I want to take a moment and comment on the fact that this last week has been one of the most noteworthy weeks of loss I’ve had to date. That’s pretty remarkable, and proves that loss is often hard to predict — but sticking with it will pay off in the long run. If you read the blog last week, you know I was around 6 pounds away from passing my next goal, and I figured it would take around a month, give or take, to get there.
That’s 112 pounds of natural breasts — the Guinness World Record — and I’ve lost the equivalent.
Ha! I’m there! I’ve lost 112.4 pounds! That’s a 6.4 pound loss since last week!
Yesterday morning, I passed the point where I’ve lost 30% of my starting weight. Almost a third of me, gone! Now — if you’re a scientist at heart, you’re familiar with the Law of Conservation, it says that energy cannot be created or destroyed; it merely changes forms. I don’t know if this means that the 30% of fat (energy) from my body has since floated through space and glommed onto someone else’s hips, but if this is the case, I heartily apologize… but I don’t want it back, either. 😉
I keep a close watch on all matters pertaining to my journey; I suspect a hormonal fluctuation caused my weight loss, but regardless of the reasons, I’ll take it. I have another goal set; a small one. And then after that? I’m focusing the cross-hairs on surpassing 140.5 pounds down, which is the most weight I’ve ever lost.
Now, back to today’s topic: a major JUMP! I’ve been meaning to share a victory, but I keep forgetting to do it — and in a way, that’s a good thing! When I first started back in the fall of 2013, I needed assistance to walk. My balance was off and my knee pain was extreme enough that I needed a cane anytime I left the house. If I had a long distance to walk, I had to use a wheelchair. I spent much of two Mexican vacations in a wheelchair because of it.
The improvements have been gradual. I haven’t used the wheelchair in many months. I’ve decreased using the cane to a point where I have only used it on rare occasions — usually on very bad arthritis days, and I can’t honestly remember when the last day was that I needed it. I would tuck it in the car if we went somewhere, in case I needed it, but I decided a few weeks ago to leave it completely at home.
The fact that I keep forgetting about it means I’ve also made the mental jump from thinking I need it, too, which is significant.
Sure, I’ll hang onto it. Realistically, I still have the same mechanical issues with my knees. But that cane will be a last-resort sort of thing; along on long trips, or challenges in which I might turn a knee, like camping trips. But otherwise? It’s no longer a part of my day. I’m getting around without it, these days, fairly easily.
I really do like feeling stronger than I have been, and now that exercise is part of my regimen again, I’m looking forward to the day when needing that wheelchair assistance on long walks is no longer necessary; I’m confident that day will come.
I’m 106 pounds down; a mere 6 pounds to my next goal.
It’s finally happened. It seems I went straight from a couple people close to me, keeping up with my weight loss, to crossing that invisible line where I’ve changed to a point that people don’t recognize me immediately if they haven’t seen me in several months. It’s happened three times in the last couple of weeks — a little difficult to ignore when it happens multiple times!
106 Pounds of Great Pyrenees
I admit; it’s kind of cool, in a way. It’s nice to get a little attention and recognition for hard work put in.
I know it’s awkward for some folks; they may not be able to put their finger on what’s changed, or may feel it’s inappropriate to say anything about weight loss. To be clear, I do not expect *any* recognition at all for weight loss. While I’m transparent here about my efforts, that doesn’t mean that I am with everyone, and not all reasons for weight loss are good ones. Some approach me somewhat cautiously about it; this happened just last night.
Inevitably, people say “I bet you feel better!” Well, absolutely! I’ve lost 106 pounds. I’m no longer carrying Miley Cyrus around on my hips. 😉 My chronic pain level has gone done immeasurably. While I still can’t walk long distances, my endurance is much higher, these days. By necessity, I stand, carry, sit, and walk differently than I did, before. These are all big changes; they may be as much a factor as a change in physical size to those who haven’t seen me in a while.
It’s nice, for now, and I’m enjoying it while it lasts, although I know there’s necessary head work ahead. My weight loss is slowing somewhat; I may need to shift gears, soon, and adapt in order to keep losing. At this point, though, I feel strong and optimistic. I’m confident that I’ll keep losing, that I’ll meet my upcoming weight loss goal in a month or so.
It’s also a point of no return; even if people aren’t saying anything to me, they’re noticing. They have the expectation that I’ll keep going. It’s peer pressure, in a way; it’s a whole new level of transparency when people you only know as acquaintances are suddenly interested in your personal story. Things have shifted; I’ve been on my feet, but now others expect me to get on my feet and take action.
I’ve said this many times before: my weight loss is, first and foremost, for me. It has to remain that way. But I admit that the extra layer of attention is both a level of support and yet another method that keeps me honest. For instance, if I have a meal in public, I suddenly feel as if people are watching what I eat. Would they care what anyone else had for dinner? Probably not — but people become oddly fascinated when they know you’ve lost a lot of weight. It’s simply something extra I have to deal with that others don’t.
There is a downside that I know to expect over the months to come. There’s a loss of privacy, in a way, when people suddenly take an interest and want you to tell them what’s been working. I don’t necessarily mind those sorts of inquiries, but realistically, I’m only an expert in what works for me personally, so answering questions about diet can become somewhat tedious. Everyone has to find their own path; that’s one of the reasons why those of you who read this blog don’t see a lot of references to my methods, only the mental effects.
I know, though, the lay of the land. That’s an advantage as I move forward. Exciting times are ahead!
I’m pleased to report a new low this morning: I’m now 105.4 pounds down!
This past week, I’ve had the joy of returning to two things I’ve needed back in my life for a very long time — and both, though they seem distant from each other, required the same processes of stepping out of my comfort zone.
‘The Biggest Loser’ crowns Rachel Frederickson winner after she weighs-in at only at 105 pounds .
The first was last Sunday; I joined a community orchestra. Roughly two years ago, a friend gave me the gift of music in my life, again, by sending me her french horn; something I played for many years, and had meant, at one point, to be a crucial part of my career. That’s not what I ended up doing, and truthfully, when I sold my horn not long after college, I thought I’d likely never get the chance to play with a musical group again.
Last Sunday, that changed. I’d played enough in my own house, occasionally playing to recorded accompaniment on the sound system, but no matter how you cut it, that’s rather lonely. Music is an experience is meant to be shared. I had looked for a community group to join, but didn’t find one until a few weeks ago; and last Sunday afternoon, I walked into the first rehearsal of the year.
Skipping forward to Monday, I took another step outside my comfort zone: I returned to exercise, after having left it several years ago. I had never been much of a workout maven; not until I started my first big weight loss journey in 2003. That journey truly was a physical one: I started by walking around my yard, and that was all I could manage. I kept walking until I’d created trails through the grass in my yard, and people would honk and wave at me as they drove by on the road in front of my house, because they saw me trudging along at the same time every morning.
From there, I joined the gym with my husband; it was totally alien to me. I swam laps in the gym pool, learned how to walk on a treadmill, and finally moved to the weight room and machines for strength training. What started as a simple lap around the yard graduated to daily 4 mile walks/jogs and strength training every morning before 5 am. Yeah, I was a workout badass for a while; when my daughter and I worked out in the weight room, there were men we out-lifted.
For a while, anyway. Until I injured myself; first by falling on one knee, breaking off a bone spur which lodged under my kneecap, requiring surgery. I came back after that, but I kept injuring myself. I pushed myself beyond the abilities of my body; I broke my own rules about adapting when hitting a wall. I left the gym for a couple years, only to return in 2011-2012. I water walked and jogged; my knees were in horrible condition and I’d regained most of my weight. If you read last week’s blog, you know I gave up on that effort. I left the gym, again.
A friend who works at the gym invited me to come give water aerobics a try — something that, quite honestly, I didn’t think was for me — but I needed to start somewhere. I needed to exercise, again. The time had arrived. So, on Monday morning, I started water aerobics class; it’s my first step back to building muscle and endurance. I’m back at the gym, once again.
Yes, playing french horn in an orchestra and going to water aerobics class have more in common than you may think. These tasks will build on each other. Being a musician requires physical control; lungs, diaphragm, lip muscles (in my case), posture, endurance. (Not to mention, carrying a horn case across a parking lot!) Just sitting in proper posture to play, for two hours on Sunday afternoon, made the muscles in my back hurt.
Likewise, water aerobics — or any cardio exercise — requires a lot of the same things, including endurance and lung capacity. I fully expect that as I progress with both, I’ll likely improve at both faster than I would at either one, taken separately.
But that’s not the biggest common denominator. No, that’s reserved for taking the step to be willing to step outside my comfort zone, and risk being uncomfortable. Believe me, walking into a room of musicians that I’ve never met before, with over 30 years of rust to knock off, took an act of bravery. The reward, for me, was the pure and deep joy of making sound with other musicians; it didn’t matter if I was good or not. I was doing what I set out to do, and welcomed by others who have been in the same place. I left there feeling absolutely exhilarated and challenged.
Returning to the gym, where I have previously given up several times, meant I needed not only to swallow my pride, and once again endure walking into a situation where I didn’t know the people involved, and had never been in a water aerobics class, feeling as if I might be judged for my size just by the act of walking through the doors. I did know the instructor; and once I got going, I felt a lot more comfortable with the situation. Now, I don’t care so much if someone happens to see me there and judge me; after all, I’m there for a reason. All of us are. Judging me for exercising would be stupid, considering everyone who walks through the door has the same goal.
So I leave this week, a better person than I started it, already feeling stronger; perhaps not physically, just yet, but certainly mentally. I’ve come to the conclusion that while I might refer to this weight loss journey as one journey, it’s not, really; it’s a series of new starts. Hurdles that must be met and jumped over, vantage points where it’s okay to rest a while and appreciate where I’ve been before tackling the next set of hurdles along the road.
Last week was quite the week for me, dealing with the mental changes necessary to keep strong on my journey.
No sooner had I rejoiced in passing a major weight goal, than I got cut down at the knees. This was one of those unforeseen circumstances I hadn’t mentally prepared myself for; you can’t possibly be prepared for everything life throws at you.
Mind you, most of the photos people see of me, online at least, are ones I took myself. I take great pains at every weight to make myself look as good as possible, especially with head shots that I use for profile pics in social media. Like most people, I have a little bit of vanity, and if I feel like I look my best at every weight, there’s a little more lift to my step. Mind you, I don’t do any magic to the photos; I just want to look and feel the best I can be at every stage of the way.
103 pound weight class champ! It’s kind of cool that I’m losing entire humans, these days.
Last week, though, someone took a pic of me and posted it online — and it was a horrible pic. A group of us were out together, and one of our friends said that since it had been a long time since we’d been out like that, she wanted a group photo. She asked someone to take it, and he took it down the length of our long table; I was closest to the camera. Consequently, it made me look disproportionately huge.
My immediate response, when I saw it online, was anger — not at the one who took the photo, but at myself. All those self-critical comments took up arms in my brain; I lost 100 pounds to end up looking like THAT? I look horrible! I look as big as I did when I started! Disgusting!
Those were my first responses… not gee, what a lousy photo angle; no one ends up looking good at that angle! No, I couldn’t consider for a moment that it was just a bad photo. Bad photos happen all the time. No, my brain jumped on beating myself up and making me feel like I hadn’t accomplished a thing, for all the work I’ve put in these last couple of years.
This is a dangerous thing. Back in 2012, we went on vacation to Mexico with friends; before vacation, I worked hard on losing weight and regaining some of my ability to walk. I took very short walks around the neighborhood; I worked out at the gym in the pool, in hopes of being able to walk better once on vacation. I lost a bit over 60 pounds in that effort — my low weight, then, was slightly above what I weigh right now. I felt like I was in a great frame of mind when we left for that vacation, ready for fun and sunshine.
I learned, quickly, that I wasn’t as prepared as I’d hoped. I couldn’t get around as well as I thought I would, and felt like I was holding other people back, because of my inability to walk any sort of distance. I felt defeated and disappointed that the hard work I’d put in hadn’t created the intended result. When we returned home and I went through all our travel photos, I saw the photos of me… and wanted to crawl into a hole, never to come out. I was absolutely mortified how horrible I looked in the majority of the photos. I was physically sick over looking at them; all I could see was my own ugliness, and not the beauty around me or the memorable times we created.
I let those things tip the balance toward defeat. I’d already been off my diet for vacation, and I never went back on it. Over the next 14 or so months, I gained 100 pounds; yes, there was the occasional shove-food-in-my-face-fest, but I was not binging. I gained that weight simply by eating fairly normally, with no restrictions on what I could eat; if I wanted pizza or cake, I had it. If you’re envisioning a sad girl scarfing down an entire bag of Oreos in the closet, that wasn’t me; despite the common misconceptions about why people become morbidly obese, I wasn’t having a free-for-all of food.
It has taken me over two years to take off what I put on when I went into decline after that vacation, triggered by photos, and by inability to produce the result I wanted, with the work I put in. I was already on the bubble, anyway; my low weight was a couple months before I went on vacation, and I was already on a slippery slope. I had put back on about ten pounds or so. The mental sucker punch sealed the deal, and I didn’t go back on my weight loss plan.
That’s the power of emotional triggers when you’re in a bad mental place to begin with. That’s why I must be careful about how I choose to react to triggers when they unexpectedly pounce. The good news is that when I saw the photo last week, my response, after berating myself, wasn’t to give up.
No, I got pissed off. I was, and am, angry. It’s a very different response, and I’m glad for it. I’m a fighter. I’m not giving up.
First of all, it’s a bad pic. All of us have had a bad photo taken of us.
Second, I am still very overweight. I know this. I am nowhere near my stopping point. I’m fat, but I’m in the process of changing; this is a fact. I will stumble mentally on occasion, but when I do, it’s important that I pick myself up, brush myself off, and be realistic about the matter. I’ve let unexpected external information defeat me before, because a part of me was looking for a reason to give up. I cannot and will not do that, again.
Third, and perhaps most important: when choosing a response to a stressful situation, especially if that situation involves my weight, the worst possible reaction is to give up. What does that solve? Seeing myself in a photo as fat, regardless of whether it’s deadly accurate or simply a bad angle, will not be solved by giving up. The proper reaction is to keep up the good fight, no matter what. I vowed to change when I took the first step; every once in a while, situations will force me to recommit myself to that change.
I’ve since taken progress pics. Before I did, I accepted that the trigger wasn’t valid; I didn’t take the progress pics to disprove it, but that was the end result. One look tells me the truth; I’ve come an amazingly long way, and even if the progress pics didn’t tell that story, how I feel, these days, certainly does.
