Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Did you read that title as SIZE matters, or size MATTERS? Either way...
My pants are getting tight. I'm just saying. I know I haven't been writing many blogs lately, but I needed to say it out loud.
Not that I'm trying to hide anything because you know, fat isn't anything that can be hidden. It hangs out right where everyone can see it.
In fact, last Saturday while I was running there was an incident. I live in a city so pretty much, no matter when I run someone is bound to see me. It was around 9:30 am and there were two guys crossing the road towards a Dunkin Donuts I happened to be running by. As I got closer they pointed and then one of them says, "Look at that fat chick trying to run!" and then they laughed hysterically.
Even though I stopped dead and said some choice words back to them (some of which are not fit to print on a family-friendly blog), I was hurt. Deeply hurt.
In the last two weeks since my doctor appointment in which she told me my thyroid is wack and that weight loss would be a crap shoot for me right now, I have to admit I've felt defeated. Like no matter what I do I'll never be where I want to be weight wise and I may never feel good again. Because this extra weight, well, it does weigh me down.
Body parts hurt that probably wouldn't otherwise. Going up and down stairs leaves me winded. Running is definitely much harder - and slower. I don't know if I can even express how many times I had the thought, "If you weighed 20 lbs. less you wouldn't be having such a hard time hauling your ass up these hills!" during my last half marathon.
I am trying to do what my doctor said to do: no stringent dieting, but rather eat healthfully 90% of the time, watch portion sizes, and get some regular exericse.
But I'm discouraged and the problem remains: my pants are getting tight. Not good because that means when I pull out spring clothing in (hopefully) a few weeks, nothing will fit. Not to mention I think I am already wearing the largest size of Muay Thai Boxing shorts that is made for women. So, an additional problem there.
I watched Eat, Pray, Love over the weekend. I actually liked the movie more than the book, which is unusual for me. There was a bit of dialogue that caught my attention to the point that when the movie was over, I went back to the scene so I could write it down. (The scene: Julia Roberts as Elizabeth Gilbert is in Naples eating pizza and her friend won't eat it because she's worried about weight she's gained and gaining more.)
"I'm so tired of saying no, and then waking up in the morning and recalling every single thing I ate the day before. Counting every calorie I consumed so I know exactly how much self loathing to take into the shower. I'm going for it. I have no interest in being obese, I'm just through with the guilt."
Oh man. I want to be there. I want to be that woman. I want to go for it. But it's hard. Because my pants are getting tight. I'm just saying.