Co-worker: “I have to ask…how much weight have you lost now?”
Me: “53 pounds.”
Co-worker: “Wow. Well you look great. It must be fun shopping for a whole new wardrobe!”
Me: “Actually, I’ve only been buying bits and pieces that I find on clearance. I don’t want to buy a lot of new clothes because I still plan on losing quite a bit more weight.”
Co-worker: “How much more?”
Me: “Umm…about another 50.”
Co-worker: “Really?! There will be nothing left of you!”
Conversations like that remind me what it's like to be on both ends of the spectrum. I've been in my co-workers shoes many times, telling someone they couldn't possibly need to lose so much weight--they couldn't possibly be as heavy as they think they are--and I truly believed it. But now that the tables have turned and I'm on the other side I'm having trouble understanding how they can't see this extra 50 pounds hanging around on my hips, thighs, and mid-section. I stare at those extra pounds in the mirror every morning, willing them to come off as quickly as the first 50 did--the first 50 that I still have trouble seeing--and hope that by the time I've reached my goal I will finally see a more confident, beautiful person in the mirror.
I suppose my biggest problem is I don't know what I can expect to see at the end of this. Some mornings I hope I'll come out with Kate Austin's body, and other mornings I think I'll be happy with Callie Torres. I've never tried to lose weight before. I don't know what my body will look like without the extra cushion, so I'm just kind of making it up as I go. My goal is to lose 110 total pounds for a final weight of 132, but it's a loose goal, because I only have to get down to around 140 to get to a normal BMI, and that's my ultimate goal.
Every once in a while Jon will accuse me of having an eating disorder but I don't think that's the case. I think sometimes I have a bad relationship with my body--a disagreement if you will--where I let all of the numbers get the best of me and I can go one of two ways: contemplate running to the nearest convenience store for a bag of Doritos and a box of Little Debbies, or out of spite, decide that I'm just going to starve the fat off instead of jumping through hoops to figure out how many calories are coming from what sources. I've never done either of those things though. I usually just walk away and start over again the next day. I don't have an eating disorder. I have The Fat Kid Complex and I am an impatient fat kid.
I'm making it sound like I'm having a tough time, and sometimes I do mentally, but most of the time I think I got this. There are times when I'm convinced the scale has been lying to me all along, but more often than not, I think if I just stick to it--this new lifestyle I've created--I'll have no problem reaching my goal. Besides, even if I can never lose more than the 53 pounds I've already lost, I think I'm still doing my body a world of good by not surviving off Doritos and fudge rounds like I've been known to do in the past.
Me: “53 pounds.”
Co-worker: “Wow. Well you look great. It must be fun shopping for a whole new wardrobe!”
Me: “Actually, I’ve only been buying bits and pieces that I find on clearance. I don’t want to buy a lot of new clothes because I still plan on losing quite a bit more weight.”
Co-worker: “How much more?”
Me: “Umm…about another 50.”
Co-worker: “Really?! There will be nothing left of you!”
Conversations like that remind me what it's like to be on both ends of the spectrum. I've been in my co-workers shoes many times, telling someone they couldn't possibly need to lose so much weight--they couldn't possibly be as heavy as they think they are--and I truly believed it. But now that the tables have turned and I'm on the other side I'm having trouble understanding how they can't see this extra 50 pounds hanging around on my hips, thighs, and mid-section. I stare at those extra pounds in the mirror every morning, willing them to come off as quickly as the first 50 did--the first 50 that I still have trouble seeing--and hope that by the time I've reached my goal I will finally see a more confident, beautiful person in the mirror.
I suppose my biggest problem is I don't know what I can expect to see at the end of this. Some mornings I hope I'll come out with Kate Austin's body, and other mornings I think I'll be happy with Callie Torres. I've never tried to lose weight before. I don't know what my body will look like without the extra cushion, so I'm just kind of making it up as I go. My goal is to lose 110 total pounds for a final weight of 132, but it's a loose goal, because I only have to get down to around 140 to get to a normal BMI, and that's my ultimate goal.
Every once in a while Jon will accuse me of having an eating disorder but I don't think that's the case. I think sometimes I have a bad relationship with my body--a disagreement if you will--where I let all of the numbers get the best of me and I can go one of two ways: contemplate running to the nearest convenience store for a bag of Doritos and a box of Little Debbies, or out of spite, decide that I'm just going to starve the fat off instead of jumping through hoops to figure out how many calories are coming from what sources. I've never done either of those things though. I usually just walk away and start over again the next day. I don't have an eating disorder. I have The Fat Kid Complex and I am an impatient fat kid.
I'm making it sound like I'm having a tough time, and sometimes I do mentally, but most of the time I think I got this. There are times when I'm convinced the scale has been lying to me all along, but more often than not, I think if I just stick to it--this new lifestyle I've created--I'll have no problem reaching my goal. Besides, even if I can never lose more than the 53 pounds I've already lost, I think I'm still doing my body a world of good by not surviving off Doritos and fudge rounds like I've been known to do in the past.
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