This weekend, I attended an event where one of the people there has lost upwards of 100 pounds during the pandemic. He himself was pretty low-key about it, only talking when people remarked or asked questions. He said that basically his weight loss was due to doing mental health work and realizing that he was spending a lot of time eating to avoid wrestling with his anxiety and other issues.
Twice, I heard people say, "You look great!" Both times, I cringed. Both times, I didn't say anything because I haven't seen these people in at least a year and a half, and some of them I had never met before. When my mom recently remarked that someone who'd lost a bunch of weight "looks great," I said, "She looks smaller. She looked fine before."
I wish I'd spoken up this weekend.
Fatphobia is ugly.
Complementing a person's looks when they have lost weight is fraught. You don't know whether they lost weight on purpose (in this case, it sounded like he hadn't), or even if intentional weight loss is something to celebrate. In my case, I got a LOT of positive feedback when I dropped pounds... but the reason I was doing it was to avoid losing someone's affections. That's not something for which I should have been given a pat on the back. I lost weight to comply with someone else's ideal of feminine beauty. I should have been encouraged to explore why I felt compelled to do that instead of insisting that I be treated with respect regardless of my size.
Furthermore, complementing someone on their weight loss implies that they look better now than they did before. This is problematic on several accounts. One is that, if they are like 95% of people who intentionally lose a great deal of weight, their body will fight to put that weight back on... and it will. So when they return to a larger size, they're left with the ghosts of complements past, and they know that they're being judged as having let themselves go or some other such nonsense.
Another problem is that there are often (and there were in this case) people in the vicinity who weigh in the ballpark of that person's "before." You're basically telling them that they'd be better and more attractive if they could just get it together and drop some poundage. That's thoughtless, and it's rude.
The fact is that thinner people do not objectively look "better" than bigger people. We've learned as a culture to value thinness, but one way to help fix this is to intentionally expose ourselves to a variety of body sizes. It's difficult to do that with mainstream media, because most people on television and in magazines are still extremely small. But a great thing about TikTok and Instagram and YouTube is that you can find bodies that are differently-sized, have different levels of physical ability, and whose gender expressions vary from the pretty narrow spectrum commonly seen in content generated primarily for commercial success.
It seems silly that we have to remind ourselves that fat people aren't failed thin people (thanks, Virgie Tovar), and that there are fat folks living great lives everywhere all of the time. When someone loses weight, it's just that: weight loss. It's not good. It's not bad. It just is. Same as when someone gains weight: not good, not bad... just reality.
If we could find our way to this understanding, life would be so much better for all of us.
And next time, I'm going to say something in that moment. I've really had enough.
For the majority of my adult life, I have not had health insurance. It's expensive, and even when there was a mandate... the tax/fee was cheaper by far than insurance premiums would have been. And I'm fortunate. I have few health issues, rarely require a doctor, and have not been severely injured (except for my spine, when charity was remarkable and I received top-notch care).
Now, I've had insurance for so long, I was able to attend my SECOND annual physical with my doctor! (Thanks, honey; keep workin' hard!)
When I checked in, I was given a handout to sign that was basically "what to expect at this physical." I had to turn it in, so can't quote it, but it basically said that it would NOT cover new health issues. It was basically to follow up on last year's stuff, and to assess my general health state. One thing it told me we might cover was "weight management."
Except that we didn't because, as usual, I did not weigh. I told the nurse, and she looked puzzled. I said, "There should be a 'patient refused' option." There was. When she looked at my chart, she said, "Oh, you didn't weigh last year, either." No. No, I didn't. I explained that after 30 years of eating and exercise disorders, and feeling like crap about myself anyway, I was in recovery and that knowing that number was not conducive to my continued well-being.
One interesting thing is that I was given an initial pneumonia vaccine. I'd never heard of it; apparently it is de rigueur for the 65+ set. But because I have asthma, I'm more susceptible to it. I will get the second shot next year, and that should do me for the rest of my life. I also got a tetanus shot since I cannot remember ever having one in my adult life. Bring on those rusty nails!
I have to do some bloodwork to compare to last year's, but basically, the doctor said I'm probably going to live forever, so that's cool.
As we've mentioned ad infinitum in the past, I have a history of weight fluctuations, AKA yo-yo dieting, though the peaks and valleys have been so spaced out, it didn't feel so much like a yo-yo as a sloth climbing several mountains.
To review, here are some pictures from various times in my adult life, in chronological order:
1992, about my "normal" size.
After that, my first ex-husband indicated that I was fat and he'd never liked it but didn't say anything because he thought I wouldn't marry him (sadly, he was mistaken; my self-esteem wouldn't have let me walk away).
1993/1994
June 2001, a few months before D was born.
November 2002, just before my second ex-husband told me I was too fat.
November 2004, after I'd lost some weight and put some more weight back on.
October 2005, after I'd lost a lot more weight.
Basically, it's been about 15 years since the last time I seriously tried to lose weight. It "worked" and I kept the weight off for about 7ish years? But once I got bored with constantly working out (more and more as my metabolism slowed) and "being careful" with what I ate (read: bordering disordered eating behavior), weight started creeping back on.
Here's what I look like now.
Well, in December 2019
Okay, that was fun. So what?
So, there are a lot of things people assume about health and weight that are garbage. I wanted first to demonstrate that I understand the concept of "calories in/calories out," working out, etc. blah blah blah. And I wanted to tell you several things that have been true whether I weighed 148 pounds (at 5'7") or... a lot more than that. I have basically not had scales for the past 15 years, and so except for when I've been pregnant, I've been blissfully unaware.
Anyway, no matter what I have weighed:
1) I drink copious amounts of diet soda. My mom made me a Diet Coke cake for my 16th birthday, so we can safely assume my passion goes back at least 31 years. #consistency
2) My blood pressure is low. I'm 47 years old, and a big person, and when I was discharged from the E/R a couple of weeks ago, my blood pressure was 106/68. It's usually around 112/70ish.
3) I love sweets. You can eat a lot of candy corn on a 1500-calorie-per-day diet, and it's fat free! (This is not health advice; I feel a little nauseated thinking about it, actually.)
4) I hate running.
5) I can walk from sun-up until sun-down. Very enjoyable. A 12-mile Disney day? Bring it on!
6) I eat a mostly vegetarian diet.
7) My body does what I want it to do.
8) I despise clothes-shopping.
9) I am worth the same amount. I wasn't worth more when I had less mass nor am I worth less with more mass. This is a ridiculous calculus that serves no one.
10) My actual "health" level has remained the same. When I was at my smallest, I was no "healthier" in terms of eating or exercise than I am at my largest. I can say this because I know what food goes into my gullet. When I was depriving myself of calories and fat, I made up for it by making those few calories things I'd LOVE, which wasn't always nutrient-rich, minimally-processed food. I eat more now, and that gives me room to eat nutritious food I love as well as things like pizza and ice cream. It isn't either/or. In that battle, I'm going to pick what I prefer to have every time... even if I look totes skinny doing it. You cannot tell what my personal habits are just by looking at how thick my upper arms might be. To think that you can is fatphobic.
11) I have asthma. I had asthma when I was running 5 miles a day (and, yeah, HATING every minute of it). Against all odds, I have asthma with a house full of cats, to which I am allergic. It's ponderous.
12) I eat carbs. Lots and lots of carbs. When I was at my skinniest, just after college, and DURING an actual eating/exercise disorder, I ate Little Caesar's Crazy Bread at least three days a week. I still love those things, though they're not quite the dietary staple they used to be.
13) I love cooking good, beautiful food. Let's end with that, and a few pictures of our home dinners.
Roasted cauliflower risotto with a side salad.
Goat cheese veggie burger with arugula and cranberry sauce, side of roasted green beans.
Salad with broiled brie and roasted cauliflower.
Veggie "chicken" broccoli homemade hot pocket and feta salad.
Today, James and I had to have some vitals checked and do some blood work for a new life insurance policy.
First, the whole thing was kind of sketchy. They're a medical contractor that does the work for Mutual of Omaha, and they do offer to come to your house. I'm glad that James opted not to do that, because my allergies are worse at home than anywhere else, and that affects my heart rate at times, for sure.
Anyway, the address they gave us was a pretty spectacular glass office building that was way fancy.
Mal especially enjoyed this white noise indoor courtyard.
When I found the suite, I went in and told the guy we had a 9:30 appointment. He asked, "Do you know the name of the company? We have a lot of companies here." Well, actually, maybe? They didn't mention that they rent office share space, and that information would have been helpful.
Next, they'd instructed us to start drinking water before the appointment because we'd need to provide samples. I took this seriously, and when they hadn't called us in by 9:45 (we were already discussing how long to wait before we took off), I went to the bathroom. As I washed my hands, a lady opened the door and said, "Laura? Oh. We need a urine sample." I told her, "I held one for you for fifteen minutes." Sigh.
We went back into this office and I was ready. I am at a healthy headspacee, for the first time in 30 years, regarding my body. I eat and move and wear what and how I want, without thought to others' opinions, or without shaming myself, and it's so freeing. But I don't know how I'd react to having a number assigned to me (I don't really care what size I wear; that's never been an issue) and I don't want to risk obsessing or going down a dark tunnel over a stupid measurement of my body relative to the gravity of our planet.
So.
I said, "I need not to know what I weigh." The technician interrupted me with, "But no! You're beautiful." I said, "I know." (Seriously. Ask James.)
Just because I was performing self-care doesn't mean I think I'm ugly. On the contrary. Most of my life, I've felt pretty until outside sources "corrected" me. My not wanting to know my weight made her think I feel "too" fat and therefore ugly. There's a meme I just saw last week, and this recalled it.
So there's that. Anyway, because the whole office was carpeted, the scale didn't work, anyway, and so we both just provided weights out of the air. I said what I weighed when I first went in because I was pregnant with Mal. My body is definitely different now than then, but besides that pregnancy, I haven't weighed in 10 years, other than at the doctor's, and then I said the same thing: I can't know. It's not good for me.
Besides that, neither of the women who helped us had English as a first language, although one was fluent. The other was a lot more fluent in English than I am in any other language, but since we were talking about medical conditions and medication, sometimes had a difficult time understanding James and therefore writing down what he was saying. Never mind that EVERY SINGLE THING they asked us we'd already answered on our life insurance application.
Fortunately, the blood-letting was done quite adeptly and you can't even tell that I got jabbed today.
But also, the notes given to us before the appointment about what to expect were: "Blood and urine samples, body fat checks, basic questionnaires."
Sigh.
This is for life insurance, so I'm sure they have some rubric they use to determine risk, based on many factors. However, science is on the side of saying that "body fat" shouldn't be one of them. From a study a few years ago, researchers found "a U-shaped curve, with the bottom of the curve — the lowest risk of death — falling around 25 to 26 on the BMI chart, making the risk of early death lowest for those now labeled overweight.
People considered 'mildly obese' had roughly the same risk of dying as those in the 'normal' category. Death rates went up for those on either end of the scale — underweight and severely obese — but not by much." (New York Post)
Anyway, I'm just glad that's over. Because ugh. And after fasting and not having caffeine, I treated myself to Krispy Kreme's Chips Ahoy doughnut and a soda. Because that, too, is self-care.
We had walked from the Nuthaus to Nau's Enfield Drug store for breakfast, but got there too late and had to have lunch. A few things about this day: 1) It was HOT, and we're all sweaty. 2) Mei Li's feet were bleeding because she hadn't realized we would be walking all over creation and had only brought flats (and we still had to walk home... uphill). 3) D was there but I didn't include that picture, since D doesn't like public photos at this stage. 4) My back was in constant searing agony. Bonus for 5) James and I look pretty young, and he looks well-rested (I wasn't sleeping more than a couple of hours at a time because of my back).
It's only in hindsight that I know what happened to my back, but here it is: The weekend I moved into the RV park in Austin, I slipped and fell in the laundry room because water had accumulated in a clogged grate in the middle of the floor. I went down in the splits and my left knee swelled to ridiculous proportions almost immediately, though I didn't remember hitting my knee. That was in mid-August 2012.
It wasn't until December 2012 that my back started hurting. Once again, Khrys and Mei Li were visiting, but this time with Patsy and Kitana. Every time we got into a car, I writhed in a shock of pain. It got worse and worse until I couldn't sleep more than 3 hours at a time because I had to get up and stand up. I couldn't sit normally, either. I stood and I found one of those 1980s ergonomic kneeling chairs. I had sciatica that was excruciating, and lower back pain.
The night these pictures were taken, March 30, 2013, I actually told James he didn't have to marry me if he didn't want to, because I was a different person than he had started dating. I was sleep-deprived. Everything else in my life suffered because of this. I was moody and exhausted and couldn't go on road trips. I felt like my whole life revolved around avoiding pain, which I couldn't, so I felt like a failure. My sweet kid would often ask, when I cried out, if I was okay. At some point, I said, "I'm not. Please don't ask me anymore. Neither of us can do anything about it."
Several months later, I would find that I had a ruptured disc, and after pursuing many treatments (chiropractic, acupuncture, massage), time, gabapentin, and a failed pregnancy healed me completely. I only took gabapentin at night for about 3 weeks, but that allowed me to sleep through most of the night for the first time in months. That, I believe, gave my body the energy to start healing. Then the spike of pregnancy hormones, I fully believe, finished the job. Also, I'm well aware that the gabapentin might have contributed to that pregnancy loss, but we were not expecting to get pregnant so early, not even sure that was a possibility.
By the time we went to Haiti in June 2013, I wasn't too uncomfortable on the plane or in the shuttle van. By the end of summer, I was pain-free. The whole cycle took a year.
I mention all of this in conjunction with our anniversary, because I had an epiphany this week...
The RV park where I lived ended up reimbursing me for my medical costs due to the injury. That was the only concussive thing that had happened to me. It was the cause. But I exacerbated the situation by not listening to my pain, and by "pushing through" to work out.
I remember vividly lying in the floor of the trailer, trying not to half-ass workout components I had done easily for years. Tears would stream from my face as I pulled and stretched, fighting against my body, which was telling me, "STOP IT! This isn't the 'good' kind of pain! You're hurting yourself!"
But I couldn't stop.
Why?
Because I was afraid of what would happen if I stopped.
I was afraid that if I didn't work out, the nightmare would come true.
I would get fat.
And the lesson I'd learned all of my life was that gaining weight was the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to a person.
When I was in junior high, a friend's mom told her daughter and me that we needed to watch what we ate, because her husband once told her that "boys don't want to hold on to no chalk."
How I wish the 14-year-old me had had the confidence and swearing ability to tell her, "Then eff those guys."
Because, seriously, EFF THOSE GUYS.
(Side note: same message for the ladies who won't date someone shorter than they are. Idiots.)
I overheard a guy saying he couldn't date me because I was "too much woman" for him.
I felt like I was a pretty cool chick, but never had a boyfriend, while all of my friends around me did. I was desperate for someone to love me. I dated gay guys, not knowing even if I kind of "knew" because they were the only ones who didn't seem put off by my large physical presence... which, at the risk of being offensive, is really part and parcel to being a "beard."
Then I got married. Twice. When people enter into a marriage, they promise to love each other through all sorts of situations. However, it became clear to me that "fat" was not one of those circumstances.
Both of my husbands had issues with my weight. Neither of them said anything initially, but they both began to treat me with disdain. I could feel the resentment boiling beneath the surface, and confronted them about what was going on. Denial. Confrontation. Denial. Confrontation.
Finally, they both cracked and told me. I was overweight. It was difficult to be attracted to me. I looked pregnant. "Why didn't you say anything earlier? "I was afraid you wouldn't marry me."
I tell these stories together, because they were strikingly similar. They played out almost the exact same way.
In one situation, the guy had a breakdown later in the day of our conversation, confessing that he was afraid I would leave him. I wish I'd had enough gumption to tell him that was it. Or at least to inform him that he didn't have the right to have a crisis of confidence in which I had to reassure him. It was my turn to spiral out of control, and he needed to man up and take responsibility for the pain he'd caused. Instead, we stayed married more than 4 years after that. I developed an eating/exercise disorder, lost a ton of weight, and was pretty dang hot for a few years.
I garnered a lot of attention with my newly-slim body, and after a while, was over being ignored and left alone by the workaholic husband. We got divorced, and a couple of years later, I married my second husband.
After OUR conversation about my weight, he is the one who said he wanted a divorce. I fought against it, as we had a 1-year-old child. I lost weight in a more "healthy" way (meaning I ate more than jellybeans and candy corn and fat free bread with fat free butter substitute and jelly), and kept it off for a long time. We stayed married 9 years after the "you need to lose weight" conversation. Sometimes, he seemed pleased with me, but mostly he seemed to dislike me a great deal. And I always knew I was only a stone or two from losing his affection entirely.
Even my failed attempts at dating after my second divorce reinforced this idea that my natural body was not okay. One guy I tried to date referred to my "weight fluctuations" and how he weathered those, still finding me attractive... when I didn't realized my weight was fluctuating. I had long jettisoned a scale, knowing my relationship with it was not healthy. And I was post-divorce, trying to keep my head above water, so was focused on other things. Apparently he was not.
And a second person I met online told me after our first meeting that he couldn't date me because he wasn't physically attracted to me. I can only assume that this was because I am heavy, since I'm pretty symmetrical and have (or had, when I had the time to "do" it) great hair, and my eyes are amazing, and all of that.
Incidentally, this guy changed his tune after a while, when he got to know me better and realized that my high school self was on to something: I'm a pretty cool chick.
Why all of this, and what does it have to do with my anniversary?
I haven't wanted to have to worry about my weight. Ever. When I worked in an all-woman office in my mid- to late-20s, I saw ladies in their 50s and 60s obsessing over the latest diet, what they could and couldn't eat, how grossed out they were by their appearance. I'd seen the same thing in my first post-college job at a newspaper, but that was young women my age.. I was incredulous that women were wasting decades of their lives focusing on depriving themselves and being negative about themselves. I didn't want to be on that track.
It's taken a long time, but now, at 45, I'm finally 5 years into a life that is giving me the gift of loving myself because I'm married to a man who loves me unconditionally. He loved me when we first got together. He loved me when I was a mess because of chronic, unmitigated pain. he loved me when I had baby brain. He loves me when I'm over-tired and grumpy. He loves me when I'm dressed up or when I'm still in the pajamas I wore to bed two days ago. He just loves me. And knowing that I don't have to be anything I am not to retain his affection has made a revolutionary difference in how I live.
This is definitely a process. I'm only about 18 months out from the time I saw a picture James snapped of me on his cell phone and declared, "If that's how I really look, I should just kill myself now." I'll never forget the shock that flashed across his face. That was the last time I tried to drop weight, and I did so by eating only 1200 calories for two full months and seeing zero difference. I was hungry, obsessed with food thoughts, packing the early part of my day with food and then not being able to eat after about 3 PM, and constantly thinking about food. I knew it wasn't healthy, in addition to not working. I've probably messed up my metabolism horrifically by all of the times I've lost 25-50 pounds (which is probably 3.5 times, and I've kept weight off for five and then almost ten years, but it's always come back).
So I stopped. And I decided I was going to try to love myself and focus on other things. It's amazing how difficult it is to accept myself. I have a photographer friend who has captured a few candid moments between Mal and me over the past couple of years. One was of us giggling and having a good time at the apartment pool. My first reaction to seeing the picture was to pick apart "problem" areas on my body, but I forced myself to ignore that and focus on the joy. And I put the picture away to enjoy when Mal is 10 or 11 or 12, and I know it will just be more precious to me then. Same thing with a picture of my holding his hand, walking him down to the lake. I wanted to think, "That shirt is NOT flattering... I look so short and stocky!.. The rolls!" but again forced myself to see the relationship instead of being vain and making it about my physical appearance.
Because that's the crux of it. My weight loss has never been about health. Most people's isn't. It has been about vanity. About looking good. About earning the male eye of approval.
My husband's eye of admiration regardless of what is going on at the moment has been the catalyst to the greatest strides I've made on my journey to freedom in this area of my life. And I am grateful.
Today, I met a lovely woman for the first time. Our kids are about the same age (we are not!), and this family just decided to homeschool, so we ended up rained out at Chick-fil-A for our introductory play date. The kids got along really well and had fun; Mal had been so sad/borderline scared about being at a different Chick-fil-A than "ours," but the little girl and he ended up playing and he forgot all about it. The woman seemed really nice, too.
But you know one of the early things she said to me? We were discussing giving birth or something, when she said, "I used to be super skinny until I had her. Then it just creeped up on me over time. Actually, I recently lost about 20 pounds, but I'm kind of taking a break now. I need to get back on top of it before it gets out of control and I gain it all back."
As it happened, I just sat there and ate my food, largely not responding in any way to what she'd said. I wish I'd been brave enough just to ask one little question: "Why?"
Why is one of the initial things a woman shares to choose with another woman was that she wants to change her body? Why is being heavier than you used to be tantamount to being "out of control"? And if it IS, why is being out of control (i.e. eating what you want and moving how and when you want) worse than expending limited time and emotional energy on maintaining a certain type of body?
Our culture is one rife with fatphobia, and we internalize it so much that we are horrified by our bodies' natural shapes and shifts. I, for one, don't have the desire to spend much mental real estate on that kind of stuff, and I wish every woman I know could be free.
Jessamyn Stanley, one of the many women showing us that health and fitness don't have a single "look." DON'T BUY THE HYPE!
There are a lot of things that people say that make no sense to me. Either they're vapid to the point of being meaningless or they're rude and unhelpful, or they seem duplicitous, or some other thing that just sticks in my craw. I'm going to do several posts about these, and this is the first. If you have any thoughts, or any phrases that similarly bother you, please leave a comment and let me know.
The first one I want to take a look at is "letting yourself go." In the title, I used the feminine pronoun because, honestly, this is the one I hear levied the most. It typically refers to a female who perhaps used to be more conventionally "attractive" than she is now, whether it's because of hair color and style or weight or clothings choices. And when this woman is seen after a few years, whether it's an actor who's been quietly living for decades or an old church friend someone sees at the grocery store, some people will either say out loud (or in website comments) or think to themselves, "Man! She's really let herself go!"
Besides my basic belief that no one should feel comfortable judging the appearance of another person negatively at any rate, this line of thought bothers me because it makes a false assumption: That the lady in question used to care enough about herself to "take care" of herself, and now, through whatever life changes that have happened, she has apparently become lackadaisical about it and has just gotten uglier and let everyone down.
That is utter bullcrap, friends.
If you've followed me for long, or if you've known me for many years, you probably realize that my weight has fluctuated a lot during my life, mostly resting on the "higher than I'd prefer" end of the scale, but with three very dramatic weight loss events during my 20s and early 30s. If you met me when I was 26 and then didn't see me again until now, you might be tempted to think, "Geez. After she had kids, she really let herself go!"
But you'd totally miss the point.
I let go of stuff, but not of my self-care, self-esteem, or respect for my husband and family.
See, to maintain a weight that is below the level deemed by the medical community to be "overweight," food and exercise has to be the main focus of my life. I have to plan what to eat, buy those things, eat different food than my family does, track every single thing I put in my mouth, refuse random bites of food my toddler wants to share with me, spend lots of time fantasizing about the next time I "can" eat, puzzle how to consume the most amount of food with the fewest total calories, etc. I also have to take at least 90 minutes every other day to do strenuous exercise outside of the normal rhythm of my life.
For 20+ years, I worked out every other day, save about 3 months when I lived in a travel trailer in my mid-20s. I either did a combination of the Jane Fonda 1980s and Dolph Lungren 1990s workouts, or I went to the gym. Save Zumba, I never enjoyed a minute of it. I thought it was cool when I could run 5 miles (at 195 pounds, by the way), but I HATED running. I was proud of how many sit-ups I could do with no one holding my legs, but I never enjoyed the actual sit-up part. I dreaded working out, even when I did it at home while watching television.
I did both of these regimens because society, and in a couple of cases, people near and dear to me, told me that being big is gross, unlovable, and shameful. My natural base weight wasn't good enough. It had to be lower. And I took the message so seriously that no matter what I weighed, I never felt great about it. I never looked at the scale and went, "That's it, then. I made it!"
But even if I had, there's this myth in weight loss. It's called "maintenance." It's the idea that you have to work really hard to lose weight, but once you get it off, you transition to an easier phase where you just have to maintain that weight.
Actually, maintaining your lower weight is much more difficult than losing it. You can eat fewer calories, and you have to work out harder, especially if your work-out uses your own weight, ironically making the work-out easier once you don't weigh as much.
It requires a huge amount of energy: physical, emotional, and mental.
And for this chick, it just stopped being worth it.
I want to play with my kid instead of insisting on an early bedtime so I can get my work-out done. I want to eat when we go out for ice cream. I don't want to have to pull out my phone every time I eat a grape lest I forget to log it.
We eat mostly vegetarian meals, whole grains, and the like; and I get quite a bit of naturally-occurring exercise keeping up with my preschooler. It's not sustained target heart rate for fat-burning, but my body does what I want it to do and is quite reliable
If someone sees me and thinks less of me because I am not sad enough about not having worn a size 12 in 5 years, then they have it backwards. My life is fuller and happier and better now. I let go, yes, but not of my self-care or self-view. I let go of some vanity, and of requiring an approving eye to make me feel worthy of love. I let go of spending time doing something I found drudgery because I decided you don't make someone you love do stuff that sucks the life out of them.
I'll admit: a big part of this freedom to me has been living with someone who loves me unconditionally. Not being afraid that I'm going to lose the affection of the person most important to me in the world goes a long way toward giving me permission to be myself and feel comfortable about it.
So maybe your reacting negatively to your high school sweetheart's letting her hair go grey or stopping wearing heels says more about you and your need for an attitude adjustment than with her mental or physical well-being.
Maybe "letting go" isn't about not caring, but about caring for more important things. Maybe it's maturity and priorities and contentment. Maybe, instead of judgement, congratulations are in order.
There is a lot about which I want to blog (like our experience with Wacom and the Better Business Bureau, and Lenny and Larry's products, and even Reese's Pieces Peanut Butter Cups, among other things), but, dang it, I just don't have the time.
So here's the stuff I really want to remember. Hopefully. I actually kept jotting down stuff so I'd remember, but it's on my phone and my phone is in the other room, and I'm really tired and it's getting late, hence we're going to try to wing this.
This time a week ago, we were in Dallas at the amazing NYLO South Dallas hotel. We decided to try the State Fair of Texas for the first time in 3 years. Two years ago, I was just having a baby as it opened, so it was out. Then last year... well, our kid has been slow to acclimate to travel. But this visit was perfect!
We left at about 9:30 in the morning in order to miss Austin traffic, and stopped at the beautiful Bell County Safety Stop, where Mal played on the playground for a good half hour or so.
Then we headed further north to the Dr. Pepper Museum in Waco, then we stopped in at the Collin Street Bakery for lunch. Mal slept the rest of the way to Dallas, and really enjoyed our cool loft-style room at NYLO.
The next morning, we hit the State Fair of Texas for three hours, enjoying an array of fried foods and somehow sitting in pudding after this picture was taken. Well, that was just me. But still.
From the fair, we drove further north to my parents' house where we stayed for two nights. We got to go to their HOA's fall festival, D got to take a day off from peopling, and it was nice and relaxing. Mal went to bed quite a bit earlier than usual, even having taken a mammoth nap on Saturday afternoon.
After church on Sunday, we drove back as far as Waco. Mal slept again, from the moment we got onto the highway until about 45 seconds before we exited to get to our hotel. It was great! Unfortunately, that gave him LOADS of energy, which he did not use up thusly. It threw a little wrench into our dinner, but we really liked staying at the Homewood Suites, and James didn't mind eating his to-go steak in the room (I got to finish mine in the restaurant for once; James took Mal out when he started going berserk).
Monday morning, we visited half of the Cameron Park Zoo before coming home. It was great! I'd go back again to see the rest of it (we had mobility and energy issues, plus it was getting HOT).
We spent the second half of Monday doing the post-vacation catch-up, but it wasn't too bad since we'd gotten to do laundry at my parents' house.
Definitely the best travel we've experienced since the birth of this sweet boy, and probably one of the better trips Team Dave's has had, period (since we've had a pre-teen/teen with anxiety even before the little 'un). We saw so many birds (evidenced above) on the trip that my bird-fond older child was quite pleased.
Now, back to reality: Last night was actually one of the better nights of sleep I've had in a good month. Mal has taken to waking more frequently again, and yesterday morning WORE. ME. OUT. with his very insistent (kicking, hard pulling) nursing for the two hours before we got out of bed. But last night, I actually slept hard enough to dream. Weird, stupid dreams, but still. I like sleeping.
The day before yesterday, Mal did something he's never done before: Asked me to give him a kiss. Actually, he said, "Tiss," and leaned in toward me. So cute!
He has another word in his vernacular, too, and it's one of the clearest words he says: "sugar." One of his nursery rhymes features a boy who eats out of the sugar bowl, so let's never say that the computer didn't teach him something. He says, "Sugar. Eat." A lot. Like 5 times a day. I do let him have a little bit of sugar, too. Because, whatever. It moves him on to other things. Thanks, nursery rhymes.
Today, Mal was at the gym playing when he stopped, pointed up, and said, "Tum-bet." What? "Tum-bet." He was listening to the music... and, yep, there was a trumpet. He also said, "Dum-bone," though I think it was still more trumpet. Still, that's pretty observant. Many times, he will announce that the opening of a song is "la-la," which is how he says "ukulele." Or, "dit-tah," which is "guitar," and is ALWAYS followed by, "Daddy." Yes, Daddy plays the guitar. He'll often insist that Daddy is playing that track, too, and I never correct him. I remember thinking that my dad's job at the news station was to climb the big antenna out front. I don't think anyone ever corrected me, either, and I turned out fine.
Guess what? Mal has a favorite Weird Al song! When D was about his age, maybe a little younger, she requested "Hardware Store." When it gets to the part where the choir echoes "hardware stoooooooore," she'd throw her head back and sing.
(That was some AWESOME fan work, by the by.)
Well, now Mal has his own Weird Al song, and it's this one:
As SOON as it's over, he says, "More!" and is happy for me to replay it. I've stopped after about 4 times, because I really like this song and don't want to get sick of it. (I am listening to it now, since I landed on it to share it with you, though.) I know, his first song will probably be "we're great and you suck" instead of something more wholesome, like "Jesus Loves Me." *sigh*
Mal knows when he's dirtied his diaper, and very often will tell me. Or go get a new diaper. Or just take off his old diaper, leave it in the floor, and walk around until I notice (which, hopefully, is quickly, because... yuck). He does all of the things that kids are "supposed" to do to indicate potty training readiness. But he's not ready.
However, in the past few days, he seems to have honed in on a "potty spot." It's not really convenient, though, because it's outside, at the base of our stairwell. There is a little patch of wildflowers, and he stands there, squats, and holds on to the railing. He's used it three times in the past two days, including once yesterday when he wasn't wearing a diaper (but he WAS wearing shorts... long story).
I guess I should put his training potty out there? Or something? I don't know how to potty train a boy.
Okay, so the long story is this: Yesterday, we walked up to the office to do a couple of things. I briefly thought about taking his diaper changer, but didn't. And, sure enough, once we were up there, I realized he'd soiled the diaper he was wearing. He can go a long time without peeing, though, so I just took him into the bathroom, cleaned him up, and put his shorts on sans diaper.
We stayed at the office until after it closed, playing pool in the 24-hour tenant lounge, hanging out by the pool, and eventually walking back to the apartment. He made it almost a whole hour. Then, you know, the spot. I knew he'd peed. There was a puddle, and when I asked him, "Did you pee?" he cheerfully said, "No." After a few moments, I told him to come inside and we'd get a bath. He walked up the stairs and I started taking his clothes off of him when I realized what had happened. This wasn't one of those nice rabbit turd situations, either. So I left his clothes on the front porch and brought him into the entry way. "DO NOT MOVE!" I instructed him.
As I was coming back from his room with the wipes, he ran across the carpet and jumped up onto the couch. I caught him before he made too much of a mess, but he was not happy with my pulling him off by one leg and one arm. He did love his bubble bath, though.
I keep telling him how much easier this would be if he'd just use the toilet, but I think he likes the drama.
In non-Mal news, my husband hasn't used shampoo since March of this year. I tried the "no poo" experiment and couldn't take it. He tried and it's worked great for him. He said that his hair feels and smells really gross to him on the day he water-cleans it, but I don't notice anything. He's always had a dry scalp and dandruff, and he actually has much, much less of it now.
For me, the whole thing helped me find Angel Wash and Angel Rinse, which I adore. For the first time in years, my hair is actually growing out again. So everything worked out for both of us.
On the weight loss front, I continue to notice small things, in details about my body and in the way clothes fit. I gave myself a free day or two on our trip, but even then didn't go too far over my limit, and with the walking still managed to have a calorie deficit most days.
I guess when I set up my SparkPeople account, I put a goal weight, and because I said I wanted to lose one pound a week, it put me at reaching that goal in late March. Maybe that's when I'll be done? I actually don't think I can maintain the goal weight I chose, but we'll see what happens. I also made up a weight when I started, and because I don't have a scale and don't update, it looks like I've been doing this for two months now with no results. But I see it.
It's tomorrow! I gots to go to bed. I'm going to regret all of this dumb blogging in the morning. Before the sun comes up. But I do it all for love, right? And it's FRIDAY! Happy weekend, friends!
This is truly going to be one of the most boring posts ever, about a topic I hate, but I did want to note some kind of fun stuff just by way of saying "I love the future."
If you've been riding along with us for any amount of time, you know that I dabbled in an eating disorder for a few years in the early 1990s. Well, I'm hardly to blame if you consider what "healthy weight loss" looked like back then. That was the "all fat is evil; just eliminate it" decade, and all of the super sugary, gross fakey "fat free" stuff (remember Olsetra poop-your-pants chips? I think Pringles still makes them, but they're the only ones). Entenmann's had a whole line of fat free breakfast snacks. I had a book called "Butter Busters" that had all sorts of crappy food you could make with non-melting cheese look-alike and using a powdered butter substitute that, when reconstituted, didn't resemble butter in flavor at all.
Actually, though, I *am* to blame for a lot of the choices I made. I lived in an apartment complex that shared a driveway with a gas station, and I can't tell you how many bags of jelly beans and candy corn I bought there, feeling great about getting to eat sweets... that were FAT FREE!
Anyhoo, all of that to say that today, there are so many products on the market that are trying to punch up treats to make them more healthy, while still tasting good and not sacrificing a real-food quality for managing to shovel candy and baked goods into people desperate for a fix.
Now, obviously, I eat mostly "real" food: fruits, vegetables, lean meats, beans and lentils, that sort of thing. I also make room for pizza and french fries. And butter. I actually feel GOOD about butter now. I love it so.
I'm not actually on any kind of eating system that restricts anything. I'm just doing the "you burn 1800ish calories a day, so only eat 1550 or less" thing and keeping track. And I hate it. I mean, I'm not as hungry as I was the first three weeks, but I hate that I have to think about this at all. I have a very thin line I can walk between obsessing over it and just not thinking about it at all. It's a balance I resent having to keep so stringently, because, honestly, I almost couldn't care less. Except for those darn pictures.
And this weekend, I got a little encouragement. We had a party for Mal's second birthday, and I wandered into a bunch of pictures and videos. I didn't cringe about any of them. So I know I'm on the right track. I'll know when I'm done and can switch over into the maintenance portion of life, but by then, I'll probably be about in the 1500 calorie range for my basic metabolic rate. Yee haw.
All of this because I wanted to share some fun discoveries I've made. And, to be indelicate, if we didn't have a bit of disposable income, these "toys" would not be in reach. This might be the case once we buy a house, so I'm going to really enjoy this stuff. And stock up when there are sales.
1. Arctic Zero. Okay, I probably won't stock upon these, because freezer burn is no one's friend. Neither is moving frozen items to another residence. However, these are ice-cream-ish pints that have 35-75 calories per "serving," or 150-300 calories per pint (a real serving).
These are lactose-free, being made with whey protein and not the whole milk. They have pure cane sugar, but are sweetened also with monk fruit, which allegedly has antioxidants. Anyway, I'm no nutritionist, but the ingredients aren't jibberish so that feels right.
These have to be left at room temperature for 15 minutes or so or they're hard as a rock. Once they soften, though, they have the very creamy feel of ice cream. No chunky flakes. It's not as rich as ice cream, but it is pleasurable to eat, and the amount of time you spend putting away a whole pint makes it feel like you've really eaten something.
I had three of these, one a day for three days in a row, and I enjoyed them all: cookie shake, chocolate peanut butter, and salted caramel. The flavors were extremely subtle. I realized when I ate a fourth pint a few days later (vanilla maple) that there is a consistent taste that runs through all of them that I can't identify, but it made me decide that these are probably best saved as a treat to have every couple of weeks... Not to mention that they run about $5 a pint, so that can get expensive fast.
You can order from their website, but because they have to be shipped with dry ice, it brings the price per pint up to $6.50. Find them at Central Market, Whole Foods, HEB, Sprouts, and anywhere you're directed from their website.
I see that they have chocolate-covered bars. That's very interesting to me, so I will probably head over to Sprouts on Wednesday (which is their "both sales circulars" day).
2. Lenny and Larry's Complete Cookie Especially if you're someone who likes to have Pop-Tarts for breakfast, pay attention!
These big honking cookies have about the same caloric content of 2 Pop Tarts (400ish), but a whole cookie (which is 2 "servings," but let's get real) has 16 grams of protein, or four times what you'd get with Pop Tarts, so you'll feel full longer and have more sustained energy versus just a sugar rush.
Now I'm going to tell you something I noticed AFTER I'd eaten one of these cookies: They're stinking vegan. VEGAN. No dairy. No eggs. But the cookies are soft and homey-tasting. How did they do it?! I don't know. I'm just glad I didn't realize that until after I'd eaten one, because I might not have tried. Well, I might have. I'm a sucker for packaging, and look how fun these are.
Oh, also, the cookies are non-GMO (if that's important to you; I'm kind of meh about the whole thing), they have no soy, and they have about 8 grams of fiber per cookie.
I'll clear room for a pretty big afternoon snack for one of these. Especially since my husband doesn't get home from work until 8 or later some nights; I need help waiting for him to eat dinner!
You can order on their website, where the cookies average just over $2 each. That's about what they are in the store, except that right this moment, the HEB on Escarpment and Slaughter in Austin happens to have them on display up front for $1.50. I haven't seen their muscle brownies or muffins, but I'm going to order those for sure.
(While researching this, I found this recipe, which I plan to try. If I see I can make these more cheaply than I can buy them and they taste as good. Plus, apparently, they're BIGGER. Hello!)
3. GoPicnic "meals"
I've mentioned these before. They're like Lunchables, kind of, except they're shelf-stable (nonperishable, no need for refrigeration) and many are gluten free (I think all of the ones in the picture are) or lower fat, etc. They are "balanced" in that there is a good amount of protein, and they manage to sneak fruits and/or veggies into every meal. The chocolate chip cookies are vegan. The nut and seed mixes are simple but creatively-seasoned. There is a peanut butter and crackers box, and also a sunflower seed butter and cracker box, just in case you have peanut issues. The plantain chips with either black bean dip or the edamame kale dip are my favorites, by far. The ones that come with an applesauce cup even have a little spoon, and if the cheese is runny, it comes with a wooden spreader.
The GoPicnic site sells the meals cheaper than you can get them in the stores, if you buy a few at a time (and, actually, I was introduced to them because Target had a few on clearance, so I was willing to part with $1.45 for one, even if I might not have spent $3). If you sign up for their emails, you get notified of specials and sales, plus you get coupon codes. I've never spent full price on anything I've ordered from them. The meals range from about 270 calories to 490 calories, and the fact that they're portion-controlled makes it easy to keep track. Most of them are in SparkPeople, so I just scan the UPC code and it's all done.
They also sell ten-packs of things like their bean dip (either three-bean or the black bean, but, unfortunately, not yet on the edamame and kale), flatbread crackers, fruit snacks, and trail mixes. They have other snacks that they seem to be adding fairly frequently, too.
4. Bell Plantation PB2 I'm going to tell you the truth: I bought this on a whim about a year ago when I saw it at Walmart and asked on social media, "What's the deal?" Many people swore by it. I really didn't find much to do with it besides adding it to banana "ice cream" (which I still do... it's fabulous). It seemed like the same kind of thing as protein powder, which is fine, but I don't use a lot.
More recently, however, I've started "reconstituting" it (2 tablespoons of powder, 1 tablespoon of water) and using it... as peanut butter! I've had it on toast, on PB&Js, and with sliced fruit and crackers. You know what? It's actually good. I typically get the chocolate one, of course. And before this, the only "low-fat peanut butter" product I'd had experience with was Walden Farm's, and it's just sad.
You know what I just realized? I'm seriously like a child. I need fun food or I get bored. If I can't do constant doughnuts and pizza (sad face), then I need stuff that's going to be as pleasurable to eat. And, yes, I do like eating fruits and vegetables -- most favorites are butternut squash, sweet potatoes, broccoli slaw, and spinach (those last two, I will eat to the point of digestive issues). But I have a very persistent sweet tooth, and maybe a "fat tooth," if that's a thing. So I'm trying to sate it as healthily as possible.
