Things no one tells you about extreme weight loss:

I can hide when I want. It’s true! We were at a large event several weeks back, and I saw someone I recognized sitting a few rows in front of me. I didn’t really want to see this person. The last time I saw him, I weighed at least a hundred pounds more than I do, now; I’ve reached that point where people don’t recognize me unless I say something. And you know what? It worked like a charm! So if you want to escape notice, lose a third of your body weight. Simple, right?

Every single part of your body changes. Yes, every single part. After a loss of 129 pounds, I wear a different shoe size, and my two-year-old glass frames are too wide for my face. I’ve had to move my car seat forward, and thanks to my butt not being as big, I sit shorter in the driver’s seat.

Skin, skin, skin! All those diet gurus want you to see the success stories that have been craftily photographed and dressed to best appeal. Ever notice how many men and women, when they’ve lost a lot of weight and are posing for their after shot, have on clothing that’s not in the least bit revealing? There’s a reason for that — and that reason is skin.

Worn out, stretched skin that looks like a deflated balloon. No, it’s not pretty at all, and for some, it gets in the way so much (or causes health problems) that they have it surgically removed, which is expensive and not exactly a walk in the park.

So here’s the truth: if you have great amounts of weight to lose, loose skin is a part of it. There’s virtually no way around it. I’ve even heard people say that they almost wish they hadn’t lost the weight because taut skin is more attractive.

I won’t argue with that. Unstretched skin is lovely. But it’s not weight loss that causes stretched out excess skin; it’s weight gain. The truth of it is that if someone had warned me when I was 21, and starting to put on weight, that my skin would look like a battle ground if I ever took the weight off, it wouldn’t have stopped me from gaining. After all, I didn’t intend to gain the weight, and I certainly knew that gaining weight would have detrimental effects on my body — and I gained it, anyway. I know I’m not the only one.

So, with still more weight to lose, I’ve started to accept that excess skin is a reminder of what I’ve been through, and there is no magic wand that will make my long history of obesity disappear. Nor should I want that; like it or not, it’s who I have been for decades, and part of what makes me who I am. Removing the skin doesn’t remove the battles or the scars. What I’ve accomplished isn’t something I should want to hide, despite what society may say.

Shapewear is your friend — and your enemy. Ha! That’s no different for any woman who wants to smooth out the lumps, regardless of weight! Although I will say that loose skin and shapewear creates an entertaining game of stuff-the-sausage-casing.

Winter is colder. Fat insulates. Who knew?! It’s December. Sweaters are now my constant companion. And a heated mattress pad? Heaven!

Restaurant booths are bigger. Which is kind of cool. The table isn’t a boob shelf anymore.

I could go on — I might in a future blog entry, but I’ll leave you with this thought: whether you see these things as bad or good, they are all changes, and all worth the discipline and work.

My life has changed. The last couple weeks have been reminders of that simple truth.

Although I still find myself spooked, at times, about whether or not I can do something, I’ve found that if I try, I often find that many of the limitations I imagined were simply that: imagined.

Last Sunday was special day for me, personally; a couple years ago, I took up playing french horn, again, and now I’m part of a small community orchestra. Saturday was dress rehearsal. Sunday was the concert.

Not only did the concert go well, but I spent a fair amount of time before and after the concert, setting up and breaking down at the venue where we performed. I simply could not have helped a few years ago; I may not have had the endurance to just get through the concert itself. I certainly didn’t have the self-confidence to get through a concert without being a nervous wreck; this was my second concert after over thirty years of not playing.

The View from The First Tier

A few weeks back, friends of ours asked us to join them for an orchestra performance; since I’ve never attended an orchestra concert as a spectator, the idea of going excited me — the orchestra in question is a professional group, performing in a large venue in the metro close to us.

I admit that after we were asked, I panicked a little bit. What if we had to park far away? What if the venue wasn’t very accessible for me? I may be better at walking, but I still have physical limitations, and I fear pushing them. One of my knees locks at inopportune and unpredictable times, and I’ve been quite fortunate that it hasn’t happened to me when I’ve been out and about. It stays in the back of my mind that I might hurt myself, somehow, and end up with a knee replacement before I plan on having one.

I almost made apologies so I wouldn’t be put in a tough situation that I wasn’t sure I could handle. Almost. I admit that I am self-conscious enough about my physical limitations that I am quite sensitive about holding others back or asking them to change anything they might normally do. And let’s face it: that’s not something most people have to think about.

But I sucked it up and went, and I’m very pleased I did. Parking wasn’t an issue. There were flights of stairs, but I made it up and down them. I did compromise and take the elevator when we found we needed to be up one level higher than where we thought, but I certainly wasn’t alone, and it wasn’t a matter of asking anyone to compromise. We were seated in an upper tier with absolutely perfect seats (BONUS: my butt fit just fine!), and the concert was absolutely marvelous.

These are things that had I chosen to limit myself, I would have missed out on understanding just how much my life has changed for the better. No one cares, in my little community orchestra, that I’ve dealt with disabling myself from excess weight. No, instead, I’ve gotten the chance to feed that part of me that enjoys music so very much. Had I not gone to the concert, I would have missed the opportunity to enjoy something beautiful with friends.

Two orchestra concerts within a few days of each other! And I’ve been asked to another this Sunday afternoon. Believe me, I don’t normally experience this much culture over the course of a decade, let alone within one week! But this has been a fantastic experience, and I may well go for that third opportunity (with yet a different orchestra!).

My world used to be so much smaller. Don’t get me wrong: I have failed in the past. I have disappointed myself to the point that I’ve been disgusted and depressed. I have pushed only to have either been forced to give up, or given up of my own choice.

Choosing to live a small life limits me, and I am the one who pays the price. Taking flight may always bring the risk of failure, but I am constantly surprised at how different things can be when I choose to try.

This has been a winning week.

My mother’s been a lifelong Cubs fan, from when she was young and listen to the games on the radio with her father, in a rural town in central Illinois. The Cubs games were always on tv when I was a kid, and baseball (and later softball) has been an indelible part of my life for as long as I can remember. I had the fantastic experience of being with her and sharing their World Series win. They beat 108 years of history as well as the other team. 😉

There’s a lot of ways to win and take stock of what’s great in your life. This past Wednesday, I passed a neat little mile marker on my journey; I logged into MyFitnessPal for 500 days straight. That’s not the entire length of my diet — there were times I forgot to log in, or strayed off the path and didn’t log my food for weeks at a time, fighting with myself about whether I was doing things right or if I wanted to keep trying. If you miss a day of just signing in, the counter resets, so 500 straight days is a challenge.

500 days of logging into MyFitnessPal!

[Note: ignore those numbers on my summary. I was halfway through that particular day, and MFP won’t let me change my caloric goals.]

I’d be lying if I said I actually logged every bit of my food for those 500 days — I didn’t. But it became important to me to at the very least acknowledge my journey every single day, even if I was on a vacation and not recording my food intake. Sometimes we need a reminder of staying the course, and the accumulation of 500 days is pretty momentous. Vacations are when we tend to want to forget these kinds of commitments, but I see it as a way to acknowledge that part of my life. It doesn’t just magically disappear because I’m camping on a lake for a week.

I’ve won in other ways, too. My daughter came to visit for my birthday a couple of weeks ago and brought me a pretty big stash of clothing. She’s been losing weight as well, and she offered me the clothes that are now too big for her. This is a first, folks; there were certainly times I gave her clothes that were new (or nearly so) because I’d gained weight and didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to fit in them, again, so they became hers. Now, she’s returned the favor several times over. Everything I’ve grabbed to put on, so far, has fit — and that’s quite a victory.

These are Non-Scale Victories — NSVs. They’re just as much markers of the right path as the number on the scale or the measuring tape. In some ways, they’re even better; most of us just don’t go around, sharing the number on the scale or how big our waist is, but wearing smaller clothes is a large and concrete marker of success.

A tiny fear always lurks when I pull out something I haven’t worn, before. I’ve pulled out clothing to try on so many times and failed that I suppose I’ll always live with that fear something won’t fit… until I zip up those jeans or pull on that top or dress. More often than not, these days, things fit; and when they don’t, it doesn’t discourage me. I know they will. It’s part of my life that I’ve accepted as certain, even in times when weight loss is slow, as it is, now.

I will always live with shadows of a long past as an obese woman. It may take a very long time for me to lose those echoes of a larger body; a timidity about changing simple things, like the kind of shoes I wear, for instance. Today, I bought some low heeled pumps, and felt like a five year old girl playing dress up. It’ll take longer for my brain to be comfortable with the idea of them than my feet!

I take my victories where and when I can. Evolution and complete change is a slow process, but a sure one.

Last weekend, I turned 55 years old, and had one heck of a great time with friends.

I knew I’d be taking the weekend off and the consequences of doing so — no weight loss this week, but the experiences from last weekend were absolutely worth it. I had a glimpse of what it’s like to live with fewer restrictions, and it reminded me of what sheer joy there is in simply living.

My age is a legal speed limit, now, but I’d rather not think about it.

Watching what you eat can become a dangerous game, an obsession that can evolve into something just as unhealthy as the opposite. This is part of the reason why I occasionally take diet holidays and restrict my food less, but I’m also careful to do it when I know I won’t lose heart. Last week, that was actually a riskier move than normal, because my head hasn’t been in a great place, but the experience itself was enough to reinforce my resolve.

Sure, I had some things that I wouldn’t normally eat, but rather than making the weekend about food, I was able to take the emphasis off food. My “cheat” weekends, if you want to call them that (is it a cheat if you plan it?), aren’t opportunities to stuff my face; they’re chances to eat reasonably, make good choices, and let food drop into the background.

I had a great time, hanging out with friends and family, dancing to music in a hotel parking lot, playing Baggo, adventuring around the area wineries, and more. This time was easier than last year, when I still walked with a cane; while I’m not running any races yet, each year brings improvement. I do more things, I don’t tire as easily, I get to participate on a more active level. I’m not as afraid of the camera. And even more telling: when I was in the process of stepping up on a tram to take a vineyard tour, a complete stranger offered me his hand in assistance. (That didn’t happen when I was at my heaviest.) I still had to give my knees plenty of rest time, but at no time did I feel like I was stranded by my own body.

These sorts of successes are my incentive for not getting lost in feeling sorry for myself that my life is not like the lives of others. I could, if I wanted, wallow in the things that make life harder for me, from my health to my abilities to my body’s reaction to food. Admittedly, it’s a battle for many — sometimes me, included — to keep the rewards in mind and push down the desire to throw it all away, not look back, and end up right where I was when I started this journey.

I firmly believe that change is always possible, and I’m learning that the more I change, the easier it is to keep moving on down the highway and make these great changes permanent.

I find that four things must be in order for me to successfully lose weight. Right at this moment, I need to work on every single one of those four things: diet, movement/exercise, sleep, and mental well-being.

I am struggling with mental well-being, which complicates the other three. I swore I’d be transparent in this blog — and today, it’s time to be honest about my current struggles. In a way, I’m dealing with growing pains, and I absolutely should be talking about this, facing my fears, and meeting all of this head-on.

I’ve had a number of people ask me, recently, what I’m doing to lose weight, and I repeat what I always say: I eat less, I move more. And that’s essentially correct, but the reason I’m not more forthcoming is because no one needs a data dump in their lap when they’re just asking a question to be nice. The truth is, weight loss is both that simple and at the same time, tremendously challenging and complicated.

Time for some sunshine.

Losing a great deal of weight is more a metamorphosis than a mere transition. The body certainly changes, but if the brain doesn’t adapt and evolve, failure is guaranteed. I am both more “me” than I have ever been, before, and a new “me” that’s still beyond my grasp, requiring me to learn and discover. I suspect the inability to shift thinking is the biggest reason many fail at losing and then maintaining large amounts of weight loss. The truth of the matter is, though, that I have no choice; this isn’t a matter of losing twenty pounds for a high school reunion. It’s losing perhaps up to two hundred pounds to save my life.

It’s a hard reality to accept. My journey governs nearly everything I do, and it’s inescapable. While I have no desire to be defined by my weight or even my weight losses, I cannot ignore how much of my life is tied to my process. It is, at times, overwhelming and I get incredibly frustrated. When I started this journey, I had the hope that I could get beyond obesity, as if it’s just been a phase of my life. I’m learning that’s far from the truth; if I don’t learn the lessons this time, I’m doomed to repeat them yet again. There is no finish line; goals are just markers for what comes beyond that point, and that life will take just as much dedication and hard work as losing weight requires.

No matter what, even if I reach a point where I look like I’ve never had a weight problem in my life to someone who doesn’t know me, it will not change this transition I’m going through, right now. Being overweight isn’t just a phase I’ll be able to forget, like a bad dream. Perhaps it’s important that I never forget the battles I am winning right now, because my life will always be about overcoming challenges.

I’m scared. Excited, yes; but scared, too. I think that fear of the unknown is likely the reason many people shy away from staying at a goal weight and slowly let themselves return to a weight where they feel secure and protected from whatever fears they imagine. Fat is insulation; a way to block unwanted attention, an excuse to not face something troublesome, and a hiding place from any number of issues. Last week, I wrote about how invisible a life an obese woman can live — and there are times when being invisible is the easiest solution to tough problems.

The odds are still stacked against me. My weight loss, these days, is at a crawl, but still a loss. I’ve reached a point where I need to change my thinking and take different actions. And for all your support, which I truly appreciate, this is a battle I fight alone. This is the point where I keep walking out from the shadows and into the sunlight, and rise.

Sometimes when I write this blog, I just have no clue what to write — so I resort to Google Roulette, and the wheel spun to the comment on the website noted, above. My search terms: ask a fat woman. And I found this statement.

Yesterday I saw an obese woman using a cane to waddle her way through the supermarket because she couldn’t carry her own weight. With her tree trunk calves and her tiny feet in her tiny shoes, she looked like a 747 sporting Volkswagen tires.

Now, Lucinda, I know what you would say about her. You’d say she’s not responsible for her slovenly, self-destructive eating habits. She can’t and need not control how much she eats. She should be able to look however she wants and not be judged on her appearance. And everyone knows that it wouldn’t be politically correct to criticize her.

Well, I don’t care how much the various “full figured” gals may glorify their excess poundage. Fat is not beautiful to everyone and, more importantly, it’s not healthy. Overweight people are at risk for diabetes, heart attacks, high blood pressure, and wearing out the living room carpet before its time. Food is meant to be used for fuel, not as a way to escape life’s problems.

(Source: “Should You Marry An Overweight Woman?”, Page 2, Ask Men)

It might be human nature to label, but labels are often incorrect.

I admit I cringed, reading the description above — not because it’s abhorrent, although it is.

No, it’s because it could have described me at some point in the recent past. I, too, walked with a cane, because of severe arthritis in my knees, so I suppose the person who wrote this would be somewhat accurate in saying that I wouldn’t be able to support my body weight. As for the rest of an incredibly unkind description, well — it’s opinion.

Granted, this appears in a men’s magazine, written by an anonymous persona who likely gets attention for brazen descriptions of people that he obviously dismisses as unworthy of attention. Later in the same article, he states:

“Most importantly, I want men to pick women who are not overweight for partners, so they will raise their kids to be healthy and not have eating disorders. Statistics show that if the parents are overweight, 90% of the time the kids also end up with weight problems.”

Now… am I angry? Surprisingly — no, despite the obvious error that genetics require both parents, and yet he doesn’t promote to overweight men that they shouldn’t marry or have children.

It’s not anger. I shake my head at such casual dismissal of the supposedly unfit, but what I feel is more like disappointment that such attitudes not only prevail, but seem to have made a resurgence. Shouldn’t we be beyond such shallow ways of assessing each other?

Unfortunately, this attitude is a lot more common than many people are willing to admit. It’s the quantifying of a person’s entire value based on the judgment of one physical characteristic, good or bad. Because the woman in the grocery store is obese, the writer has gone on to assume that she’s slovenly, self-destructive, has an eating disorder, and apparently, will kill her carpet in no time flat. Maybe he’s right — and maybe he’s totally off-base, but characterizations such as this one are why obese women, particularly middle-aged women like myself, tend to become invisible.

While the writer of the above comments basically declares overweight women unworthy of marrying and suggests they shouldn’t breed, my contention is that both men and women often have a tendency to dismiss people of all ages, weights, races, disabilities — based on one aspect that they can visually see, and not just as potential spouses. And once someone is mentally dismissed, they fall into the background and become unimportant.

Dismissing someone outright for a physical characteristic out of their control (whether immediately out of control — such as weight loss, or permanently — such as race) denies that person their right to humanity. It also infers that there’s a desirable height/weight/race/physical form when such preferences are highly personal.

I admit that when I lost 140 pounds, years ago, I fell into that trap; I developed the attitude that as a formerly obese woman, I had the right to judge others for not having committed themselves to losing weight. How unutterably thoughtless I was to do so — who am I to say what someone else’s journey should be? How am I to know, just by looking at someone, what aspects of their life might have caused their current state, or for that matter, that they aren’t doing their best to better their health?

How many people silently judge me, still — thinking look how fat she is! She ought to DO something about it, the lazy slob! — not knowing that I’ve already lost 128 pounds?

And worse — who are any of us to dilute any human being down to one physical characteristic and judge them by it — whether it’s race, ethnicity, ability, looks — good, or bad? There will always be someone who typifies a stereotype; and someone who breaks the mold. We should be judging by actions, by intentions, by a person’s propensity to do good or evil. To do otherwise is arrogant and dismissive.

Am I still invisible, because I continue to be a middle-aged obese woman for a bit longer? Perhaps — but as I step out into the light, I hope that I’m judged by my abilities rather than my waist size.