The Clean-Up Crew

I've been watching a lot of Hoarders lately. Have you seen this show?

Oh, I was horrified by the first episode I saw, but then I felt a compulsion (irony?) to watch the entire series.

Every episode tells the story of two hoarders. It shows their frightening, weird, scary, unsanitary living conditions. You see interviews with the hoarders, who seem all but oblivious to "how bad it's gotten." Then A&E sends in a mental health professional and a clean-up crew to intervene. They spend a few days trying to get the houses back to livable conditions.

The worst, hardest part of each episode is when the hoarder is about halfway through the first day's clean-up. That's when they seem to come out of their delusional "I just collect things" or "It's not that bad, it's not actually dirty" states of denial and realize exactly what a giant heap of insanity they're living with. That realization is hard and uncomfortable and most of them don't deal with it very well.

I am not a hoarder, but I am very empathetic.

(Do you see where I'm going with this?)

The dietary changes I made starting in January were good ones. But if I am being honest -- bleh, and who likes to be this honest, really? -- the changes I've made are the equivalent of a hoarder deciding to "straighten up" their kitchen. It's just not enough: it's barely scratching the surface.

Yes, losing 8-10 pounds and then plateauing is an okay start. And it might be okay for long-term weight-loss, too. IF I were only trying to lose 15, 20, even 40 pounds.

But that kind of weight-loss is, I think, the equivalent of a hoarder who decides to dust or do the dishes. Sure, doing the dishes is a necessary part of cleaning a "messy" house. It's not the same for someone whose house is bursting at the seams.

For someone whose house is bursting at the seams, something drastic has to be done before you can worry about washing the dishes. The the clean-up crew has to come in and make big, sweeping, necessary, (even live-saving) changes first.

Well, and there it is.

If I want to get anywhere near my medical-community-approved "ideal" weight, I need to lose about 100 pounds. Yes, 100.

Does that number seem insane to you? Because it seems damn crazy to me.

But then ugh. See, it is SO EASY for me to spend paragraph after paragraph writing things like, "I don't look like I need to lose 100 pounds," or "I'm still able to go to the gym," or "I'm not missing out on life at all because of my weight" because I've written those things here countless times. And you know? All of those things ARE true.

Hoarders who proclaim they "just collect a lot of stuff" are telling the truth, also.

So now what?

This is hard. Haaaaaaaaaaard. And I don't even mean the dieting part. Because I will stand by my statement that I am not miserable. I just want to lose weight because it's time that I lose weight.

What's hard is realizing just how much weight I have to lose. That means facing some pretty ugly realities. It's hard to let go of my comfy-cozy version of how I look, the version I "just walk around with" because I haven't prioritized anything else. It's hard to really see myself at the weight I actually am. It's hard acknowledging that the tips and tricks and general diet modifications that work for normal-people's weight-loss aren't ever going to be enough for me at this size.

It's hard to realize that I need my own, personal, clean-up crew.

But I do. Because this amount of junk? It's just not going anywhere without help.

The good news is: I've found the crew.

I'm starting Medifast today.

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I am both scared and excited to be starting this program, and will be sharing the very real details of my experiences here. But because Medifast approached me, and is kindly providing me with the stuff I need, I can't write about the program details here (due to my relationship with BlogHerAds). So, I will be providing general progress reports and weight-loss updates, but any program specifics will be detailed on my review blog.