To All the Fat Girls

A few days ago, the weight loss clinic I've been religiously going to once a week for over a year asked me if I would be there poster girl! This means that my name and ever so flattering before picture, along with my impromptu after picture will be blown up to fit a billboard for anyone and their mother in town to see.

Granted, the billboard is small and the poster boy, the Bud Man, (he drives a Budweiser truck and probably pays with beer) will be on the other side, but I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand it's very flattering and validating after months of tracking everything I eat, drinking gallons of water, and literally working my ass of with exercise. In fact, in a wave of elation, I can faintly hear the fast guitar riff from Fleetwood Mac's "The Edge of Seventeen" begin to repeat in my head and in my imagination I'm in some trendy nightclub on stage with Destiny's Child. They're doing a special reunion concert when Beyonce looks over at ME and begins the opening chant to "Bootylicious".

Kelly, can you handle this?
Michelle, can you handle this?
ERIN, can you handle this?
I don't think they can handle this.

Better move, cause we've arrived.
Lookin' sexy, lookin' fly.
Baddest chicks, inside
DJ, play for me...

Quickly I snap out of my little victory shimmy as I realize that I'm just a geeky, white girl who has no "jelly" but for a brief moment I feel as empowered as Sasha Fierce.

However, in reality I'm really not sure that I can handle it. It makes me uneasy to think that an image of me at my highest weight and least attractive is going to be made public. It's like the equivalent of seeing a junkie with a needle sticking out of their arm or an alcoholic slumped over in a pool of their own vomit. The might as well photo shop a giant doughnut dripping in chocolate in my hand with the caption, "Get it my BELLY" underneath. But that's the rub with being addicted to food. You can't conceal it.

Despite this, I don't despise my former self. It's just that it's a sad reminder of a difficult time when I didn't value myself and had little hope that I could change. Ironically, the new after picture makes me uncomfortable too as I don't recognize myself in that picture either. I know it's me but it's somehow different looking at yourself in a photo instead of a mirror. In fact, I've had to take pictures all along my weight loss just to see myself objectively. I actually have cheekbones and a waist?! True, I'm never going to be a knockout like my girl B. but with my goofy smile, and kind disposition, I'm sort of attractive in my own way. More important though are the changes which are not as easily visible from the outside. I believe in myself more and as a result, I like myself enough to stop beating myself up and start taking care of myself. Hopefully that comes through in the photograph as well.

I don't know if anyone will see themselves in my before picture or if my after picture can inspire others to lose weight, but I do know that just noticing the Medi sign when driving by was enough to get me to think about doing something. And that's a good place to start.

Welcome To the Fourth Dimension

Currently, I'm in the process of trying to find the perfect "track suit". It has to not only match the gray and blue Nikey swooshes on my new running shoes but also keep me warm but not too warm for the upcoming race. I never thought I'd see the day. I might just be encountering an out of body experience in the twilight zone.

Starting Up

FYI: Replace really old running shoes sooner rather than later, they make a big difference in performance. Nike Downshifters II rock and they're cute too.

Going the Distance

I think elliptical machinery should be an Olympic sport. They could switch it out with archery in the decathlon,(it's more of a skill anyways),to ease it into the mainstream first and eventually it will explode onto the scene like snowboarding. I can see it now, moms across the world competing against those half their age only to stand on the podium with a gold medal hanging around their neck at the end.

Okay, so it may never reach that awe inspiring status, but it does have it's benefits. The main perk being that you can get a great cardio workout in the privacy of your own home. This means you never have to worry about the weather, looking like a red faced, sweaty mess in a gym, or have to suppress the urge to breathlessly belt out Sweet Child of Mine when it comes up on your Ipod shuffle. If you do this though just be prepared to be mercilessly ridiculed by anyone within earshot. You may think that you're killing two birds with one stone by cultivating your Karaoke talent while simultaneously strengthening your heart but they'll think you're shrieking in pain and in need of 911 assistance.

Score One For Mom

I reached the 100 pound mark today! Yay! Yay, YAAAAAAHHHHHHH!! :) It's been a long time coming and I actually got there. It sounds horribly corny but, to me it feels like a dream; one that still doesn't feel quite real and that could slip away when I wake up. For some reason, (I still don't fully understand), I buried who I was for years, and now it feels like I can be the person that I had wanted to be. I was always okay. I just couldn't see it or give myself enough credit. Dammit, now I'm getting all emotional like Oprah during the Whitney Houston interview or every other episode of her show for that matter... It's just good to be getting there, even if I am a little late.

A Second Look

I've been really bad about keeping up with this blog and after analyzing it, (as I do with just about everything), I guess it's because it's always been a sensitive issue. I'm really good at avoiding those things but maybe I just need give myself some time to adjust.

Like yesterday for example. I had sometime in between labs and was going for some coffee when I noticed my reflection in the glass door. I've gotten used to not looking as it always mad me feel bad, and for the first time in a long time that I didn't hate what I saw. It sounds normal for most, but it's such a relief to me to not have to worry so much about what I look like. People are even saying "Hi" to me more often when walking by and I'm still trying to get used to it.

There are those that would say that the body is just a container for the real you and that you are not your body, yet I can't say that it doesn't matter to some extent. Why are you treated differently based on appearance and why does that change how you feel about yourself? Maybe it's just all in my head.

Filling Up the Tank

I had my weekly weigh in a couple of days ago with my regular doctor, and am down 1.8pounds. That's better than the last couple of weeks, so maybe the beauty comments from Dr. Rico Suave made me work a little harder.

But Woods is pretty cool too. I love his first name, Woods. How many other people do you meet with that name? It sounds like a Grandpa name but I think it's still distinctive in a good way. It says, "I'm reliable and strong," just like a forest of trees. He's an older man from Georgia with a bit of a belly who reminds me a lot of my dad with his personal approach. He's the type of person who's never in a hurry, is genuinely interested in people, and will sit and talk with you about your vacation and kids, while making sure you're taking in enough electrolytes. He's old school through and through, even down to the standard blood pressure cuff he uses. Everyone else uses the new electronic ones that automatically calculate the numbers for you, but he uses the same one from 1950 along with the stethoscope. You would think that the poor man would be able to retire by now, but maybe he would rather work? He's never given me the "beautiful" compliment but usually has something nice to say about my progress. His newest remark, " Well, you're just gassin' along there arent you?" was meant one way but could be taken another. Both the nurse and I had to laugh after that one. I'm a lady mister.

Born To Run?

Shakira was right, your hips don't lie and she oughta know. Today, my left hip is good to go for tomorrows race while the right one is whimpering in despair wondering what it did to deserve such abuse. It's just another unfair, lingering side effect from my heavier days and now I'm subject to limping around like a senior citizen who fell off their golf cart and is in need of hip replacement. For the time being I can rely on icy hot, (my favorite perfume), and a ibuprofen to alleviate some of the discomfort after I jog, but that's only a temporary fix. I was just starting to hit my stride and now it looks like a runners' life may not be for me. :(

Making Friends and Influencing People

As a Psych major, I'm familiar with the multitude of methods to change behavior but was never a big fan of the external reward for reinforcement. Although I don't doubt it works, I always thought that it was more effective in the long run to find the internal incentive. Speaking for myself, I believed that all that I needed to continue with a desirable behavior was for it to really matter to me.

Well, I'm only human and I discovered that I was slightly off. Case in point: Today I met with a new doctor at the weight loss clinic I've been going to for months who stated, "Oh my God, I thought I had the wrong patient, your photo at the beginning doesn't even look like you! You're beautiful. Wow, what does your husband think?"

I don't know whether the white smudge on his tie was crack or powdered sugar from a carb saturated donut, but the man was clearly high on something since the last time I checked, 4 hours of sleep plus jeans and a t-shirt didn't equal aesthetically pleasing. No, I wasn't the type of person who, after first sight, could inspire someone to write a touching tribute song but something all together different. I'm more likely to give the impression of being too nice which explains why the only lyrics anyone ever wrote me were apologetic by some jackass Kurt Cobain wannabe with the refrain "Sorry" screamed over and over again into a breakup song. But I liked this doctor's forthright style, positive attitude, and exuberant enthusiasm enough to politely go along with his delusion. Besides, as a woman, you can never hear that compliment enough, especially when it comes from someone you just met. It works for me, as now I've got that extra boost, in addition to my own resolve, to literally go the extra mile in my cardio regime. He's my new favorite doctor.

And at this rate who knows what could happen next. Somebody could discover my photo posted in the lobby and offer me some spokeperson deal like Valerie Bertenelli has for Jenny Craig. Maybe I could even be on Oprah and get a book deal too. Hell, I would settle for a lifetime supply of their chocolate protein bars.

Back To Life

Most women, after having children, still posses a pair of "skinny" jeans hiding somewhere in the back of their closet in hopes that, someday, they will see the light of day. In fact I can remember checking out "Losing the Baby Weight" shortly after my last child, motivated to find my waistline again only to have the woman behind the checkout counter say, "You never really lose all the baby weight, I had my daughter six years ago and I'm still twenty pounds heavier. You're books are due back in three weeks, have a good day and good luck sweetie."

Despite those ever supportive words of encouragement from Debbie Downer, I resolved to give it try, knowing deep down that it wasn't going to be easy, especially since I spent most of my days at home with my two babies. Shortly after, I managed to make enough progress to warrant buying new clothes, but never reached my goal. Fast forward a few years later and my weight was higher than ever with the only remains of my former self being a bathing suit from a spring break trip to Cancun back in the day.

For the longest time the suit only served as a sentimental reminder of the carefree days my husband and I shared before we got married and I never thought I would ever wear it again. Well, today I reluctantly tried it on as my other suit was too loose and it fits!? Holy shit! I guess it just shows that with a little faith, a new mindset, and some hard work, you too can get there ladies.

And when you do, make sure you celebrate your victory properly. I'm off to a weekend full of sun, waves, tropical drinks, and cool breezes at Siesta Key Beach. I just hope I can still stay on my feet after a couple of daiquiris.

Race For The Cure

Race day tomorrow. We'll be sweaty and salty by noon. I'm pretty sure I could beat Dave at this point, but we've agreed to do it together. I wouldn't have even considered it 6 months ago, as it would have seemed challenging then. I missed the running. I'm not the runner I used to be but could be down the road. Down 71 pounds and almost back to being the cerebral hottie he used to call me. He now calls me Erinlicous since I'm just like Fergie, working on my fitness. I only wish it would not have taken so long to put things back together, never again!