Newer, Bigger Clothes

New clothes. New clothes in bigger sizes. 

One of the things I did during our recent trip to Philadelphia was buy some new clothing at Macy’s. They were (as always) having a huge sale, plus I had a 30% off coupon and a very old $40 gift card, so I ended up getting 7 business/business casual tops and a pair of pants for just about $115. (As always, I am not getting compensated to write this. I just really love Macy’s. I will definitely accept free stuff though, Macy's!)

These last 10-15 pounds from the summer gain seem to have all gone to my stomach and ass, which are definitely both areas that I like to cover as a general rule. But these days, getting dressed in the morning has actually become stressful as I keep trying to find things that look decent instead of terrible for work. I'm not looking to look amazing, just to be wearing simple clothes that do their job and don't make my body actively look worse than it is. Instead, I end up in clothing that I can clearly see is just really unflattering. Not obscene or skintight, just snug and very unflattering. Think the "Is she pregnant or just fat?" fall look.

I realized that this was making me feel even worse about myself, and that buying clothes that fit better is not “rewarding” weight gain or encouraging me to gain more, and I don't deserve to wear too snug clothes and feel like I look terrible, not to mention just unprofessional.

One of the most popular posts on this site is where I wrote about why goal weight clothes are pointless. The flip side of that is something I realized over the trip: having clothes that fit is important too. 

I hate, hate, hate buying clothes in bigger sizes, especially when I have theoretically have a lot of clothes that "should" fit, but what I hate more is always feeling like I just look messy.

So, bottom line: I'm still very uncomfortable in my body - working on it, more on that later - but I don't want to feel terrible about myself in the meanwhile. If you're in my shoes too, see if you can spare even $50 to buy a couple of things that you can at least feel okay in.

Showing My Face & Philadelphia Highlights (Prisons! Signings!)

John and I just got back from our trip to Philadelphia. It was really fun - we basically just let Tripadvisor tell us what we should do and see, and went from there. After some research, we decided to stay in an Airbnb apartment instead of a hotel near the city center, and it was fantastic - saved at least $300, and that’s for more space and a kitchen! Will never stay in a hotel again if I can swing it.

Highlights included:

The Liberty Bell

• They also had a really thought-provoking exhibit on slavery, and how its continued existence was in awful and highly hypocritical parallel with the slave-owning founding fathers (like George Washington)

Independence Hall

• Birthplace of the US, where the Declaration of Independence was argued, drafted, and signed. (Tours are free!)
• Also the site of National Treasure, a movie I unironically love

Eastern State Penitentiary

• A prison that had running water before the White House, this place was fascinating and the exhibits were so well done. You get a set of headphones when you start, and it’s all a self-guided tour and you can just wander around and see the cells, tunnel from the 1945 escape attempt, death row, baseball diamond
• We learned about how the prison changed over the hundreds of years in which it operated and how it was abandoned/condemned in the 1970s, and finally turned into a museum after two decades of arguments and politics

Jewish Museum

• Lots of interesting information, but I was hoping for more artifacts and first person accounts (i.e. things you can’t get online or from a textbook)

Unlimited Bowling at Lucky Strike

• Not special to Philly, but I wanted to memorialize that we played five games in one evening. Don’t ask for our scores, though.

We also walked about 25 miles over the time there - that was essentially our mode of transportation. By the end my feet hurt a lot (John was fine, weirdo) but it was overall a great trip, and all just a couple of hours away.

So, the burning questions - food and weight. As of Wednesday, I weigh 183.2, which is actually about half a pound down from a month ago. That’s good. On the trip I got a picture of what will make a good "before" or "during" of being at 183 pounds.

Thus, presenting for the first time on this blog, my face. Huge moment, I know. I figured that anyone reading this who knows me would figure it out anyway pretty quickly, so why not? And yes, I wasn't exaggerating about how pale I am.

With John’s encouragement, I started tracking again on MyFitnessPal during the trip and have now kept it up for the whole week! Baby steps, I know. I’ve mostly abandoned the whole “small meals” thing in favor of this. I didn’t seem to be working for me, or maybe I didn’t give it a fair chance, I’m not sure. I do know that it felt odder than I thought it would to eat basically a snack with my colleagues eating their lunches, and then have 2-3 snacks during the day.

My goal for the trip was just to stay at maintenance level - which, in part thanks to all our walking, I am happy to say I did.

I’m still really, really struggling with believing in myself. That I can still do this where I’ve failed so many times, regained so much weight, and use food as a comfort, a reward, and a punishment. That all the little bits will add up to weight loss. I’m trying. I know that probably everyone who’s had weight to lose has felt this way, even the people who ultimately succeed. I so badly want to be one of them. For now, I’m working really hard to at least track my food and stay at maintenance level, but I really want to up my game and get back into the 170s.

Learning to Say No: Default Settings

There are many questions to which I have automatic answers. It’s when the mouth and vocal cords bypass the brain and the response comes automatically. They're the Times New Roman of the brain - the default setting. “Would you like to hear about a wonderful timeshare opportunity?” “Do you want to get into my van?” “Would you like to hold a puppy?” No, no, yes.

Auto responses are kind of like habits, but so ingrained they’re practically unconscious. And for most of my life, there was a particular query which always got a yes from me: An offer of food.

When food was offered, I always needed to have some. I would say yes first and think about the rest - if I was hungry or even wanted it - later, or not at all. If I didn’t have something when it was offered, I was missing out. It was unthinkable to watch other people enjoy something and not partake myself. Why should they get it if I don’t? Why on earth would I even need to think about saying no to something that looks good?

It turns out those auto responses cost me some pounds and willpower. I recently realized that during my many weight losses and gains, one of the things that those successful times have in common was that I did actually consider an offer of food and stopped being on autopilot.

I learned that it was okay to say no when a treat was offered. I wasn’t going to die, nobody would be insulted or even think about it for longer than a split second, and I myself would forget about it soon after, too. I discovered that saying no was an option, and had a power of its own as well. It meant that I was in control of my body and what I ate.

During the glory days at my lowest weight, when I was rocking a size 8-10 and enjoying being fifty pounds lighter, I realized that I couldn’t think of a single particular time in which I turned down food. There must have been hundreds of instances, because I was in environments where food was plentiful and yet I had lost a lot of weight. In college, it had been used to lure students to events. At work, it had been offered by generous colleagues or management. But I really had forgotten about them, and it was the ultimate proof that saying no to food is okay. (Funny, because later I would also forget about the things I said “yes” to. Hello again, thirty-five pounds.)

This auto response also comes into play when it’s my own brain making the suggestions. In fact, my brain comes up with more delicious ideas than the people in my life do. At 11:30 PM, I’ll remember that there’s some ice cream in the freezer. Or at noon on Sunday, I’ll remember that I’m an adult and perhaps this adult would like to make a huge stack of chocolate-chip pancakes from scratch with strawberries and whipped cream? Bad brain! No!

I need to learn how to control those internal auto-responses too, to grow the part of me that can acknowledge that while ice cream and pancakes are awesome and - good job brain, great suggestion - I don’t need them right now and that’s okay. When I’m not in the best or most health-conscious of places, I make an ice cream sandwich out of chocolate chip pancakes. In comparison, when I’m doing well, I let the thought slide away.

Sometimes I note how the healthy people I know make decisions about food, and most of them don’t have auto answers at all. If offered something, they actually consider it and make a decision, and move on with life. Maybe it turns out that it wasn’t the “right” decision, and they’ll decide that they shouldn’t have eaten that, or maybe they even regret turning it down, but most of the time it’s just the tiniest blip on their radar. Oh well, there will be cookies again.

So now that I’ve found myself on the wrong end of the scale again, I’m working to change my auto response to “no.” I think my true healthy relationship with food would involve considering offers like the people I’ve observed do. However, for now, when I’ve been at auto-yes for most of my life, I’m trying to swing to the other extreme. Then I can hope to find some balance in the middle, in the magical world of moderation. A cognitive place where I’ll allow myself a moment to decide what I want and what I need.

Its mode of transportation.

The "If" Word and Weight Loss

“If I can lose 40 pounds by next year, I would be really proud of that huge weight loss and would buy a pretty and flattering dress that I never could have worn at my higher weight.” 

“If I lose this weight, I’m going to buy a sexy bathing suit and wear it with confidence.”

“If I don’t have too much stress from switching jobs, I will start going to the gym three times a week.”

These are all things I’ve heard other people say fairly frequently, in Weight Watchers meetings, weight loss forums, or just average conversations about dieting. I'm sure I've said them myself. There’s nothing inherently horrible about these statements, of course, but I think there’s something to be said for the constant use of “if."

Similarly, I’ve found myself speaking with qualifiers when referring to weight loss, using words like "if," "hopefully," "maybe," or "perhaps." But I’ve realized that this is, in in a minor but real way, negatively influencing the attitudes I have about my own ability to accomplish things. Why if? All of this weight stuff is in my control; whether I weigh fifty pounds less or ten pounds more next year, it will all have been my doing.

My old Plan B.

Saying “if” (and similar words) can work as a safety net or a form of self-deprecation. 

Sometimes it stems from simple doubt. When I’m uncertain about or don’t trust my own chances of success, when the idea of a fifty-pound loss feels more like a fantasy than a possibility, I’m not going to speak confidently about my plans. I’ll say things like, “I hope that next year I’ll have lost 50 pounds,” or, “if this works, I’ll make sure to keep on the program.” I won’t say, “when I lose this weight,” because deep down I am not sure it will really happen.

Using qualifiers like “if” is also a safety net because if I don’t lose the forty pounds, or whatever the goal is, then I didn’t really fail because I never really said I could do it anyway. The "I never care about it anyway" defense, introduced in school playgrounds everywhere. The more heart I put into something, the more disappointing the failure. 

Thus I’ll avoid that whole hypothetical scenario by never really believing I can do it in the first place, and expressing that doubt through statements that begin with “if” and, “I wish” or, “I hope.” So nobody needs to remember my grand declarations about working out at 5 am each day or only eating sweets on Thursdays, because there won’t be any.

It also works as self-deprecation when speaking to others. I don’t want to sound full of myself, like I’m so sure of my success that I’m buying smaller clothes or planning a post-goal weight vacation. Weight loss is a huge and difficult accomplishment, but it’s something at which most people fail. Therefore, I say “if” to avoid sounding conceited - like someone who is so sure they can succeed where most don't.

But it’s so unnecessary. There’s nothing wrong with speaking confidently about something that, while difficult, is completely attainable and utterly in my control. I’m probably not going to start filling a “goal weight” closet, but I can do this small thing; I can be positive and try to get into a better mindset, one in which I’m confident about my capability.

A study or two has shown that optimism can actually help with weight loss - people who set higher weight loss goals and declared higher confidence in those goals lost more weight. The researchers hypothesized that the attitude helped people to see the weight loss as attainable, even inevitable.

From now on, for things like this - things completely possible and totally in my control - I will start saying “when.” If (when?) I slip up on this, feel free to let me know. But it’s a habit I want to form.

When I get to goal, when I weigh less than 150, when I lose all the weight, when I'm in maintenance mode, when, when, when. Why not? The only thing stopping me is me.

My Biggest Secret

My biggest secret is that I weigh too much. It’s not really a secret, of course – anyone who sees me would be aware of it. But the reasons behind my weight are certainly more personal, like my struggles with food, self-esteem, stress, and depression.

I’m wearing a cellulite sign around my neck that everyone can read: “I probably eat too much, and there might also be deeper psychological issues here.” And I really forget that it's there.

Not fair, right? My weight, and any issues I have that may have to do with it, are my own personal business, to be shared only with close friends and strangers on the Internet as I choose to reveal them. Not to be immediately obvious to anyone who sees me.

It's like how you're mildly surprised when you hear yourself on a recording. Not because you sound bad or because it's so interesting, but because the voice coming out of the machine seems so foreign compared to what you hear when speaking. And then you realize, so that's how I sound to other people all the time?

It's the same way with my body. Like most people, I forget about how I look. This isn’t an issue, because I would not want to be focusing on my weight or appearance. Nobody should constantly be reminded of their appearance, good or bad. I feel bad for very tall people who hear, "Wow, you sure are tall!" all the time.

So I forget how I look. But then something happens, like I see a photo of myself, or someone asks me if I'm going to the gym because I want to lose weight, and I think, is that what I look like? All the time? To everyone? I'm reminded that nobody has forgotten my biggest secret. Hopefully they're not focusing on it, just like I'm not focusing on how other people look. But it's still out there.

Still though, it sucks sometimes. The people who've seen me periodically over the years know that I lost a lot of weight, and then gained a lot of it back. They don't know why, but it's clear that it happened. I sometimes wonder how much nicer it would be if being overweight could be a thing that I choose to mention or not mention to someone, like other personal details.

Mmm, so you like to hydrate by bathing.

Anyone else feel this way?

The Million Dollar, or Seventy Pound Question: Why Did I Get Fat?

Why did I get fat? I started gaining extra weight in kindergarten, and reached what would be a healthy weight for my current height by age twelve. If only I could have just stopped there.

Nope.

This is a topic to which I've given a lot of thought. Childhood obesity is a highly debated and heavily researched area, with sciencey people looking at factors such as my family and my environment, citing fun things like easy access to junk food, no access to healthy food, and too much television with too little exercise. And of course, my genetics. It's mostly experiments on mice and a lot of correlational studies (let's link video games to obesity!), because we can't go experimenting on children.

I don't know how much I fit into those risk factors - I was really lucky. During my childhood, there were always fresh fruits to snack on, and vegetables with every meal. Dessert was reserved for Friday night and special occasions, and my parents only ever bought soda or white bread for guests. Most meals were homemade and eaten at home.

Except when we had wax.

My family was and is healthy. But I was still a chubby 10-year-old who was jealous of her friends in their cute pre-teen bikinis, but who still sneaked extra Oreos at school parties and didn't understand why she couldn't just make herself skinny by wishing hard enough.

It was probably more emotional. I suffered from depression and had low self-esteem as a kid. My parents are wonderful, and did all they could. But I was still an unhappy child. Science says that could have contributed to weight gain.

My current hypothesis is that the initial chubbiness was a fairly standard weight gain, the result of a few overindulgences and being so excited by the junk food that came my way at school or friends' houses that I overdid it and ignored my hunger or fullness signals. This happens to plenty of children, and they often grow into their weights (less so these days, but it used to be more common).

But being a little overweight helped create that classic cycle. I felt badly about myself, so I ate more. My parents wanted to help me lose weight, but they didn't really know how. I didn't know how myself. Food could be both a reward and punishment. I could eat to spite their attempts and punish myself, or I could eat to feel better, or feel in control. Eating felt guilty and great. Or maybe it's a little of all of that.

High school was much better - I slowly got out of feeling depressed and generally grew up a little.  I think time was the biggest factor. But food was still comforting, and while I seemed to be maintaining my weight, it was about 30 pounds too high.

College is a more complicated story, for later.

All in all, I think, I hope, that I'm at least a little more self-aware than I was as a child, and now have the tools and knowledge to get healthy.