You are beautiful…I love you

I finally get it.  Oh, it took me several months to finally see what this particular group of people see daily when they look in a mirror and examine themselves.  The realization and comprehension took me by surprise, but I am so glad that I FINALLY GET IT!  Oh, I am talking about thin people looking at themselves and thinking they are fat.  WHAT?!

I reinvent my look every few years.  I am a confirmed shopaholic.  I LOVE buying clothes.  I love buying shoes.  I will venture into designer stores and I will frequent Goodwill.  I am not too choosy about where I buy, but I am choosy about what I buy.  I think my subconscious knows how much I enjoy cavorting in malls so once I have reached my allotted closets space (yes, I have commandeered more than one closet), my body suddenly transforms.  

Ok, it’s not sudden.  It’s more laboriously time consuming…like 6 months or a year, or two.  I will go from a svelte size 6 and balloon to a size 14. I have gone from being a weensy, boney size 4 to a plump and cuddly size 1X (I think that’s a nice way of saying size 18, I believe).  So, I have been all over the board with my body size (and all over the malls…lol).  

My most challenging mind game was learning to love my plus size body; all the bumps and lumps and squishiness of me.  And I did learn to love it… every big bit of it.  Even when my mother mocked and shamed me, I still loved the round cherub cheeks I had, and my breasts…OH WOW…full and quite glamorous.  Though I loved the Mrs. Claus version of me, my lungs were clambering for oxygen after walking up a flight of stairs.  So, it was time for me to start my journey to becoming a healthier me.  Not necessarily a non-fluffy me, but just a person who could walk and not get winded.  A person who could lift a toddler without her back going out.

I began with healthier eating.  Load up my plate with the colours of the rainbow…broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, strawberries, blueberries, eggplant, et. al.  You get the idea.  The bland whites and beiges were absent for a little while.  No bread.  No pasta.  No cookies.  No donuts.  I re-introduced those after I lost 40 lbs, but there were no longer any carb-fests that I had previously enjoyed.  Anyway, after shedding parts of me, I joined a gym.  (Technically, hubby Wiseguy signed us both up).  Well, after a couple of months of “healthy” eating AND three days a week at the gym (for an hour) I have a new-to-me amazing body!  I mean, my body is an incredible thing and it can do some amazing stuff!  

Before this “new” me, I couldn’t lift 2 lb weights without heaving and straining and now I can lift and hoist 40 lbs.  I can lift toddlers without breaking a sweat.  I can do squats like a champ…which means kidlets can be bounced on my lap and I no longer have to worry about getting a Charley Horse.  Amazing!  I am lookin’ goooooood!  I have rounded shoulders, thanks to my newly formed muscles.  My bat wings … non-existent!  My calves and thighs; toned and sinewy.  Look at me being a femme fatale version of Arnie (Arnold Schwarzenegger).  I’m feeling great and looking great!  Or am I?

I’ve been thinner now for about a year, but I started working out about 8 months ago.  Now when I look in the mirror I am finding faults with my body. My thighs only seem toned if I flex them.  The mushy flab around my belly is still wiggly and jiggly.  Where is the 6-pack I am supposed to have?  It’s obvious…I am fat.  Yup, that is what I see when I look in the mirror and see my reflection.  My butt (sorry, not into the big butt look for myself), but I just see cellulite and flab.  What happened?  I weigh 40 lbs less than I used to be so why do I feel and look fatter now?  Apparently, I am not alone with this bizarro way of thinking.

Phantom Fat.  It’s actually a thing. Basically, your mind still believes and subsequently sees the bigger you that you were.  So, after I lost weight I found I was still trying on large size clothes and would be surprised when they were too big.  Even now, I try on small clothes now and am surprised when they fit.  “Must be American version of small which is really like a real-size large,” is what my brain tells me.  

I am still surprised when people I haven’t seen in awhile tell me how great I look.  They ask me how I shed the pounds, which is easy to talk about.  What shocks me is how tiny they think I am.  I don’t see it.  I quickly change the topic because I feel like a fake and a liar.  

I will tell you that when I accepted the soft, pudgy me, I was happy and loving life.  Oh sure, I ate my feelings (food has always been my go-to comfort when life gets hectic).  Now, I worry when I have my latte and biscotti.  I worry when I skip a day going to the gym.  I worry about not fitting into the clothes I have purchased.  I worry about the food I eat thinking I’ll gain 50 lbs after one meal.  Who would’ve thought that losing weight and being healthy could become a mental hazard?  

I wasn’t going write about this, but I thought there might be someone out there having the same unrealistic thoughts and wondering if they were the only person having these crazy thoughts.  Well guess what?  There’s a bunch of us trying to overcome this weird way of dealing with something that is actually a great thing!   

So today I will stop judging myself and go back to my old mantra that I used when I was trying to love and accept my biggy, squishy me.  I will look at myself in that full length mirror and tell that wonderful person, “You are beautiful and I love you.”  


And I called him…Fernando

Being the main chef in the house, I try to ensure that we eat healthy.  I try to incorporate all the food groups:  meat and potatoes.  Well, that is the Wiseguy version of the food groups.  His food group triangle is more of a dosey-doe with carbs and proteins living happily ever after.

I have never been good at reading food labels.  I had no idea what all the percentages meant.  I decided that it was time to shed my winter weight and find my summer me.  That involved finding a diet that would work for me.  In my mind, the word diet always brought to mind the cartoon cat Garfield, as his saying was “Diet is Die with a T”.  Yes, that is how every diet felt.  I would start off great!  Low carbs, working out at least 30 minutes a day, cut back on cheese (waaaah…I LOVE my cheeses), watching my calorie intake.  That was the part I really disliked.  In the past, cutting back too much made me feel so mean because thin people were eating all the foods I loved…pizza, wings, french fries, just to name a few.  After a couple of weeks the cheating would begin.  Yes, I was really cheating on myself and my health, but that didn’t matter.  I was justifying having that extra slice of pizza because I would work it off the next day.  NOT!  And once I fell off the wagon…too late.  I was trampled and dead by all those yummy foods that I decided to just give up.

Next, I went to my local library (yes, I have a library card and at a later date, we shall discuss the amazing benefits of libraries), I signed out at least 8 different diet books.  From the greatly touted Southwest diet to the Skinny Bs diet, to the Mediterranean diet, to the Diabetic diet.  There was one diet book that intrigued me the most. I had flipped through most of them, but I actually took the time to read through this one book.  So impressed was I, that I bought the book.  The G.I. Diet.  At first I wondered what my childhood doll G.I. Joe had to do with a diet, but G.I. stood for glycemic index.  What is that?

Simple…sugar.  Basically, that is what it was about.  The books explains what foods give you that instant jolt of sugar (that leaves you craving more after about 30 minutes) and what foods actually give you sustenance so you don’t feel hungry.  Even more interesting was that you would eat about 6 times a day…almost every two hours.  To make it even easier, they colour coded columns of foods in simple red, yellow, green.  Avoid the red, easy on the yellow, chow down on green.  Cool.  KISS – keep it super simple.

Now add to that my invitation to join Fitness Pal.  The Baker had used it and said that it was amazing.  So she and The Wiz loaded the app on my antiquated iPhone.  You can use it on your computer as well.  That website and Calorie Counter were really an eye opener.  I never realized how many calories were in certain foods.  You type in the food and it shows you how many calories.  With Fitness Pal (this was my favourite challenge) you enter you workouts (be it bike riding or dog walking or zumba) and then you get extra calories that you can eat.  Yes!  Something that will actually let you eat more so you don’t feel deprived. 

Sounds strange, but oftentimes I picked ice cream over a full dinner meal.  I gave myself cheat days, or not.  Eating in moderation is all it really takes and adding exercise to it.  Exercise, (exorcise?) the demon in my life, is what I tell myself I have to do.  Sort of like taking icky cough medicine when you were younger.  To get better you had to do it. 

I know that everyone out there has their favourite way to deal with weight gain or inactivity, but for me personally, this worked.  (I lost 20 pounds in 45 days…yay me!)

My next challenge, which is not as easy, is to get myself and Wiseguy to eat our fruits.  My chef expertise managed to get vegetables into our suppertime menu, but our challenge has always been fruits. 

Neither of us is a fruit eater.  I watch FIL (father in law) eat grapes and apples and bananas with glee and yet Wiseguy and I look at it as a poison chalice.  The thought of a smoothie, though it looks pretty and colourful when done, just doesn’t seem right.  In my mind, I have teeth and should use them to chew my food.  Better still, I really dislike having food caught in my teeth so I NEED to cut my fruit to avoid such agony.  Yes, I agree, I am a Drama Queen about this fruit problem, but I figure at least an ingenious excuse is a good one.

I am back on track now, especially with summer coming.  I have stocked my crisper drawer with delicious (that is their name) apples, granny smith apples, bosc pears, green seedless grapes, blueberries, strawberries, and ripe navel oranges. 

After making Wiseguy’s sandwiches for lunch tomorrow with chicken breast on whole wheat bread, I decided to try and add a lovely round fruit to his lunch mix.  Usually his fruit of choice is an apple because it can last over a week in his lunch box going on his “excellent adventures”.  After the trip is over, said apple comes back to me to either commit suicide in our green bin or to become a gang member in apple streudel or apple pie.  For tomorrow, I have decided to try something new on Wiseguy.  He picked an orange.  Nice, lovely, round, and orangey orange.  Should make a lovely snack for tomorrow.

I looked at that poor nameless orange and thought of all the distance it would be traveling.  Wiseguy is a truck driver and many miles and kilometers are covered in his treks.  I looked at the California orange and thought about how unfair it would be for another long journey across Ontario instead of the United States.  So, I did something that might not seem fair…I named the orange.  Heloooo Fernando.  Enjoy your trek  buddy.  Good luck!  Hopefully, Wiseguy will pity you on your lonely journey and condemn you to death.  Death by healthy eating decree!  Wiseguy…welcome to vitamin C !   (P.S. I actually used a food grade marker and wrote Fernando on the orange.  Perhaps the desire to tell people of “How I Ate Fernando” will inspire Wiseguy.)