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.