15 Pounds of Ugly Fat
May. 29th, 2005 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jamesqI'm losing weight, for the first time in my life. 15 pounds so far in the last six weeks. My goal is to be somewhere in the vicinity of 220 pounds, which means I have about 40 to go. It's a long way off, but 15 is a helluva start.
My mind is having trouble accepting it. The first time I weighed in (I'm in Weight Watchers and they have weekly weigh ins to track your progress) I lost 4 pounds. I assumed everything except actual loss though. I figured I had had less to eat that day, or my clothing was different. Anything other than my efforts paying off because in the last thirty years, I've only ever gained weight.
Well yes and no - I lost a small amount of fat when I started running a couple of years ago, but no actual mass. On the plus side I've got a great set of legs now - the muscle is all in the right spots for showing off a kilt. Now I just have to get one. If I decide to go to Seattle for an overnight stay I'll be buying a utilikilt.
I told myself (after the first weigh in) "If I lose weight again next time, then maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right. Next week I lost four more pounds. I figured the equipment was in error, or there was an anomaly in local space time such that gravity had decreased by a few percent. Again, anything other than the obvious.
But people started commenting on it. "Are you losing weight," they'd ask. "I can see it around your face," they'd say when I said I had.
And then I started buckling my belt to it's tightest notch. And despite that I started having to hitch my pants up whenever I was walking around. I finally broke down and bought a smaller pair of pants - sort of a proof of concept that this whole exercise wasn't just a waste of time.
The pants have a 40 inch waist, and I've been using a 42 inch pretty much since graduating from University. They sat on my dresser for a few days while I worked up the nerve to put them on. When I finally did try them on, they actually fit. I also bought size 40 underwear, but I don't think I'm quite ready for that.
I'm going on vacation to Vancouver (I'm writing this in Calgary's airport as it happens), and I look forward to finding a meeting there. I find myself anticipating each weigh in because it makes me happy in a way few things ever have.
I've hated my body for as long as I can remember. I make a deliberate effort not to look in mirrors unless I absolutely have to (i.e. when I'm shaving). I hate shopping for clothing, or having my picture taken. If the only attention your appearance brought was ridicule and humiliation, you'd be the same.
There is a picture of myself at work, along with all of my coworkers. It was taken when I first started there. I'm wearing an ill-fitting and out-of-fashion suit, I still have my glasses, and I have jowls from obesity. To make matters worse, I'm not smiling (do you blame me?). It was taken when I was 30, but I look like I'm 40. Well now I'm 38, and I like to think I look younger than that. Not 30, but also not 40.
If this works, if I can get rid of the rest of this ugly fat in the next year or so, I will sing the praises of weight watchers (and my therapist, without whom I wouldn't have had the mental fortitude to stick to the program) from the highest mountains.
My mind is having trouble accepting it. The first time I weighed in (I'm in Weight Watchers and they have weekly weigh ins to track your progress) I lost 4 pounds. I assumed everything except actual loss though. I figured I had had less to eat that day, or my clothing was different. Anything other than my efforts paying off because in the last thirty years, I've only ever gained weight.
Well yes and no - I lost a small amount of fat when I started running a couple of years ago, but no actual mass. On the plus side I've got a great set of legs now - the muscle is all in the right spots for showing off a kilt. Now I just have to get one. If I decide to go to Seattle for an overnight stay I'll be buying a utilikilt.
I told myself (after the first weigh in) "If I lose weight again next time, then maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right. Next week I lost four more pounds. I figured the equipment was in error, or there was an anomaly in local space time such that gravity had decreased by a few percent. Again, anything other than the obvious.
But people started commenting on it. "Are you losing weight," they'd ask. "I can see it around your face," they'd say when I said I had.
And then I started buckling my belt to it's tightest notch. And despite that I started having to hitch my pants up whenever I was walking around. I finally broke down and bought a smaller pair of pants - sort of a proof of concept that this whole exercise wasn't just a waste of time.
The pants have a 40 inch waist, and I've been using a 42 inch pretty much since graduating from University. They sat on my dresser for a few days while I worked up the nerve to put them on. When I finally did try them on, they actually fit. I also bought size 40 underwear, but I don't think I'm quite ready for that.
I'm going on vacation to Vancouver (I'm writing this in Calgary's airport as it happens), and I look forward to finding a meeting there. I find myself anticipating each weigh in because it makes me happy in a way few things ever have.
I've hated my body for as long as I can remember. I make a deliberate effort not to look in mirrors unless I absolutely have to (i.e. when I'm shaving). I hate shopping for clothing, or having my picture taken. If the only attention your appearance brought was ridicule and humiliation, you'd be the same.
There is a picture of myself at work, along with all of my coworkers. It was taken when I first started there. I'm wearing an ill-fitting and out-of-fashion suit, I still have my glasses, and I have jowls from obesity. To make matters worse, I'm not smiling (do you blame me?). It was taken when I was 30, but I look like I'm 40. Well now I'm 38, and I like to think I look younger than that. Not 30, but also not 40.
If this works, if I can get rid of the rest of this ugly fat in the next year or so, I will sing the praises of weight watchers (and my therapist, without whom I wouldn't have had the mental fortitude to stick to the program) from the highest mountains.
