This bonnet is looking like a beehive.

I have a serious bee in my bonnet. I might be a swarm, that's how mad I am.

Losing a mammoth amount of weight isn't easy physically or mentally. I've carried this lard on me for the better part of 30 years, so the process of getting rid of it is like the longest, most drawn-out soap opera breakup of all time for me. But I'm working hard, I've been staying on program for the past twelve weeks and I'm happy with the changes I'm making in my life. But just because I'm alright with what I'm doing, that doesn't mean that I'm not impervious to what others say and the totally unwanted and misguided advice that other people serve up.

This is what has pissed me off:

At my nephew's birthday part on Sunday, I was sitting and talking to the step-mother who is also trying to lose weight, minding my own business. From basically out of nowhere, she mentions that a bariatric surgery place in the states is having a free information session on the stomach banding/reduction surgery and that she thinks I should go.

Hello? What, are you HIGH?

I explained to her that I already considered that route and that I'm better off doing what I'm doing. Then she STILL insisted that I should check it out. I shot back with the fact that it would cost over $20,ooo US and that in my case, it wouldn't solve the real problem.

Who fucking says that to someone who is still in the early stages of their weight loss? Who says that to anybody?!? Even worse, who insists on it after the idea has been rejected?

It just makes me feel (even though it SHOULD NOT) like I'm fucking this up, that my slow and somewhat steady progress isn't good enough. Is there that little faith in what I'm doing? Is this a fucking joke to people, and do they really think that I can't do this?

Of course, her opinion is just hers and that other friends and family are behind me, but this has really fucked me up. I didn't need to hear that, especially when I just cracked into the double digits.

I'm not calling her on it, because fighting with her is pointless, she can be a total twat when she wants to be.

Ugh. I hate that this is bothering me so much.

Double vision

FINALLY.

I finally cracked the double digits and am now sitting at a 10.2 lb total loss. I had no idea how it was going to go today, I had made some changes this week to what I was eating for lunch every day and I did walk a fair bit this week. But still, I am leery of getting my hopes up because we all know what kind of profanity laden, not safe for the eyes and ears of the delicate rant that would ensue.

Our usual leader was away this week, and I have to say that I don't like the one that subs in for her. I considered not staying for the meeting when I saw that it was her running the show this morning, but I stayed anyway. I actually really like going to the meetings and dedicating that chunk of my saturday morning to it. Also, I don't really like the idea of hauling ass across town on the bus just to step on a scale and get back on a bus immediately. That kind of sucks balls, so I like sitting down for a bit and just taking in what other people have to say about our common struggle.

Anyway, this substitute leader, I don't like her method. Not that it's radically different from Moya's or anything, but this chick is totally old school and seems to have a problem getting to the freaking point. And then there's the flip sheets. Oh, how there are flip sheets. It seems like for every point she (eventually) makes, there's a fucking flip sheet. Yes, visual aids can be helpful, but when you constantly get tied up in them or can't find the page you're looking for, you just gotta cut that shit out.

When I called my dad for the weekly check-in (he and his wife are doing their own weight-loss thing right now), he called me a weasel because I had lost this week. Dad and Kathie are stuck in some plateaus right now, so it was definitely a "Good for you, you weasel!" moment. He's stuck at 8 and Kathie is stuck at 10. Not too shabby, but I know exactly how they feel. I come by my "I want it all NOW" tantrums honestly, my dad can be the king of those. At least we can laugh about it, right? What freakin' brats we Bells can be.

So, on to week 12. More movement, better food planning and hopefully some more success at the scale. I want to make this a roll, not a fluke.

xo
lb

Might as well be on Mars

This will be a quick entry because I'm in such a BAD mood, I don't feel like spreading the rage.

I was up 1.8 this week. Yeah, great. I towed the line all week, walking a lot. But I made some poor/lazy choices for breakfast all week and I also had a heavier lunch than usual yesterday and honestly, I might as well have been eating fucking lead all week, because that's how I felt and the scale showed it today.

So yeah, this combined with a bunch of other shit has catapulted me into the stratosphere of pissypants moods and I am no treat to be around right now. Good thing I actually have to be on my own for the rest of the weekend to finish a sweater order.

Hopefully a more positive, less bitch-face post will happen later on this week. I'm not making any promises though.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
LB

Bodysnatcher, eh? Go right ahead.

I'm still walking to and from work every day, hooray for me. Even with a blinding stress headache and foul mood to match, I hauled ass home tonight.

Every day, while I walk, I listen to music. Lately, crazily enough, it's been just one song. Not that I'm losing my mind or anything (debatable, I know), it's just that Bodysnatchers by Radiohead has a fuckin' great beat and it just kinda carries me along.

Today I realized that one line from that song kinda sums up what I'm feeling these days "I'm trapped in this body and I can't get out". I want this fat gone. So gone. This is what has tripped me up in the past. Yes, weight is being lost incrementally but the flab is much harder to get rid of. It's there, everywhere I go. My gut out front. My bingo wings flappin' in the breeze every time I lift my arms. The chins that have each other for company (how nice). All of those things there when I move, when I don't move, and when I see myself in the mirror. Painful reminders of how out of control my life had become, and how much more of a journey I have to go.

At least, I remind myself, I am on the right track. Life has been irrevocably changed. Failure is always a possibility but I doubt I could ever sit down to a cookie dough binge again in this lifetime.

Seven years ago I had a referral for gastric bypass surgery in my hand. I had the appointment in Scarborough booked. OHIP covered the surgery and any subsequent plastic surgery needed to take care of the drapes of skin that surgery leaves in its wake. I had my golden ticket.

But I didn't go.

I had to choose between that surgery and going back to college. Two very different ways to change my life. Two extremely valuable options. One very hard decision.

Now, while I curse the flab daily for existing, I know I made the right choice in picking my education. Thanks to that I have the career and life I want. If I had picked the surgery, I would still be miserable and stuck in some shitty job that I hated. And to be honest, I'd be willing to bet that I would have gained the weight back in no time flat.

Once in a while I need to remind myself that I am capable of making the right decision and that losing the weight this way is what I need to do. I need fight the fight and respect the experience so that I will never have to do it again. I am learning more this way than I ever could have by having my stomach altered.

Now if you will excuse me, I must cut this bout of insight short, for I have a cat knocking over all of my vhs tapes and another one clawing the shit out of my furniture.

xo
lb

week 9 wrap-up

Down 1.2 this week, which brings me back to my 9.8 status that I hit a few weeks ago. I'm glad that I'm within reach of my 10 lb mark again, it feels like this is taking fucking forever to get into the double digits.

This is week 10 for me, and I just want to get going already. I want to see a difference, I am still having my Veruca Salt "I want it NOW!" tantrum. Feel free to roll your eyes, I'm doing the same.

I managed to walk to and from work every day this week, which is nice. The weather is getting better and it's making things a lot easier for me. All that walking means 40 minutes of rock steady exercise (because I fucking boot it, no strolling for me). I missed out on aquafit this week because I worked overtime instead. Shitty, but necessary.

The other morning I was standing in Tim Hortons (have you ever noticed there's no apostrophe in the Hortons? Dad pointed that out to me a few weeks ago, there should totally be one there!) waiting to get my morning magnum of Green Tea and I glanced at the case loaded up with donuts etc and I was glad to feel not the least bit tempted by it. The only food item I get there is a bagel once a week. No muffins, no donuts, no danish, just the occasional bagel. Pardon me for a moment, it's hard to type whilst patting myself on the back.

You have to understand, I am MENTAL for cooked breakfast food. For the better part of a year, I chowed down on sausage mcmuffins (that's right, two of 'em) every day of the work week. Every now and then they would be accompanied by the almighty hashbrown, and a coke. Yup, coke for breakfast, my rationale was that I didn't drink coffee, so it was okay. Yup, another eye roll, have at it.

Nowadays, I still love my breakfast food, but it comes in the form of turkey bacon and egg substitute, and even then, it's a special treat on weekends or dinner during the week. I feel a million times better having forsaken the trappings of the golden arches (sorry, Julie) and I also feel better that I'm not tempted to blow a shitload of points for a baked good that I'd inhale so fast that I wouldn't remember eating it.

This goes for all fast food, really. I don't have a hankerin' for any taco bell, no desire for Harvey's or anywhere else. The only place I still hit is Subway for lunch (what up 6" turkey with no cheese?) or the sushi place in the mall next to the shop.

What I'm getting at is that I am not suffering from horrible feelings of deprivation, here. I don't feel like I've sacrificed anything to do what I'm doing, I'm not the weight-loss martyr I was when I tried this stuff before.

The key is change. Change your thinking, change your brain. Suck it up and fucking do it, and remember you're choosing to do it. You're making that choice, no one else. Get off your ass, do the work, sort yourself out. It isn't easy, but it's worth it.

Yeah, someone else could make the choice for you: a cardiologist, an oncologist, an undertaker.

Harsh? Sure, but if you're anything like me, that puts it all into perspective.

xo
lb

If you complain once more, you'll meet an army of me.

Sometimes I wish I could just vanish for 6 months or a year and just go nuts transforming myself, the come back a changed person. The details would all be taken care of, and I could just focus on my grand do-over.

I have my moments of vanity (we all do, get over it) and I would love to come back to shocked and astonished faces, fully able to toot my own horn. I feel like the whole day-by-day painfully gradual and mostly invisible change is kind of a rip-off. I want shock! I want awe! A couple of ooohs and aaaahs would be nice as well.

These thoughts have been in my head for years and years, it's nothing new. It goes right along with the desire for the magic pill or the magic exercise that will make all the fat and lard just vanish. I actually get really down and frustrated because I know that it can't happen.

Then one important fact pops into my head to bring me back to reality: I'm the only one who really sees me every day. Yes, I see a couple of co-workers on a daily basis, but other than that, I go ages without seeing a lot of my family, friends and other co-workers. If I keep on working out, staying on plan and making a concerted effort to transform and recover myself, I might just get a hint of that shock and awe I daydream about.

Anyone who tells you that their weight-loss / body-changing mission is purely for their own health and mental satisfaction is a dirty liar. Yes, our own health and mental satisfaction play a HUGE part in it, but there isn't one of us recovering lardios that doesn't, in their heart of hearts, want to be seen and admired just a little bit once they really start losing the extra flesh.

I believe that as long as the focus remains on the health side of it, a little vanity-based incentive is an incredible motivator. Personally, I am not only doing this for a longer, less painful future, but part of me wants every guy who shot me down to fucking choke on it when he sees what I have achieved. Shallow? Meh, whatever. Is revenge a motivator? You better fucking believe it.

When I think I can't do this I remember the snickers I heard (and still hear) behind my back, and in front of my face. I remember the misery of being an overweight kid. I remember remember the misery of being an overweight adult. I remember what I want out of my life to come. And I remember every goddamn time I was rejected because fat chicks aren't girlfriend material (joke's on them, if they only knew what they were missing out on...).

THESE things get me out of bed in the morning and make me leave the bus ticket in my wallet.
THESE things push me to walk home after a long day at work.
THESE things keep the cobwebs on any take-out menus that are still lingering around my apartment.
THESE things help me to work harder than I ever have in the past.

I want my revenge. I want myself back. I want my body to be mine again. And most importantly, I want myself around for a long, long time. And I know I can't do that with my current physical shell.

I love me, I'm a huge fan of me, because I know what I have to offer and what I can do. Those assholes who wrote me off decades ago have another thing coming. They blew their chance, now I wouldn't mind making them eat shit.

I'm taking over and sorting myself out. Because I know, that there's no one out there that can do it for me. Others have tried, but it's a losing battle. Only I can fight this solitary battle.

One woman army, that's me.

xo
lb

body meet brain, brain meet body

2 pounds gone forever. Even if I gain 2 at some point, they won't be the same 2lbs. that I lost this week. Gone forever. Smell ya later.

I don't think my brain "gets" my body at all. They're like the odd couple. Brain perceives and interprets body all wrong. Brain sees body but doesn't think body is as big or shaped as it is. Brain is far too kind to body in terms of how it thinks of it.

Then, you have days like today when brain was convinced that body was heavier than it actually is. So, we have a brain that is not only somewhat generous in the physical self-perception area, but also completely out of whack with how body feels when it comes to weight loss. Opposite end of the spectrum.

The basic level of understanding is there, though. Both brain and body know something isn't right. Both know that there is too much body. Both know and feel that there is the equivalent of another human being weighing on body.

Doesn't that just blow your fucking mind? If I were my healthy weight and carried one of my sisters around on my back all the time, that would equal what I weigh now. I am carrying another adult human being around on this frame 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. No wonder arthritis has such a good time with me. I'm two people in one. That's a party waiting to happen.

I wish I was happier about the 2 lbs that I lost this week. I think I'm just mad that I am working off what I gained over the previous 2 weeks. I'm an impatient person, I've mentioned this before.

I want everything to happen swiftly and efficiently. I don't want potholes in the road, I don't want detours. I want straight ahead results and I want 'em NOW.

However, I know this isn't the deal. It's years of hard work that lay ahead of me, but I know I can do it. I know that since I've managed to stick to following program for two months now, I can do it. There haven't been any potato-based disasters, no deep-fried relapses....yet. Never say never, I can never rule out the possibility of it all going to pot out of the blue. Nothing is for certain in this world, and my lard-ditching odyssey is no exception.

I loved the deep aquafit this past week, and I can't wait to do it again. I'm going to start hitting the elliptical and treadmill this week as well. It's time to start getting my ass in gear. I have the motivation to do it, so I have to take that for what it is.

Physical proof is what I need now, more than ever. Whether it's what the scale says or what the tape measure says, it doesn't matter. I need to see a result.

That being said, I'm whipping out the tape measure and recording my stats. This will help me track my progress. So, here we go:

Upper arms (a.k.a. the bingo wings): 16"

Chest: 46" (not including my fine uptown rack)

Belly at its most prominent point: 58.5" (booooooooo)

Thighs: 32.5" at their widest point

Calves: 20" (let it be known that my calves are rock hard muscle, so any loss in inches there will be interesting to see)

So there ya have it. In lieu of a "before" pic, you get some numbers on a screen. When all is said and done I will do a before/after pic thing, but since that won't happen for a while, I'll keep it to myself.

The most important part is that there is now a "before" and even more importantly, there is now a "during".

xo
LB