bread, and the like. But I don't go to other people's homes and expect them to cater to me. I just do the best I can to make it a lifestyle now instead of a diet. And you know, I always hated when people said that. "It's a lifestyle, not a diet!!!" I always thought it was a load of bullshit. But it really is just have to find a lifestyle that makes sense for you. I'm not going to live a life that doesn't allow me to ever eat bread or sugar or red meat. I'm just trying to make better choices, even if I still go a little crazy once in a while. I try to follow the 90-10 rule: If I eat well 90% of the time, the 10% of the time I don't won't kill me. And so far, it's working.

And so here begins the blog, following my progress to lose the next 51 pounds so that I can hit my goal weight of 190. Less than 200...less than my husband...a size 12 in Gap jeans. That's what I'm shooting for.

And hopefully I keep my boobs.

Hideous Number time:

Current Weight: 241.2

High Weight: 298.2

Goal Weight: 190

Side note: When I told Hubs I was starting this blog, he asked me if he could read it. I said, "I don't know...the only person who knows my number is my sister." (Number meaning my weight.) Hubs said, "Beautiful, the only number I see when I look at you is 10."

How. CUTE. Hubs, you are a gem, and I love you.

No comments: