Does this Christmas make me look fat?

I decided this year I truly love giving better than receiving. I love seeing a hard sought after gift make its receiver smile gleefully. Actually, my most favorite is when the receiver gasps into a giggle because the gift is a surprise but exactly what they wanted! I love opening my presents, don't get me wrong, but I feel more anticipation waiting for others to open their gifts from me! Maybe this is because I want some appreciation or something; but whatever, I still love it!

The reason I say this is because there is this faux-paux which really hurts "fat" girls, or at least self-conscious girls: the clothing item that is too big of a size (ie: one wears an XL and receives a 3XL). Now, one might think this is some version of flattery, but I can't figure out how in my mind. Probably because I am self-conscious. Instead I view it as this: These people see me as fat. The only flattery is when I put on the item and it hangs off my body like a tent. The problem is the perception. Is it a perception I project? Or is it genuinely others perceptions of me? Or is it a lack of time to ask? Or is it just over-sight?

Regardless, I am thankful for the gifts. And I'm thankful for the motivation.

Several years ago, I went on a work mission trip. It is actually the same mission trip I posted about several weeks ago. During this time I was still wearing small t-shirts and weighed probably 165lbs. One evening we were at the showers, and I was changing in the locker room with several women. I was putting on jeans. They questioned me: "Why the heck are you putting on jeans??? It is SO hot outside!" I replied: "I vowed off shorts in 6th grade because I was tired of getting picked on for being heavier than the other girls." One of the women replied: "Oh, yeah, that's difficult! You know, I heard that getting a lap band (stomach stapling) really works!" The other lady chimed it: "Oh, yeah! I had a friend who did that and she lost 100lbs! Maybe that would work for you?"

I was speechless. I called my mom later that evening sobbing. "Mom?! Is this like that movie Shallow Hal? Am I HUGE or something? Am I like 500lbs and I see myself as being 165lbs? Is there something you're not telling me???" I couldn't believe these ladies would honestly suggest lap band procedure for me! If I lost 100lbs I would be extremely sick! What the heck? I still don't understand that.

The redemption of my "Do I look fat in this Christmas" was one of our gifts: an XBox Kinect. My husband and I played it for about an hour before Christmas dinner, sweating our butts off. The best part: I was agile and kept getting high scores. I didn't become too breathless - and definitely not as breathless as I would have several months ago. And what I thought was a horrid part of Kinect: it takes pictures of you as you play the games; it turned out to be enlightening - I looked thinner!

This week I've been slacking, but I will be going to the gym tomorrow and Thursday. Then I will join the resolution crowds January 3rd; pace with them and then let them eat my dust as they break their resolutions and I keep mine going. Because I started my resolution before the New Year began!

Weeks in Review (Dec. 12 - 22)

Mon, Dec. 12, 2011

35 minutes: Elliptical. 507 cals. Nice pace. 1,221 cals consumed. Edamame have a lot of calories! :(

Tues, Dec 13, 2011
Really bad headache. Went home and slept it off.

Wed, Dec. 14, 2011
566 cals burnt. Difficult time getting my stride. Elliptical / Tredmill Crosstrainer; 45 minutes total.

Monday, Dec. 19
566 Cals burnt. Elliptical Trainer.

Tues, Dec. 20
Terrible dizzy headache :( No gym for me.

Wed. Dec. 21
511 Cals burnt Elliptical Trainer. Tough workout.

Thurs. Dec 22
500 Cals burnt Different Trainer than usual (one of the older ones) for 35 min. Then bike for 15 min. Went fast, got runners cramp... oh well.

Busy few weeks, but I am proud that I did go as often as I did. I also have remained at 184 despite eating cookies and extravagant dinners with wine. This week I may not be able to go as frequently, but I will try to go at least twice.

Your Pants are on Fire.

Lies.

And the peace that comes when hearing and knowing the voice of absolute Truth.

This is life's ultimate battle. And all our lives are tied and twisted into this sticky web which we weave. Lies told to us. Lies told about us. Truth told to us. Truth told about us. Lies we tell. Truths we tell. Lies we believe. Truths we believe.

License Bureau: How much do you weigh? "120 and flippin' proud of it!" In reality you weigh 200, you've just convinced yourself each year that you carry it well and no one knows the difference.

Stressful Job: Why are you calling in sick? "Because I have that yellow fever that's going around!" In reality you're thinking: What the hell is yellow fever anyway? Does that even go around the U.S. anymore? Well, it sounded better than 'I want to hide under my covers and pretend I live a glamorous life like Oprah' or better yet, 'I hate you. Die.'

Church: Boy, you sure do have a chipper smile on your face today! "Well, it's just because I love the LORD so much!" In reality, your broken life is just not something those people want to hear about. They've tired of your complaining. So you go home and write a jaded blog about repenting of being fat, but really it's just an outlet for you to be snarky and feel better about all the crappy things you've been through.

Lies tear down reality. We love building alternate realities around us.

I've been reading the Chronicles of Narnia. Though it is a children's story, C.S. Lewis beautifully articulates his theology simply. He delivers to us an image of God that is contrary to that articulated by pop-christianity; Aslan is good, but not safe. The god of pop-christianity is good and safe, like the Easter bunny is fuzzy. Aslan is kind, tender, and patient, but fiercely-tough loving. The god of pop-christianity is kind, tender, and patient until we don't say the right thing, wear the right thing, sing the right praise song,  think the right thing, and then this god is fiercely-abusive, slaying his victims with cruel words of condemnation.  Aslan warms your heart with sweet affection and wild, courageous passion; the god of pop-christianity warms your heart with ooey-gooey marshmallow peep affection, sickly sweet and stickily sedentary. And because this god sounds a lot more like Satan himself, he doesn't hate Satan the most, but instead, the sinner. But he would never ever ever say that! He would say he hates Satan most.

This morning, some bad things happened to my family. They are fixable. But they were scary. I got on my hands and knees and called out! God, fix this! Everything that has gone poorly in my life, which I openly blame you for, at LEAST you could fix this! If you do actually love us, fix this. Make it right. Or, I'm not sure I can follow you because you don't hold to your promises; to provide for us. (Scripture says if God provides for the birds of the air, and dons the flowers with the most beautiful attire, surely he will care for us, and in richer ways than even them.) It can definitely be argued that in places like Africa or Haiti, where poverty is rampant, that God is not there, nor does he care for us: the human race. But, go to those places and find people are richer and cared for, who love God; not always in physical means, but in spiritual. In many ways, those beautiful peoples are richer than we, Americanized Christians, will ever know how to be.

But, I heard the voice of Truth this morning. For the first time in a long time. I heard God say: Get up. Get ready for work. Make your breakfast. I will work this out.

And with that voice of Truth came peace that still passed understanding.
Warm. And deep. And full.

Peace.

Reward Points

Well, I discovered I was 3% down in body fat, so this week I let myself go.

Bad Bridget!

I've promised to myself over the next two weeks I will be very intentional to be at the gym every evening I'm not doing holiday things. Otherwise I'm going to compromise my year commitment. It feels good to have something worth striving for.

I realized something very interesting over the past few days. There was a time I strove for holiness. I'm not saying I have necessarily stopped, but as you've read in the past entries, I really despise guilt. And guilt has bound me to many things: like my language. Today at a restaurant our waitress shot salsa out of a container; Nik and I laughed, but she said, under her breath: "Jesus!". And it shocked me. Like it always does. But then I thought, "Why does it shock me?" People who are non-religious don't think about it. They just say it. I always think about it. I am intentional with my swearing each time I utter a swear word. But I feel, lately, I don't hold myself to the same standards because I don't care to. I no longer justify my actions, but do them without regard. I suppose, in a way, I'm rewarding myself for years of dealing with jerks and trying to be good. Now I realize "good" might not revolve around doing things for guilt's sake.

Another reward: I want to be able to wear a bathing suit this summer without crying for 30-60 minutes prior to appearing in public. It's one of my big motivators. When I was younger, I used to day dream about wearing cute summer dresses and going on picnics with my boyfriends (or usually ex-boyfriends I hoped to win over by my stylish slenderness - I of course would wow them with several months after the break up because I would obviously start exercising and lose weight and become pretty and popular). But, now, I imagine just smiling while sunning myself on the beach feeling more confident about my body. But. I still don't understand why I feel that parading in my "underwear", I mean, swim suit, is so catching.

Nevertheless, I have got to stop rewarding myself with food. I am not Monica Geller. Although, my husband would definitely argue that.

It's Working!!!

Ok. I braved the scale tonight. The cool part that measures body fat. Well, it's not really cool - it's actually highly frightening. Nevertheless, the day I got the scale I measured my body fat: 43.1% (at 191.6lbs). Sad right? Well, tonight, I stepped on and the body fat was: 40.0%!!!!! YEAH! And the weight: 184.0!!! YEAH!!!!

Still look the same. Nothing fits any better. But. It's working. When I first measured body fat I was absolutely sedentary. I was that way probably for another 3-4 months before I became active. So in a month or two - give or take - I lost 3%!

Yay!!! So happy.

Now if I can get my mood in order. And my anger under control. And my bitterness in check. We'll be good. ;)

Week in Review Dec. 5-9, 2011

Mon. Dec. 5, 2011
Really good work out.
10 minute miles.
515 cals burnt.
1313 cals consumed.

Tues. Dec. 6, 2011
Leading worship
at an event tonight.
No working out for me.

Wed. Dec. 7, 2011
Good 50 minutes.
6 miles.
706 cals burnt.
1269 cals consumed.

Thur. Dec. 8, 2011
Good work out.
Tough getting there.
4.28 miles.
496 cals burnt.
1211 cals consumed.

Fri. Dec. 9, 2011
Baking day with friends.
Ate approx. 1300 cals.
Though there was a lot
to break a diet on
I ate in moderation! :)
Yay!

 

Weighed in Saturday at 185!! Yay!! Down 8 pounds! Some small victories spiritually and some small victories at the gym. Then again, there were also some really bad moments spiritually and at the gym (or lack of at the gym).

Salty

 ¹³ “You are the salt of the earth. But what good is salt if it has lost its flavor? Can you make it salty again? It will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless. Matthew 5:13

This morning I began reading through the Sermon on the Mount. Something interesting I never noticed before (mainly because I was sectioning off the Sermon the Mount) is that in the Gospel of Matthew, we don't learn much about Jesus' childhood. It's in the other Gospels we read in detail the birth story, Jesus being found in the synagogue with wisdom beyond his years, even Mary cherishing these things in her heart. Matthew, being written to a Jewish audience, describes Jesus' geneology (including women and Gentiles and Moabites - Oh My!). Matthew also describes the historical scene, naming cruel leaders; it also notes the Old Testament Messianic prophecies. But all we know about Jesus prior to his picking disciples and healing mass quanities of people is that he is born, exoduses to and from Egypt, and is baptised. Once all of this is completed in 4 chapters, we dive into the Sermon... If Matthew was the only Gospel we had, this Sermon would lay out of us (and for the audience) who Jesus is, his "core values", and his philosophy.

This is how Matthew chooses to make us familiar with the Savior. Jesus is always flipping things upside-down, including the wealth of religious tradition, education, and self-righteousness.

Did you know too much salt raises blood pressure? When I was in a very stressful church job in Florida, at age 25, I started experiencing chest pains. I knew it was stress related. I went to the doctor and described my pain. He told me three things: I had arthritis in my sternum. I had high blood pressure. I was under much too much stress. He suggested three things: Lose weight. Reduce salt intake. Reduce stress levels.

Is it possible in the church today, in America, we need to raise her "blood pressure"? Is it possible that the reason our churches are dying is a lack of saltiness? But what struck me this morning is this:

Salt cannot regain saltiness once it has lost it's flavor.

Uh oh. "It will be trampled underfoot as worthless."

We don't resemble the Sermon on the Mount. We are so casual with our faith. It is our life-blood so long as it doesn't actually require us to take up a cross and carry it, or be crucified on it. It's our obligation. Our caste-system. Can we ever go from being Pharisees to being poor-in-spirit? Or will our system of politics and opression force us to remain within the boundaries of religious "law"?



Small Steps

There was a time when my advice was sage. Students sought my wisdom. There was a time I was actually mature. Can you regress? I think stress makes us regress.

Slowly I've been weening myself OUT of stressful situations. I find, now, I'm much more joyful (though still thoroughly bitter and cynical and angry). I find, now, I can remember details. I find, now, I can form complete sentences. There was a time during which I was under so much stress I couldn't remember common words. I still struggle. The other day I was instructing my husband how to make mac-and-cheese (very very healthy, I am quite aware); I was trying to get him to use a sauce pan but all I could think of was: "Get the mop, and in that add 2 cups of water." The mop being the sauce pan. It took me a good 5 minutes to remember the words sauce pan. I was emotionally abused by various people during my entire lifetime. I guess I'm one of those people other dominate figures LOVE to push down. And each of them located themselves in church leadership. Therefore, I'm bitter and jaded and cynical and angry. But, small steps, in a loving, gracious environment, are helping me.

Other small steps that have been helping me: saying "No". After I resigned from my last job in ministry, I vowed to NEVER do ANYTHING out of OBLIGATION again. Ministry gets you stuck in this awful dichotomy of following God and following the final clause of most ministry contracts: Other duties assigned by pastor. That is edit: can be THE MOST abusive clause one is held to. A single human being has the opporunity to express his or her free-will control over you and the only thing stopping him or her is hopefully his or her reliance and interaction with an all loving God; in the situations in which I have worked, it seemed to me that the goal was control and not the work of Christ. end edit. There are no limits to the requests you will receive, and by contract you are required to do them. I call that rape. (Being made aware that this is a strong word, "rape", I do not justify it's use, but say only: for the situations I've been a part of, and my inability to say no, I felt it was justified. To say that it's an emotional word would minimalize those who have been raped. But I do not retract it.) But that's my bitter-jaded side. I find that Christmas is the worst season for that clause too. Last year I was engaged to be married. I wanted so badly to spend my Christmas morning at church with my soon-to-be husband in his town (about 30 minutes from where I lived at the time) with his family. My immediate supervisor was out of town (second year in a row). I knew no students would be in the church I worked for that day (I was a student minister); we also didn't have Sunday School. I, therefore, wrote the Senior Pastor and asked if I might spend Christmas day with my fiance and his family. The response was something to the effect of: "We need a pastoral presence at our church Sunday morning, therefore, I would like you to be there." I was pissed. Well, I made Nik (my now husband) meet me in my town and we went to church together. When I arrived, our Senior Pastor was not there. I didn't realize he TOO was out of town. The "pastoral presence" consisted of me, and the offitiating pastor and the offitiating deacon (both who were on stage the entire service). There were probably 3 (out of a possible 50) students there, with their families. As soon as church was over, Nik and I drove seperate cars all the way to his town.

Abuse of authority and blatant hypocrisy. I hate it.

Small steps. I've stopped reading my Bible. I haven't read it in about 9 months. (You need to understand, I have a love affair with my Bible; I have read it so many times. I have scribbled theology all over it. I've scribbled little reminders of God's love and promises all over it. I've even scribbled inside jokes in it from my various places of ministry. It's a beautiful, beautiful reminder of how much I loved God and my faith at one point.)

Anyway, a friend of mine was really struggling the other day. She used to meditate. I suggested she restart meditating by taking small steps: 15 minutes a day, sitting quietly, capturing all her thoughts and banishing them, replacing that void with some good single thought: I am lovely, I am beautiful, I am good, etc. Then it dawned on me. God has been beckoning me to read scripture again. So, for the past two mornings, I've been reading through the Gospel of Matthew. I keep running late to work as a result, but somehow I know God's word will heal my bitter, jaded, cynicism. And somehow God's word will soften my anger. It always does.

What small steps do you need to take today?

Take them! Babies don't learn to walk unless they take a step. A small step.

Holidays

Well... this past week I had a head cold. Started out as a gnarly sore throat and moved into my chest. Needlesstosay, I did not go to the gym. And, I ate way outside of the realm of any diet. Oops.

This week, however, I plan to be at the gym 4 nights. Leading worship on Tuesday.

I also decided that I'm going to go rogue on the diet. I've been told what I should and shouldn't be eating, but it's really putting a funk in my mood. Mainly because I emotionally eat. So I'm going back to just counting calories for now. Down the road when I'm fitter, maybe then I will switch all my eating habits. But for now, I just be modest in my portions and conscious of my calories and fat from calories.

Anyway, in 3 weeks it will be Christmas! And then in 4 weeks my parents will be visiting! I love the holidays. This is my absolute favorite time of the year :)

Thanksgiving Week in Review

Monday, Nov. 21
Elliptical Cross Trainers
55 minutes.
700 cals. :)
Calories Consumed: 1380
Fat: 40
Carbs: 182
Prot: 75

Tuesday, Nov. 22
Busy Day
No time for the gym :(
Calories Consumed: 1414
Fat: 55 (1 tbsp Olive Oil is 14)
Carbs: 156
Prot: 86

Wed. Nov. 23
Elliptical 430 cals
30 minutes
Calories Consumed 1232

Thurs. Nov. 24
Elliptical 800 cals :)
60 minutes
Happy Thanksgiving!!

 

Well, let's just say, Thanksgiving wasn't a great Calories - Consumed day; in the morning, after my crazy work out, I weighed 186! When I came home though I weighed 190. :) Oops. Nevertheless, at my normal Sunday Weigh-in I was only 188. So, not bad!

 

In other news, my left knee hurts, and my back hurts really badly. Trying to push through the pain. Stupid body.

 

In other other news, I felt very discouraged the past few days. And since I emotionally eat, ya know, it wasn't the best for the diet. But even in that period of feeling discouraged I still "tried" to eat right. Back to calorie counting. Small portions. I'm still doing pretty good. :)

Mid-Week Weigh In

187.8lbs.
I have a fat measuring scale; I just need to remember how to use it.
I blocked that information out of my brain.
:)

Week in Review (Nov. 14-20)

Monday, Nov. 14, 2011

Elliptical Cross Trainers

510 cals.

Tuesday, Nov. 15, 2011

Elliptical Cross Trainers

660 cals.

Incredible work out. Felt SO great!

Wednesday, Nov. 16, 2011

Elliptical Cross Trainers

605 cals

Thursday, Nov. 17, 2011

MTV Power Yoga that busted by butt, but not as badly as a few weeks ago.

Friday, Nov. 18, 2011

Elliptical Cross Trainer / Stairmaster

Resistance 20 (top resistance) for 30 minutes.

Resistance 5 for 5 minutes

500 cals. (was hoping to get to 700 in, but my poor husband locked
himself out of his car, and I had to leave early.)

It was a really great work out week. The bummer: nothing is fitting better after a month. And I gained 2 pounds, albeit, it could be "muscle". Anyway, here's to trying for another month.

Goal this week: To burn 700 cals on Thanksgiving Day. Plan to be at the gym by 7:30am so I can catch the Macy's Day Parade at 9:00am with my cup of coffee (my personal holiday tradition).

When Guilt Replaces Grace

It is my experience that in the church, the institution that most preaches grace, when grace is most needed it is often replaced with guilt.

One time, while I was on staff at a church, we took a "work" mission trip; long days of strenuous labor in the hot sun. During this trip, one of our interns became sick. Now, granted, this intern complained a lot. I love her. She's great. Spunky. But, for her, it might have been a season of inconsistency. I don't know. Regardless, she became sick. And to be honest, even if she was lying to us, that was her choice. I don't have to know either way. After all "love always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." So, I chose to trust her. And in turn, this aligned me with her well-being.

But. My superiors didn't believe her. That, of course, was their choice. I suppose there were methods they could have used to convince her to get off her butt and get back to work. Instead they sided with guilt. "You made a commitment to this internship..." "Is this going to be the nature of the entire summer?" (Behind her back: "She has been complaining ALL summer! She has been so difficult to deal with; she is obviously faking this.")

I later went into her room and asked her straight-up if she was faking, and she said sadly and weakly, "no". She ended up going home, but, behind her back, for the remainder of the summer, it was muttered under one's breath how annoyingly immature she was. And all I remember thinking is: could we have just used a little more guilt? ::Sarcasm implied::

It's been a long time coming that I have been able to identify guilt-tactics. During an internship I served in, in which I had great concerns with many things they were doing, I had decided it was time for me to leave; to back out of my commmitment and go home. When I told my supervisor this directly he responded with: "View this internship as a marriage. If you back out of this, you might be the kind of person to back out of a marriage." "A woman of intergrity keeps her promise even if it hurts her. (referencing Psalm 15:4)" The irony for me is two-fold: 1. Unless you are in an arranged marriage, you court the person before you decide to make a commitment to them. Well, technically, even in arranged marriage the family courts the other family. 2. The people hosting my internship had also broken their commitments to me. Regardless, the guilt was thick.

Once during college the finacial aid office wrote me a letter to tell me my work-study money had just about run out. I'd been working a position similar to an RA position (called a CMC - Campus Ministries Coordinator) AND I was working a work-study position. I was completely unaware the CMC position would also pull from my work-study money. I had never been told that would happen. At the end of the letter telling me I was just about out of money (money that I needed very very much), the person signed it with: "Have a nice day." I was furious. Just that year, the college had taken away one of my scholarships because they changed it from a leadership grant to a scholarship based on need. So, they told me I was originally getting it because I was a valuable leader, but then took it away because I didn't "need" it. And then, they rolled it over into a low-interest loan. Considering I still owe approx. $30,000, I'm pretty sure I needed it. Regardless, I wrote them back a letter.

I laid out their miscommunications, their inconsistencies, and their "shadyness". I expressed that they needed a policy to make sure students KNEW that campus positions and work-study positions would ALL pull from work-study funds. And I finished the letter with this: "The next time you are telling a work-study student he or she is out of funds (they obviously need or they wouldn't be doing the work-study program), please reconsider closing with "have a nice day". I will NOT be having a nice day anymore."

About 15 minutes later I received a call from a sobbing woman accusing me of personally attacking her. Granted, my final blow was sharp. I admit that. But the rest of the letter was an attack on the college. I was then called into my CMC supervisors office. Mind you - this was a Christian college. My supervisor proceeded to tell me I was inappropriate, that I was not being very Christ-like in my response, and that I wasn't being a very good Christian leader. And she proceeded to tell me this repeatedly in different ways for about 15 minutes. I then went directly to the financial aid office and apologized, restating that the beginning of the letter was not an attack on the woman, but the college. I apologized for my straight-forward writing style.

A few weeks later, I was talking to my advisor. I loved him. He was a great Christian-leader and a spectacular professor and had been a missionary in China for 10 years. I told him the story. And he smirked at the end of the telling: "Oh, that's nothing: they messed around with my pension and I also wrote a letter. They also called me into their office and proceeded to call me a bad Christian, a poor leader, etc." He continued with this: "This always happens. There was nothing wrong with what you did. But jump through their hoops of asking forgiveness. It will all work out in the end."

A week later the financial aid office wrote me to inform me they had [magically] come up with $2000 more for my work study. Ironic.

All of this to say: guilt is laced into our minds. Guilt is not from God. It makes us believe we are somehow less than human. It makes us believe we have something tragically wrong with us. It makes us believe we aren't good. It makes us believe our accuser is better than us. Someone else encourages us to feel these things too: oh, that's right, the Father of lies.

Then, we want to form good habits of eating right, exercising, and boy don't we feel guilt when we miss a work out or we eat something not healthy or we even CRAVE something unhealthy. I feel guilty when I don't reach 600 calories (self-induced guilt). We break ourselves down with guilt.

So, here's to one huge blog entry all to say: Fuck Guilt.

One Comment Can Make Your Whole Day

Today was a pretty yucky day for various reasons. But, today as I was sharing my weight-loss motivation with someone they told me they could tell I've been losing weight. Yay! I'm not, but at least I look like I am.

Sleeping in a little tomorrow morning. Then going to my favorite restuarant for lunch.

Anger to Sooth the Soul

My lovely little pissed-off work out earned me the highest calories burnt in one work-out in my entire lifetime. It's a good way to render my Sicilian heart beat; into sweat and determination. :) 660 cals in 50 minutes.

Rain to Wash My Blues Away

Yesterday was a difficult day. I did not want to work out. Mainly because it's difficult to maintain motivation when I'm not really seeing any results at all. But then, I determined that my motivation ought to be the lack of results. If I still don't see results in another month I have a full-fledged reason to go to the doctor and find out what's wrong with me.

So, I pulled my lazy butt to the gym and punched out 500 difficult calories. About 10 minutes into my "run" my calfs and shins and feet hurt SO badly. I switched my stride and pace and it eventually went away. The last part of the work out was better but still tough. But, I felt great afterward. I actually enjoy being sweaty. I also felt more motivation to go today because yesterdays tough workout was alright in the end.

Today, it is raining! I'm so excited because it's been about a month since it rained last. Rather than wanting to curl up with a good book and hunker down I was motivated to get up and go to work. Since the rain is so rare, I always always ALWAYS would much rather sit and be still; so finding motivation to get up was unexpected. This working out thing is doing something wonderful for my mind. Maybe that's the results I need.

Damn it.

So, the tragic weigh in day. I weigh 190.4. Yeah. 3 weeks strong of busting my ass at the gym and eating right, I'm back to start. Granted, when I asked my husband his honest opinion: Do I look better? he said, Yes, your stomach has gone down. It makes me feel a little better, but really, no weight at all? Urrrrr!

And as I type this blog entry I'm SO HUNGRY. Rawr. Alright, after 1 month of doing this I should see something right?

Oh and Postscript: I actually ate well all week and weekend. I didn't binge. I didn't really even have something I wanted in particular. I worked hard. Damn it.

Life-long Vow Broken in Shame

I was the fat kid. Well, I wasn't really. I look back at pictures and think how cute and little I was. When I was in elementary school I was slender. But somewhere in 6th grade little girls decided I was just a tad too chunky. I was tormented. They mocked me in the locker room (what the hell are Middle Schools thinking by making awkward adolescents be humiliated by dressing (or GOD FORBID showering) before one another. And unattended (understandably). However, this is breeding ground for life-altering humiliation and life-long invisible scars). They mocked my outfit choices. They mocked my smell. They labeled me. Accused me of being homosexual (though I thoroughly enjoy men, for the record).What I find so ironic is, these tormenting words haunted me so tremendously that my perception of my body was completely distorted; I wore XL shirts when really I needed to be wearing Mediums. Literally. In high school when I lost all my weight I began weeding through my closet and discovered clothing I'd worn when I was younger. They were all MUCH larger than I even wore at my heaviest. Crazy isn't it?

Regardless, what I find even more fasinating than that, with the beauty of facebook, I have reconnected with a few of those "tormentors": they don't remember being so cruel. So, the very girls who altered my perception, who were the catalyst to my years struggling through depression and self-hatred, don't remember it. And I'm sure, with age, these women have become beautiful wifes, mothers, and leaders in our communities. In fact, I'm confident one of them is a wonderful person.

Anyway, moving beyond that heart-wrentching story I've told hundreds of times (in a "former" life I was a youth pastor) to inspire compassion for others and hope for the tortured, I bring a lighter-note of a vow I made early in life that required that back story. Note: this vow might offend some, and for that I truly apologize. I vowed to never ever ever ever step foot inside a Lane Bryant shop, never ever never. Number 1, I vowed that because I decided I would never wear clothing that was bigger than it needed to be. Number 2, I vowed that because I decided I would never NEED to wear clothing in a "plus-sized" category. And thank God, I have, relatively, always had a petite frame; I've typically always worn small tops and 8-10 sized bottoms.

But. Over the past two years, I've begun wearing Medium tops. This was my first indication that something was going wrong. (Now, I know, Medium is not large or extra-large, but for me, Medium is not the direction I want to be going.) Then this year, I was forced into size 12 pants. I haven't purchased jeans in probably about 10-12 months because I refuse to buy anymore size 12s. (Side Note: even if Stacy London and Clinton Kelly say I should wear what fits me well, disregarding size, I say: I'll write a blog and exercise my ass off before I wear sizes that remind me daily that I'm fat. So there!)

Ok, ok, sorry, I keep getting distracted. Soooo... how I broke my vow. Well, if you recall from my first post, one of my weight loss goals is a pair of sexy riding boots.

(Carlos Santana's <3)

So anyway, I wanted a pair so badly this year. I made my husband scour stores with me. But not one pair would fit. Either they weren't big enough for my calves, or they would have a weird strap somewhere which would cut off my circulation... but I had looked at Lane Bryant online. They had boots. ::sigh:: So as a last resort... regretfully... I went in. The worst part is: the boots there STILL looked awful on me. Yeah. They fit. But they were snug. I was SO So SO bummed. And depressed. Mainly because I broke my vow, but mostly because, I needed to be there.

Once we left, I vowed to never go into a Lane Bryant again.

Now, I know to some Lane Bryant is a wonderful store. And, granted, they have really cute stuff. But for me, to have to shop there means I've gained too much weight. I just hope my body will comply.

My next installment will be humorous fat comments made to me over my lifetime. Until then:

Au revoir.

So Over-And-Done-With Bingeing

Ok, so, my fitness nazi friend reminded me to never reward myself with food again. I love this! We're actually on the same page. My first goal reward is new exercise clothing. Mine are from college and falling apart. My second goal reward is a pair of sexy riding-boots (these have a story which I will share later). Anyway, this weekend I went on a retreat to prepare for a 4 day event several months from now. This event is called an Emmaus Walk, and it is a big joke that during an Emmaus Walk no one EVER goes away hungry; in fact, there is so much food at every hour that one is awake that it's like one big binge session. And the food is intensely good, cooked and baked by women who pour their heart and souls into chocolate pastries and yummy treats. Evil really. And they call it Agape. Seriously. :)

Anyway, during our little weekend retreat I was well behaved! I ate small portions during meals, and had seconds of salad only. I had one cookie. And two small candy bars and a few mints. Though the extras were not healthy at all, I promised myself that on weekends I would allow myself a small amount of treats.

The problem is, when I came home from this retreat, I kept wanting food I shouldn't be eating. And then I thought, well I worked out ALL week. I feel better. So, yeah, pizza, chinese, and chocolate sounds good this weekend. Now I feel icky.

So this morning, I committed to NO BINGEING next weekend, and for that matter, if I'm not going to reward myself with food, I'm not going to reward myself with bingeing. Dur.

So my Sunday weight was... du du duuuuuuuunnnn: 189. Up since last weekend, but not by much. So, if I keep up the good work this week, I hope to be to 187 next Sunday!

Fabulous to Fabulous and Fit

Hi! Well, it's a long story, my journey from determining myself to be fabulous. You are turning the page into my new journey of discovering fitness as being fabulous and therefore enhancing my already proven fabulousness.

Fitness has been the vain of my existance. In adolesence, in which every awkward stage is heightened by rushing hormones and self-hate, I was pointed out as a "fat kid". I used to become so angry with my parents for not putting me in dance or something athletic. The reality is, I prefered milk-shakes to jogging.

In my senior year of high school I weighed around 155lbs. I had auditioned for the show-choir I'd been dying to get in from middle school on. They were all beautiful and popular and wonderful. When I  didn't make the team I became so angry and convinced my weight had influenced the director's decision; I promptly decided to go on a diet (first time in my life). My family and I chose the Atkins' Diet. I began to look at nutrition labels, and I became obsessed. I quickly lost 10lbs and continued to become more and more "svelt". I adored the way I felt! It was during this time I realized just how many calories I'd consumed as a middle schooler. Did you know those wonderful drum-stick icecream cones have about 350 or something calories? I'd eat two or three in an afternoon.

Progressively I changed my attitude toward food. I also realized during college the Atkin's Diet might be a little unhealthy (ie: eating all the fatty portions on red meat, oh and, all the red meat you can handle; mayonaise was ok; pork rinds were ok.... yeah, you get the point). So I jumped on the South Beach band wagon: whole grains, wise fruit intake, lean meats, more veggies if possible, etc. I have pretty much stuck by those rules since. I have, therefore, been able to maintain my weight under 200lbs.

But every single time I get closer to 200lbs I FREAK out. Which brings us to the present year. In February 2011 I married my best friend and the one who challenges me the most out of any human in all of existance. Anyway, about three months prior to the wedding I reduced my calories to approximately 600-1000 a day. I did this fully knowing once I started eating regularily again I would gain weight FAST, but I wanted to be thinner. Thinner has always been the motivation. Not healthier. Not fitter. Thinner. Prettier. Attractive. Approved. I weighed approximately 175lbs at the wedding.

After the wedding I gave myself a month to eat however I wanted. I didn't go nuts, but I ate McDonald's (my true vice), icecream, sushi, pizza, steak, brownies, WEDDING CAKE for weeks. It was amazing. And my alcohol intake increased: beer and a lot of it (the good stuff only - Shiner, Guiness, micro-brews, etc.), wine, martinis, mojitos... ::sigh::

My weight maxed at 193 about 7-8 months ago. I had given myself a month, but I kept eating how I wanted for a few after. It was sometime in April or June that I finally weighed myself because nothing was fitting anymore. When I saw the scale read 193 I was furious. Remember: too close to 200. Then I began thinking of family, babies, belly... shit, I'd be well over 200lbs in no time! Probably closer to 240-260!!! NOOOOO! So, for 3-4 months I began eating MUCH healthier. I cut my calories to 1200-1500 a day. I added some of my South Beach priniciples back in. I started eating salads more often. But it wasn't enough. My weight stayed right at 193. I couldn't lose one damned pound!

All of this climaxes to two weeks ago. I got a stomach flu. (As the anorexic statement goes: "I'm just one stomach flu away from my goal weight.") I was stoked. Finally I'd begin to lose some weight. In fact, I lost 7 pounds. But as soon as the flu was over, I, of course, gained every ounce back. I posted this to facebook: "Lost 7 pounds in 3 days of stomach flu; gained it all back eating healthy and drinking water... in 2 days. I hate my body. Someone want to trade? At the gym." This little comment began a fury of commenters; one in particular is a personal trainer and probably a life coach. I love her. She's got spunk for such a tiny person. I always tell her to eat more.

Anyway, she pounded my weak-ass with her mind-altering fitness dogma (fitness dogma which works, unfortunately). I was convicted. I am a repentant fatty.

My goal for this year: To exercise at least 4-5 times a week, burning between 400-600 calories a day. Right now I'm sticking with eating healthy. I began working toward this goal last Wednesday, and after three days of back to back work outs averaging 400 cals per work out, I went from around 190 to 188. My first mile-marker is mid-January. I want to drop at least one size. I will weigh in again Sunday morning.

After one year I hope to be fitter, smaller, and healthier. I'm doing this with three things motivating me.

1. God didn't make me fat. I did. It's time to "reclaim" my body.
2. The cavemen (and women) were fit because they ran everywhere. Well, I'm not about to give up my car (I enjoy driving fast too much). Instead, I'll use the elliptical/treadmill/bicycle as a device to remember I'm human and humans weren't meant to sit around all the time.
3. I want to be fit so that when I do become pregnant, I can continue exercising and will provide a healthy "vessle" for my kids.

Here's to the beginning of a new journey. And here's to my chronicle of faith, fat, and fit.