I get on these kicks, I guess, where I start writing about my weight and/or most recent weight-loss endeavor. I'll declare some sort of new-found insight or inspiration, and then write about it a couple times.
And then I won't bring it up again. Perhaps you've noticed this?
Because it'll be a week or a month or three months later and I will have stopped whatever new approach I started, and rather than having lost weight, I'll be right back where I started. Or possibly even heavier.
And then I don't want to write about any of it anymore because even though I have SO MUCH to say on the subject of weight and weight loss and body issues and OHMYGOD, it's still the hardest thing to discuss. It's the thing I'm most private about in my whole life. In actuality I will talk about my parents or my feelings or my opinions on politics and religion and education or we can talk about deep-seated fears or even sex. I may cry and get choked up about talking about, say, my mom. But I'm comparatively comfortable doing it.
Writing about my body? That's just terrifying.
Now, sometimes it's true. Sometimes I get really good suggestions or feedback or support and it's wonderful. But at the same time, the LAST thing I want to hear is someone I don't know who has no real basis of understanding me or my background offer advice. I do not want advice. I especially do not want advice from someone who starts their advice with, "Why don't you just...?"
Because I have, just.
I also feel like I can't just write about it to write about it. Like, if I don't have a plan or idea or something in place, then what's the point? Won't it just seem like I'm whining?
Maybe. I guess.
But here it is, almost June, which is to say almost one month shy of my 32nd birthday, and I started this blog when I was 29 and you know. Lots of things have happened in these two-and-a-half years, but significant weight loss is not one of them.
And why not?
I don't really know. I have given up trying to get at The Answer. The Solution. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's lots of things. (Probably.) But I'm tired of feeling this way.
There are a ton of things I don't or can't or won't do because of my size. Did you know that? Are you the same way? I don't think it's all a matter of self-esteem, though some of it is. It's just -- there are things I'm missing out on in this life because I'm so damn heavy, and it occurred to me this morning: maybe I should list them out.
Maybe if I write out what all I'm not doing, all the things I do differently, and see it in print, exposed to the world, I can be inspired to change for real. So here goes, in no order other than how I think of them:
1. I do not get bikini waxes.
Probably a lot of things will fall under the category of "cosmetic." It's just that at my core, I do not believe that I can ever be beautiful enough at this weight to have the details matter much. Sometimes I get facials because my face is probably my best asset, and I want to take care of it. And I get pedicures because I wear sandals a lot. But a bikini wax just seems unnecessary. I don't wear bathing suits, for one. And for two, my confidence is simply not high enough to allow me to drag myself to a salon and be all like, HERE ARE MY INNER THIGHS to some poor stranger. No matter how much I'm paying her.
2. I do not wear heels.
I have a few pairs of shoes with some heel to them, but they hurt my feet and knees and entire body to wear for any length of time. In fact, I don't buy "hot" shoes at all. I buy "cool" shoes that are easy to walk in. Granted, even when I'm thinner I don't like uncomfortable shoes, but there's a huge difference shoes that are "uncomfortable" and shoes that basically make it impossible for me to get around.
3. I do not buy nice clothes.
I have some outfits that are suitable for "important" work days, and a couple standard black dresses. Otherwise, I dress for comfort. It's not like I'm devoid of good taste, it's that my options are incredibly limited. If I want to wear something that actually fits me and looks tailored, I'm a. going to have to go shopping at a "specialty" store or the "Woman" section of the department store, and b. going to have to spend a lot of money on it.
Granted, I usually spill stuff on myself, which makes buying/wearing "nice" clothes never an economical decision, but that's not the point. The point is, "plus-size" clothing, as a concept and an experience, is humiliating and ridiculous. I usually decide it's simply not worth it.
I'll stick to jeans and layered t-shirts, thanks.
4. I do not go to clubs.
I'm a little old for club-hopping anyway, and was never interested in Seeing and Being Seen, but right now, I avoid those kinds of trendy places like the plague. For one thing, I don't have the clothes to pull it off. But honestly, even if I did -- even if I found some way to dress my body in an uber-chic way -- I know that I would still appear invisible at these kinds of places.
5. I have stopped going to my gym.
I know how ridiculous this is, trust me. I need to get over this one, and I will. But the truth is, I realized I stopped going to the gym because of how it made me feel. I am the heaviest one in the whole place. That is not an easy cross to bear, or a distinction I can easily ignore. Even though I will either have to, or move to a different gym.
I am reading back through this list and it just seems so dumb. I want to delete this post, even, because the whole thing seems kind of pointless. I just feel so stuck and confused.
* * *
Ish and I are meeting with a personal trainer tomorrow night. I've never been to a trainer, not really. I'm very interested to see what he thinks and how he might have me/us approach a routine together.
As always, I'm skeptical but optimistic. I figure, something's gotta work sometime, right?
A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step toward high-heel shoes...