Monday, September 17, 2012

You gotta know when to fold 'em....

It would be a moot point for me to tell you that I haven’t written anything in awhile. Most of you have probably forgotten about me, given up on me, or have been reading my old blogs repeatedly while you waited for me to get off my lazy ass and put pen to paper. Or fingers to keyboard, if you will.

Truth be told, I haven’t wanted to write because…well, my mother always said if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. And I have been a wretched bitch with an acid tongue and a shitty attitude to boot. So I felt it was easier to obey mama’s rules.

But today, I am going to lay all of the cards on the table in the hopes that by going all in, and letting you know the good, the bad and the flabby of my last 6 months, that I will allow myself a clean slate so I can go back to the ridiculous, unfiltered and happier posts that you all seem to love so much.

So, incase you were living under a rock or you were too busy watching a fucking DOG win America’s Got Talent, you probably know I lost a little weight. And that I became obsessive about gaining it back. And that I exercise like a hamster on crack. Just in case you had forgot.

Well here we are, two and a half years and about 180 pounds later and there are days that I feel fatter than I did the day I couldn’t buckle my seat belt on an airplane. Ridiculous, right? I mean, if I can be vain for like half a second, I’m not hard on the eyes. Not skinny, but certainly not fat. My face is holding it down despite 37 rough years on earth. Mind you, I have enough extra skin to make an entirely new human, but despite that I don’t look bad in a pair of jeans.

Most days, I am proud of myself. I accept the extra skin and the stretch marks as parts of my journey. They remind me of where I came from, and where I never want to be again. For awhile I was obsessively thin. Everyone had an opinion.

“You’re too skinny”

“Where did your boobs go?”

“Did you forget to eat today?”

I know people thought they were being funny, but seriously, fuck you. And I say that with love because that’s just how me and the people I love most talk to each other. So I say again, fuck you. Of course I looked too skinny compared to looking like a sweaty sumo wrestler trying to wiggle himself into a clown car.

Then things started to….how shall I say this? Settle? My body reached it’s plateau and just kind of “sank” into place. My weight stayed the same but my hips widened a little and I started to get soft around the middle again. So I kicked up the workouts. Gained a little weight thanks to some late night Barefoot Muscato. Put a little junk in my trunk and some oomph in my twin set up front thanks to running and yoga. Finally, I felt good. Finally, I felt at peace with myself. Sure, I realized I no longer looked like I was one carrot stick from becoming emaciated. Sure, my cheek bones weren’t as prominent and I had to trade in my Junior’s size jeans for real women’s jeans (at 37 should I really be wearing juniors clothes of any sort anyway?). But I could finally look in the mirror, see past my kangaroo pouch of a stomach and my flabby legs, and think, “Damn girl, you look good.”

One day that all changed and I’m not sure why. One day I walked outside and felt the eyes of the world on me. Judging me. Whispering about me.

“Did you see Lisa? She put some weight back on, huh?”

"So much for gastric bypass. I guess she should have kept her fat clothes a little bit longer.”

“Is that her ass or two pigs fighting for the last piece of grub?”

Ok, no one was really saying that, but the fucked up little voice in the back of my head made me believe they might be. And it is making me nuts. Because, I know how hard I continue to work. And truth be told, I have a good handle on food and how to enjoy things in moderation. And I would rather be a comfortable size 8/10 and be able to enjoy a glass of wine or a handful of chips once in awhile, than to live on protein based foods and exercise myself to death trying to be what no one else but me really expects me to be.

I did this so I could live a real life. And now I am and I can. And I have done it because I have an amazing support team. So many people have listened to my bitching and moaning about my insecurities and how “fat” I am.  And how they haven’t all lynched me, strung me up by my short and curly’s and poked me with rusty needles to shut me the fuck up, is beyond me. But I love them for loving me enough to wait for me to love myself. Wow, that’s a lot of love.

So, now that I have come clean about all my dirty secrets and darkest thoughts, maybe I can pull my head out of my ass long enough to actually enjoy just being me. Whatever size that might be.