Last week, I wasn’t feeling so well.

Actually, let’s be honest- I was absolutely miserable. Depression came charging in, sinking its hooks into me and I decided that I really didn’t care about weight loss anymore.

100kg seems to be my mental roadblock. It’s the weight I was when I was 15-20years old. It’s the weight I identify with. When I dropped below 100kg recently, a part of my head went into a panic.

The emotions went wild – anger, fear, resentment. Self-hatred. Each emotion took their time abusing me last week, telling me that I’m not worthwhile. Telling me that I’m not allowed to be healthy. Telling me that I don’t deserve to even feel pretty.

So I gave in. And this is what happened:

Monday: I didn’t eat much. I’ve long starved myself in the past, so I took back the old habit of skipping meals.

Tuesday: I skip meals again. I take a shower Tuesday night, only to be struck by a horrible wave of dizziness that brought me to my knees. I spent the next ten minutes hunched over in the bath, water dripping down and unable to move for fear of fainting. The water was pouring down me and I couldn’t even move far enough to turn it off. I was absolutely helpless and terrified I’d drown. The only thing I could do was sob.

Kim brought home some Hungry Jack’s. All he did was buy what I would have ordered before, but eating it was horrible. It seemed to be an exaggeration of flavours – all salt and condiments. It hit my stomach like lead bricks and I felt sick for the rest of the night.

Wednesday: Tuesday scared me. I ate. But I ate trash. And spent the rest of the day feeling bloated and sick from too much junk food.

Thursday: I forced myself to eat, but I ate too much and ate badly. I kept telling myself I didn’t care, but all I could do was feel miserable. And starving.

The Weekend: Between eating too much and ordering Chinese, I’ve had enough salt to preserve a cow. I ate what I want and when I wanted, but it made me miserable.

It actually made me miserable.

I just spent a week in self-induced misery. I don’t want to be there anymore.

· · ·

Which is otherwise known as Burger King.

Felt really dreadful tonight (in fact, typing this on my iPod in bed), so Kim decided to gets Hungries since we are out of veg and I can’t stand up to really cook.

Defaulted to what I used to eat before changing my diet. Even though the total points was 44 (I am on 33pp now, by the bye), I felt sucky enough and figured it’d be no big deal as long as the rest of the week was okay. Which, while true enough, doesn’t take a small detail in account: I seem to really dislike the taste of Hungries now.

Not only did it hit my stomach like a ton of lead bricks, but the taste just doesn’t seem so great. Everything seems exaggerated: all salt and cheese and mayonnaise.

While I will probably have Hungries again in the future – just out of conveniece – I feel rotten enough after eating that to probably curtail any cravings.

Next time, I’m asking Kim to pick me up a salad from Subway. Man. 44pp for something I hated. What a waste!

· · ·

Today’s the last day of February and the first “official” day of weight loss in March.

Here’s how I did last month:

February Weight: From 103kg to 97kg, for a total of 6kg/13lbs lost!
Exercise Focus: Not met: 2/3 weeks completed.
Non-Weight Focus: Not Met. Just didn’t keep up on babying my skin.
Measurements: 6cm lost

Emotionally, I’ve bounced around a bit this month. I’ve gone from really believing I can do it to wondering why I bother because it’s impossible. And then, being absolutely amazed that I’m presently at the same weight I was in high school.

I can’t afford to look too far into the future yet. I’m still at the point where thinking of losing significant amounts of weight still sends me into a panic.

As for next month, I’ve changed a few of my goals. My next mini-goal is getting to 90kg. I’ve also shifted my true goal from 90kg to 80kg. It’s a little intimidating, but I think I can get it.

Exercise focus is 20 minutes of exercise a day, 5 days a week. And non-weight focus? Concentrating this month on really taking care of my skin – that means finding out exactly what I should be doing and how often.

· · ·

So, my body has the habit of losing weight every five days. For two days, it’ll be in flux, but after that, I’ll be pretty much that weight.

Except right now, I’m a little uncomfortable. I’ve been losing weight even faster than that for the last couple weeks. I tried to slow it down a little (and I know I’ll be praying for this problem later, but right now. I’m worried) but I’m still dropping. I’m also PMSing very badly. I’m 17 days late with no real signs I’m going to begin except cramping and mood changes.

I usually gain a bit and really break out.

I’m at 97kg and have been for really three days now, so that’s two weeks this month where I’ve lost 2kg instead of 1. I hope I’m not screwing up. I know that my body -really- doesn’t like it’s current weight, so maybe it’s still in the zone of quick dropping. But if there’s a problem, I want to keep my eyes open enough to be able to spot it. You know?

Still, as iffy as I am about that, I came to a realization today – I’m 5lbs from being actually halfway to my real goal.

5lbs? That’s -it-?

Mind-boggling. Seriously. Relatively soon, I’m going to be actually -under- 200lbs. A trip to the store the other day showed me that I’m a comfortable size AU18. The idea of being a 16 or even a 14 makes me wonder if this is all in my head.^^ I’m happy, but there’s a very big part of me that doesn’t quite comprehend that these changes are happening.

As it is… 97kg is -213lbs-. That’s my high school weight. Well, 213-217. Thinking about that… I think I was 180-190 in junior high and 160 in elementary. (Before you go “whoa”, realize that by the time I was 9, I already had my period. Had size C breasts. And was about 5’8. I -felt- hideous, but I see the pictures and think I was cute as a button. And I definitely did not look like a kid.)

Really hanging out to get to 200lbs. I’m tempted to maintain at 200 for a while to not only get used to it, but also give my skin some time to heal.

On the other hand, I’m afraid that will lead to complacence. I become seriously apathetic at times and I don’t want to stop caring when being so damn close.

· · ·

Well, more accurately, just tears.

Had a bit of a good cry today. My scale is -firmly- putting me at 98kg/215lbs.

Me. Ms 111kg/245lbs since university.

It seems unreal. Impossible. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been half-convinced I’m reading the scale wrong. But I look at the pictures. I look at the measurements.

And it’s true. I really am losing weight.

Hehe. It makes me cry again. I can’t stress to you how impossible I believed this to be. It only hits me now that I was just going through the motions of trying to lose weight before. Playing tag with kilos, knowing that they’d leave for a little bit only to return with a vengeance later.

I pride myself on knowing myself well, but this is something I was convinced I couldn’t do. Sure, I could lose twenty pounds, but I -never- thought I could get back down to my current weight. And now, getting lower doesn’t seem possible, but likely. This isn’t the grueling punishment I always believed it’d be. It’s not hours and hours of hard, torturous work to lose every last ounce.

This is easy. This is smooth. This is live-able.

It’s a startling discovery to find out that I’m not who I thought I was. For as much as I’d criticize others for never being able to see past my size, I find out now that I was just as bad. My self-identity is strongly linked to my size. And now that I’m finding out that my weight doesn’t have to be a permanent thing, I find myself shaken up.

Confused. Angry. Terrified. And beyond happy.

If this can be changed without the heartache, why the hell haven’t I changed it before? Why have I let myself dwell in misery for decades? I’ve turned inward, stopped talking to people. I’ve hidden in shame and embarrassment over a problem that I thought I’d always have.

If I can achieve something I thought was literally impossible for me, what other things have I shortchanged myself on?

· · ·

I so haven’t posted lately. I didn’t even add my weekly focus for 14 Feb – 20 Feb in my database.

I’ll be going back to changing the focus to be about exercise every day. I think I need to keep track of that more than anything else.

So I was thinking about some of the things I’ve read, both on the forums at WW and at 3FC. So many people there who have so much weight to lose and are still doing so very well. I look at my starting weight of 260 and think, “Gawd, some of these people would kill to weigh that.” and here I’ve been bitching about how horrible it makes me feel.

I got to remember to be a little more sensitive.

I started thinking earlier, though, what being 260 was like.

- My chair, which was a birthday present from Kim about 8 years ago, has been falling apart for 7 years. When I was at my full weight, every time I’d get on it, it’d squeak and groan under the pressure. Both arms broke off. The bottom is half-way shredded. I was absolutely convinced that I was given a bum chair. But a part of me knew it was my weight so every time Kim suggested he buy a new one, I’d change the subject.

Since losing just 18kg, the chair rolls a lot easier and no longer makes those squeaks of doom.

- My face had more red than tan. Acne was never really a problem in my teen years, but after I passed the 100kg mark, my face really broke out big time. For years. I even stopped seeing the blemishes after a while because I was so used to them being there.

18kg down and my acne problem really isn’t a problem, except around that time of month. Then I’m red enough to make Rudolph burn with envy.

- My feet were perpetually bleeding. As someone who was morbidly obese with a family history filled to the brim with diabetes (my dad, grandfather, uncle have died from it, one sibling has it. Another is very likely to have it), the cuts on my feet worried me. It made movement -so- difficult. I thought maybe it was from stepping on things and the cuts weren’t healing, but on closer examination, every cut was in the creases of my foot where the skin looked as though it were literally bursting at the seams.

Now, no more problems with my feet. My feet are smooth and I don’t leave trails of blood every time I walk around. (Explaining that was embarrassing as hell for me – “Oh, I stepped on something! Ooops!”

- Struggling to keep up with everyone else’s walking pace was a huge problem. My sense of pride was strong enough where I’d refuse to let anyone know (though i betcha they figured it out anyway) that I was having a hard time, so I’d -make- myself keep pace. If I couldn’t do it, I’d find -something- (Anything!) to stop and look at. (“Oh, wow. Have you -ever- seen such an industrious ant before? Look at him!”) So people wouldn’t hear me puffing and huffing, I’d hold my breath and let myself fall behind a little so I could quickly gasp for air when they were far enough away. If people suggested doing something physical, I’d come up with any excuse why I couldn’t go. Didn’t always work though and I’d be panicking and flailing around inside. Hell, I remember one time getting stuck on a walk with all of Kim’s family. They climbed down a bunch of very steep steps to a riverbed below. By the time I was halfway down, I -knew- I was in trouble. I couldn’t even get down there. But everyone was watching and they were going to have a family photo at the base. Hell, people in their 80s were going down without much effort.

So I forced myself to. The way back up, no matter how hard you try – you can’t cover-up heat exhaustion. So Shan, Kim, and about 3 others made such a big deal about helping me up that I really wanted to just jump off the ledge right then and there.

My endurance now is much better than what it was. I can keep up for a while walking. I don’t need to stop so often. I’m hoping that the next time I go on one of those, I’ll be able to be as active as everyone else.

- Going into public was excruciating. People can be openly hostile to those of us who are very overweight. You get a lot of looks. You get a lot of comments. I can’t tell you how many comments I’ve gotten over the years from strangers (actual quotes), ranging from criticism “God, you’re disgusting. You don’t look in the mirror, do you? I’d kill myself before I became a pig like you.” to those who think it’s hilarious “Hah. Bet fucking you would be like fucking a marshmallow.” to ‘helpful’ advice “You know, throw up one meal a day – just one! – and you’ll be skinny in no time.” I’ve heard chants. I’ve heard charming witticisms and allusions to my whale-ness.

I’ve heard a lot over the years, each time making it just a little bit harder for me to go outside to the point where I just would not leave the house. I got so tired of people seeming to
pray they wouldn’t sit next to me on the bus or plane. Or that little curl of the lip as they try to look at my shopping basket or gauge what I’ve ordered at a restaurant.

Now I can’t say this fear is gone, but I can honestly say I don’t worry as much. Not so much, I think, because I lost weight but because a switch kind of flipped in my head of “I don’t really give a damn what a insignificant little peon like you has to say in -my- universe.” And this is my universe, dammit. And in my universe, I will be happy and healthy because that’s what -I- want, not because of what some idiot is going to say.

To be honest, if they weren’t going to bitch about my weight, they would have looked disgusted at me for my chipped teeth or dark skin or something else. Picking on my weight just saves them from being called a bigot, which is EXACTLY what they are.

That aside, there are a million different things now that are so much better for me at 217. (I’ll be officially 217lb/99kg tomorrow, but I already know that’s what I am). I really can’t wait to see what changes are in store when I hit 200lb/91kg – for the first time in 20 years.

· · ·

The other day, I woke up in quite the mood. I hated everyone, everything.

Trying to become healthier seemed to be a long, drawn-out exercise in futility, right above training a kitten to play cat’s cradle. I’ve been kinda just floating around for the last few, half-doing this. Kinda just doing the entire “fake til you make it” deal. I thought I was feeling apathetic. I thought I really just didn’t give a damn anymore.

Yet I still couldn’t bring myself to binge on the Valentine’s cake in the refrigerator. And I still haven’t attacked the bajillion bags of my favourite potato chips in the cupboard. (Kim knows I like them, so he always brings back a bag or ten from the store – at 12 points each. -_- Still, he’s so sweet about it that I don’t really have the heart to tell him not to. So I just tell myself I’m allowed one bag a week. And the vast majority of the time, I won’t even have that.)

So I guess I really wasn’t as apathetic as I told myself I was.

Held it together long enough to feel my second (or is this the fifty second?) wind come along.

Unofficial weigh in today was at 99kg. Which blew my mind. I never ever thought I’d actually get there. Sure, it was a goal. But. Damn, even if I don’t achieve it this week, I still know it’s on the horizon and that’s exciting as hell. That makes 90kg seem so much closer!

Speaking of which, 90kg goal is to either get a gym membership or a home elliptical. Suddenly, it actually feels possible and, seriously, even 10kg ago I didn’t even -think- that I’d ever be here.

I did something a little interesting today. My waist is fluctuating between a 98 and 96cm (I blame it on my ToM being a week late), so I wanted to know what clothing size that was since I haven’t been shopping in forever. AU size 20/US size 16. I must have really lost a lot of weight; before I moved to Oz, I was a size 18/20 US.

Out of curiosity, I pulled out some clothing that has sentimental value: a skirt I bought when I was at Oxford and a skirt I bought (that didn’t fit but I wanted it DESPERATELY) when I was in Edinburgh a couple years ago. They both have a 82cm waist.

Remembering from back then, I’m pretty sure I was 185-195 when I wore the Oxford skirt. Since I’m older and gravity is a cruel bitch, I’m not going to assume that everything will melt right back into place when I do lose weight, but does that mean I can hope to be a size 14ish when I hit the high 170s-180s? God, that’d be so amazing. I’m going to have to take a picture of this skirt and post it up here because, today, I finally have a clothing goal.

I’m going to fit into that skirt again, dammit. I may never ever wear it in public (and I think the world would thank me for it – this is clothing for a girl, not a woman), but I want it to be by choice and not because I’m too big.

Anyway! I feel a lot better now.

· · ·

Gah, my stomach hurts.

My period is a little bit late (and before you ask, no, I’m -not- pregnant.) so I’m just blehing from these horrible PMS cramps I’m getting.

I suspect I’m also retaining a bit, which is why I’m going to make my weight loss goal this week to remain the same at 100kg. (I’m still not really counting myself as officially 100kg. It’s too hard to tell on my dodgy scales).

I also think that I’m getting to the point where I really need to up the ante on exercise. Though I just tried WATP 3 and I couldn’t get through. I stopped at 1.5miles and I’m so out of it. I remember being able to do 3 mile well enough to go onto 4 mile. I can’t imagine that level of fitness right now.

This week’s focus is a little different. In addition to my standard 15 min of daily exercise, I want to try to get in 1 session of toning in this week. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I am really resisting the idea of exercise. Trying to coax myself into it.

· · ·

Been a long, long day. Didn’t want it to pass without saying something, but I think I’m just too emotional to write much right now.

To give you the gist, I’ve been thinking about my weight problem and where it started from. It’s making me tackle a couple things I’ve long pushed aside. I’m sure once I get things sorted in my head, I’ll be stronger than I was before but right now, I’m just feeling weak.

Night night.

· · ·

Reiterating the focus for this week: 15 min a day exercising.

Also, I’ve decided I’m going to have a monthly goal. I’m starting this one a week late, but that’s okay. Anyway, I’m going to take extra good care of my skin and see if I can’t make it look better.^^

So, this weekend was a bit of a bear to get through. It wasn’t that I was so tempted to eat too much. The actual problem was that I wasn’t feeling so hot so didn’t feel like eating at all. I barely made my minimum points every day.

Maybe that’s why I hit 101 instead of 102.

I was feeling a little uneasy about that (though a part of me is dancing with joy) because I don’t want to lose weight too quickly, but the thing is that I’ve been good. I’m eating more now than I did before. I’m eating healthier. Plus I’m moving more.

Luckily, I was looking at my weight loss graph (gotta love those, right?) and it shows that there’s a bit of a pattern there. I tend to have fairly regular losses then every 5 weeks, I have a big loss. Whether or not this trend will continue, who knows. But it was interesting to see.

So, I’m 101 right now. Mind is kind of blown. I sat for a while trying to think about my goal for this week – since I lost 2 kg last week, then perhaps I should just try to maintain this week. Thing is, I think this is just a quirk of my body. I’m pretty sure I was doing the same thing last time I tried to lose weight, as well. So I put my week’s goal in, tentatively, as losing 1kg (to get to 100kg), but I’m going to expect to be 101 next Monday, just so I won’t get too disappointed.

Either way, being a “90′s girl” is coming up soon. Incredibly soon. This month.

Damn. That really is exciting. And, honestly, I still feel completely relaxed with this plan. It -feels- natural and the only problem I really have is with making sure I exercise enough (hence the need for a focus).

Speaking of exercise, since I am now 101, it puts me in the next exercise tier (since healthy for me is 72kg). That means I need to start slowly adding moderate exercise. I figure what I’ll do is work on my pilates tape (strain through, to be honest) and hope that I find my yoga tape relatively soon. Either way, I have to start moving myself more or excess skin will be a big problem. And god knows, last thing anyone wants is excess skin.

· · ·