Sunday, June 27, 2010
A few months ago, right after my dear grandfather died, my grandmother asked me if I had life insurance. I used to have a policy with my mother but she got rid of it when I moved out. I had tried to get life insurance through State Farm but they denied me because my weight was too high (yeah, I'm calling you out State Farm!). I was discouraged and didn't want to try again, but at my grandmother's urging I decided to go for it again. I called MetLife and went through the process of becoming insured with them. So you are now reading the blog of a proud life insurance owner! Yay me!
So part of it is that I have to get a physical. I was scheduled for next Saturday. I'm lying in my bed this morning when my cell phone rings. It's 7:30 am and I don't recognize the number. I answer anyway. It's the examiner for MetLife. He's in the area and wants to know if he can come today to do my exam. Begrudgingly I agree. He arrives, takes out all his equipment and begins asking my questions and conducting the exam. Of course, I was chided about my blood pressure. (I swear I will get the right medication and stay on it until I don't need it anymore. I promise!) Then it came time for me to be weighed. Now in the past 3 days since I signed on with MetLife, I've been asked how much I weigh at least 5-6 times, which is 4-5 times too many for me. He asked me what I weighed and I told him that the last time I was weighed, I was at 383 lbs and that the nurse at my doctor's office didn't weigh me last month because I was higher than 350. So he asked me to get on the scale, which of course made me feel sick to my stomach. But I got up and stepped on anyway. When I got off, he asked me what I weighed the last time I was weighed. I told him and he said, "Hmm. Well the scale says you weigh 367 now." I think I was frowning because he asked if something was wrong and I said no, I was just in shock. So I've lost 16 lbs. I've lost 16 pounds.
What's amazing to me is that all this time I've been avoiding mirrors, beating myself up and thinking that all this exercise that I've been doing hasn't amounted to anything. Boy it feels good to be proven wrong some times! I am doing the same thing now that I did a few years ago when I was training. Getting down on myself, ignoring the changes I know I'm feeling, still looking for that 400 lb girl in the mirror. And I knew I was feeling different. I just knew it. I live on the top floor of my building and normally it is tough getting up those stairs. In the past three weeks, I've been getting to the top much quicker. Even when I walk to get lunch or something, I notice that I'm moving a bit faster. I'm actually doing it! I'm losing weight.
This makes me feel so wonderful. I can't believe I'm actually succeeding on my own. This is just amazing to me. I'm proud of myself.
Monday, June 21, 2010
I hate this heat. It brings out the crab in me. Anybody comes near me or gives me a cross look, I'm ready to strike. I've never liked heat. The bigger I am, the worse it is for me.
I was watching this show today called Obsessed. It comes on A&E and, from what I gather, its about people with obsessive compulsive disorders. While I was watching it, I had a sudden realization. A.) I really need to stop watching shows like this because (B.) they put unfounded ideas into my head about myself. I think if I hadn't realized that, I would be sitting here right now picking my brain to spot any possible OCD symptoms. I've frequently used the word "hypochondriac" to describe myself and I do not hold back from reestablishing that description again now.
I'm always looking for things to go wrong. Last week I was talking to my therapist about Lamont and she said basically that I keep looking for the negative outcome instead of believing in a positive outcome. I keep expecting the worse. What happens when I get it? Well, it proves to me that I was right. But by the logic that she tries to get into my thick skull, I'm actually wrong because my negative thinking created the reality of a negative outcome. Even with losing weight, I keep looking for myself to fail and stay right where I am. Not because I like it but because I have a completely negative outlook on achieving my goals. I have not believed it could be done.
Yesterday, someone posted a link to a website called Jezebel about The Biggest Loser and how messed up stuff is behind the scenes on that show. I pretty much gave up on that show because I felt that the challenges (at least in the first 3 seasons)were humiliating to the contestants. I'm also not a fan of people screaming in my face (ahem, Jillian) so that was another reason to stop watching. Anyhow, I stuck around on Jezebel's website and started reading more articles. A lot of the comments made about the dehumanizing of overweight/obese people really resonated with me and brought back to mind all the books on fat acceptance I used to read. Most people dismiss fat acceptance as people promoting living an unhealthy lifestyle but the truth is that most FA communities are simply about not waiting to love yourself when you're skinny. It's about embracing the body you have and if you want to change it, that's fine but don't change it from hate. Change it out of love. Change it because you want it to be healthier and stronger and lasts longer. I left a bunch of FA groups because I felt like even they didn't truly understand what FA meant. I felt that some of the groups were encouraging me not to work harder on getting healthy and that just wasn't acceptable.
Dr. B said that I have to work on loving me now. I hear myself saying (to myself) that I don't like me now. I'll like me when I lose the weight. I'll go out more when I lose weight and I'll dress better, etc. etc. This is exactly what she wants me to stop doing. Carpe diem! And really, what made me feel best about myself, even as I worked to lose the weight, was reading all those books about loving yourself at any size. So I gotta get out the books again because right now Nettie is not feeling the love for Nettie. I don't want to be like that anymore. It's not attractive and pity parties really suck. Nobody wants to come and those who do end up leaving earlier while you stay up by yourself finishing off entire pizzas and six packs and bottles of wine and Chinese food. Sounds horribly depressing, right?
I'm going to work harder at not being so hard on myself. That's important too. And not worrying what others think of me, even the stray a**holes on the street that make comments. And I'm also going to work harder on letting go of the past and looking forward. One month from Friday, I will be 30 years old. It's a new phase. My 20s were spent trying figure out how to be independent and mature and have fun at the same time. My 30s will be about career, school, family. Most people do it the other way, but that's not how my hand was dealt. Truth to be told, I like that I spent my 20s trying to become a better, more responsible and kinder human being. I'm also glad that I was willing to step up and face my issues and do something about them so that I don't let so much of it spill onto my future children.
I'm going to be all right. I just have to BELIEVE I will be all right.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
I went to the mixed martial arts/self-defense class today. I had been nervous about it last night and most of the today. I even dreamt that I went and there were a bunch of people there, even though it was supposed to be a private lesson. I really had no reason to be nervous though. When we began, the instructor taught me the basics. Proper stance and how to throw a jab and a right. We worked for about a half hour and I was sweating buckets, not to mention tired as all hell. But it was fantastic. He said I had strength and good technique. It was nice to hear the praise and see him smile when I did something right. Overall it was fantastic and I cannot wait to do it again. He says its only going to get worse from here but I'm ready. I've been wanting to learn to fight for a long time. I'm sick of people walking all over me, just treating me any way they want. One thing the instructor said was that it doesn't matter how big you are. If you can't throw a punch, that's it for you. I know he was speaking literally but my mind always looks for the metaphor. I guess that's the writer in me.
Earlier today, some guy standing on the side of my building made a very rude comment about me. A very rude sexual comment. I didn't even say anything. I just kept walking. Maybe everybody's right. Maybe it is my fault that people treat me the way they do. Anyway, I wish I'd known then that I already had a decent right hook because I would have punched that guy's lights out.
I've just been so angry with everyone lately. All I want to do is get as far away from them all as possible. I feel like I don't have anybody in this world to depend on, like there's nobody willing to help me. It's my fault, I'm sure, because I don't fight hard enough. I'm cancelling my birthday plans too. I'd rather spend my 30th birthday by myself. I know I can depend on myself at least.
I'm tired so I'm going to go to bed.
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