The Cry for Help

Hello world, are you still there? It’s been forever and a day since I posted anything about my weight loss (or gain) adventures- which no doubt speaks volumes about my progress, right?

In my defense, my scale was lost in a move, I’ve been working crazy hours, I’ve finally finished my degree… don’t those things count for something?!  No, I didn’t think so either. I was supposed to be losing weight for the holidays and winning a pile of cash. As if.

The zumba classes didn’t last long- I always had to be somewhere else within the Y building from 10am until 11:10am on Saturdays. The dietician/nutritionist was fired from my specialist’s office- ironically because she was surfing the web all day. I became over-involved with work, school, and my kids’ activities that everything about my health and well-being has completely taken a back seat.

The results: I have gone on to balloon hideously and then completely gave up on doing anything to enhance my appearance on a daily basis. I no longer wear makeup, style or colour my hair. I’m lucky I even shower and dress anymore- nudity is rather frowned upon in the office, and no doubt the PTSD which would result from seeing me naked would set the company back millions in healthcare costs. I cost the company enough as it is with my daily indulgence in Splenda, Half and Half, and Privateer Dark coffee pods.

So what’s a heifer to do? Other than, of course, just get her shite together, put the cookie down, and get off her fat arse.  That plan hasn’t worked so far, so I recently issued the following “Cry for Help” to a number of women’s magazines and a local personal trainer:

I need an intervention.

I am a single working mother of four. I work 40+ hours a week, I spend 2 hours a day commuting, and my weekends are usually spent trying to catch up on sleep or running errands, or- now that autumn is around the corner- shuffling the kids to and from activities.

I never make time for myself, unless I am sleeping.

Exercise and healthy eating are not priorities (who has time?!)- and I’m getting to a point in my life where they need to be, or I may not be around for my children and grandchildren.

I am 37 years old, under five feet tall, and I weigh well over 200lbs. I have no upper body strength. I can’t afford new clothing for my plus-size body, and there are never any plus-size items at thrift stores. I’m tired of not being able to walk up the stairs in my office, keep up with my children, and generally not caring about my appearance because I have given up hope.

My boss recently lost nearly 40lbs using Weight Watchers; however, I can’t afford anything with a monthly fee- or any fee, really.

What I need is motivation, accountability, and- most of all- HELP.

I never find any articles about single working mothers who are trying to lose weight. All the articles are about either professional women without children, professional women with grown children, or stay-at-home mothers- nothing that ever fits my lifestyle. And that is discouraging.

I don’t need any more discouragement. I need HELP.

Simple, to the point, and pathetically desperate.

So far, I received a canned response from Weight Watchers, thanking me for my inquiry and that someone would respond shortly. (That was 3 days ago).

Stay tuned to see if I get any other responses, or if I (goddess forbid) suddenly find a well of self-control and self-discipline and find a way to do this myself.

Conscientious Observation

Weight: Lo
Motivation: Lo
Self-Control: Lo
Hunger Level: Off the charts

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So while I feel like I am constantly eating (and maybe I am, I tend to slack in the “record everything you eat” department because I just can’t keep up with myself), I have 2 good things to report at this time:

Losers, Big and Bigger

Weight: 215.4lbs
Motivation: Ehh...
Energy: Ehh...

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So, it’s been ages since I vowed to show the world just how wrong it is about me, that I can eat right, exercise, and otherwise make significant changes to my lifestyle and my weight.

Fat chance. Emphasis on “fat”.

While I’m not much heavier than I have been recently, I can feel that I’m carrying the weight differently. It’s all up front and in the middle, rather than spread out (or somewhere handy, like my boobs). I know my eating habits haven’t been all that great, and I won’t even begin to blame that on the holidays. My exercise habits have been even more pathetic- I’ve worked out once in 2-3 months, and that was this past weekend: I took the Zumba class at the Y that’s offered on Saturday mornings. I’m there anyway every Saturday, so why not?

My gods, I wanted to die about 15 minutes into the class. I pushed myself another 15 minutes. And another 15 minutes. And then I really did have to wuss out and quit.

So, a 60min dance/movement class, and I couldn’t last.  And did I mention how I failed climbing up several flights of stairs on my way to a concert?  That was the real kick in the butt to want to do something about the weight. A year ago, I was in slightly better shape; less than a year ago I was in significantly better shape, if not size.  Now I am the fat lumpy potato woman I never wanted to be.

I feel I’ve become my mother, minus the drinking and smoking. But here I am, morbidly obese, possibly staring Type 2 diabetes in the eye, waiting for joints and bones to crumble and grind to a halt. My mother was in her 40s when she had both knees replaced- am I doomed to the same fate? What can I do to change it- besides WANT to change?

So I’ve gone and done something to prove I’m a consummate failure: I’ve entered a mini-contest with some friends. Basically, we are required to at least maintain our current weight through the holiday season; even better if one loses. There is a cash prize at the end of the contest, but I will no doubt never see it. Still, there it is, on the table and the internet- I am the biggest loser, but not The Biggest Loser.

Discounts on Accountability!

Current Weight: 209.6

Waist-to-Hip Ratio: 0.925

Diet is just DIE with a T

I have to thank Garfield for that title.



Ironically, I'm tackling this post with red velvet cake with cream cheese icing fresh past my lips and no doubt settling in around my hips... and thighs... and bellyflab. But never my ankles!



So let's discuss my attempts at dieting, shall we? Not "lifestyle changes", but honest to goodness, I need results and I need them NOW, dieting. My first introduction to the D word was when I was probably 9 or 10 years old. My mother brought home a mimeographed sheet bearing the title "The Stewardess Diet".  This fabulous, glamourous diet consisted of eating grapefruit and cottage cheese for something like 7-10 days straight. Black coffee and water only. Not only would you shed unwanted pounds and inches, you would be able to direct people to the nearest emergency exits with panache (and probably a significant lack of sleep). I have no idea if this diet ever worked for anyone, and no, I was absolutely unwilling to try it at the time.



My first real attempt at weight loss through dieting came when I was 14, about as fat as a skewer, and suffering a serious case of image dystopia. I had gone from a size 16 to a size 4 and still thought I was "the fat new kid" from 4th grade (never mind that I was in the summer between junior high and high school and was nowhere near being the "new kid"- and at about 100lbs, I wasn't the "fat kid" either). The weight loss had been so gradual I hadn't noticed it, so psychologically I was still dumpy and rolypoly. So, in order to wear the bikinis I so desperately wanted to wear (and did, and looking at those pictures later I was nothing but ribs and skin), I procured a can of SlimFast powder and proceeded to gag the stuff down twice a day. To this day, I can't look at the stuff on a shelf without wanting to vomit.



I have no recollection if the SlimFast actually worked. I was already a size 4 and never got much smaller. I know at one point my waist was 24", but that was roughly 2 years later.



After I had my first child, and the weight didn't come off like I had been promised it would (damn you, doctors and mothers and people who don't have a clue), I started considering dieting again. I was a size 12 by then, and ALL of the weight had come on in the 9 months of the pregnancy (I had gained a very average 22lbs). I didn't honestly know where to start. I had been so used to eating "whatever", I had no idea how not to eat that way.  It took me 2-1/2 years to sort out what I wanted to do regarding diets, with some help from an email community of wonderful women (with whom I'm still in touch, 13 years later) who were all trying to lose weight then get pregnant. (It didn't necessarily work out that way for all of us). At any rate, one of the gals was doing a PRISM diet- basically, eradicate all sugar and simple carbs. So I spent roughly 3 weeks eating rice and drinking tea with honey. I don't think I lost any weight, but my aunt told me I looked great. However, I felt positively murderous and ravenous- rather like a fresh zombie, but a lot louder and somewhat faster.



Roughly six months after the PRISM failure, I decided to try Jenny Craig. A friend had mentioned she was on it and it was great (what she forgot to mention was that someone else was paying for her food, and she was eating regular food between the JC prepared meals). I thought, what the hell, weight loss is weight loss and I don't have to cook! You can see where this is going... 3 months later, I never wanted to look at another pre-packaged JC meal ever again. No weight lost, but I was out a few hundred bucks on crappy food and crappy "personal support".  JC never once mentioned exercise as a KEY component to weight loss. They never used the words "lifestyle change". It was all about their commissions- in retrospect, of course- and getting me to come in every week for my next fix of crappy, pre-portioned meals.



For Christmas the next year, my sister bought me the "new" Weight Watchers Points system. I never bothered with it because: 1) I was insulted my sister would buy me something like that and 2) I hate counting calories, points, fat grams, carbs-to-fiber ratios... My math skills are exceptional, don't get the wrong idea, but I hate applying them to what is going in my mouth.



Bottom line on calorie/carb/point counting: if I have to THINK about what I'm eating, I just don't want to bother with it. Give me cereal or give me death! (Yes, we'll address this "convenience eating" issue another time).



Two more children, several years later, and I'm pushing maximum density. I'm cooking for a family of five, but I'm not even considering portion sizes, meat-to-vegetable ratios, the food pyramid, or anything even remotely rational when it comes to meal planning. There were several factors contributing to that state of affairs, but I will admit that this indifference to food contributed to my current size.



In the meantime, I read books about the Atkins Diet. I try OTC diet pills.  I try mail-away diet pills. I join gym after gym, thinking a new environment will be all the trigger I need to make some serious "lifestyle changes" that will stick. I try that ridiculous "BodyFlex" workout because I can do it SITTING ON MY COUCH! It works for Greer Childers, right??



I am the poster child for "Why Smart Women Make Stupid Mistakes".



Shortly after deciding to leave my (now ex-) husband and relocate closer to my family, I heard about the "Deny yourself nothing" diet. Essentially, you could eat what you wanted, as long as you stopped when you were full. I realize now this was simply "mindful eating"- learning to enjoy the food you have, and paying attention to your body's signals that it has had enough.  I told myself I could do this, and somehow, I did manage to lose almost 20lbs in about 2 months. And then 2 months later, the weight started coming back on, and I managed to gain 30lbs in roughly 3 months.



I consulted my PCP, who referred me to an endocrinologist. Everything checks out fine. My blood sugar, thyroid, cortisol, everything is textbook perfect. I have absolutely ZERO COMPLICATIONS due to my tremendous weight. So why did my weight yoyo so dramatically?  A mystery for the ages, it seems.



Another 10lbs comes on, and I seem to level out weight-wise. And then I get pregnant with Child #4- and the weight starts falling off. I manage a NET LOSS of 13lbs during my last pregnancy, and another 20lbs fall off within the first 2 months post-partum. I am both thrilled and suffering from severe sleep-deprivation and PPD. I start eating junk at weird hours. Hello, pre-pregnancy weight + 15. Right before two family weddings, to boot.



At that point, I gave up. I continued to read diet books, self-help books, books about mindful eating, books about mindlessness, books about changing one's outlook, but it was just to give the impression that I wanted to change something. I really didn't know HOW to change, or how to stick with change, and that was the real problem.  It still is.

Lifestyle is an Overstatement

Height: 59.5”

Age: 35

Current Weight: 209.2

Current BMI: 41.5

This is bound to be a depressing tale of failure after failure, but I thought- what the hell? People are blogging about medical conditions, dating mishaps, global success, and bunnies with pancakes on their heads. Why shouldn’t I add my virtual tuppence to the online community of losers, winners, and everyone in between?

This is also going to be cathartic for someone. Maybe it will be me. Maybe it will be you, the poor reader who has been sucked in by some keyword or another. Whomever suffers an epiphany first, I hope it ends up being life-altering. Seriously life-altering, as in, one of us will NEVER be the same. One of us will see the light in some sense- and it will definitely not be a train. Well, I certainly don’t need any more trains or derailments; I’m not sure about you.

On to the part you really wanted to know: I’m fat. Disgustingly so. Thing is, like many people, I have not always been fat. At 12, I was 54” tall and probably 150lbs. At 15, I was 59.5” and 100lbs soaking wet. After my first child at 20, I was 140lbs, and it’s been downhill (and up-scale) ever since. I have no illusions of ever weighing 100lbs again. I will never be a size 3 again, either. (I know, I can hear you now, “But Ms. Willendorf, I was never a size 3, how unfair!”)  But I would like to stop shopping in tent stores and start wearing real clothes again. I want to wear skinny jeans… okay, maybe not those fashion disasters, but I would like to be able to walk into any store and pull my size off the rack.  

In my favour are the following: my overall health; my Google-fu; my desire to change; and- perhaps the least noble- my vanity. I do not have any health complications which would make achieving my goal impossible or highly improbable: while diabetes runs in my family (both sides! How lucky for me!), I have never had a problem with my blood sugar. I have asthma, but with proactive medications, it is kept well under control. 

The forces aligned against me: my relationship with food; my control issues; my accountability; my pride; and my lifestyle. As a single mum, I tend to put everyone else’s needs before my own- no surprise for many mothers out there, but an unique challenge for those without partners. (To clarify “single mum” : there is a significant other, but there’s also nothing keeping him from taking the next train to Clarksville).  Said food relationship and control issues are interrelated- don’t tell me what to put in my mouth, dammit! Don’t you dare tell me how many calories I’m allowed in a day! (See the problem?)  I don’t like being told what to eat, so reporting back what I DO eat is difficult for me- who are you to judge me?!  (Again, see the problem?) And of course my pride gets in the way of many things, not the least of which is admitting that I am ashamed of what I look like, who I am, and the fact that I am not at all what I wanted to be.