Monday, January 31, 2005
this, of course, is facilitated by my not owning a scale.
my boyfriend does, though, and yesterday in a moment of weakness (and after devouring some SBD-friendly pancakes) i jumped on it. because i'm an idiot.
naturally, the needle was not where it was supposed to be. it was supposed to surprise me by being even lower than i'd hoped and instead, it was exactly where i left it last weekend. i even tried shifting my weight and jiggling the thing a bit, but really, i had to admit the inevitable.
"THIS TOTALLY SUCKS!" i screamed in an annoyed frenzy. "I HATE THIS!"
"what's the matter?" my concerned boyfriend, t, asked.
"i stepped on the scale," i confessed.
"i thought you said you weren't going to do that."
"well, i wasn't."
"so what happened?"
"i got curious."
"you were the one who said this part is the hardest and that you were going to wait a few weeks. maybe you're losing weight but gaining muscle mass."
"yeah, maybe i am. or maybe i'm just gaining pancakes."
"why would you weigh yourself after pancakes?"
"i couldn't help it."
"i'm hiding the scale."
Friday, January 28, 2005
just because i'm not actively covering myself up under a tent does not mean i am happy being overweight. in fact, please do not assume that i am even remotely resigned to being thought of as heavy.
for instance. generally when skinny girls are complaining about putting on a few pounds, i try to be encouraging or positive or accepting. i mean, obviously i understand body issues. but sometimes i can't help but point out the obvious--that while i DO understand, i'm probably not the best person for someone moving from size 4 to size 6 to complain to.
and sometimes i say so. and then i get the worst line of all:
"oh, but it looks okay on you!"
um, what? did you really just suggest that my fat looks okay on me? that it's okay for me to look this way? that i should think i look fine, when my weight is 150% of yours? would you even consider saying that to a skinny person?
another example: my friend m was enjoying a massage from her regular masseuse, who absent-mindedly mentioned that m reminded her of another client . . . a client who the masseuse had just discussed as being very out of shape. "you remind me of her," the masseuse said. m hoped she didn't mean body-wise, given how negatively the masseuse had described it. but the masseuse added, "especially your girth reminds me of her."
obviously, the masseuse did not mean to outrightly insult my friend, but how oblivious do you have to be to use the word "girth"!?!?
m's reaction was completely understandable. suddenly saddened, self-conscious, and a little shocked, m couldn't help but think "no more touching my body. fuck you, skinny bitch from hell!" and i can't blame her.
so i repeat: just because we're walking around with it doesn't mean we're resigned to it. if it's not okay for you, chances are it's not okay for us, either.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
looks like i've lost about 8 lbs. in 15 days...maybe closer to 9 or 10. pretty darn good. i showed up at work on tuesday morning thinking "yay!"
but that didn't last. i got ahead of myself and forgot about the evil flip side. i forgot what it's like at the beginning.
the beginning is a bitch. it's all i can do to get motivated, to accept that this is a looooong process that requires changes in diet but also in habits, mindsets, attitude. but i DO accept these things. i start thinking of all the benefits. i start remembering what it's like to be thin. and then, i do the worst thing of all. i start envisioning myself as thin.
i get so excited about the first hints of weight dropping, i accidentally start thinking that i look totally different. i start thinking that 10 pounds is enough to make everyone on the planet notice how different i look. i expect the "ooohs" and "ahhhs" that come, eventually, with significant weight loss.
and then i show up at work, and no one says anything. and i go to the ladies' room and look in the mirror, and i am shocked, baffled, and disappointed.
i look the same.
and that is when i get discouraged. sure, it's great that i've made the first dent, but shouldn't 10 (#$#*(&%#) pounds look...umm...more something? garner at least a "you look different, did you do something to your hair" statement?
"aw, man." i know that i'm off to a good start, but it's hard to battle the reality that i've still got so far to go.
i just have to look forward to the day when 10 pounds is all i have left to lose. and, of course, the oohs and ahhs along the way.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
in actuality, i've been phasing into phase two since i developed the SBD for Drunks (see earlier post) 6 days in. whatever--technicalities.
i don't much feel like going near a scale. i'm not ready to face disappointment. i'd rather wait till i know that i've lost something substantial. for now, my clothes are looser, my body is changing shape, and i know i've made a dent in my appetite.
yesterday my entire meal plan consisted of a handful of whole wheat crisps and a couple gin and (diet) tonics. i'm not recommending this as healthy.
i *am* looking forward to eating healthy in general, though. today's lunch is some pre-packaged meal called "carbtastic." i don't know if this qualifies as healthy, but it does involve some wheat-y pasta stuff, so it can't be all bad.
otherwise, yeah; if i can manage to go to the gym more than once a week, that might help, too. *grumbles*
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
it doesn’t matter which camp you’re in – whether you think “big is beautiful” or that being overweight completely sucks – the clothes-shopping experience is downright insulting.
first of all, as a marketer and as a human being, i do not understand the reasoning behind department stores separating plus-size clothing from normal-size clothing. why is this? is it because the clothes are so differently styled? or is it just a matter of space? because either way, i still don’t get it.
if it’s style – why? why not offer the “normal” clothes in larger sizes…and on the same racks? why offer those adorable pants in sizes 0-14, but then offer only the ugliest, most unflattering, pleated-front-tapered-leg-balloon pants for sizes 14 on up?
who decided that women over a certain size have no fashion sense, no careers, and no social life? because let me tell you, the clothes i have to choose from are offensive. they are matronly and flowered. they are saggy and baggy and pastel in the wrong way. the few lines that try to be “hip” are terribly ill-conceived.
so where are the pants that flare? where are the skirts that are a-lined and above the knee? where are the summer shirts or undershirts that aren’t sleeveless? (why are all the shirts sleeveless?) where are the clothes for the office? where are the selections for a night on the town? i won’t even bother to ask where the sleepwear or lingerie options are.
as far as i can tell, instead of being designed to flatter, plus-sized clothes are designed to allow heaps of excess fat to billow beneath their tent-like sheath. they offer, essentially, trussed up versions of muumuus.
but see, here’s the thing: i’m a size 16, not jabba the hut. i’m also young and active. i am not a grandmother (i’m not even a mother), i’m not a school marm from 4 decades ago, and i’m not living in a fashion vacuum. just because i’m overweight doesn’t mean i don’t care how i look.
i’m not dumpy or frumpy and i don’t want to be made to feel like i am.
and it’s not just the styles that make my shopping experience depressing, but where they’re offered. i always feel a little bit slapped in the face when i see that the plus-size clothing is in a completely different zone from the rest of women’s clothing: Women’s Clothing – Floor Three; Woman’s World (Sizes 14 and up) – The Cellar. (and when did "woman" become synonymous with plus-size? ?)
yes, there is a macy's in connecticut where the plus-size department is located on the bottom floor. in the basement. in a corner. next to the bedding. (i always thought maybe they should just combine departments since half of what was offered already looked like bedspreads.)
what sort of message are these stores getting at? please, i already feel marginalized enough. you don’t have to send me down three escalators and hide me away to let me know that i am not the preferred body type for designers, retailers, or merchandisers (or most men, or employers, or hollywood…). trust me, i know.
thank you for taking my money anyway.
Friday, January 14, 2005
however! the way this is supposed to start is that for the first 2 weeks, you cut out just about all carbs. no sugars, no starches. (beans and tomatoes are okay, i have no idea why.) you're also supposed to limit your caffeine. and have no alcohol.
yes, you read that correctly. no alcohol.
still, i managed to get through the first six days flawlessly. then on saturday night i developed the new South Beach Diet for Drunks, wherein you follow all of Phase One strictly except for the part about not drinking.
makes perfect sense to me. i figure, i gotta do what works.
and speaking of what works. i'm also--of course--trying to work out regularly and make that a part of my life. i have transferred my curves membership to the one nearer to my apartment. my goal is to get to the gym at least 3 times a week. last week i made it twice. i haven't been yet this week at all. i figure i'm easing into these lifestyle changes. by february, i expect the 3x/week to be a no-brainer.
as for actual weight loss, i have no idea. i'm going to hold off on weighing myself until after this two-week Phase One thing is over. i'm sure i've lost some.
overall, it's been hard and is a pain, but i know it's worth it. and so long as i can indulge in the occassional cocktail, i think this just might work.
- bore you -- or me -- with entries that detail what i've eaten. i might make mention of highlights (ask me about my at-work microwave omelet pan!), but this is not an "i had half a grapefruit and one slice of wheat toast with a teaspoon of reduced-fat peanut butter" type thing. because yawn.
- base this on numbers, a la "i lost 2.4 lbs this week." because also yawn. plus i don't have a scale and don't want one. oh sure, i might take the occassional peek at other people's scales and i do have a Goal Weight Sorta, but none of us need to know what i weigh every day. least of all me.
no, no. this is way more about the darker, funnier side of weight. and not just the excrutiating process of weight loss, but the whole concept of weight and being female. 'cuz it's a little bit crazy.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
One day, my mom took her four-year-old niece, Lisa shopping. My mother decided to try on a pair of pants, so she brought Lori into the dressing room with her. As she looked in the mirror, it was evident that the pants were too small. My mom stared despondently at her rear-end.
"My god, my butt is huge," my mom said -- to herself and to the impressionable child. "What am I gonna do?"
Lisa answered immediately, casually, with a wave of her hand:
"Oh, my mom gots dat. She just walks around with it."
so really, the point is twofold. first and foremost, i'm sick and tired of walking around with it. i'm tired of being overweight. and even though i've been walking around with this torturous mass for several years now, i'm tired of not recognizing myself when i look in the mirror. and i'm tired of not doing enough about it.
now i'm going to do enough about it.
i'm going to lose the weight i want and gain control of my body and health. i'm going to diet and i'm going to exercise. and i'm going to whine and be a basketcase the whole time. and i'm going to track the entire mess of it here.
the second point, however, is about attitude. i know this is going to be hard and i know it's going to take me the better part of 2005 (the year i turn 30 thankyouverymuch) to get to my ideal size. which means that even though i'm expecting great things to happen, there will be many days when i feel defeated: gross, ugly, unattractive, and really really fat. on those days -- the days when i feel like i haven't made any progress, or when i feel like the progress will never be enough -- those are the days i will have to remind myself that sometimes the best we can do is try and stay positive, put on lipstick, grab a martini, and just walk around with it.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Now, before we get too far into the "personal" aspect here, I should state for the record: I am actually a professional. I am a founder and partner of a successful social media network and agency, and come from a sort-of intense -- albeit rather diverse at times -- business background. I held my first agency marketing position at age 19 and have been online since 1993. I state this because NONE of that will seem obvious by reading anything else here. Hi.
- My ass, for which this blog is mostly named
- Oh, and Gin
- And Bourbon
- My boobs, which have their own gravitational force
- My sisters
- <s>My a cappella group</s> (this ended after kid #2)
- My husband, Peter, who goes by "Ish"
- My two young children, who are listed last because they came on the scene well after I'd started blogging
Both of my parents died of cancer by the time I was 30.
- I started this blog under the guise that I would be using it to write about my weight loss efforts. And if you've been following along, you'll know that the only proper response to hearing that is HAHAHAHA.
- This is why I can't wear sundresses:
- I grew up in Connecticut in a big, falling-apart farmhouse that was not unlike a zoo. My parents raised me and my two younger sisters with lots of love and animals and games and fun, but only parts of my childhood were idyllic. Many pieces were broken, too. As a point of reference, we were not raised with any religion at all. Unless by "religion" you mean "bourbon" in which case I say hallelujah, amen.
- I fall a lot. And spill. And trip. I am always bruised. (True story: as I was driving to work this morning, I noticed that I had managed to get a glop of toothpaste on my pant leg, just under my knee. HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN? I don't know. It just does.) My friend refers to this as my "breezy elegance." I try to embrace it.
- I am liberal, in pretty much every way you can be liberal.
- Given how much I spill and trip and make a complete ass out of myself, it may be hard for you to believe that I have ever had an actual job. You are not wrong to be confused. But as I state above, before I left the workplace to be a Stay-At-Home-Mom, I actually had impressive-y type jobs at Important Organizations, including this company, which we liked to refer to as being in "The Fortune 1." (CORPORATE HUMOR, FOLKS.)
More recently, I was the person who ran BlogHer's Conferences and Events and all related Marketing. That means that I was responsible for running the BlogHer Conferences when they were just getting off the ground. I take great pride in this, since our events seemed to set the bar for blogging conferences everywhere. It was a tough job, but I daresay I know as much as anyone about how sponsors and bloggers should work together.
A few twists and fortuitous turns later, I joined forces with the women who launched Clever Girls Collective. I'm now a full-fledged partner in our kickass social media agency, and find that running my own business while being a work-from-home mom is exactly what I want to be doing. It allows me to be smart and productive despite having stains on my shirt.
Also, I know a lot of stuff.
Hmm. There are also like, a million other things I should probably also mention, but I don't know how to prioritize them. So oh well. Maybe you will have to read the blog after all.
Or you could just ask. I kind of suck at replying to email in a timely fashion, but I will write you back eventually.
But just because you read this much (wow!), I have posted some pictures below for your enjoyment.
Further synopsis via random snapshots!
I have two younger sisters (featured circa 1984):
Foreshadowing a life as a super-sexy knitter, in high school, I was a super-sexy member of the marching band. My senior year, I was even the drum major:
Then I thought I grew up, so I got married:
I was wrong about the grown-up thing, so I got divorced, drove across the country, and spent several years living in San Francisco as though I were 22. Disposable income FTW!
(That's the cable car going by.)
I like gin martinis:
Now I live in Napa with these cute people (photo December, 2009):
If you would like to be included here, please just send me an email.