The Crossroads

Something has been nagging at me lately-- for once, not my mother (yes, feel free to roll your eyes here). And that something is the fact that, with the exception of the people who know me in "real" life (i.e. have met me in person), I have never actually mentioned my OTHER blog here...

Why?

One would think that, since I am relatively comfortable baring my soul (to a degree!) here on Calumny for any ol' person to come along and read that, I might ALSO feel like doing some shameless self-promoting by sending my reader(s) over to http://www.180turnaround.blogspot.com/ as well.

I know, I know-- they're BOTH listed on my profile, and for all intents and purposes, you probably HAVE wandered over there as well, if you've been a regular visitor of mine during the past year or so that it has been in existence.

But the truth is-- when I "gave birth" to the 180 blog, it wasn't specifically intended for the viewing of my "real" associates. After being a regular poster on the 200+ Pounds to Lose board on the Weight Watchers web site for some time, I was prompted by several boardmates to post some of my progress pictures. And so, I went through what was a surprisingly painful process-- I went searching back through a collection of photo CD's taken in the past decade, looking for images that captured me in various high & low (literal & figurative) points of my appearance.

If you've known me longer than the past two years, then you know that I have been dealing with excess weight & more recently, the task of making that weight a thing of the past. But as anyone who has dealt with weight / body-image issues, a large (pun intended) part of that which you that you wanted to exorcise from yourself never really goes away. In your head, whether you were overweight for a week or a lifetime, it has impacted WHO you are & how you got to where you are today.

That said, do I still consider myself to be "fat"?

No, not in the traditional, textbook, Hollywood stereotypical sense.

I know I still have a few pounds to lose before I "fit" what the medical experts consider to be an ideal weight or BMI (Body Mass Index). But, again that little voice inside of me that asks those wonderful, rhetorical questions (often at 3am), has been prodding me-- why are you holding back, Laura? Do you think if you don't "tell" anyone who reads this blog about the weight loss journey you've been on these last few years that maybe-- just maybe-- no one will notice, and you can "pass" as NORMAL? And NORMAL-- feh, what a craptastic word. What IS normal anyway? Definitely something I doubt I ever will (or will WANT to) be...

I do want to give a nod here to another gifted blogger & WW 200+ poster named Sara who has been remarkably candid about her own WL journey. She has found a wonderful sense of liberation & ownership in sharing her thoughts about obesity and weight loss on her blog, and on the WW boards. And as odd as the concept might sound, it really IS possible to weigh in excess of 300 pounds and not ever really "owning" that fact. The number of ways that you can lie to yourself is staggering... even though anyone with functioning eyes can plainly SEE that you have a weight problem, I'm here to testify (can I get an amen?) that it is absolutely possible to be in denial about the subject. To deny the fact that you can (and I did) break a folding chair simply by sitting on it... That you get to the point that you can no longer shop in even the plus sized women's clothing stores (and I did) because you've gotten larger than their largest size. That there are places and spaces in your daily life that you, quite simply, DO NOT FIT-- because of your size.

My rock bottom came almost 10 years ago-- the day I stepped on the scale at my doctor's office & was unable to find out my exact weight because her scale "only" went up to 350 pounds.

Only 350...

I stepped on that scale, heard the horrendous CRASHing sound of the metal gauge at the end of the grid, and knew without a doubt that, not only had I reached a weight that horrified me (350), but that I was so firmly above it that it took over two solid months of workouts 4 times a week (at the gym that I joined the very next day) before I was able to get a reading of 349 on the gym's scale. When asked, I say my highest weight was 360-- in reality, it was probably even a higher.

The point that I am making here is that my response to said naggin voice is this: I AM proud. Proud of what I have accomplished, excited about the higher level of fitness and appearance that I hope to reach. And very firmly enmeshed with that pride & hope is an (un)healthy dose of shame. Shame for letting my weight get so out of hand... Shame for lacking the will-power and self-discipline to step the hell away from the trough, adopt better eating / exercise habits, and to stop committing what I once heard called "suicide by knife & fork" by a fellow WW'er. Because in all honesty, whether that was my true intention or not (death from morbid obesity), that's where I was steadily headed.

Not for one moment, though, am I sitting here trying to proclaim that I have become a model of clean living & discipline-- I still like to get my drink on (though I've switched to lighter beer, lol), and when getting my drink on, am known to still pick up a cigarette (or 5) to balance those beers. I still have hopes of getting my walking regimen back in order in time to be prepared for the upcoming Ogden 20K race again this year-- but in my defense, between my dead treadmill, the ridiculous weather (until this week), and my obliterated sleep schedule (see last post) thanks to prednisone, fitting in consistent workouts in recent weeks has been laughable, to put it plainly. I also hope to continue that training to a point that I can participate in the Susan G. Komen 3-day Walk for the Cure in September (in Seattle)-- 20 miles a day, for 3 days (yes, I'm putting that out there in hopes of some accountability, people-- work with me).

What I do want to say is this-- if you love me (and I know you do, admit it), you will hopefully love the whole messy package. The woman who carries her weight-altered "scars" with something resembling pride. I'm not proud of what got me to my rock bottom, but I can't help admitting that I feel like a part of me-- a 180 pound part of me-- has been pushed aside and lost.

Here's hoping she STAYS lost & forgot to leave a trail of bread crumbs behind to find their "weigh" back ~