Chez Crazy

Day 25

I get tired.

I mean really tired. And not the good kind of tired you get from a vigorous workout.

I'm talking about being tired of trying. Tired of fighting this battle every day. Tired of saying NO when everything in me wants to say YES.

Today has been one of those days. I haven't wanted to count my calories or make good choices. I just wanted to eat whatever sounded good and sit around like a lazy bum.

And I didn't want to tell you. Somehow telling you makes it real.

For the record, I still counted calories. I still made pretty good choices, all in all. It's just that I REALLY didn't want to.

What do you do, my friends, when you get tired of the constancy of the battle you fight? How do you keep yourself going? What inspires you to move forward?

Because I could use some inspiration right about now.

Day 24

We got a piece of mail for my mother-in-law. It's not that unusual, I suppose. Sometimes forwarded mail catches up and companies find a new address for an intended recipient.

But here's the thing. The letter was an advertisement for life insurance. And my mother-in-law is deceased - has been since September 5, 1998. That's twelve years!

I chuckled at the irony I saw the envelope. I thought, "That's a bit late, isn't it? After all, she's no longer with us."

Every day I hear messages that are intended for the old version of me. The fearful, insecure, lazy, unhealthy me. Some messages are internal and some come from outside sources. They say things like:

• "You'll never reach your goal, so go ahead and quit." (This is why I'm taking my goal in 20 pound increments.)
• "You're not worth the effort of a good workout, but HEY, good news! You ARE worth a box of brownies, so treat yourself!" (Flawed logic, anyone?)
• "One bad day deserves another - so blow it today and you can blow it tomorrow too!" (I didn't say it made sense...)
• "Eat a pizza!" "Buy this exercise gizmo!" "Try a triple-decker cheeseburger!" "Order this miracle weight loss drug!" (All this during one 2-minute commercial break. I think my TV has multiple personality disorder.)
• "Your weight makes you a second-class citizen." (OK, so no one actually ever says that. But when the "plus section" of a giant clothing store is just 2 small racks hidden way in the back, it can feel that way.)

I may have heard these, but they aren't really for me - not for this new version, anyway. I have to remind myself of that fact, because every now and then I forget that I'm changing. I'm improving. I'm not that woman anymore.

These messages are a bit late. She's no longer with us.

Day 23

I've been kind of serious on here lately, but sometimes I have the silliest thoughts on this journey. Usually they start with "if only".

If only broccoli and asparagus tasted like chocolate... (I'd probably have planted my own garden by now.)

If only using one of those goofy exercise machines actually counted as real exercise.... (Seriously, who buys this stuff?)

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If only black were as slimming as we all hope it is.... (Yeah, no matter how much black I wear, it's not going to make me a size 8.)

If only I had a personal chef...and personal trainer...and locks on the pantry, and no fast food within driving distance.... (Would that be cheating?)

If only foods came with signs to indicate how long I'd have to exercise to burn them off.... (Imagine it - "Warning: If you eat this Snickers bar, you will have to run for 3 hours, and we both know you don't want to do that!)

When you're making lifestyle changes, what crazy "if only" things do you wish for?

Day 22

It's a scary thing to lay myself bare like this. Exposing the crap in my mind and heart is embarrassing, and I often wince as I hit the big “post” button. Some days I just don’t want to tell you about my sick relationship with food or my ridiculous laziness.

But I’ve found in the past few weeks that I need to do this. It’s part of what’s making this life change work. Opening up to you about my mess is making me face it for what it is. I can’t run from it or ignore it. It’s here in these posts for all the world to see, so if I don’t deal with it, all of you will know it.

There’s something else that’s been rather surprising. I didn’t realize how much the support would mean to me. The responses I get encourage me to keep making the better choices, even when I don’t want to.  They keep me posting when what I have to say is mortifying and I want to crawl under a rock.

To illuminate a dark place is to take a big step toward freedom.

Here’s to the light.

(And thanks.)

Day 21

I'm in between. Behind me is bondage, ahead of me is health.

I'm moving closer to freedom, but slavery still calls my name.

I hear it when I pull into Sonic to get a diet limeade. I smell it when I pass the bakery at the grocery store. I see it in TV commercials for pizza, fried chicken and cookie dough. I taste it when I attend a potluck meal full of yummy fattening homemade foods. I feel it when I wake up late and sore and lacking energy.

And I must confess, even though I know I was in bondage, I sometimes miss it. I miss the days when I could eat with abandon, not giving a thought to the price I was paying. I find myself pining for lazy days when exercise was something other people did - people on TV and Twitter - but not me. Captivity was comfortable in many ways.

The promised land is out there somewhere, across the desert of change. It's a place where health is a habit and not a struggle. But it feels so far away. It would be easy to go back, to believe that being healthy is too much work or that I'm not worth the effort.

I won't go back. I'm taking another step away from the prison that held me captive. Another step toward freedom. It's going to be wonderful. I just have to get through this desert.

This reminds me of one of my favorite songs by Sara Groves. It's called "Painting Pictures of Egypt". Take a listen, then ask yourself: "What is my Egypt? Am I moving out?"

This is a picture of my tattoo. I got it a few months ago, after years of deliberating about whether I'd get one and what I'd want to have on my body forever. (After all, some of them look TERRIBLE on old wrinkly skin, right?)

This is Hebrew for the word "redeem". Redeem can be defined as "to offset the bad effect or to make worthwhile." I wanted this to be a constant reminder that God can and will redeem anything in our lives if we let Him. This is sort of a running theme for me and I thought a tattoo on my wrist would be a great way to keep me remembering it. He can take the crap in my life and make it beautiful. I've seen it time and time again.

Sometimes I get sad about my life up to this point. I'm sad that I've spent 39 years being trapped by my own weight, by my choices and their consequences. I often feel like I've wasted so much time being fat. If I'd been healthier earlier, maybe I wouldn't have struggled with infertility. Maybe I wouldn't have suffered those miscarriages. Maybe insecurity wouldn't have been such a big obstacle.

Then I get angry that I've let this be my reality and that I haven't heeded the warnings from family members and doctors. I can't believe I have gone so far down this road. I'd never have imagined 20 years ago that I'd be the size I am now, but yet here I am. How infuriating!

That is when I have to remember that God can even redeem all that mess. He can use it for His glory if I choose to hand it to Him. He can even turn it around and cause it to have value in my life and to others. It's hard to imagine what he could do with it all, but I'd rather let Him take it on. Then I can sit back and watch His creative powers at work.

I wonder what this redeemed mess will look like.

Day 20

I've heard it said on multiple occasions that it takes about 21 days to create a habit. I suppose that's true, though I've hardly ever made it past that point on anything so I really couldn't say from personal experience.

I was talking with my friend and coworker Tony about the changes I'm making. He mentioned that he discovered on his journey that there needs to be a "new normal". I thought about this and what that looks like in my own life.

My old normal consisted of a lot of fast food or manufactured food, late night runs to the store for chocolate, and heading to the kitchen whenever the mood struck. I sat on my big booty for hours at a time as days or even weeks passed between exercise sessions. I ignored the scales, bought the next size up when things got tight, and all the while I lamented my fate as a fat person.

Now I'm forging a new normal. It sucks. It's hard. It's going to take SO LONG. I'm having to look at every aspect of my life and reprogram the way I think and feel.

I'm monitoring my calories, eating more "real foods", and saying NO when I want to eat without actually being hungry. The kitchen is stocked with wiser snacking options for when those chocolate cravings hit. (Yeah, I'm not sure they'll ever really go away). I'm exercising 5-6 days a week, forcing myself to find time to make it happen. Instead of buying the next size up (and to be honest, there aren't many sizes left), today I bought new exercise shoes. Eventually I'll need smaller clothes, too. Things are getting a bit baggy. 

And I'm not going to let myself bemoan my situation anymore. That's a big thing. I'm owning it and dealing with it.

If you've ever shifted your version of "normal," how did you do it? What worked long-term?

Day 19

God likes to send me little nuggets of wisdom to encourage me on this journey.

Today's message at my church was about temptation. It wasn't the standard "avoid it, fight it, don't give in" message. It was more about looking at how it works and the kinds of things that tempt us.

What struck me most was the concept that we are tempted to meet legitimate needs with illegitimate means.

Let's "unpack that," as they frequently say in my work environment.

Food is a legitimate need. Unlike most addictions (alcohol, drugs, tobacco, etc), food is necessary for life. Of course, to overeat is NOT necessary for life.

I don't overeat because I'm trying to meet the legitimate need for food.  It comes from my effort to meet other needs, such as companionship, encouragement, joy, or contentment.

I have felt guilty for even having those needs. I thought they made me weak and I didn't want to admit them to myself or to anyone else. The guilt I felt for being "needy" intensified the desire to use food (an illegitimate means) to meet them. Satisfying those longings through food kept me from confronting them.

Here's the thing - those are all real and valid needs. Humans were designed to seek those things. I'm seeing that I am free to acknowledge those needs instead of hiding from them. And as I acknowledge them, I'm trying to be real with God about them and ask Him to meet them. They were put in me to draw me to Him.

I'm glad He's a big God and can handle my authenticity, because my prayer life is about to jump to a whole new realm of gut-level honesty.

Day 18

Let me be honest. (As if I haven't been already.)

Being fat is horrible. I hate it. I hate what it says about me. I feel trapped inside my own body. I can't stand squeezing my body into a chair with arm rests and then acting like I'm comfortable; I can barely concentrate on anything besides my hips hanging out the sides.

It's frustrating to wear enormous clothes that take up too much room in my suitcase when I pack. I avoid shopping with skinny friends because nothing in the store fits me and I wind up browsing purses. I get tons of fat girl clothing catalogs, so YAY, even the mailman knows I'm big.

I panic when people suggest group activities I can't do because of my weight. (You want to go water skiing? Oh....um....I can't, I'm doing laundry that day.) It hurts to see Twitter posts from people hoping they don't sit next to a fat person on a plane. (I'm so sorry you got stuck next to me - I'll suck it in as much as I can, ok?)

Did I say that out loud?

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm being a bit too honest. You see, I'm blogging through this journey because I can so easily hide from myself. I can deceive myself through excuses and comparisons and half-truths. I've blamed it on genetics, on finances, on my schedule, and even on God.

But if I share my story out here in these posts, if I expose my mess for all the world to see, I have to face it myself. I have to take responsibility - own my choices and their consequences. I can't hide from them or ignore them. It's not like I can hide the fat so I may as well face what got me this way.

So yes, I hate being fat. I've finally reached the point where I hate it enough to change it. Please pardon the mess - it may take a while to clean up.

Day 17

I get a little anxious when I drive a route I’ve never driven before, especially when it’s in a new place.  It’s not so bad when I start out because I’m still close to home, but the further I move away from the familiar, the more I need confirmation that I’m going in the right direction. 

I have a very long journey ahead of me, and I’m going into completely foreign territory. I’m now feeling the angst of the unknown begin to creep in, so I’m desperately looking for something to show that I’m going in the right direction.

I just started seeing a few signposts:

• I took 4 flights this week and did not need a seatbelt extender on ANY of them. Usually I have to use one at least twice on this kind of trip.
•  My non-elastic waist pants are not staying up.
•  Last night, cheap take-out pizza sounded gross and unappealing.
• I worked out on a trip. At a hotel gym. With workout clothes I packed for that specific purpose. (Note: This has NEVER happened.)

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve noticed some detours trying to confuse me.

•  Free cookies offered at the hotel where I stayed.
•  Free cookies being passed out at the restaurant where I ate lunch.
•  Free cookies offered on the plane.

(What the heck is it about the free cookies?! Do I suddenly look like a blue furry puppet monster on a kid’s show??)

So far, I can tell that I’m on course. Many miles ahead, but I’m off to a good start.

Now could someone please post some warning signs about those cookies?