Fat boy goes to the pool
See his reflection, doesn't know what to do
He feels little inside and filled with pride
Oh, fragile flame
No one sees the same
fat boy goes about his day
Trying to think of funny things to say
Like, "This is just a game I play"
And "I like me this way"
Oh, fragile flame
When no one feels the same
Hush, sleep, don't think, just eat
You daddy's little boy
You mama's pride and joy
You know they love ya
But not because they hold ya
Fat boy says "Wouldn't it be nice
If I could melt myself like ice
Or outrun my skin and just be pure wind"
Oh, fragile flame
Sometimes I feel the same
Fat Boy - Jewel
When you've been overweight for so long... Wait, let me rephrase... When you've been told you're overweight enough times for so long, you eventually start to believe it. Even if it's not entirely true. Honestly, for a few years there, I was, in fact, overweight. I really did get to be pretty big. In fact, one time after visiting the doctor, I was on my way out the door when he ran back out to talk to me. He said he didn't realize I was 203 pounds. I stood there SHOCKED that he'd actually come out of the back offices to tell me that. I don't even remember how I responded, but he said I should try to lose a little weight. If it's one thing that makes you feel worse than knowing yourself you should lose weight, it's having someone actually TELL you you should do it. In the middle of a lobby full of people. Thanks, Doc, for stating the obvious. I ran out of there red as a lobster.
And even after I'd lost the weight, I still felt like a beached whale! Shopping was still a nightmare (still is). I thought it would get better. But I could still see her: the perpetual fat girl who lives inside my body.
I know she's there. She sits behind the windows of my eyes and criticizes every inch of me. "You shouldn't wear that." Perpetual Fat Girl snidely whispers in my ears in the morning. "You shouldn't eat that." She says with every bite I take. And forget looking in the mirror. She has this thing she does where she makes me think I look fatter than I really do. In fact, she makes me feel like a monster. Really. It's the worst when I'm doing a show. Sitting backstage and watching the skinny girls traipse around the dressing room in their underwear-only covered perfect bodies. Perpetual Fat Girl says that next to them I look like a giant potato shoved into jeans.
Whenever I talk to certain people (mostly people who knew me during my real fat days), Perpetual Fat Girl convinces me that they're secretly thinking I look fat. She tells me that people are just wondering when I will gain it all back. I make jokes to get it out in the open so that people will know that I'm already on top of things and don't intend on completely falling off the wagon.
After having read all that, you may think that it's a wonder I'm not anorexic or bulimic. Well, it's simple, and I would think, clearly obvious: I like food too much (obviously) and after binging and purging so many times, you can wear down your esophagus and that disgusts me. Also, I feel like that could somehow damage my vocal cords, and I'm a singer. So... No eating disorders here... cough cough.
I've been working really hard lately, trying to get Perpetual Fat Girl to move out. I even do things to deliberately go against what she tells me. For example, this summer, I was not the "food nazi" that I normally am. I let myself enjoy things once in a while rather than limiting myself to a strict diet. When I would tell someone that I still had 20 pounds to go and they looked at me funny, Perpetual Fat Girl told me they were just trying to be polite. But, I IGNORED HER! I think I hurt her feelings, because I haven't seen her very often since then. But I know she's there. She does things every now and then to remind me of her existence. And you know how I let her affect me now? I don't let her render me helpless, or even hopeless. She keeps me motivated!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
My Big Fat Story
"All of these lines across my face tell you the story of who I am. So many stories of where I've been and how I got to where I am." - The Story Brandi Carlisle
This is my big fat story...
I have been watching my weight since fourth grade. I started developing faster than the other girls in my class. And, looking back, I was chubby because I was about to hit a growth spurt. But tell that to a class full of 10-year-old skinny girls. I was constantly chided and called fat on a daily basis. I was the last to get picked for any sports-related things, and I never could make it up those ropes that they made us climb in gym class. I had an uncle who "lovingly" called me "fatso" when I was young. I laughed it off, but, truthfully, it really did some damage. To this day, I cringe whenever I hear someone say it.
Now about my heritage... I'm Italian. And I have the signature "birthing hips" to prove it. I can't so much as look at a bowl of spaghetti without my backside ballooning out my pants! Italians have been known to be curvy and voluptuous. And I'm not talking about the kind of curves that some large women refer to themselves as to make them feel better. No, that is called "round."
I had been merely curvy throughout high school, but then I met my first husband. He was a bigger guy, and made me feel rather small. And you know how it is when you are around certain people who eat what they want: you tend to do the same thing. And so I traveled up the size chart until I was a size 22. WOW! Even now as I write this, I can hardly believe I let myself do that!
But do that, I did. And I was miserable. I was so afraid to step onto a scale! The last time I had looked, I was over 220 lbs!!! And people would tell me I didn't look THAT big, because it was very proportional. But I couldn't shop at regular young women clothing stores, because they didn't carry my size. I never went swimming because putting on a swimming suit was detrimental to my self-esteem. I was getting to where my quality of life was becoming limited. I was involved in a dinner theatre and the parts I could play were becoming fewer and fewer. Finally, the director of one of the shows we were doing came to me and said she would love for me to play Eva Peron in Evita, but I'd have to lose weight first.
That did it. I went to the store that night and purchased a book about the Atkins diet. I read every bit and started the next day. By the time the show opened I lost 20 pounds. And in 4 months, I lost 40! But trying to stick to the diet was becoming extremely hard and I quit. One of the bad things about Atkins is that once you stop, it's very easy to gain weight back. And that's exactly what happened to me. I gained 20 back right away. I started and stopped the Atkins Diet no less than THIRTEEN times!! And that's when I realized... THERE'S NO GIMMICK THAT WILL MAKE THIS FAT JUST GO AWAY: I have to do the work and make actual lifestyle changes. I didn't gain the weight overnight. Therefore, I wasn't going to lose it overnight.
I joined Weight Watchers online and read all the literature I could about losing weight. But the more and more I read, the more I became aware of a common thread. Each article had basically the same thing to say: Eat less, move more. Burn more calories than you consume. What a concept! I took this to heart. I started walking every chance I could. I joined a gym and actually went! I got rid of things in my life that were "weigh-"ing me down (get it?). No more junk food, no more splurging on dinners at overpriced restaurants, and I got divorced.
And, suddenly, the weight started falling off! I was down to 175 pounds. People were constantly stopping me and telling me how great I looked, how "skinny" I looked. It made me want to work harder. That was the summer that gas prices soared to $4.00/gallon. So, I bought a bike and gave up my car for a summer. I lost 15 more pounds!
Soon after, I met the love of my life! He is a healthy person and cares about his body, which is one of the most attractive things about him. I was surprised when I discovered how supportive he was (is) of eating healthy and keeping a workout routine. I found myself deliciously happy and we married soon after. And more weight was falling of in the meanwhile!
Now, you may think that 155 pounds is a lot for a woman. Even on a 5' 6" frame. But, to me, it's heaven! And I'm no longer embarrassed about it, because I see it as an achievement! And I did it all by myself!
So that is, in a nutshell, my big fat story. Throughout the course of this blog, I will be sharing with you the rest of my journey. My thoughts, advice, celebrations, heartache, and recipes. I hope you will find it inspiring or, if nothing else, entertaining.
This is my big fat story...
I have been watching my weight since fourth grade. I started developing faster than the other girls in my class. And, looking back, I was chubby because I was about to hit a growth spurt. But tell that to a class full of 10-year-old skinny girls. I was constantly chided and called fat on a daily basis. I was the last to get picked for any sports-related things, and I never could make it up those ropes that they made us climb in gym class. I had an uncle who "lovingly" called me "fatso" when I was young. I laughed it off, but, truthfully, it really did some damage. To this day, I cringe whenever I hear someone say it.
Now about my heritage... I'm Italian. And I have the signature "birthing hips" to prove it. I can't so much as look at a bowl of spaghetti without my backside ballooning out my pants! Italians have been known to be curvy and voluptuous. And I'm not talking about the kind of curves that some large women refer to themselves as to make them feel better. No, that is called "round."
I had been merely curvy throughout high school, but then I met my first husband. He was a bigger guy, and made me feel rather small. And you know how it is when you are around certain people who eat what they want: you tend to do the same thing. And so I traveled up the size chart until I was a size 22. WOW! Even now as I write this, I can hardly believe I let myself do that!
But do that, I did. And I was miserable. I was so afraid to step onto a scale! The last time I had looked, I was over 220 lbs!!! And people would tell me I didn't look THAT big, because it was very proportional. But I couldn't shop at regular young women clothing stores, because they didn't carry my size. I never went swimming because putting on a swimming suit was detrimental to my self-esteem. I was getting to where my quality of life was becoming limited. I was involved in a dinner theatre and the parts I could play were becoming fewer and fewer. Finally, the director of one of the shows we were doing came to me and said she would love for me to play Eva Peron in Evita, but I'd have to lose weight first.
That did it. I went to the store that night and purchased a book about the Atkins diet. I read every bit and started the next day. By the time the show opened I lost 20 pounds. And in 4 months, I lost 40! But trying to stick to the diet was becoming extremely hard and I quit. One of the bad things about Atkins is that once you stop, it's very easy to gain weight back. And that's exactly what happened to me. I gained 20 back right away. I started and stopped the Atkins Diet no less than THIRTEEN times!! And that's when I realized... THERE'S NO GIMMICK THAT WILL MAKE THIS FAT JUST GO AWAY: I have to do the work and make actual lifestyle changes. I didn't gain the weight overnight. Therefore, I wasn't going to lose it overnight.
I joined Weight Watchers online and read all the literature I could about losing weight. But the more and more I read, the more I became aware of a common thread. Each article had basically the same thing to say: Eat less, move more. Burn more calories than you consume. What a concept! I took this to heart. I started walking every chance I could. I joined a gym and actually went! I got rid of things in my life that were "weigh-"ing me down (get it?). No more junk food, no more splurging on dinners at overpriced restaurants, and I got divorced.
And, suddenly, the weight started falling off! I was down to 175 pounds. People were constantly stopping me and telling me how great I looked, how "skinny" I looked. It made me want to work harder. That was the summer that gas prices soared to $4.00/gallon. So, I bought a bike and gave up my car for a summer. I lost 15 more pounds!
Soon after, I met the love of my life! He is a healthy person and cares about his body, which is one of the most attractive things about him. I was surprised when I discovered how supportive he was (is) of eating healthy and keeping a workout routine. I found myself deliciously happy and we married soon after. And more weight was falling of in the meanwhile!
Now, you may think that 155 pounds is a lot for a woman. Even on a 5' 6" frame. But, to me, it's heaven! And I'm no longer embarrassed about it, because I see it as an achievement! And I did it all by myself!
So that is, in a nutshell, my big fat story. Throughout the course of this blog, I will be sharing with you the rest of my journey. My thoughts, advice, celebrations, heartache, and recipes. I hope you will find it inspiring or, if nothing else, entertaining.
The Secret To Growing Old and Looking Young
"One day you turn around and it's summer.
The next day you turn around and it's fall.
And suddenly, all the springs and winters of a lifetime,
Whatever happened to them all?
As a man, who has always had the wandering ways
Now I'm looking back on yesterdays
'Til a long forgotten love appears
And I find, I'm sighing softly as I near
September, the warm September of my years
As a man, who has never paused at wishing wells
Now I'm watching children's carousels
And their laughter's music to my ears
And I find, I'm smiling gently as I near
September, the warm September of my years
- The golden warm September of my years"
The September of My Years, Frank Sinatra
I work at an independent living community (Don’t EVER call it a “facility.” That is the “F” word and is considered offensive, for it refers to a rundown nursing home. Much like Shady Pines…). I work very closely with elderly people 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday. Before I started, I thought it would drive me nuts. But you know what? I love the residents! They just want/need someone to talk to. And I love indulging them by listening patiently to their stories, watching their eyes sparkle when they remember something dear to them or watching the pain twinge in their face when they tell me about their love of 50+ years who has passed.
They are all characters and I love each one of them dearly. I try to make their lives as easy as possible. I help Ethel with her hearing aids every morning. She has collapsed ear canals, which makes it hard for her to get the hearing aids in. Plus, she has macular degeneration so she can’t see all that well. (Can you see your ear canal?) She gets so frustrated with herself and her self esteem has suffered. But I insist she is doing great and making progress. Betty stops by my desk several times throughout the day to ask what the door code is to the building next door because she can’t remember (Her apartment is littered with post-its I have made for her, reminding her of upcoming events and appointments). I try not to laugh after the fourth time and pretend she’s never asked before. Fran has arthritis so bad that it has crippled her hands and turned her thumbs sideways. But I’m not afraid to hold her hand sometimes as she walks to her room to rest after breakfast. Evelyn, a petite Jewish lady from the Bronx, calls me “Stephanotchky,” which makes my heart smile every time I hear her say it.
This job has forced me to see many things in a different light. I have done things I never thought I’d ever have to do or COULD do, for that matter. For example, I have wiped vomit off a face without flinching, helped a lady put her pants on even after she’d messed herself (the ambulance was coming), sat with someone who thought they might be having a stroke while they waited for an ambulance… It is sad, but it is life. We all will need this kind of help should we be “lucky” enough to live to see 85 or 90.
There are two kinds of people here in the community: Active and sedentary. And if you want the secret to looking/feeling young, it’s quite simple: stay active! Walk. Exercise. Keep moving. The residents who are active are more vibrant and alive than the ones who sit in their apartments all day. They look years younger, too. The active ones don't tire as easily and have more energy. Their skin looks radiant and doesn't sag as much.
Ask yourself if you want to be confined to a walker or wheelchair when you grow old. And it's ok if you can't envision yourself there yet. You may have a long way to go, but start now. You won't regret it!
The next day you turn around and it's fall.
And suddenly, all the springs and winters of a lifetime,
Whatever happened to them all?
As a man, who has always had the wandering ways
Now I'm looking back on yesterdays
'Til a long forgotten love appears
And I find, I'm sighing softly as I near
September, the warm September of my years
As a man, who has never paused at wishing wells
Now I'm watching children's carousels
And their laughter's music to my ears
And I find, I'm smiling gently as I near
September, the warm September of my years
- The golden warm September of my years"
The September of My Years, Frank Sinatra
I work at an independent living community (Don’t EVER call it a “facility.” That is the “F” word and is considered offensive, for it refers to a rundown nursing home. Much like Shady Pines…). I work very closely with elderly people 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday. Before I started, I thought it would drive me nuts. But you know what? I love the residents! They just want/need someone to talk to. And I love indulging them by listening patiently to their stories, watching their eyes sparkle when they remember something dear to them or watching the pain twinge in their face when they tell me about their love of 50+ years who has passed.
They are all characters and I love each one of them dearly. I try to make their lives as easy as possible. I help Ethel with her hearing aids every morning. She has collapsed ear canals, which makes it hard for her to get the hearing aids in. Plus, she has macular degeneration so she can’t see all that well. (Can you see your ear canal?) She gets so frustrated with herself and her self esteem has suffered. But I insist she is doing great and making progress. Betty stops by my desk several times throughout the day to ask what the door code is to the building next door because she can’t remember (Her apartment is littered with post-its I have made for her, reminding her of upcoming events and appointments). I try not to laugh after the fourth time and pretend she’s never asked before. Fran has arthritis so bad that it has crippled her hands and turned her thumbs sideways. But I’m not afraid to hold her hand sometimes as she walks to her room to rest after breakfast. Evelyn, a petite Jewish lady from the Bronx, calls me “Stephanotchky,” which makes my heart smile every time I hear her say it.
This job has forced me to see many things in a different light. I have done things I never thought I’d ever have to do or COULD do, for that matter. For example, I have wiped vomit off a face without flinching, helped a lady put her pants on even after she’d messed herself (the ambulance was coming), sat with someone who thought they might be having a stroke while they waited for an ambulance… It is sad, but it is life. We all will need this kind of help should we be “lucky” enough to live to see 85 or 90.
There are two kinds of people here in the community: Active and sedentary. And if you want the secret to looking/feeling young, it’s quite simple: stay active! Walk. Exercise. Keep moving. The residents who are active are more vibrant and alive than the ones who sit in their apartments all day. They look years younger, too. The active ones don't tire as easily and have more energy. Their skin looks radiant and doesn't sag as much.
Ask yourself if you want to be confined to a walker or wheelchair when you grow old. And it's ok if you can't envision yourself there yet. You may have a long way to go, but start now. You won't regret it!
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