Thursday, May 23, 2013
Last week I made it down more than I have in a while (over 6 lbs lost!) but then I got scheduled to work every day I wasn't at school, and being on my feet all day made it really hard to want to be active after. I didn't eat very good things and definitely ate too much of those things.
Then this week I've been cramping and hormonal with massive chocolate cravings. Sigh.
I know I get this way once a month and there's nothing I can do about it. My cramps are insanely bad, to the point that my doctor has given me super pain killers to use in emergencies in the past. One morning I woke up and couldn't get out of bed for 2 hours because I was in so much pain that standing made me queazy.
I don't want to complain or make excuses but damn what a rough week! I'm afraid, now, to get back on the scale. I know I must, and I will, but the anxiety leading up to the weigh in ALWAYS stresses me out.
On another note - for anyone who's read my blog in the past, you have read me talk about my dad. A couple weeks ago, or maybe even a little longer, he called me up to talk about school. After I deflected all of his questions because he doesn't know anything about university or how much it costs or the amount of work that goes into just studying for a simple test......... he asked me what I've been doing as far as being active.
I told him I'm being active, doing fun things that I actually enjoy. Most people would be satisfied and say, "oh, good for you! I'm glad you found something you like." Not my dad, though. "Well, that's all fine, but you need to be doing more."
Recap: last summer we did a week of stairs together - giant stairs that are downtown and by a park; we'd run up and down them a few times and walk around the park. I lost quite a good amount of inches because it was so difficult (which he liked) and continued to do them for the rest of summer.
He said I should be EMBARRASSED that he could do more stairs than I could. He has been an athlete his entire life - he played baseball and hockey growing up, made it to the NHL, coached, and now scouts. He goes to the gym for over an hour every day at 5am. No matter how old he is, he has always been able to do these things. I had to give up my sports when we moved to a bigger city because my mom couldn't afford it. The amount of activity I got was based on gym class in school. My mom worked ALL THE TIME because she was a single parent and therefore didn't have time to go out with us kids and be active. I had to make my own meals growing up, I wasn't taught how to feed myself properly, just what ever was quickest.
Now that I am active again and an adult making my own choices, learning how to feed my body for nutrients rather than convenience, and learning what my body can and cannot handle after all of my injuries, I HAD been feeling pretty damn good about my progress.
Until I found out that I should be embarrassed about myself, my abilities, and my appearance, all over again. Because a 60 year old man who's always been an athlete can do more physical activity than a 25 year old woman who hasn't been an athlete since she was 10 and who's been diagnosed with chronic pain. I should be embarrassed.
A while ago I found this and never forgot it. I read it sometimes whenever my dad tells me things like this. Whenever I feel like I'm worthless because I'm overweight. Whenever all I can focus on is my weight and I forget who I am underneath. I hope that if someone else goes through the same things I do, this will help them too.
“Fat’ is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her.
I mean, is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I’m not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain…
I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!’
‘Well,’ I said, slightly nonplussed, ‘the last time you saw me I’d just had a baby.’
What I felt like saying was, ‘I’ve produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren’t either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?’ But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!
I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.”
― J.K. Rowling