Finding the Ignition Source

My editor friend asked if I would write about my recent weight loss experience for this issue of Alice, considering the theme is “Coming Clean.” I had to think about it a bit because the topic is quite personal, and often painful. After a while I agreed to come clean, but then I procrastinated. It’s hard to start.

So, I’ll first let fly with a little stream of consciousness:  Yeah, I was sick of being fat and trying thousands of diets and yes, I had been slim from time to time but then most of the time I was not, and I never knew if I’d ever be thin again because I’d done the yoyo forever, but when I finally decided to bite the bullet and go on a local doctor’s diet, and because I was paying for it and therefore accountable and making appointments etc., I actually lost 60 lbs.

Oops, I started with the punch line: I lost 60 lbs. Here is where I could sign off, but I’m going to drill down a little deeper. Maybe this will read like your own story?

How did I get here in the first place? A lot of people have the same tale to tell, the same backstory. And, more than how, why did I finally pull it off? It was something a friend said; she shook me up which made me take a closer look at myself.

Like many of you, dear readers, I was an overweight child. And, like many, my self-esteem was often wrapped up with my weight. Does low self-esteem stem from being fat, or is fatness a grim child of low self-esteem? I have not figured that out.

As an adult I lost 32 lbs., twice. The first time I was in my late 20s, and didn’t start out at a really high weight, so I was looking very good without the extra 32 pounds. Of course, eventually I put it all back on, plus more. Another time I followed a different diet plan, lost 32 lbs. again, eventually got bored with the diet, and put it all back on, plus more.

Just so you know, I am not someone who gives up easily or who is adverse to hard work or a challenge, but over time I simply came to a place where I had to face just how high the number on the scale was getting despite my best efforts.

I had a local M.D.’s name in the back of my mind for years, never thinking I would actually go see him to help me lose weight. I had gone to his office about a separate health issue years ago, and, seeing as he also specializes in obesity medicine, he told me then that he could help with my weight problem, too. Even though I was sitting on a doctor’s table, I didn’t particularly like having my weight talked about when I was there for another issue. It was rather humiliating, even if he is a doctor.

So, years later when the significance of the number on the scale really sank in, the words of that doctor came back to the forefront. I thought more about it. I thought that a disciplined eating program was something I had avoided, so I was in a quandary: no one could really want to lose weight as much as I did because it would be hard in lots of ways, but I wanted it so much, and I had wanted it for so long.

What needed to happen in me for the want to turn into action? I’d taken action before, but it didn’t stick. Over the years, I had had the want, but when was something going to change in me to do something about it permanently? Where was I going to find the ignition source I needed to forge ahead and stay on course? And, when was this going to happen? What did I need to do to get started and to change my life? Without the inspiration I was looking for, I waited.

Now, jump ahead to my current workplace: one of my friends there lost 80 lbs. on the same kind of plan that my doc was suggesting. I asked her what made her finally start. She said something so simple, but it was the “arrow to my soul” spark that was right for me at the time. She said, “I’d just had enough.”

I thought about that little sentence all day. That evening, I mulled over all the things I was sick of: being uncomfortable in a restaurant booth because my midsection was cutting into the table, and no one else at the table had that problem. Sitting in the first economy row in an airplane, behind the bulkhead, and not fitting behind the little armrest table. Or, someone’s eyes reflexively going to my gut, and quickly looking away even though she didn’t mean to make me feel awkward, but I caught it anyway. I was sick of wearing cardigans and jackets over my shirts, to cover up. I was sweating in those extra camouflage clothes. I wanted to be cool and comfortable, wearing just a nice t-shirt and jeans, and no damned jacket. I wanted to come out of hiding, and thinking about all of this, maybe I had found my why.

Self-esteem issues aside, there are really no ends to the sundry shitty feelings that have come to me with being fat. There was the time I was going out for an evening and pulled out the new top I had bought at a Plus Size store for just such an occasion. It had jeweled accents and flowed out from my body; didn’t stick to it. I was sufficiently hidden, and felt pretty; I felt like everyone else. The evening was fun, and I was laughing and having a good time until someone asked me when my baby was due. (Another time someone asked me, “It feels good to get a pedicure when you’re pregnant, doesn’t it?”) The smile was instantly gone from my face, my illusion that no one could see the real me was shattered, and the rest of the evening was ruined.

I think about how much psychic energy I’ve spent dwelling on my weight — so much time. It’s constant: passing a mirror or window and angling myself in such a way so I look good. Making sure my jacket is not flapped back but around me like it’s supposed to be. Checking out my image in a mirror, standing upright, sucking it in, angling myself (again), and thinking, “Hey, I’m lookin’ pretty decent when I stand this way!”

Then, eventually, you see someone’s candid photo of you somewhere, and you are unguarded and unprepared, and consequently look like crap. I have spent so much energy on these thoughts that I call them my “fat energy hours.” I have wasted so many fat energy hours over the years. I wonder if this may be more of a woman thing. Do men spend as many fat energy hours as I did? I doubt it.

There were a couple of times, since I’d decided I was helpless to attain a big weight loss, that I would agree to love myself the way that I was. “I am a big, beautiful woman,” I’d say. But, the truth was, I really didn’t want to be in that place. I realized that I was still preoccupied with expending fat energy hours, and the love-me-as-I-am phases didn’t last.

So, back at my office, when my friend said, “I’d just had enough,” I finally realized that I’d had enough, too. I’d had enough of all those wasted fat energy hours taking up so much of my life. I decided to make a change and go see the diet doctor.

The rest of my story is just what you’d imagine; I followed a plan and stuck to it. Maybe you’ve done the same type of thing, but are shaking your head now, back at square one; it didn’t work for you. It doesn’t work for everyone. But, for some reason, and because I found my ignition source on that particular day at work — found the why I wanted to lose weight through my friend’s simple sentence — I feel good that this is the right path for me.

As I’ve lost the weight, I’ve had a lot of fun getting rid of my too-big clothes. I wash and nicely fold them, and off to the thrift store they go. I only have things in my closet that fit me. I can pick something out and I know it will look good. And, not everything in my closet is black (the slimming non-color) anymore. I look in there and actually see colors. I’m not saving any bigger sizes. I’m not even going to save one proverbial pair of “fat pants.” I don’t like the idea of holding those up for others to see sometime down the road. Some people do that as a reminder to themselves. I don’t think I ever want to see them again. I have some horrible pictures to remind me of how I used to look.

I have another 10 lbs. to go before reaching my goal. And, I don’t kid myself – there is more work ahead even after reaching my goal weight like learning to live with “normal” meals, and not letting old habits get their death grips on me again. Regardless, I have made a vow to myself to lose any 5 lbs. I gain. I figure I can lose 5 lbs. — it’s not a daunting goal now that I have the tools I need to do it. I also will not buy another size up to fit my clothes to my weight; I will not.

To remind myself of all that I’ve accomplished, but the hard work still ahead, I look at the little sign my coworker put up on my cubicle wall that says, “Will it be easy? Nope. Will it be worth it? Absolutely.”

On the more positive side, here’s what is easier now: packing a suitcase. I don’t have to try on my whole wardrobe to find enough items that fit at that time, or that look half decent. Everything in my closet fits and looks good, or I don’t keep it. My things are smaller and therefore less bulky; my suitcase can be smaller. Walking by a window and not feeling the need to close up my jacket and angle myself; feeling cool and breezy in an overheated room with only a t-shirt (and no damned jacket!) Sliding into a restaurant booth with many inches to spare. Not dreading photos being taken; seeing a candid shot of me that looks just like the person I want to be.

Also, having confidence, and even at my age, better self-esteem, and not feeling so invisible. Not to mention that it’s just better for my overall health. I don’t mean to brag, but my hope, dear readers, is that you find your ignition source, and take the steps you need to take to feel better about yourselves. It’s hard, but it’s worth it.