Weigh-in Thursday

Starting weight: 255.2 lbs
Last week: 246.2 lbs
Current weight: 242.4 lbs
Weight lost this week: 3.8 lbs (again)
Total weight lost: 12.8 lbs

I took a vacation day on Monday, so my whole week has been thrown off and I thought today was Wednesday. Apparently, I’m going senile at the ripe old age of 27.

I’m excited to see the number on the scale consistently dropping. I know that it will slow down eventually, that the first few weeks are always the easiest–but it’s encouraging nonetheless. Although I weigh myself, I try to stay in tune with my body in other ways to mark my progress.

No longer feeling like a stuffed sausage in my largest pants? Check. Buddha belly a tiny bit smaller? Check. Not huffing and puffing as I walk up the stairs to my apartment? Double check.

I’ll be posting some oh-so-yummy recipes later this week, and, if you feel so inclined, follow me on My Fitness Pal (username is andread123).

Until next time, folks.

Not a pole lotta fun

I always like trying new kinds of exercise, so, thanks to a sweet Groupon deal, my friend and I recently enrolled in a pole fitness class.

Yes, that’s right, I am learning the art of the ‘ripper.

I’ve done pole-dancing classes before (for bachelorette parties and the like), but this class is different in that it focuses not only on the actual dancing part of the equation, but also on fitness. Holy, jeebus, it is a good work-out. Even my (super-fit) friend complained that her arms and shoulders were sore after class.

I have years and years of dance training under my belt and it usually takes me all of 10 seconds to pick up choreography, so I figured this class would be a breeze,  Apparently, though, my dancing skills do not extend to pole dancing. (In other words, I suck.)

One of the reasons? Definitely my chub. One of the moves involves kicking your leg up and wrapping it around the top of the pole so you’re hanging upside down. Uh, sure, I could do that — if I weighed 100 pounds. All of the thin girls in the class could easily do it. Us chubsters? Not so much. I had to swing my leg around my ginormous belly when kicking it up and then lift 230 pounds of body weight using just my arms. It ain’t easy! I felt a huge sense of achievement when I touched the pole with my toe, let alone wrapped my foot around it.

Fact: It is hard to pole dance (mad props to those women). Add an extra 100 pounds to the equation and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.

 

Goin’ fishin’

I recently read an interview with Jessica Alba, in which she claims to have a muffin top (plus cellulite and stretch marks). Bitch, please. Don’t try to act like you’re one of us.

I hate, hate, hate when slim women fish for compliments. “I am so fat,” one of my friends always sighs, while pinching the 0.01 inch of fat on her belly. I, meanwhile, am supposed to react with horror and assure her that she is not, indeed, fat (oh, the humanity!).

Being fat, after all, is something no one aspires to (except those women who cater to chubby chasers and eat 10,000 calories a day — but that’s a whole ‘nother story).

I understand that everyone has their own insecurities, but calling yourself fat when you’re a size 2 just makes me feel even shittier about myself. If you think you’re fat, what the hell does that make me? Morbidly obese? Venturing into whaleaphant territory?

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What I’m thinking when a skinny girl calls herself fat

I rarely say anything when a woman makes comments like that. I just play the role of the dutiful friend and act shocked that she would even suggest such a thing, because those complaints are always unfounded. There have been a few times, however, when I’ve retorted with something like, “If you’re fat, then what does that make me?” Usually, the person will then avoid eye contact and change the convo. Mission accomplished.

Until you’ve had to endure the embarrassment of breaking a chair (true story) or waddling your way into a plus-size department, you have no right to bitch about your weight to a fat girl. It’s just cruel.

(Side note: When I Googled “derogatory terms for fat people,” it came back with whaleaphant. I’m pretty sure that’s my new favourite word.)

Here comes the bride: big, fat and wide

If it seems as though I’ve been MIA for the past few weeks, it’s because I have been super-duper, no-social-life busy. Despite being on holidays for two weeks, I’ve had little to no time to prepare clean meals or exercise my bootay off. Just typing that makes me a sad panda.

On the plus side, though, I have some very exciting news: I’m engaged! My lovah popped the question while we were watching the sunset at my favourite spot on the lake (*tear*).

Now I have even more motivation to whip my fat ass back into shape. For real this time.

More posts a’comin’. Stay tuned, folks. I’ve got some gooders planned.

It’s hard out here for a blimp

A note to ignorant people: making fun of fat people isn’t funny. (I do poke fun of myself a lot, but that’s a whole ‘nother bag of bananas.)

More specifically, to the person I overheard making a “joke” about fat people eating shit all the time and therefore looking like shit all the time: I’m going to channel my inner Alanis here.

Isn’t it ironic that I, a fat person, am eating a sandwich made with multi-grain bread, fresh veggies from the garden, homemade hummus and a slice of locally produced meat, while you, a skinny mofo, are scarfing down a bacon cheeseburger dripping with grease, a large fries, a Coke and a bag of chips? Keep it up, buddy. Soon you’ll be one of us. (That, or you’ll have a heart attack at age 32.)

Or to the guy who joked he’d rather die than marry a fat girl: Ouch. It wasn’t directed at me but as someone who is overweight, it still stung. Worse, his friend actually made a comment along the lines of, “Yeah, man, but if you bag yourself a fat one, she won’t ever cheat on you and she’ll wait on you hand and foot.”

Ladies and gentlemen, Assholes of The Year. I didn’t realize that I’m supposed to seek out chubby chasers so I have the privilege of acting as their slaves. Guess I’ve been doing things wrong all these years! <sarcasm>

Seriously, people can be assholes, plain and simple. At least when I’m an asshole, it’s for a legitimate reason (like when someone kicks a kitten or insults the Backstreet Boys’ musical ability). When I hear comments like those above, I have to stop myself from flying into raging bitch mode.

There is such a stigma associated with being overweight and it’s a shame. I have gained a lot of weight over the past few years (100 pounds, to be exact, which is what spawned this blog). I can own up to my mistakes and the fact that I led a horribly unhealthy lifestyle. But I’m trying. I wish assholes like those guys knew how hard I have to work to shed even one pound. Just one tiny pound.

But you know what? They don’t matter. What do the young whippersnappers say these days? ‘Make your haters your motivators’? Well, dudes, you just became my biggest motivators.

G-free? Not for me

As most of you know, I embarked on my own little sub-diet within the clean eating realm. Last month, I tried going gluten-free for a few weeks (for the actual health benefits, not as some stupid Hollywood diet).

So what’s the verdict?

I’m stickin’ to my vitamin G (as in gluten), but in moderation. Honestly, I felt awesome while I was g-free. I had more energy and less bloat–and it wasn’t just the placebo effect. I had a few people tell me I looked skinner and was “glow-ier” than usual. Not sure what that means, but I’ll take it. Pretty much anything above “How many months along are you?” (I’m not preggers, FYI) is a compliment.

But as awesome as I felt, I don’t think it’s something I can sustain forever. I have, however, cut down on my gluten intake significantly, my only exceptions being multi-grain breads and pastas on rare occasions. I have finally learned how to adapt my restaurant ordering to the principles of clean eating, let alone adding the g-free factor on top of that. Oh, I recognize that a lot of restaurants and grocery stores offer g-free foods — and trust me, I’ll be taking advantage of those wherever possible. But I just don’t think I can commit to a diet that’s 100% free of gluten.

Tonight marks my first foray into a new exercise adventure — Jillian Michaels’ 30-Day Shred. I’m using that as a supplement to my gym work-outs and am hoping its reputation as an ass-kicker rings true. I can’t believe I’m actually hoping to be sore tomorrow…

 

Back on track

I feel like I’m having a summer-long fat day.

It’s been a week and a half since I last posted, and I actually really missed blogging. It’s nice to have something/one to hold me accountable when I fall off the wagon, food-wise. And fall I did. For weeks. (In other words, bitch got lazy.)

After almost a month of eating shit (and feeling like shit as a result), I’m back on my clean-eating plan. Lemme tell y’all, I felt like total and absolute crap this month. It was actually kind of helpful in a weird, twisted way, because I could see the effects that poor eating habits have on my body (weight gain not included). I was back to taking naps several times a week. I was bloated and lethargic. I was constipated. It wasn’t pretty.

This whole blogging experiment is a success so far. Despite my having re-gained several pounds and going through several weeks-long binges, I don’t mind the ups and downs because let’s face it, that’s reality for a lot of people tryin’ to lose the chub. I know my weight will be a life-long struggle, so it’s great to have my successes (and failures) documented.

Oh, on another note, I’ve decided to change the weekly weigh-in to a monthly weigh-in instead. I’m going to start taking monthly measurements now that I’m exercising again, so I’ll include those with the weigh-in numbers. I’ve got this, guys. I know I can do this.