If I wasn't fat I'd be perfect...right?

Every time I embark on a weight loss journey, I typically almost get to the 20 pound mark...and then eat and eat and eat some more. I leave the scales...from whatever weight loss program I happen to be on...elated that I am 1 pound away from a bench mark...super motivated more than ever to hit that big number the following week...and then eat myself into a really nice 5 pound gain in one week. I am not sure 100% why...but this pattern has been going on for the majority of my adult life.

I have a major problem whenever I start to lose a significant weight...fear. The root of this fear...or what I actually fear...I cannot pin point…but I have made major progress in identifying that I am scared...uncomfortable...terrified really. One time when I was about 50 pounds lighter I went out to dinner with my husband. There was a table full of business men...they were 50ish and I was 30...they would not STOP staring at me...they were inappropriately eye-screwing me all night.I asked Mike “why are they STARING at me like this?” Of course, being a wonderful (and sometimes wise) hubby he simply stated “because you are so beautiful baby!” I suppose this is every woman’s dream to hear such a thing come out of their hubby's mouths...but it did not comfort or soothe me...I wanted the floor to open up and suck me in...I feel incredible anxiety right now just speaking of this. Why...I do not know…I was so uncomfortable! I remember I had to pee...but I could not bare getting up and walking by the table of perverts. Normally, we do not indulge in dessert when we go out to eat...but I immediately started building my fat shield right back up again...and ordered caramel saturated cheese cake. I did not stop eating for the next 3 months...until I reached my original heavy-weight title again.

Four years ago I lost 50 pounds on the ‘Simply For Life’ plan. This was the all time greatest weight loss I had ever accomplished…and quite easily I might add. I was also running regularly...about 15-20 km a week. To be quite honest...I never felt better in my life...until the attention came! I gave away all of my fat clothes...declared I would never be fat ever again...and quickly ballooned up to 275 pounds! So...what the hell happened? I looked amazing...I felt amazing...and then people (mostly men) started treating me differently and I could not handle it. I love to flirt...safely flirt that is. I flirt with married men or gay men...or strictly unavailable and unattainable men...and I had on my “wonder woman-esque” wedding band for safety...you know those wrist bands Wonder Woman wore to deflect bullets? I can blind their stares with the shine of my diamond...and make them forget what they are thinking! But...as my waste line shrunk…the harmless flirting suddenly became tainted. Men, who respected me, with whom I had worked with or hung out with side by side, man friends who I joked around with for years...suddenly became giddy, awkward and distant...would run away and whisper amongst themselves...or avoid me altogether. I was the same person I always was...nothing changed...I was a happily married woman...just skinnier.

So, subconsciously...or maybe even consciously...I started to rebuild my fat shield. I ate anything and everything in sight to put everything back to ‘normal’ again. I was really successful this time, I stopped running and gained 60 pounds in 6 months...I managed to get to the heaviest weight I have ever been. I am smoking like a trooper and feel like shit. Everything did return to "normal"...the men flirt comfortably with me again...no ‘real’ danger here...I am back in my safety zone...no attention, no stares...just personal misery and a desperate need to lose weight again in order to feel happiness...successful...worthy.

So, in the end, I guess this experience blows the “I’ll be happy when I lose this weight” theory right out of the water. People often blame all their troubles on their weight. When you shed pounds, you may expect everything else in your life to get better--your love life, friendships, career, perhaps even your finances. If those areas don't improve, you no longer have your weight to blame, and you must face the fact that your abilities or behavior, rather than your weight, may be the true cause of your troubles.

I can often be quoted as saying "If I wasn't fat I'd be perfect." I get a good chuckle every time I say it...and I do say it to be funny...and some how I really mean it when I say...but I don't really believe it... When I lose weight…I fear losing myself...who I am...even though I don’t really know who she is. I am scared people will have higher expectations of me...I doubt my abilities...I fear that my full potential will never be reached...I fear failure...I fear success… When I finally lost 50 pounds, I was not happy...I still had my bills and same issues and insecurities. I was uncomfortable and scared...my life was far from perfect.I was still a chubby chicken...just in a smaller version...fat chick in a skinnier body. I let the fear of life...without my fat barrier get the best of me every time.

“I am afraid to show you who I really am, because if I show you who I really am, you might not like it--and that's all I got.”-Sabrina Ward Harrison quotes

Lynn
;)

Bras...THE FRENEMY!!!

Have you ever noticed that everything breaks or malfunctions all at the same time? I have never owned a watch for more than three months. I am not sure if it is my internal electromagnetic field or what…but they all ultimately fail or mysteriously disappear (maybe go to “sock heaven”…now there’s a theory!) Either way, I do not buy expensive watches because I know their fate the day I buy them. All of my make up runs out at the exact same time…or the shadows and blushes all crack and break. I also have had the misfortune of electrical appliance break down all at the same time! In one week my Braun hand mixer, toaster, coffee maker, and blender all died…that was one hell of an expensive week!

A couple of weeks ago…I had disastrous “over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder” breakdown. One day I was walking along…minding my own business…and suddenly felt a stabbing pain in my armpit…an all too familiar pain…which was total blow out of the under wire in my right ‘cup’. I literally have permanent scars in my armpits and chin from these blow outs! I shit you not…a couple times the under wire has popped right up the center…like a cleavage -jack-in-the-box and stabbed me right in the chin! Typically, I just rip out the offensive piece of wire and move along…with crooked boobs for the rest of the day. One time…I ripped out a dysfunctional under wire and whipped it on the head of a male colleague and said “Hey Johnny…now you know your hat size is a 44 double D!” We all had a great laugh out of that one!

This takes me back to another wonderful time in my life when I was single. Now I would LOVE to maintain the illusion for any of my male followers that I only wear G strings, hot red leather and lace, ass floss-esque-undies… and Victoria’s Secret diamond encrusted bras (with the big ass wings, 6 inch heels and fan blowing in my face)…but unfortunately…those things sit in the back bottom section of my underwear drawer for very special occasions only…where functionality is not required…and average wear time is less than 10 minutes…and walking in the heels is not actually required. In real life…real women prefer Wal-Mart granny panties and comfy bras! So, I digress…in those single days…all I did was work and party…sleeping was not priority. One night, after a 12 hour day shift…I threw all of my laundry in the washer and went out to paint the town red. When I arrived home…I was hammered and seeing double…and threw everything in the dryer…so I would have something fresh and clean to wear to work in the morning. Imagine my surprise…when I opened the dryer…and discovered that all of my under wear collection and nursing uniforms were washed with a permanent black ‘Sharpie’ marker!! I was lucky because some of my undies looked intentionally like they were from the “101 Dalmatians’” collection! Flat broke and with no time to spare…I whipped on my “dysfunctional-black -spotted –underwear” and ran off to attend a physical assessment seminar. Imagine my horror…when I learned at the end of the day…we all had to strip down to our undies and don a patient gown…and ‘assess’ each other. Besides being humiliated with the Dalmatian-spotted Wal-Mart specials…I also had some nicely placed holes in my panties…a little ‘muff-puff’-peek-a-boo” if you know what I am saying! I wanted to projectile vomit!

So, imagine my dismay as I suffered bra breakdown over the next 3 days…until I was down to the emergency stock…which are 2 sizes too small…not fit to be seen in…tortuous devices…that should only be worn in a “break glass in case of emergency” situation. You all now what I am talking about…the ones your mother warned you not to wear…in case you got in an accident? Where “Grey Cup” is not just the name of a big football game in the Canadian Football League? The “MacGyver bras”…that are missing hooks, have holes, hair dye on them…and held together with a safety pins, duct tape and chewing gum? How about the Thanksgiving bras…you know where “my cups runneth over?” This is what makes my bras my frenemy… a blend of friend + enemy. According to Dictionary.com, a frenemy is “person who is ostensibly friendly or collegial with someone but who is actually antagonistic or competitive.” My bra is all nice to my twins in the beginning of that day…but as the day goes on…the bra twists, tightens and torments like a boa constrictor…laughs at me…and then blatantly stabs me in the armpit or the chin!

Obviously, I was left with no choice but to get out and buy some new stock….and I decided that I was going for quality rather than quantity. I went to a classy BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) store…or as my mother would call it…”the chubby chicken store”...to be professionally measured for my correct bra size. I simply told the woman that I would not accept a “G-CUP” rating…so lie if she must! After a good little chuckle…I was shocked and pleased to hear that I am actually a 42 D. She introduced me to the most comfortable bra I have ever met. Typically, as soon as I get home…my bra is whipped right off over my head and slung-shot across the room before the door closes behind me! This new bra feels like my second skin…and lifts the twins right back up to their rightful place in life…no more staring down at the ground in shame! I look like I have lost 10 pounds…and I feel like a million bucks! I got a tame nude bra…and a funky chick wild woman bra…with multi-colored bright stripes and matching undies…both functionality and sex kitten qualities! So, bottom line…I am no longer a fan of neither the “101Dalmations” lingerie line…nor the Wal-Mart granny panty special…I am holding my fingers in the Brownie promise position…and I swear to build myself a spectacular and environmentally friendly bra collection!

“The only gossip I'm interested in is things from the Weekly World News - 'Woman's bra bursts, 11 injured'. That kind of thing.”-Johnny Depp

Lynn
;)