Mark snaps this pic of me relaxing with our furry family. Gracie, the tabby on the perch is the mama of Tiger, the ginger cat perching on my tummy. How does this peaceful scene contribute to feeling fat?
Feeling Fat is my River of Death
Actually, I love the photo above that Mark took of me and my beloved cats. It is an excellent photo of them, and not at all bad of me, considering I am prone in the double chin emphasizing position and had no time to wiggle myself into anything more flattering. As I discussed last blog post in, Half a chocolate and other Christmas Miracles! where I share my inner and outer distress at the ‘candid full body shots’ at the santa house by the slender samaritan (bitch), I am not feeling very good in my body at the moment, i.e., I feel FAT.
This feeling is not helped one iota by the January onslaught of diet center ads, FB resolution pages and our societal obsession with us all ‘getting back on track’ to rid ourselves of holiday poundage like a bunch of lemmings headed over the calorie-counting, carb-eliminating, boot-camp challenging cliff. And moi? I’m USED to the siren call of January. It’s in my blood like the salmon returning home to spawn – no matter that it’s against the current for the salmon AND they get to DIE after doing their genetic duty. They can’t HELP IT! It’s their instinctive programming. Their nature.
My nature is to feel fat, feel bad, feel that ‘getting back on track’ and THIS TIME shaping my out of control ass and thighs into buns of steel and a bass to be about is 100% in my habitual DNA. It’s one thing to sip tea and nibble French butter cookies when your pants zip easily. Oh brother, is it 1000 time harder when those pants feel tight.
Two days ago Mark and I decided to do hill work on the bike and ride from the Pasadena Rosebowl to Descanso Gardens and back. It was a cold day. So, I got the bone-headed idea to try and wiggle into my cold-weather bike tights. Now, bike-tights are SUPPOSED to be tight and compress you, like panty hose on steroids. And I’m shocked and amazed that I managed to get them over my rear and tummy with multiple prayers and gatherings of fabric from the ankles with the torturous pinch and pull technique to move said fabric higher. Finally, well ensconced and walking like a sausage out into the weather. I came to a screeeeeeching halt. “Crap!”
“What’s wrong honey?”
“It’s not even f-ing cold enough to wear these ^%#$%@%$@$% tights, now, not ONLY am a gd sausage, I’m doing to sweat like an f-ing pig!” (Hope no kids were around to hear the state of my language rage).
I was frustrated. Pulling on bike tights when you are up several pounds is not conducive to feeling good in your body.
Mark has a solution.
“Why don’t you change clothes?”
Hmm. Why not change clothes? Why hadn’t that occurred to me?
Because gosh darn it, it had taken FOREVER TO SQUEEZE INTO THESE! Have you ever stuck with a bad idea because of all of the energy you’ve already thrown into it? This was an example of this.
Off to change into bike pants that fit and a fun, sunny ride.
Hooray! We made it up the hills and inclines to Descanso. Now it’s downhill from here baby!
SCREW YOU FEELING FAT!
Yesterday, I woke up, checked in with myself and despite the great bike ride of the day before, STILL FELT FAT! I distracted myself with the computer, then saw several diet center ads in my FB stream and plus size offers from Macy’s in my inbox. ARRRGGGHHHHH! Then several friends announced new diets, complete with scale information and other diet mentality triggers for me. OMG, will January NEVER END!? Er Laurie, it’s only the first days of January.
Ok, Ok, I got this. I got this. I’ll go on a SCREW YOU FEELING FAT WALK down to the park. I won’t worry about miles, speed, calories burned, anything. I’ll take the time to savor what I see and the experience. I’ll put it on Instagram.
And I did have a great walk! Here are some samples of my IG adventures.
I stop to smell the ‘tangerines’.
I’m pointing to the tree in the distance where you can barely see a rock. That is the podcast rock away from the main trail that I usually record from when I’m not talking while walking in the park.
The sun shines brightly on the back trail
And if you want to see the entire walk, check out my Instagram page at LaurieDreamWeaver
OLD FRENEMIES Come to Call
Robot Aliens are what I call my binge behavior
Oh my Lordy, I went most of the day feeling fine in my slightly tighter jeans, but I just didn’t feel well about myself. I felt the familiar FAT is BAD, you are FAT hence YOU are BAD feelings that I am used to, but I also felt something more. I felt alone. I felt left out. Not invited to the calorie-counting lemming party. I couldn’t post my scale numbers, my after photos, my wonderful progress with my shiny new January diet. I was there in my newly too-tight pants, eating vegan and wondering, “What the hell am I doing?”
Who the heck would care about what I’m going through? Now, brave companions, pretty darn ironic, since YOU CARE and have proven over and over that you do, but some snits have NOTHING to do with logic or reality. This snit ran deep into that lonely little girl territory. All of those years where I wasn’t cool, not invited, and if I was invited, the butt of jokes and pranks. Feeling left out and different from the herd is terrifying. If I would just go on a diet, I could feel ok. Not because of my size, but because I would fit into the behavior of the crowd. I would be one with the January lemmings as usual. But I CAN’T go on a diet. I’m Intuitive Eating. I know diets aren’t for me. Hear the trigger BCs? I CAN’T go on a diet. So what does my rebel lonely subconscious do? It calls in the Robot Aliens. If a binge can’t convince her she needs to diet, what will? I binged to convince myself to belong. It was too scary not.
I’ve always been a salmon, I even wrote a pretty great blog post that nobody much read on Daily Adventure Tales, called What’s it Like to be in the Water?. Take a read if you have a moment.
But all of these themes are coming to mind. Alone. Separate. Nobody cares. These are some of my deeper reasons for compulsive eating. Stay safely alone – fat. Be part of the crowd – fat. Worry about something other than emotional pain – fat.
This time I won’t be a salmon or a lemming. I’ll take each day as it comes. And if I CHOOSE to diet I will. If I CHOOSE not to diet I won’t. If I CHOOSE to eat meat I will. If I CHOOSE to forgo some treat I will. I’m not going to tell myself CAN’T anymore. I can take it. I can make decisions. I can change my mind. I can change my outlook. I can change the quality of my life.
*No salmon or lemmings were harmed during the writing of this blog post.