Trust the Process

I have a confession to make.





I weigh myself every day.

Sometimes multiple times a day.

I know, it's horrible.  My trainer AND my nutritionist both tell me, in the nicest way possible, that I'm a freakin' idiot for doing this.  And yet I can't stop.

I have to do it.  I don't punish myself on "bad" days or reward myself on "good" days, I just have to know what the scale says!

I feel weird when I don't weigh myself.  It's obsessive and I know it's bad, but I do it.  Confession over.


Let's talk about why this may be the crappiest idea ever.

Last month, I went to my nutritionist's office for my body comp appt, like I always do.  She weighs and measures me, sticks the EKG patches to my hand and foot and then we chat about how things went and she answers my 10,000 inevitable questions.

Last month, I weighed in at 255, which for me is pretty damn good.  Friggin amazeballs good, actually.

The next day, and for about 2 weeks afterward, I consistently weighed in at 255.  Sometimes my body likes to hold on to weight for as long as humanly possible and then drop several pounds overnight, so I wasn't too concerned or annoyed at this point.

Then, things took what I thought was a horrible turn.  My weight started to creep upwards.  A few days later, it was 257.  Then 260.  261.  262.  Another week and a half later and I was holding steady at 266.

And I was PISSED.

I was (am) still working out as much as I have been for the past year, 5-6x weekly for an hour.  I had (have) been eating the same healthy, whole foods as I always have been.

Why in the holy hell had I gained 11 pounds in less than a month?  I could understand it if I had avoided the gym all month and taken to eating a steady diet of cupcakes and Cheetos.  In fact, I briefly considered eating cupcakes and Cheetos, because why not?  If I'm going to gain weight anyway, I might as well go down in flames...

About 4 days before my nutritionist appointment, my weight started to trend downwards.  It finally "landed" at 256, one pound above where I'd started the month (although my bathroom is an electromagnetic black hole...every scale that enters it becomes 2-5 lb heavy within 6 weeks, no lie).

I asked my nutritionist about my body's love of holding on to weight and then dumping several pounds instantaneously instead of gradually letting it go.  Apparently, normal.  I also asked her about my rapid weight gain this month and told her how pissed I was.  After telling me (again) to stop weighing myself every damn day, she told me this can be normal, too.  *le sigh*  I don't WANT to gain weight when I'm working my ass off!  Even if it's muscle and water (two things that I actually need to gain).

I hopped on the scale.

253.

Ok, not fantastic, but a loss.  I'll take it.

Then she did my body composition analysis.

And this, my friends, is why you should not weigh yourself every day.


Even though I "only" lost 2 lb on the scale, I lost 12 lb of fat.

I also gained muscle and several pounds of water.  I know a lot of people hear "water weight gain" and think of edema or bloating, but I'm chronically dehydrated despite drinking 3-5 Nalgenes of water a day, so for me, numerous pounds of water weight gain was excellent news.

The moral of the story?

I hate hokey crap.  "Trust the process."  "Find your zen." "Keep calm and carry on." "#blessed" "If you build it, they will come." 

Ugh.  Just give me the info and/or tell me what to do without the crispy new age coating, please.

But in this case, true.  Trust the process, indeed.  "The process" has been serving me well for over a year now, one perceived setback shouldn't derail me.

Especially because it turned out to be AWESOME and not a setback at all.

Progress update: 9 months in

Well...not quite 9 months.  It'll be 9 months on February 1.  But close enough.

To recap:  9 months ago, my amazing friend Jen (who was, at that time, a complete stranger to me) gave me the best birthday gift I've ever gotten when she selected me to receive a year of Anytime Fitness membership.  I got her call, and was so shocked I don't even think I thanked her while we were on the phone.  I stayed up late to tell my husband that night.  I was so excited and so scared.

On the day Jen gave me my membership, with some of the most awesome people I know (Clockwise from top left: Kirk, Nate, Beth, Jeffer, My awesome self, Donovan, Jen, Jena, Kate, and Mary).  My gurus and one heck of a support team.  They rule.

I went in for my fitness consultation with my trainer on my birthday, and it was probably the most intimidating experience of my life.  I'm used to people listening to me, but having people watch me is completely different.  Especially when I'm doing something that is completely foreign to me, which they do professionally.  Especially with a strange man that I don't know.  Especially when that man is buff and intimidating looking.  I got home and asked Jeff to pummel me with a meat tenderizing mallet (not kidding).  That first day was brutal, physically and mentally.

I started going to Nutritional Healing about a week later.  My nutritionist's advice and recommendations were a complicated mystery of serving numbers and portion sizes.  It was a lot of information to handle at once.

9 months later.  Training is still brutal, but I'm doing things now that I never would have dreamed I'd be able to do in the past.  It still feels kind of awkward to be watched while I work out, but I'm beyond the point where I care.  I huff and puff and make weird faces and get red-faced and sweaty and have to blow my nose like ten times a session and leave covered in chalk.  Control yourselves, single guys and ladies...I look IRRESISTABLE during training.


My nutritionist's recommendations are now second-nature.  Do I still eat chocolate?  Hell yes, because it's amazing, and I'm willing to do the extra minutes on the elliptical that it takes to burn it off.

One of the most surprising things to me is the atmosphere of trust my trainer and I have cultivated.  It's a strange relationship; trainer and client.  It teeters on the border of fitness, counseling, mentoring, friendship, and teacher-student.  It's weird and excellent.  I honestly wasn't sure, at first, if I'd be able to trust my trainer and really let my guard down enough to give 100% during my sessions.  The verbal attacks I've been subjected to in the past have been predominantly from men, and most of those men were very fit; so as a subgroup of the population, I was intimidated and scared of them.  A male trainer that I don't know?  A screaming drill-sargeant, who I am to let in to see my vulnerable self?  Yikes.

Fortunately, I could not have been more wrong.  My trainer, and the other trainers at the gym (whom I ask questions of on an almost daily basis, thanks dudes) are frickin amazing.  No screaming drill-sargeanting happening.  Will he call me out on my bullshit when I'm stalling because I don't want to run?  Yes.  But will he also patiently wait while I mentally prepare myself for box jumps instead of getting impatient?  Also, yes.

Flippin awesome.

Now, let's talk about my nutritionist.  She rocks my socks off.  Every month, Jeffer and I go in to get weighed, measured, and have our composition analyzed.  I'm at the point now where the nutrition is second-nature, but questions consistently come up.  She gives us all the factual information we need, her opinion when we ask for it, and also, calls us out on our bull.  Bonus: she's fun.

So, the updates.
Let's start from the beginning, and let the photos and captions tell the tale.

This is June, 2014.  I was about 6 weeks into my training and had lost 13lbs from my start weight of 350.

August, 2014.

This is October, 2014.  I think I had lost about 60lb at this point.

And this is from today.  Down 92lb from the first photo and 79 from my 32nd birthday.  It's kind of blurry, but you get the idea.  Also, my hair looks fantastic today.

In 9 months, I've lost 79lbs.  Overall, I've lost 92lbs from my heaviest weight.
I actually weigh less now than I did when I was full of parasites living overseas.  Bonus: this weight-loss is much healthier than intestinal worms.  The more you know.
I'm down 5 pants sizes and 3 shirt sizes, 11 inches in my waist and 9.5 in my hips.
My wedding dress has room for a second person to jump into it with me.
My energy level is fantastic.
And my confidence is better than it ever has been.

Now, again, I will say this.  MY VIEWS ON BODY POSITIVITY AT ANY SIZE AND BEAUTY AT ANY SIZE HAVE NOT CHANGED.  I am a champion for body positivity and loving yourself.  As long as you are happy and healthy, I honestly don't give a crap whether you weigh 100lb or 400lb.
My increased confidence is the best thing that's come out of this, and I don't know if it's from the weight loss, how much stronger I've gotten, or both.  But it's excellent.

I'm crushing goals, kicking ass, and taking names.

AND I'M 8LB AWAY FROM MY NEXT TATTOO.

Fat girl shopping

Disclaimers:
1) I am well aware of the fact that as a white American, I am privileged in ways that others are not.  This sucks and is unfair and I know it.
2) I am not trying to get into a "who's more oppressed than whom" pissing match here, just trying to make a point about something that frustrates me to no end.
3) Bah, humbug.

So.  Picture the last time you went shopping.  Just take a minute and try to recall.  What kind of selection was available in your size?  What part of the store was your size carried in?  Did the clothes designed for your gender stop at a certain size, and send all people bigger or smaller than that to a different part of the store to shop?  How was the lighting?  How did the salespeople treat you?

If you're a dude, there are a wide variety of choices available to you.  And whether you waist is 32 inches or 52 inches, your shirt size XS or XXL, in most stores, you can buy pants off the same clothes rack.  You lucky dog!  There are so many options for athletic wear for you that it has it's own section of the store.  Bonus!

If you're an average to below average sized lady, there are a wide variety of choices to you.  There are so many options for athletic wear for you that it often has it's own section of the store.  Bonus!  There are a plethora of brands and styles for you to choose from.  Chances are, if you walk into any store, anywhere (with the exception of plus-sized specialty stores) you can find multiple options in your size.

Another bonus?  Not everything is black!  Average to below average sized ladies are permitted to want colorful things.  You lucky ladies, you!

If you're an above average sized lady, you have known exactly where this was going from the beginning.

Our section of the store is about  1/4-1/3 the size of the "regular" sized ladies clothes, if we're lucky.  A sizable percentage of the options in the section are black, grey, navy, or brown (why would you want to draw attention to your fat by wearing bright colors?).  We are stuffed into the back of the store (why would you want to draw attention to fat people by making their clothing visible?).  If any athletic wear is offered in our size, there is generally one brand available and one rack of it (for example, in the sprawling cacophony that is Scheels, there is exactly one rack of Nike plus-sized athletic wear.  At Target, Kohls, and Younkers, there are exactly zero racks of plus-sized athletic wear.  In Shopko, there is exactly one rack of Energy Zone athletic wear.  I could go on, but you get it).  After all, fatties must not workout or they wouldn't be so fat, right?  RIGHT?

And if you live in a smaller town, things get worse.

When I lived in Door County, I had to drive for an hour JUST TO BUY  BRAS THAT FIT ME.  That's right.  The closest bras that fit my body at that time were in Green Bay.

When I was home for Christmas this year, about 70lb lighter than when I lived in Door County, I wanted new sweatpants, because my old sweatpants fit me 70lb ago and made me look like a hobo.  Even being several sizes smaller (but still a fat girl by all standards, really), I had to go to three stores to find a pair of suitable sweatpants.  SWEATPANTS.  I was not exactly seeking high-fashion...I just wanted something soft to wear to sit on the couch and watch Twilight Zone re-runs.

But seriously.

There are a lot of cute little boutique stores close to my apartment, and I like to window-shop (and sometimes actual-shop).  These boutiques are tiny, have a tiny selection (as most boutiques do, hence the name), with a tiny size offering (small and medium, large if they're feeling generous), and exorbitant prices.  But it's fun to go.  They also sell shoes and bags and household items and things that are accessible to my fat self.

My experience when shopping at these places has been fucking horrible.

If you are fat and walk into Hey, Daisy! for example, the employees will look at you, pause, and then go right back to talking to each other without so much as saying hello.  This happened once and I was annoyed.  This happened again, and I was infuriated.  So I decided to do an experiment.  Of all the specialty shops downtown that sell clothing, exactly one was welcoming and friendly when my fat self walked in (Thanks, Beatnik Betty's!).  The others must have decided that fat money doesn't spend the same and disregarded me.  Yes, I am aware that I will never ever ever fit into your clothing, but there are entire sections of your little store dedicated to things that I might have liked in my life.  That is, until you decided you didn't want my money.  I'm all about supporting local businesses, but downtown Appleton really needs to step up it's customer service game.


Again, I am aware that there are worse atrocities than being shoved to the back of the store to buy a limited selection of shapeless black clothing, and being treated poorly in a retail store.  I KNOW.

I've written about this before.  Why am I revisiting it?  Because it is still happening.  Because it sucks.

Also, because as I get closer and closer to not needing to shop in the fat girl section any more, I get more and more pissed that a fat girl section exists.  It's sizeist and sexist that my father and my husband, with their very different body sizes, can buy pants, belts, and shirts off the same clothing rack, and that my BFF and I, with our different body sizes, can't.  We have to go to opposite ends of the store to get every single garment except shoes.  Sometimes, we have to go to entirely different stores.

Double standard.

Not cool.

This post was going to be about compulsive weighing but then I got pissed at a stock photo and the theme changed

Does anybody else feel chained to their scale?  Or weigh yourself frequently?  Like...daily?  Or even multiple times a day?  Just to see how things change throughout the day?  Or find out how much your clothes weigh?  Or how much that burrito sitting in your stomach weighs?

I can't decide if it's out of sheer, morbid curiosity, or if I am legitimately addicted to my scale.


**But now, a rant.**

I had a lengthy blog post planned regarding frequent weighing, and how I'm ridiculous and step on my scale out of habit like 5 times a day, because I'm weird and I love to weigh myself.

Instead, I bring you this:

I hate this graphic SO MUCH.

I found this image while searching for suitable stock photos or memes to use for this blog entry.

For some reason, it made me irrationally angry.

Does the number on the scale immediately make you feel the need to exercise?  If it does, exercise is your punishment for being "fat," and that is seriously messed up.  First of all, being "fat" is NOT SOMETHING THAT DESERVES PUNISHMENT.  It is a state of being.  Lots of people on this wonderful earth are fat, and they do not deserve punishment simply for being fat, or eating bad food, or gaining a pound.  

STOP USING EXERCISE AS A PUNISHMENT FOR "BAD" BEHAVIOR!  Exercise, while not always fun, shouldn't be used that way.  How do you expect to enjoy an activity when you feel like you have to do it because you were "bad?"  Exercise is an amazing privilege.  Even when I am silently cursing my trainer for making me do those Roman chair ab thingies that make my shoulders scream and I look like a moron, at least a teeny, tiny part of me is glad I can use my limbs (however feebly) to do them (like 4 of them at a time, on a good day...but still).  Every time I am forced to run, I hate it so fucking much.  My shins hurt, my hip hurts, I get out of breath.  It's awful.  But guess what, I can move one leg in front of the other.  Tons of people probably wish they could run, and can't.  So I'm going to suffer through it and then appreciate that I did it.  Even though it's the worst thing ever.

Gah.  I hate that frickin image so much I could spit.

This is more like it.  Enjoy your body and USE IT!

This, I love.  Don't take it for granted, indeed.

My apologies if this entry makes no sense...I was absolutely hell-bent on writing about frequent weighing and why I think it's the devil but I love it so much...but that image just struck a chord with me and I couldn't stop myself.