Anywho, if you are a regular reader of my craziness blog, then you know that forever for the past several weeks months I’ve sporadically written about trying to lose weight. Just a few pounds, 20 to be exact.

Before I continue, I’m not obsessive about my appearance, “I’m [just] trying to keep the drywall intact and the rooms neat and tidy.”   Side story: A coworker noticed¹ that I was wearing my pedometers² and she said, “What is that?”

I told her.

She said, “Don’t you think you’re getting a little too carried away with this sh*t.  Everything is about how you look.” Now this is coming from a woman who won’t take out the trash unless she is wearing make-up, but I’m vain because there’s a tire growing out of my waist that I need to deflate. I said, “That’s not true, I don’t wear make-up.”  She concurred when I put it that way.

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From Blog Photos

I’m not on a diet, but I do exercise 5-7 times a week, I made a few minor food changes and I’m drinking more water.  Herein lies the problem.  My stomach is comparable to a cow’s stomach, it has four compartments that need filling.  So what are we told to do?  Drink. More. Water.

Well that’s the least I could do.  Easy enough. Heck, if I go to work everyday, the water is free.  I think I can handle 8 to 10 cups of free water.

I really don’t care about the health benefits of drinking water either, I’m trying to drown food and stave off cravings!  Come what may.

So I thought.

One day last week, after cup number 5, my bladder turned on me. In a 15 minute time frame I went to the ladies room three times; water was passing through my urinary tract system like a defective and hollow Baby Alive.

From Blog Photos

The urge to go was ever persistent and I had to share the going ons with someone.  Every time I walked past my co-worker’s office, I would shout my number of trips to the bathroom. Four! Five! Sometimes I just held up a number using my fingers.

For some reason my body suddenly increased production in the Water Department, informed my kidneys to “speed it up,”³ pissed off my bladder and caused a tsunami!

Some time that afternoon, production finally came to a halt, the Union was called in and everybody calmed down.  On one of my trips to the bathroom, I seriously thought it would be easier to just pour 8 cups of water into the toilet, bypass the middle man and call it a truce.  I can’t go through this again.  I haven’t had 8 cups of water since, but I have come pretty darn close, fortunately, without repercussion.

*******
This post is true, but only meant to be funny.  I have since stopped using the bathroom like a Betsy Wetsy doll, honestly. Please don’t tell me I’m dying.  I’d like to believe that I will live to the ripe old age of 204 and a half and if that dubious hallucination is all in my mind, then let’s leave it there.

Jeopardy Logo by Someone on Flickr TBA
Cow picture by Clover
Angry Watermelon by  Sebastian Niedlich

1. okay I showed it to her
2. one on each hip
3. watch the video

A few minutes later my friend replied, “Maybe she doesn’t want to go to the gym she might be quite comfortable just the way she is. There are a lot of people out there who are just fine with themselves but magazines, other people, TV, make them feel bad about their size.”

Fair enough.

I don’t doubt she’s happy or even comfortable; I just assume she would prefer to be a smaller size. I know being fat is not always about overeating, there are other factors (e.g. medical, emotional or psychological) that contribute to weight gain. Who knows what her reasons are yet we still judge or comment.

The issue of weight, especially for a woman, is a touchy subject and is not about the weight but the desire to feel wanted, accepted and loved. It seems socially acceptable to make fun of fat people because no one cares about their feelings.  “Fat people know that the first impression that others have of them may be negative. This leads to low self-esteem and shame.”

Not fair.

Losing weight is hard work, it’s not easy! Some people are choosing happiness over body size and have embraced the Fat Acceptance Movement, whose goal is to “change societal attitudes toward individuals who are fat.” I first read about fat acceptance on Kim’s blog over @ FatHappyGirl and I was moved by what she wrote below:

I think an important part of fat acceptance is really understanding what fat acceptance is. It’s personal, it’s not the same way for everyone. It isn’t just about being fat, it’s wanting to be treated equally and fairly. It’s about not wanting to be judged on being fat. It’s about being treated kindly because we are another human being. It means being free of assumptions and half truths. It means being judged less and loved more.

I’m trying to lose several pounds this year with the help of friends/family, my Wii Fit, cutting back² on junk food, making healthier food choices, portion control and regular exercise. Not everyone trying to lose weight wants to be a size 3 either, but a size comfortable.

I am not happy my clothes don’t fit anymore. I am not comfortable with my bulge, but I am a happy person. There are days when I dream of Frisbee sized cookies and days when my eyes are on the prize.  Can you be fat and healthy? Well there’s a bewildering array of conflicting opinions on the subject, but most of the studies I read said no. A few of them said yes. Can you be fat but happy? Absolutely!

So, what did I mean by my comment?  I’ve never heard anyone say they’re overweight because they want to be.  Either they don’t have the time to exercise or the money to buy nutritious foods. If someone is well off financially, to me that represents opportunity and freedom. Why wouldn’t someone use these tools to their physical advantage.

Later I apologize to my friend if I offended her with my comment, that’s never my intention, same goes with this post.  A person’s size would not prevent me from befriending or treating them with respect.  I do think it’s unfair that a person’s “worth”, especially a woman, is measured in pounds, that’s a heavy burden to bear almost more than the weight itself.

1. I’ll explain
2. not eliminating

Yep, I’m back in the gym. Why? Because my butt-to-gutt ratio is in fierce competition for body dominance, whoever expands the biggest is the winner. I’m gaining weight fast and it’s not even egg nog season yet.

I inhale and my butt pulls at my clothing, I exhale and my gutt snatches it back. These two body parts are fighting over coverage like my clothing is a blanket on a cold winter night.

This is so not comfortable and the gym is the only thing that might keep me on track, so I’ll go.

I went to the gym during my lunch hour, I wasn’t “feeling it” but I never feel good about going until after I’m done with my workout. I turned on the t.v., stuck my earbuds to my MP3 player in my ear and plopped my magazine¹  over the display panel on the elliptical machine.

I did a five minute warm up and I thought my first day back in the gym was going to be more difficult, this was nothing. I cranked up the resistance another notch and surprisingly I moved with ease. I checked myself out in the mirror and I can’t help it, I had to look in the trunk.

Mr. Whipple said, “Please Don’t Squeeze the Charmin”, he didn’t say nothing about my butt, so I reached around for a quick grab, just to assess the merchandise.  It’s about six rolls of Charmin back there and I only need four, this machine should help. My calves look decent, but my thighs look like a human storage container for cottage cheese.  I’ll work on that later, after I settle this dispute.

From Blog Photos

While I worked out, I also kept a watchful eye on my hair because, at a certain length, it does not do humidity and sweat. My hair goes into a gangsta lean like it’s too cool to be seen with the other side of my hair-do and just separates itself down the middle.   I don’t like hair spray but I had to use it, at least until I can get a hair cut.

I’m about 10 minutes into my workout and I’m not winded at all, a little unusual for a first day workout.  I even started encouraging myself with exercise affirmations “you better work girl” and “you’re in better shape than you thought“. I was moving so fast, I wanted to draw a stick figure on the wall behind me to pretend I was being chased. Yeah, try to catch me. Muahahahahaha.

Even though it was an easy workout, something else was wrong. I know I pushed that resistance button at least 3 times and I’m still standing.  I lift my magazine off the elliptical display and it said: To begin your workout, please press start.

****!

What was I doing for the last 10 minutes!  That’s why I didn’t feel tired, I wasn’t doing a vigorous workout, I was walking.  My legs aren’t strong, I’m stupid.

I pressed the start button and began my real workout.  Okay yeah, this feels different.  Fifteen minutes in and I’m singing another tune “you better get off this machine girl“,  “you’re not in as good of shape as you thought“.

I’m starting to perspire too, a few strands of hair fell into my face and I heard the door open and shut.  There goes my hair spray.  Actually it was a partner from the office, but my hair spray did quit on me and my hair now resembles a mop.  Great.

I put in an additional 10 minutes since I messed up my workout to make it an even 30.  I stopped the machine to get off and I can’t feel my legs.  I’m not sure if my feet are on the floor or not, but I’m moving.  I look like a drunk but without the benefit of alcohol on my breath or in my blood stream.  I still have on my headphones though, so to cover up my stagger, I pretend to dance out of the workout room.  I can walk, just not straight yet.

After waiting for my legs to stop trembling, I hit the showers and do more damage to my hair from the steam.  It’s wet: the scalp, the hair, like I just washed it.  No, I can’t blow dry at work, I have to call in a team of professionals for my hair, it’s not that simple or cooperative.

So I went back to work looking like I just ran a full marathon. I said if people stare at my hair too long, I plan to casually mention that I just came from working out, that should explain the damage, at least for today, tomorrow’s another day.

1. read this, great article