Feb 24: Triumph of the lack of will

Hey chunky monkeys,

I finally did it. Last night, I broke my lazy streak and went to the gym after work. It had been weeks of slothing on the green couch, defiantly refusing to break a sweat. There were even times when I felt the tingly energy of wanting to exercise, and somehow found a way to talk myself out of it. I don't know. It's like the rest of my brain was being held prisoner by some sort of evil dictatorship, quashing any urges to be productive or healthy or do anything that might lead to happiness. My own inner Moammar. I half-expected myself to randomly open fire on myself, I swear. "Quit killin' yerself!"

Well anyway. I didn't get weighed last week because there was a mysterious weight gain situation on my home scale that I suspect was related to medication. I knew I'd eaten fine, so I didn't want to ignite the protesters in my brain with a disappointing result. So this week I went in, and WTF, I'm the same weight I was two weeks ago. IRRITATING!

Well, the heretofore peaceful protesters rallied and Moammar is now in hiding somewhere in the recesses of my brain. I went to the gym last night, sweated profusely, and when I weighed myself this a.m., the people of Lindsay rejoiced in our newfound freedom from the Tyranny of the Green Couch!

Going to the gym after work again tonight, and after that, I'm headed to Wisconsin to kick Scott Walker in the ASS. Not really but boy would I ever like to.

SOLIDARITY FOREVER.

Feb 15: Fat acceptance

On the weekend, my girl Taarnagh posted a link on Facebook to a blog by a woman named Lindy West who writes for a publication run by Dan Savage, the sex advice columnist and originator of the "It Gets Better" movement aimed at gay youth who are being bullied. The blog, entitled, Hello, I Am Fat was an eloquent smackdown of what she perceives as Dan Savage's anti-fat bias. It triggered a tidal wave of comments and has subsequently gone viral. It's a great piece, I encourage you to read it. And thanks to Taar for bringing my attention to it. (Dan Savage posted a rebuttal yesterday evening which I thought was also worthwhile if slightly more long-winded and hyperbolic. After the storm of protest against him, I didn't blame him for the hyperbole.)

So, where do y'all stand on this whole "fat acceptance" movement? I gotta admit, I'm pretty ambivalent. I don't accept my fat. Never have, and don't suppose I ever will. When I've lamented my weight to people in my life, most have responded with what I take to be sincere insistence that it is nowhere near as ugly to the world at large as it is to me. Point being, I don't feel unfairly discriminated against because of my weight. I don't opine for the world to accept fat people more readily. I opine for a method to accept myself more readily, sure. And I realize that weight loss isn't the golden ticket to happiness and self-acceptance. Or, some part of me does, since the few times I've been slim, it's had no bearing on my day-to-day happiness, except that I preen in front of mirrors instead of worry. Having said that, when I am fat, it adds significantly to my feelings of self-loathing, depression, lack of control, etc.

The obesity epidemic is troubling. On the other hand, the unrealistic standards of beauty perpetuated by the media and popular culture are also troubling. But as far as I'm concerned, the bullying, mean-spirited othering of people for any reason, whether it's because they are fat, gay, Republican, or just different ("you're weird" = one of my my all-time hated methods of marginalization) is the most troubling. Maybe if people were just less assy in general, there would be no need for a "fat acceptance" movement. I understand why fat people are angry about being "shamed". I shame myself all the time. I look at people who are fat and I shame them, in my head, as surely as I do myself. I don't say anything to them, or about them behind their backs (at least, not about their weight, heh), because the last thing I want is to contribute to that dialogue, or to be perceived by others as someone who thinks it's okay to make these hurtful comments. My feeling is, if someone is willing to make a comment like that to me about someone else, pretty much I can expect that they are making those comments about me, or thinking them about me, when I'm not around.

I don't think it's right to enable or encourage unhealthy behaviour. I recognize that for me, personally, at least some of my excess weight is a direct result of stuffing my body with an excess of salty and sugary carbs that have very little nutritional value. This is not a healthy behaviour, and I don't mean just physically. As I have talked about at length, my food and body issues are a manifestation of low self esteem and depression. On the other hand, I do think that my natural body type does veer towards a chubby silhouette. It's not like I was ever a skinny kid, and my mom was not one to over-feed me either. So maybe I am naturally meant to be a little higher than the curve as far as my weight is concerned, and I have been battling nature for so long that my bingeing (and the extra 25 pounds I put on this fall, for examp) is more about feelings of deprivation, rebelling against the internalized self-loathing, lack of self acceptance, etc, etc, etc. Whoa, irony.

Either way, as far as I'm concerned, "fat acceptance" is pretty much a distraction from the real issue at hand, which is self acceptance, and self awareness. I eat to distract myself from pain I don't want to feel, even though I understand that the end result of this action will inevitably be more pain. But this is the culture we live in: everything is purchased on credit, even taking on a debt of self-loathing to feel better in the moment.

I reject fat acceptance and instead choose to promote empathy and compassion for those who struggle to accept themselves and choose destructive behaviours to cope with the burden of sentience in a culture that has replaced the struggle to survive with the struggle to thrive.

Feb 9: Shout out to Jan!

Hello edge-of-your-seaters!

It's Wednesday afternoon, which means I come bearing news of The Scale. We are friends this week: down 1.8, which is pretty not bad considering I barely moved my lazy arse all week. I gotta get going on the activity thing. I know it. I just don't feel like it, you know? Whatever, cry cry, wah wah, nothing new under this massive, luminous ball of plasma a.k.a. the sun.

So I check my Google Analytics every day, just to get a sense of my global audience. Today I had a visitor from Romania. I get these international students from time to time. I think they took a wrong turn at Albuquerque, because they don't stay long.

Ever since my mom got herself a little MacBook and a high speed internet connection (and I reminded her of the existence of this blog), I've been seeing regular visits from Kingston, Ontario. Now, it could be my nephew, studying at Queen's University, coming in from the Facebook link when I post new blogs there, but I'm thinking... wait for it... no. My sense is that it is more likely my mom. Cuz she checks every day for new content! I love it! Only thing is, sometimes I've been known to use the F word and I'm not talking about frankfurters. All this time she thought I was pure as the driven snow. I wonder, does she wrinkle her nose and turn away? Does she roll her eyes and shake her head like the sadder but wiser girl? Maybe she laughs, safe in the knowledge I cannot see her acquiescence? Perhaps I'll never know. Maybe it's best that way.

Anyway, Jan and I go way, waaaaay back when it comes to dieting woes. Currently she's rocking the JC and training for her next marathon walk in late spring. You read that right. She walks ENTIRE marathons. Well, one at a time. But holy mother of... me... guys, CAN YOU BEWIEVE IT? The woman is impressive.

So, just wanted to dedicate this blog to my mom and to say thanks for raising me up to become the blog writing goddess (bloggess?) I am today. Please feel free to pay your respects below. In fact, I encourage it.

To Jan!

PS to Mom, but also others if you are interested, Jenny Craig's latest guinea pig is the hilarious Carrie Fisher. She is writing a blog on the JC website about her experience on the program, much like Sara Rue and Valerie Bertinelli did before her, although the updates are sporadic.

Feb 4: Inches, away!

Good Friday morning, chubmates,

I trust you've all had a week that could be described with some sort of adjective. I have to say, thus far, I am coping pretty well with winter in Catnada, comparatively speaking. Long time followers know that I struggle with depression, particularly in the winter months. This year my mood has been fairly stable, for whatever reason. This despite the fact my weight is still, after 9.6 pounds of weight loss, at an all time high. Whatever. I got a ton of new clothes on the weekend with my Christmas returns – a couple of outfits at full price goes a long way if you wait for the clearance sales – and I'm faithfully following the DubDub plan, so I feel in control. The lethargy lingers but I chalk that up to ancestral hibernation patterns. Evolution, you done me wrong.

So time flies when you're calorie restricting, n'est-ce pas? I've been on the DubDub straight-not-narrow lifestyle for four weeks now. Lost 1.2 this week, bringing me to 9.6 pounds, as mentioned. Significantly, I hit my 5% goal with this weigh-in. At DubDub, they like to tackle the mental challenge of long-term weight loss by giving people small, achievable goals to focus on to keep them encouraged. So the first goal is to lose 5% of your total body weight. All you math whizzes are getting out your calculators and gasping at the implication. Yes, I was 182.2 at first weigh in. Five foot two. So, yeah, everything I bought at the mall this weekend was size XL. Oh well. It is what it is.

Anyway, point being, if one is not totally embarrassed to put their hand up at a meeting to admit achievement of one of these goals, they will be soon after, because the leader gives you a STICKER, like you're in kindergarten and you made a poopy in the toilet and managed to pull your pants up all on your own. Despite my amusement, I quietly admit to you, my close, discreet circle of friends, that I proudly affixed the 5% sticker (it is, indeed, a STAR with 5% in the middle) to my weight tracker booklet. After all these years, there is still a Pavlovian thrill response attached to receiving merit badges or stickers.

Also, took my measurements last night. First of all, let me stipulate that this is an inexact science. Unless I get a tattoo on my hip and one on my waist – maybe just a line marker – I can't say for sure that I'm measuring the same place each month. With that said, it looks like I've lost an inch off the chest, three inches off the waist, two inches off the hips and one off the thigh. Right on! Maybe.

Okay, have an awesome weekend!

Feb 1: Sloth

So I haven't exercised this week once, not counting walking to/from work. Oh, and I counted my 2.5 hours of shopping on Sunday because I did break a sweat and I was flipping exhausted when it was over. It is better to look good than to feel good, dahling.

A couple of times I came close, mentally. But in the end, I gave in to the sin of slothfulness. I was wondering, though. Is sloth really so bad? (I at least did not give in to gluttony. I ate well this week and stayed within my points.) It seems like there should be a scale – GAH! not a scale – a spectrum, as far as the deadly sins are concerned. Greed or wrath or pride all seem kinda worse than just electing to hang out on the green couch for a week. I decided to look it up.

What do you know! My best friend Wikipedia tells me that "sloth is often seen as being considerably less serious than the other sins". RIGHT ON! Oh, hang on a sec. Apparently, in Dante's Purgatory, the penance for sloth was running continuously at top speed. Who knew marathoners were such a bunch of lazy sinners?

So do you think if I promise Dante to do some continuous running next week at... mid speed... that God won't punish me tomorrow with a shitty weigh-in? Paws crossed.

Aside, though: who doesn't envy the life of the sloth? GAH, another deadly sin. Dang.