So after a rough morning with the kiddo, a distressing phone call with my mother, and dealing with airline BULLSHIT, my blood is boiling.
But I actually tried to do something healthy with it. I walked the dog.
In shorts that are too tight on my butt and a shirt that is too tight on my…everything.
And guess how many fucks I gave?
0
Well, maybe one. But I was trying really hard to ignore it.
I looked ridiculous, I know. And to top off my look I was wearing this weird sport belt thing my mom gave me that carries poop bags, keys, etc.
And yes. I was also picking up dog shit while rocking this look.
Don’t be jealous.
But it felt really good to be outside. Walking. Not being too hot because I’d insisted on wearing pants to cover my thunder thighs. Oh no, it was all hanging out and it was quite refreshing.
So FUCK THEM.
Whoever is making you doubt yourself or judge yourself.
Fuck them.
Articles that tell you it’s impossible to lose weight because your metabolism will slow down.
Fuck them.
Just eat more veggies and do it anyway.
We all get to fight for what we want.
Even if we have to get stinky with the dog shit to do it.
And guess what. Everyone does. Except for people who never try.
Don’t be that person (talking to myself here).
Now I’m going to go clean my fucking house.
Ke$ha is clearly going to go have some angry hate sex. Or at least she was before her issues with her producer.
So a friend passed this on my way. Another one shared it on Facebook. And it’s a fucking bummer man…
I guess like most things regarding health and science, it’s hard to make any strong conclusions from just a few studies, but this article presents some pretty discouraging data about weight loss.
It tracks the weight gain and metabolism of contestants of The Biggest Loser. Now, this already makes me want to discount it because I think we can all agree that losing hundreds of pounds in a matter of weeks IS NOT a healthy way to go about things. But…
The studies found that the contestants not only lost weight, but also lost their metabolisms. Meaning, they burn calories way more slowly. So it becomes increasingly hard to keep the weight off.
They are also double and triple fucked because of their hormones. Hormones that regulate the feeling of satiety or hunger also get all out of whack. Basically, your body stops feeling full and just feels hungry all the time. So then you want to eat, and then your slow-ass metabolism can’t deal with it.
Conclusion? The body WANTS you to be fat, damnit. If you try to lose that weight, your body will freak out and do everything it can to get that fat back.
So…. FUCK.
I guess. I mean, this raises a lot of questions/thoughts for me before I decide to give up and just be heavy.
Like…
If I lose weight at a more normal (slow) pace, will my body adapt better and not freak out?
And this kinda makes sense from an evolutionary perspective. We haven’t always lived in the land of plenty. Our bodies are programmed to pack it on when we can in case we end up facing famine conditions. Famine’s just not the problem any more (in this country).
How do you keep your metabolism up? Exercise? Meth?
And I used to think that my body was really happy at 170. Like it just wanted to be that weight. But now that I weigh more, does that mean my body is greedy and wants me to keep all 225 pounds? Does that mean that once you gain the weight, you’re fucked?
And what is a girl supposed to do?
I don’t think I can just resign myself to the weight I’m at. It hurts my legs. I can’t jump in the dodgy trampoline park. And I’m just tired so easily.
So it’s got to change.
But I wanna know what the best course of action is. What will science discover to help us MAINTAIN weight loss?
I haven’t written in forever and a day. We’ve been busy with a couple of big things.
1. We went to New Orleans for a family vacation. Which was super fun, but resulted in five days of eating like this.
Not the place to hang out when you are trying to eat healthy and lose weight. But I did walk a ton. So that’s something… right?
2.We have been madly debating buying this land.
It’s 1.5 acres southwest of town. Out of town. Away from breakfast tacos, public swimming pools, libraries, and our awesome friends on the East Side. What the fuck are we thinking?
It’s been a lot of ups and downs–and basically just majorly stressful. It’s a big decision and a big financial commitment.
But I guess we are officially moving forward. And will eventually get to design our own home. Which will be awesome–yet again with the stressful.
So this past weekend things were finally calming down. I took the kiddo to the trampoline park for some rain-free fun. We’ve gone a few times before and it always surprises me how easy it is on my body. You’d think the bouncing would be jolting and hard on the joints. But as long as I wear the right bra and pin those puppies down, it’s all good.
This time, not so much.
This time, my ankles/achilles were like FUCK YOU. I kept stopping to stretch, but nothing helped.
Finally at the end, I moved to a different trampoline and it had way better resistance or something and didn’t bother my legs at all. I’m no trampoline technician, but I’m going to guess I was partially struggling on the first one because the springs needed to be tightened or something.
And because of my weight.
Which, oh yeah. There was some new signage at our jump park.
And it’s funny because 1) it took me a while to notice it and 2) my first reaction upon reading it was like “Duh. Makes sense.”
Until I quickly realized I WEIGH MORE THAN THAT. My 225 makes me illegit to jump.
And then the shame. Rolling waves of shame.
And wondering if I was breaking the trampoline with my fat ass (saggy springs, remember?) and if I should jump again, or somehow trick my clingy 3 year old into jumping without me.
Right.
He’s totally great about playing by himself without me participating.
Ha.
I just wanted to leave. Run away and cry in the car.
Which I didn’t. I just got really short-tempered with my child. Cuz that’s fair.
I did do a little jumping, but basically felt really self-conscious and fat the whole time. The only thing that made me feel better is all the times we’d come before and that sign WASN’T hanging.
So back to this healthy at every weight thing.
Great for you if you can dance or do Ironmans at a heavier than average weight. I still wonder what you are doing to your knees, but whatever.
And I have tried to embrace not focusing on weight, but on healthy habits.
But I like to fucking jump around with my kid. And I can’t fucking legit do that now. Or at least not comfortably–because what my self-esteem doesn’t need is breaking a fucking trampoline in half.
I actually really need to acknowledge the weight. I mean, I acknowledge I’m overweight, but my goals actually need to specifically include losing weight. I think they always have in the back of my mind, but I was trying to be more “healthy” in my mentality. Which I still think is true. I don’t want to go on some crash diet. I want to build healthy habits. But damn, those habits have to actually lead to losing some weight.
I want to jump.
I want to be able to chase my kid. Because that is one of his favorite things to do. Anywhere, but especially at the trampoline park where we have these long slippery straightaways to run down.
And then we fall and my hair does this.
static
And then my kiddo cracks up and his laugh is worth dying for.
