FINALLY

I have had no time to blog--still don't, I'm posting this covertly from my temp job but...this morning I *finally* saw a number below 200. I think it was 199.8 or something, but still, it was BELOW 200 for the first time since I was IN MY TWENTIES.

On a related note, I was shopping at TJ Maxx with one of my friends Sunday and found a cute dress I could afford that not only fit, but looked great on me and did not come from the plus section. That hasn't happened since my twenties, either.

I'm a little verklempt.

Shrinking feet

I've lost 100 pounds now, and my feet have definitively shrunk. I used to wear a size 9 shoe, mostly due to my foot's width--my feet are short and fat, just like the rest of me. I now wear a size 8, average width. I can still handle wearing an 8.5 shoe comfortably, but wearing a 9 makes me feel like I'm clomping around with a kayak strapped to each foot. I thought my beloved Chucks and Vans collection contained more 8.5s, but alas, twelve pairs of them turned out to be 9s. (Four aren't pictured here. I've sold three pairs to friends already and can't bear to part with one pair of my size-9 Chucks because I love them so much--at least until I find a smaller replacement.) It took me years to collect these and I love them all. It's hard to let them go.

This collection is going to force me to enter the world of selling on Ebay rather than just buying. People will pay $20-30 for a pair of Chucks in this condition on Ebay. I just think it's weird that my feet shrunk. In high school, I wore a 7.5 shoe; I wonder if my feet will get that small again? That would be weird. I have a bunch of Birkenstocks I haven't even looked at yet--oy. That may be the next bunch I have to shuffle around.

The cat in the photo is one of my three--the elder statesman, Nunzio Motorboat. He loves hiding in the closet and probably the collective smell of these shoes, and it may be my imagination, but I think he looks a little alarmed in this picture.

I've been having a ball on Ebay buying smaller shoes. I haven't limited myself to Chucks and Vans, just fun sneakers. A lot of people buy things they never wear and sell them for cheap. Last night I won a fun pair that are turquoise with Boston Terriers on them.

It's only a number...

...so there is no number. I love my socks. :)

Saturday 9: I Saw it on TV

1. What new TV show rocks your world this year?

I loved "Terriers" and it got canceled. I like "Mike and Molly", and "Hot in Cleveland" is fun.

2. What is your least favorite ethnic food, and what makes it your least favorite?

Thai. Peanut sauce, curry, just the smells alone are disgusting...as for the taste, I don't do spicy.

3. When does liking someone a lot become loving that person?

It just does; I know when it does, it's a feeling.

4. Is there a job you would do for free, and is it your current job?

I do photography for free a lot, and no, it isn't. :)

5. What is one person/thing that inspired you to take action of some sort?

My dearly departed best friend inspired me to leave a relationship that was extremely toxic to me. I will always be grateful to him for that.

6. Though you might not believe in it, would you like fate to exist?

Sure; much like God, Jesus, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, it's a nice idea.

7. Tell us about a news story that truly shocked you.

It happens quite often. People who are held prisoner and tortured/deprived for years and years and years are right up there.

8. What's something you're looking forward to?
Continuing to live. Everything.

9. What characteristics do you despise?

Weakness, ignorance, lack of compassion, lack of humor, closed-mindedness.

18 months out!

I had my 18-month appointments last week, and everything is going well. It was a little surreal. My bloodwork numbers were awesome. I still haven't gotten below 200 pounds yet, which is somewhat frustrating; the scale has reflected every number and fraction between 205 and 200.9 in the last month. My nutritionist said, "It's only a number, remember how far you've come. Think about your progress." The surgeon had the same types of things to say, and it was a little surreal, hearing these kinds of phrases from several medical professionals all in the space of one day: "You're healthy." "You look good." "You're doing everything right." I had to keep shaking my head to remind myself it was real. (Where were these people when I weighed 150 twenty-five years ago and the doctors were all up in my grill? When I was torturing myself and being tortured about my weight all through my teen years? I can't even think about it very long or I go bonkers.)

I'm taking the supplements, I'm swimming, and I'm looking forward to getting plastic surgery. (not getting it per se, but the final result) I will probably try and get it when my temp job ends, working around any other job I may get and also my school schedule. It's amazing to feel this good and love silly things like buying clothes on Ebay. A lot of women my age could care less about that stuff and it does seem frivolous when you're 42, but you know what? I don't have kids so I'm not depriving anyone else, and I never got to feel young and pretty, whether I was or not. I didn't get to enjoy being young, period. (Frankly, being 'young' was hell for me.) I'm not going to apologize for feeling younger and better than I've ever felt, or wanting to do 'young' things at midlife, cause I think it's amazing! It's this amazing GIFT that I've been given, but also one I feel that I've earned. I have worked for it and will have to continue to work for it, and it is so very worth it.

Mind...boggling.

Puttering around before my new job starts on Tuesday, I'm getting some calls made and trying to get over a cold that decided to appear at the eleventh hour. Imagine my shock when someone from the surgical center calls today and tells me that our health insurance actually has provisions to cover panniculectomy and abdominoplasty, or, the procedures that may help to modify my appearance and make me more comfortable.

Panniculectomy is a procedure designed to remove fatty tissue and excess skin, or panniculus, from the lower to middle portions of the abdomen.
Abdominoplasty is a procedure involving the removal of excess abdominal skin and fat with or without tightening lax anterior abdominal wall muscles and with or without repositioning or reconstruction of the navel.

Thought I'd throw the definitions in there.

The insurance company wants weight to be stable for six months, BMI to be in the 30 range, bariatric post-op patients to be at least 18 months out, and for there to be other documented issues such as skin issues, interference with daily activities and where the skin hangs. (This last may require a photo taken by the doctor's office. Whoopee!) Liposuction is considered cosmetic, but then, so is removal of the skin so that the patient's back doesn't hurt.

I can't take time off to get anything medical done until my new job is over, and I am deeply skeptical of anything being easy, so until then I will remain...cautiously hopeful.

"Heavy", etc.

I found a temp job through tax season helping a local CPA, which I'm very grateful for; it will get me off unemployment for a couple of months and possibly allow me to learn Quickbooks. I start next week. It's the only call I've had an interview since November. I would also like to go visit my grandmother for a few days when the job ends.

I was watching the most recent episode of "Heavy" on A&E yesterday and it made me think, mostly for navel-gazing reasons. Bariatric surgery is never, ever mentioned on this show; I am wondering if they are trying to keep it out of the equation altogether because of its controversial nature--there are still so many people who think "it's the easy way out" or "it's not the right way to do things". (These same people don't seem to get that those who have bariatric surgery have to make all the same lifestyle changes and stick to them or they don't lose weight and keep it off, either. Part of me doesn't want to delete this blog just because I get so sick of these and other similar biases.

The two episodes of "Heavy" I've seen have both focused on two subjects per episode--one man and one woman. The woman in the most recent episode started out at about my beginning weight, but our body types were completely different. They cleared her to have the surgery for excess skin removal after she lost 50 pounds. Mr. Salted was watching with me, and I said, "See? It's the same as me!" She looked absolutely awesome afterward. At the end of her six months, she was about fifteen or so pounds more than I am now, but she looked fantastic and planned to join the police academy. I wondered if she looked so much better because of the body type difference (she is more of a pear where I am more of an apple)--or she could have been taller than I am, too. I have to have long shirts to cover my stomach, which always carries the danger of looking sloppy--it makes it really hard to find a decent blazer and look presentable for a job interview, and for any other occasion where I have to dress up in general.

So far, I'm still liking this show. It shows the real struggle: the pain people are in, the trying to relearn how to eat, how those around you can sabotage you, how you can sabotage yourself.

(An aside: during the holiday season this year, it was as though almost everyone we knew completely forgot about my dietary restrictions--we even had people mail us baked goods as gifts. Only two people, both women who have always been supportive, said, "I didn't offer you guys any of my cookies because I know you don't want them in the house," for which I thanked them profusely. For everyone else, it was as though the surgery and the struggle was just over and done with. I was more disappointed than angry. People just don't get it.)

Plans re: plastic surgery

I wasn't real clear on how I planned to proceed when it came to the plastic surgery. I'm going to get a medical necessity letter from both the surgical center and my primary care physician. The surgeon said the best-case scenario is that insurance may (very big may) pay for a tuck/skin removal of the lower abdomen, but not the upper abdomen. If the two are done separately--and they can be--that would require two procedures and could result in more scarring, weird skin lumps and bumps, etc. There are worse things; (a) I'm not a model, and (b) if I can get insurance to pay for any of this, of course, that's the route I will take because it makes the most sense financially. I hate to think of incurring more debt. However, if we end up having to private pay the $9K, it would eliminate the hospital stay and include the liposuction, body sculpting, etc. (Mr. Salted's reaction almost made me weep. I said "nine thousand" and he didn't even blink. "We can do that," he said. "We'll find a way. It's like a car loan. We knew this would happen. You're worth it, you know." ??????)

I know insurance will cover the breast reduction--I have all that documentation--and I can take care of that at some point when this is all done. The stomach is bothering me a lot more.

Interesting day

This morning, I interviewed for the aforementioned temporary receptionist job. I think the interview went well, but I've had interviews go well and haven't gotten the job before. It's not my dream job, but I could definitely do it for a couple of months, which is how long the assignment would last. It's more money than unemployment, and I could go back on unemployment when it ended if I hadn't found something else by then.

This afternoon, I had my plastic surgery consultation. It occurred to me that there was a striking similarity between the two experiences: both required me to be naked (literally or figuratively) in front of a stranger who had something I need. I can't say I liked the feeling either time; and frankly, I think the plastic surgery consultation made me more nervous than the interview, maybe because it required actual physical nudity. The surgeon is from the same center that did my bariatric procedure.

It's a good thing I'm so dissociated from my body. I didn't get drawn on with a Sharpie--I guess they only do that on TV--but there was some of "if we do this, then this will be gone" while he lifted things and looked at things. "Wow, you will love it when this is gone," he said, "you won't believe how much it will improve your mobility." We talked about recovery times and insurance and what if they pay for this and not that. He commended me for my progress thus far and was very upbeat and positive. He only handles the stomach stuff--someone else would have to do the breast reduction. He said he could remove five liters from my abdominal area. Five liters as in two two-liter bottles of soda and then a one-liter bottle and what that would weigh. Insert gasp here. Private pay including liposuction and body sculpting mojo with upper and lower abdomen included: $9,000.

Sigh.

But it would be so amazing to not have that appendage hanging off the front of me that ruins the way I look.

Plateau

I am almost afraid to say it...but I think I'm off it! I saw 202 the other day, which is the lowest weight I've seen yet. I'm waiting, with bated breath, to see a number that starts with 1.

I've been trying to remember when I last saw a number that started with 1. I thought my age also started with 1 the last time I saw a number on the scale that started with 1, but I was wrong. I remember weighing 186 when I was 23 and was maid of honor in my friend's wedding. I remember this (for some stupid reason) because we were the same weight at the time. 23 years old--that's almost TWENTY years ago.

I read somewhere that people who lose a lot of weight tend to experience some of the same emotional stuff they experienced when they were that weight previously. It makes me wonder. I have been in such a funk. Unemployment doesn't help. I've sent out at least fifty resumes. In response, I've had one rejection letter. Yesterday I got excited because I got a callback, but it was just a screening call--they'll call me back if they want an interview. And this is for a temporary receptionist job. Sigh. The holidays were a total loss because I had an epic migraine and was sick for a week and then Mr. Salted was sick and he's still trying to shake whatever it was, and I'm just getting over another migraine.

My first winter quarter class starts tonight--last week's was pushed back a week due to snow. Hopefully being back in class will make me feel less like a waste of space.

"Heavy"--new show on A&E

I watched this with some trepidation and was pleasantly surprised by what I saw. I had to watch, wanting to see how the issue was handled.

There are going to be people who watch it and freak out: "How did they let themselves get so big?" and "Oh my God, fat people are just so disgusting." That's par for the course. I thought the show was quite good, better than I expected (the first episode aired last night). Both people were likable--they had their issues and owned them; they were shown struggling but making progress, falling and getting back up again.

I'm sure this show, like "Intervention" (I am a fan of that show as well), will be good sometimes and not as good other times. You simply root for some people more than others. I actually liked the trainers on this show, which was a surprise. They were real, but compassionate. It was nice to see a buffed-out trainer offering his shoulder to a man over 600 pounds who couldn't walk for more than half an hour at a time; to the camera later, buffed-out trainer remarked, "Imagine if you had to walk up a hill with a refrigerator on your back; that's what this guy has to do every day." Not all personal trainers are meant to work with obese people, obviously, and this show found two that are. (The one I had certainly wasn't! I had to laugh; the female subject of this first "Heavy" episode said, "No fat person wants to work with a personal trainer who has never been fat." Preach it, sister!) The trainers were full of praise for a job well done; they knew how to motivate and really took the time to get to know the people as individuals.

The premise of the show is to follow the people for six months. The first thirty days, the folks go to a facility where they are monitored and trained and isolated from everything. The next five months, they go home and take the tools that they use. If they gain weight, they go back to the facility.

A nutritionist went to the store with them and taught them how to shop. They dealt with things in their personal lives; one gal asked her mother to move out of her house, and how to deal with unsupportive people was addressed.

I will be interested to see how this show progresses and is received.

Once upon a time...

...I used to write in this blog. I knew it had been a while, but somehow three months went by.

I'm still going to school, and I was let go from my job at Voldemort.com. They imposed a production quota, I couldn't make it. Neither could a whole bunch of other people. Whatever. The whole experience was a big letdown, even for a job I knew was temporary.

I didn't disappear from Blog World because I've been slacking off--quite the opposite. I'm plugging away at the swimming and the protein and the rest of it, all the bloodwork numbers are improving, I'm becoming more toned, my sizes are getting smaller (albeit at a glacial pace), and...I'm not losing any weight. This plateau has lasted many, many months. The nurse-practitioner who I see for the Berkeley Heart Labs has me on phentermine (they took phen-fen off the market, removed the bad fen, kept the good fen, what does it spell? PHENtermine!) temporarily to get me off the plateau. I've been on it a month. Not losing. Grrrrrr.

I went to a neurologist about my migraines and he has me off caffeine and aspartame and on magnesium and Topamax, which has improved them quite a bit.

I am seeing a plastic surgeon for a free consultation in a couple of weeks. Though my two-year surgiversary isn't until August of 2011, I know I will have to fight insurance for months and why not lay the groundwork now while I have all this free time? (I would get a tummy tuck tomorrow if I could get it paid for.)

I'm trying to decide whether to delete this blog or not. I still might. I don't feel like I have much to say anymore.

Another job

Right now, I am working full time, going to school, and swimming laps three times a week. It feels like there is a lot on my plate. School seems really intense because the classes tend to meet only 2-5 times, but for 3-8 hours each time and sometimes after I've already worked a full day. I have had to get up at the crack of dawn every weekend day to get a good lap swim time. (I'm resisting the 5 AM swims on weekdays, but I might have to try those out, too, just to see what works best with everything else I have scheduled.) I'm trying out different Y facilities and different times to see what works the best with my other obligations, but those super-early weekend mornings have been the times when I could have my own lane and of course, those are the best swims. I had a great swim today--a lane all to myself for fifty full minutes. I can't do a flip turn, but starting today, I decided to never let my feet touch the bottom of the pool and at least grab the side and push off and keep going at the end of every lap. It definitely kicked the workout up a notch. Thus far, I remain the fattest person in the pool every time and I watch many wheels turn when I can swim faster or longer than many others who are present--and frankly, I'm starting to get a kick out of it, unless it's one of those jerks that look at me like I smell bad (and funny thing, those jerks are never the ones who drag their happy asses out of bed for the early-morning sessions). The staffer who opened the facility door this morning said, "Good morning, folks! I see all the SERIOUS people are here." It was just a joke, but one that made me feel really good.

What seems to be helping me stick to my routine isn't only the financial consideration of the Y dues being auto-deducted as I wrote about last time, but the fact that I think of this as another job--something I have to schedule in three times every week, no matter where I have to drive or what time I have to go.

My weight is changing in fractions of pounds, but not by much at all. I am trying not to focus on this, and I am still in the frustrating stage where my skin is getting looser and the skin on my stomach is preventing me from wearing smaller pants. The loose-skin-creeping-down-the-thighs thing is still happening too and really sticks in my craw. Swimming is great because of the toning aspect, so I'm glad it's my exercise of choice, but having ugly loose skin where I didn't even seem to have excess fat before is *really* damn annoying. I think about plastic surgery all the time and then I feel shallow for thinking about it all the time. I even think about having it on my eye bags and then I feel incredibly shallow and vain for thinking about it. I was telling a friend of mine about this the other day and I said, "I don't know why I keep harping on it. It isn't going to make me young."

"Is it really about being young?" he asked.

"No," I responded, "it's about me not feeling repulsive." The depth of honesty in that response surprised even me. (And that's what it IS about.) This amazing discussion followed about how I had always felt like people only tolerated the way I looked because I was a good person (and then I don't feel like a good person some of the time, either). I own just how incredibly screwed up that sounds--because it is. (It's not fun to feel it, either, believe me.) I have hunches where it all originated--I've read things, I've had therapy. One of my friends is convinced I have body dysmorphic disorder, but it goes far beyond body image and weight--when I feel sick/vulnerable, I feel ugly. I blogged about it at some length in "Compliments" (September 2009). It would be nice not to care about all that or have it be a factor or even a passing thought, but I do and it is. All I can do is keep going and, I guess, cut myself slack for unnecessary mental gymnastics. If only they burned calories.

Swimming

I have discovered something about myself: when YMCA dues are auto-deducted from my checking account, I am much more driven to go to the pool regularly. I'm paying either way, right? Today I felt a little queasy and was really close to bagging it, and then I thought: "Stop it, it's an excuse. If you still don't feel well, you can stop swimming and leave." I have this tool (the surgery), which I am damn lucky to have; I have a limited window of time for initial weight loss following it; and the best part of all--when I swim, I feel amazing.

I'm feeling this determination that shocks even me, but I'm not sure why; I've always known how to work and been tenacious. (There is a reason I adore bulldogs!) The fact is, I'm there to do a job and it gets done: I swim for fifty minutes. Sometimes there is a kids' swim team or a family with masks and fins who can barely dog paddle or someone who can do impressive flip turns even though they appear to be in their fifties. Sometimes it's early in the morning and I crash Mr. Salted's car into the cement post next to the gas pump before I even get to the pool (yes, this really happened two weeks ago). I just share the lane and keep going. I look at the clock a lot. Fifty minutes. It's a long time. I don't start getting tired until about forty minutes.

Every time I go, it gets easier to move, to breathe. As I glide through the water, loose skin doesn't matter, fat rolls don't matter, middle age doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I've never been to Europe, that I'll never be a rock star or a grandmother, that I'm still trying to pay off my student loans at almost 42 years old. No matter how I look in my bathing suit out of the pool, in it I feel weightless and graceful.

To date, I have always been the largest person there. I'm not thrilled about the way I look, but I accept it. I know I look the best I can at this point in time, and I look better than I have in many years, mostly because I'm happier. I care much more about how I feel.

In the locker room today, I felt like I could see the struggles of every woman there. I was the heaviest, but some were older, some looked exhausted or tentative, and one beautiful young lady was weighing herself wearing only a towel and glaring at the number on the scale like it was her worst enemy. I thought: I have been every one of you and felt full again, this time with compassion. We all have our obstacles and our journeys. The only person I have never been is the friendly elderly woman who loves to swim and is smiling simply because she woke up today, but becoming her is another goal I can set for the future.

Words to live by

Sunday Stealing: The Majorly Personal Meme, Part One

1. Are you happier now than you were five months ago?

Yes.


2. Have you ever slept in the same bed with anyone that you shouldn't have?

Haven't we all? :)

3. Can you sleep in total darkness?

Not really.

4. Your phone is ringing. It’s the person you fell hardest for, the one who got away, what do you say?

There is no such person, and even if there was--I screen my calls. ;)

5. What do you think about the weather this summer?

A lot of people have complained about it, but I'm not fond of hot weather, so I'm good with it.

6. How many people do you trust with everything?

Truthfully? Zero.

7. What was the last thing you drank?

Diet Snapple Trop-A-Rocka--I am totally addicted to it and really hope they make it a permanent flavor.

8. Is there anyone you want to come see you?

I'd rather go see them--there are several!

9. Name one thing you love about winter?

Being under many blankets, with or without Mr. Salted and a cat or two.


10. Have you ever dated a Goth?

No, but I've been one.

11. What are you looking forward to tomorrow?

Getting a Jamba Juice in the morning.


12. Name something you dislike about the day you’re having?

The fact that I don't have more energy.

13. What's the longest that you have committed to one person and one person only?

Five years. I am hoping to improve on that!

14. What’s the first thing you did when you opened your eyes today?

Got up and took a Claritin.

15. Has anyone ever told you they never want to ever lose you?

Several.

16. Is there anybody that you wish you could fix your relationship with?

Not really. I'm at a place of acceptance with who that person is.

17. Could you go out in public, looking like you do now?

Yeah. My motto is "if you don't like it, don't look".

18. Do you think things will change in the next 3 months? How?

I'm just going to keep losing weight and feeling better :)

19. Do you believe that you never know what you got until you lose it?

At times, though I think that is more a symptom of being young (or just immature, or at the very least, untested). I think you can figure it out if you pay attention along the way, but ultimately, a great deal of life is about dealing with loss and learning from it. I think it was Dr. Seuss who said, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Whoever said it, they are wise words.

20. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

Several.

It's been a year since surgery.

As the tumbleweeds continue to dance through this blog, I knew it had been a while but I didn't realize I hadn't posted at all in the month of August--and it is September in a couple of days. This summer got away from me in a big way. I finally got off swing shift about a month ago, and that helped everything immensely. I learned not to take two classes simultaneously and work full-time, because I wasn't effective anywhere. Mr. Salted and I both got sick and couldn't get over it--we are both still hacking a bit, weeks later--and I had a couple of migraines to boot. It's been the longest period of Just Getting Through the Day that I've had in many years, and I can't say that I care for it too much. But things are on the definite upswing.

As the year anniversary of the surgery approached, I was starting to shut down. With everything else going on in my life, it definitely wasn't my primary focus as it had been, though I was still following the basic rules. I got incredibly anxious when it came time for the follow-up appointments, since my weight hadn't changed between the 9- and 12-month mark. In fact, it went up a pound or two. On swing shift, I went up eight pounds almost overnight; when I went back on day shift, I immediately lost five or six of it without any behavior change, lending credibility to all those studies out there now that inadequate and poor quality sleep causes weight gain. Before my appointments, I couldn't sleep for days, thinking the nutritionist and doctors were going to yell at me and feeling like a failure because of that one or two pounds. I also still hadn't found time to start working out.

The appointments all went incredibly well, so I worried for nothing. My bloodwork is stupendously healthy. The Simcor (20 mg simvastatin, 500 mg niacin) lowered my cholesterol considerably. I have lost 80 pounds since surgery, 100 pounds since my highest weight. My surgeon could not have been kinder or more encouraging. Sitting and talking with him, I was again reminded by his passion for what he does, and moved by it as well. He was training a physician's assistant I had not previously met who is an absolute doll--she made me feel better before he even got there.

My weight hovers around the 205-210 range, and my 18-month surgery anniversary is in February. The surgeon wants me to try to lose 20-25 pounds by then and to ultimately shoot for 180 pounds. (That is what I weighed when I graduated high school. It's funny how I remember what weights I've been by the age or period of my life I was in at the time.) He said how much I lose will depend on how hard I work (duh) but both of us agree I probably cannot get much below 180 pounds without cosmetic surgery to at least remove the excess skin. While this may sound discouraging to some, I really appreciated the realistic approach. He talked about the absurdity of the old weight charts--how they would have just looked at my height and determine I should weigh between 120 and 140. (I joked that my skeleton weighs more than that, and he laughed like he had never heard that before.) Basically, he reiterated that I am doing what I am supposed to be, I am about where he would want me to be, and reinforced the message that the first year had been a complete success. I thought the fact that I was not working out yet would be the biggest bugaboo, but he even managed to turn that into a positive. "This is the perfect time to start," he said. "You aren't going to lose any more weight unless you do. It's a great motivator."

Yes. Yes, it is.

A few days later, I joined the YMCA. I paid slightly more for a membership that allows me to use any Y in three adjacent counties. I have been swimming three times a week, and it feels great. I hadn't swam since before I had lasik in 2007, and it's great to both see what I'm doing and feel how much more easily I move through the water. The first couple of times I swam for 40 straight minutes, but within a week I was shooting for 50. I don't try to go super fast the whole time, only to keep going. Breaststroke is the easiest for me, and I concentrate on a gentle, strong, consistent movement. (I discovered that flutter kick still hurts my ankle a little.) The first couple of times I went, I felt like the lifeguard was looking at me like I was about to stroke out. Other people remain the most annoying part of any workout for me--particularly people that act like the pool is their own personal possession and are visibly annoyed that someone new is there. Of course, I encountered the most obnoxious person to date on my first time going. In the past, that might have driven me out of that pool. Now I say to myself: "My money is worth just as much as yours, I paid just like you to be here, and you're not going to get in the way of my goals". I just keep swimming.

(My grandmother turned 90 recently and I asked her if she thought she would make it to 90. "I never gave it much thought," she said. "You just kept going?" I asked. "Yeah," she replied. "Just kept going.")

My weight still hasn't changed since I started swimming; I was warned that loss happens much more slowly now. Stuff is still shifting around, though, so I know muscle is being built. I went down another cup size, and some of my jeans are 16s now--a size I haven't worn since high school! The hardest part of it all is my skin getting looser. I can fit everything but my stomach into a lot smaller clothes, and if that apron (that's what I call it) wasn't there, I could wear very different clothes, too. I try not to focus on that, but sometimes it gets to me. I am going to want it surgically corrected ASAP.

I am still not small by any means, but I definitely feel that the world perceives me differently. I am sure some of this is because I am projecting more confidence and positivity, but the world remains unabashedly shallow. Men, in particular, are a damn sight nicer. I get a lot more smiles, doors opened, and conversation in general; sometimes (more often than I can even believe) I even get checked out. While I enjoy that (I cannot tell a lie!), it also sticks in my craw a little. I am the same person I always was--kind, funny and smart, no matter what I weighed. The idea that a person, particularly a female person, has to fall within the parameters of looking a certain way in order to receive basic acknowledgment as a human being will never be okay with me. 100 pounds lighter, I am still too large for many to acknowledge. I find myself caring a lot more about my appearance, dressing better--I even started bleaching my teeth (something I've wanted to do for years, and I finally found a dentist with a reasonably priced option for doing it).

I resolve to keep fighting the good fight, and I resolve to post more often! I am leaving for the pool in about half an hour.

One of many reasons I don't find personal trainers effective

Copyright 5-23-10 by Sandra Bell Lundy

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Perfection, from Offbeat Mama's blog