What passes for self esteem

So here's the thing about self esteem.....I don't have any. On a purely intellectual level, I understand that I have much to be grateful for and I have some good qualities, but the plain simple fact is that I've wrapped myself in 100 extra pounds. That can't be a good thing. Eventually we all have to ask ourselves as the weight comes off.....why in the bloody hell did I do this to myself?

The weight has been coming off slowly at about a pound or so a week. This week I've lost 4 pounds but something is happening to me as the tonnage drops. I've become unforgiving and downright bitchy at ME!!!. I would never tolerate from another person what I heap generously upon myself. Somehow, being wrapped in 100 extra pounds allowed me to accept all my flaws and forgive all my mistakes. With a shrug of my chubby shoulders...all was OK......afterall....I'm not perfect or anything. I avoided scales and mirrors and doctors offices where they would torture me by demanding that I face my demons. "Lets hop on the scale" "Lets draw some blood" "We need to schedule a physical" Clearly I didn't think enough of myself to take care of me........but I was always kind to me. How fucked up is that?

Now I've lost 19 pounds......or 76 sticks of butter (that just feels so much better!) Not complaining!! But I find it interesting that life has become more difficult as I've finally stepped up to the plate and taken care of my health. I gave up cigarettes! I had my blood work! I had a mammogram! I had a fucking physical! I had a fucking PAP smear!! I've started exercising!!...........and I've lost the ability to be nice to me. What the fuck is happening here??

Maybe all of the things that weight dilutes and muffles become clear again as it drops away. suddenly a layer of fat is gone and underneath is the reason I put it on to begin with....it's still there....waiting. "I'm not good enough" That bastard "I'm not good enough" is peeking out from underneath my 19 pounds!!

Somehow hating myself for not being good or perfect enough hardly seems like a productive way to deal with my little demon friend. He and I will have to learn to co exist. Let me just say that I really get why I heaped the equivalent of your average 12 year old child on to my medium frame. It's one hell of a lot easier than dealin' with that little piece of Hell.

So here's the thing about self-esteem.......I really need to learn to have some.

DVD fitness failure

OK.....so my Goddamned Fido Fitness program is moving right along. I'm loving walking the dogs in the evenings and God knows the dogs are enjoying it. Given the choice between getting outside and standing in my living room exercising along to a DVD, I'll vote for outside every time. The harsh reality is that mother nature occasionally intercedes and fucks up my plans........hence, the DVD fitness attempt. Yes....it was an attempt.....a sad...sorry...pitiful little attempt.

Hilary had given me a Leslie Sansone's walk fit, or walk thin, or some such thing DVD. The premise is that you basically walk in place, or march, or side step to a snappy tune while Leslie encourages you to enjoy sweating. How hard can that be?? This is me we're talking about so the answer is "plenty fucking hard"

So here I am......I have my mass in motion when I realize that for some reason my marching is wrong. My arm swinging is out of sinc with my leg stomping. "What is going on here??!!" OK, stop and roll back the DVD.....OK....the knee is up and the arm is up....oh crap...wait...was the knee down?...ok...roll it back again.....ok 1/16 speed....yes...yes...the knee is definitely down....ok.....nope.....I'm still fucking this up......ok roll it back......" It took several minutes for the sheer absurdity to sink in.

I finally decided that I was just going to go with it even though all those people on the TV were beautifully coordinated with their arm swinging shit and I was fumbling along hoping the neighbors didn't think I was having a grand mal seizure and call 911. "I can see her through her window!! Good God hurry!!...I think shes foaming at the mouth" Nope........shes just trying to WALK IN FUCKING PLACE!!!!!!

I'm feeling the burn....I'm sweating.....I'm swinging.....I'm stomping....I'm seizing......and then Leslie says "OK, that's it for the warm up......." I'm stopping......I'm quitting..........*crap*.

So I need to work my way up a bit. I have hope that eventually, with a lot of help and practice and possibly some neurosurgery, I can learn to walk in place like the rest of the fat girls. What can I say, it's a dream.

Down 15 pounds.....or 60 sticks of butter. YAY me!!

Sabotage

As you all know well by now, I have not been on a scale in years. "Why depress myself", I thought. It's not like I don't have enough worries to keep me busy......real and imagined. Why put myself through all that useless trauma? It's just a number.....right?

Funny thing numbers. When they start approaching the equivalent of a beached baby beluga, or the average tonnage of the starting defensive line up of the Washington Redskins, they are goddamned powerful. Gut wrenching, anxiety attack inducing, "smelling salts and crash cart needed in exam room 3 STAT!", powerful.

I saw my weight quite by accident. I happen to have a doctor with extremely neat hand writing. How in the hell did that happen?!!? Their hand writing is supposed to look like an EKG strip! It's in the rules! They take crappy handwriting classes in grad school!! Nope, Dr Heather, who I just love, writes like my daughter who is a first grade teacher. It's just wrong!

The damage was done. The Gods interceded on my blissful, McDonald's double cheeseburger induced denial and sent it crashing down.......fuckers. I saw the number. Since that terrible day, black Tuesday, I have watched that "just a" number slowly....oh so painfully slowly....reduce. Until this week, when I found a new road to denial and the inevitable self sabotage that follows.

Here's how it goes: "Oh wow!!...I've dropped another pound and a half!....cool! I have a little wiggle room here. I won't be as vigilant today. Everyone needs a little break right?" (ok...so I'm already in denial about the fact that my last "little break" lasted 10 years and added 80 pounds) Mmmmmm....salty baked lays.....salty pretzels........mmmmmmm....creamy tomato soup with crackers" (salted). It's not like I'm going to McDonalds or DQ or anything. Sound familiar?

I was shocked and stunned and depressed to find on my regular Monday weigh in that my Saturday pound and a half loss had turned in to a 3 pound gain. WTF!!?? you can't be serious!! "Mom, you fell right in to the sabotage trap. You aren't supposed to weigh on Saturday and then spend Sunday eating!" "Why the hell not!?! Is it possible, or even remotely fair that I can walk, step, climb, diet and work my way to every ounce lost with sweat and tears only to have it un done by a few freakin' saltines in my soup!?! Is the universe really that unfair!!??

Yup.....it is....shut up and deal.

Keep your eyes open this time Forrest.

Psychic Paul

I had my first Tarot card reading today and let me just say that I seemed to stump our dear psychic. "Think about what you're going to ask" Hilary said. What does a woman my age ask a psychic tarot card reader? The young girls were breathless with anticipation. How many children will I have? Will I meet the man of my dreams? Will my new husband and I always be together?? Boy or girl? Life stretches out before them overflowing with endless possibilities.......and psychics have all the answers. I will have to leave my girl Kathleen out of that particular generalization. She is the exception to the rule.Hilary's friend since childhood, She remained hysterically funny in her reluctance and skepticism. Any girl that will sing "Let My People Go" when removing her bra at the end of the day is a Kindred spirit.

Back to psychic Paul and the problem of what a woman my age asks. "Will I ever be able to look down and see my feet again?" "Will my thighs ever not rub together?" "is it possible to die from a hot flash?" Honestly!....I'm 46 fucking years old so that leaves out a lot. I had a wicked little idea of giving him the dogs birth date and see what he comes up with. "I see an oral fixation and a propensity to urinate out of doors" Now THAT would make me a believer.

As each person came down smiling from their reading they recounted a nagging little worry about an illness card that kept appearing. "Is someone in your family struggling with illness?" I just knew it had to be me. Is menopause an illness?......oh I think it is. "Honey, have you struggled with depression in your life?", psychic Paul asked. "Have I struggled with depression!!!!!........I'm 46 fucking years old!!!!.......there's NOTHING I haven't struggled with in my life!! (the "fucking" just seems to help....sorry)

So evidently I have a very clear aura........I'm going to meet some man who would clearly be disturbed or a glutton for punishment or recently paroled,and thinks its sexy that a woman's peache now requires a certain degree of support. I don't think so. Did he tell me that I'm learning to love my middle aged self? no Did he tell me that I will live to be a ripe old healthy age? no Did he tell me that I will lose all the weight and my breasts will not look like two sad, deflated party balloons....no.

He told me that I'm a success.....right now....just as I am......and that my work is my life........

Please excuse me while I go stick my head in the oven.

CRAP!!....electric! The best I could do is singe.

but I'll do it!!! I swear to God I will!!

Goodbye dearest.....

I will miss you all.

I can't help but remember the good times spent with my dearest friends and look back with some degree of melancholy at our parting. It's inevitability hangs over me like a fog. I would like to just take a few minutes to say goodbye individually to my dearest loves.

Too you Funyuns....what can I say but I'll miss you the most. Your lovely processed goodness powdered with synthetic onion type derivative topping that makes your fingers smell like synthetic onion type derivative powder. Oh...the evenings we spent together!! After 8 weeks on my Goddamned Diet, the Funyun smell is just beginning to fade from my TV remote control. I will not however, miss your secondary gas and bloating and the unholy way in which you mixed with toothpaste. Good bye Funyuns.

To you Heath bar toffee ice cream......a few seconds in the microwave rendered a slippery and delicious mass that I had every intention of having instead of dinner. It's healthier that way....I'm ONLY HAVING THIS!....and Funyuns.....and maybe a few chips.....gotta have salty with the sweet.....and maybe....well.....you get the idea. A nice big bowl of you left me rolled over like a stranded turtle, unable to move or save myself......beached......waiting for the tide to sweep me back out to the merciful sea. Despite your horrid side effects, I miss you dearly. Maybe one day I'll be able to visit the frozen isle but for right now.....I'm just not strong enough.

To you Boston Market frozen dinners in the extra large size to which I added extra salt. *sigh* I will never forget the sheer volume of liquid I had to drink to offset your salty goodness. It was so convenient........I never had to waste all that movement walking to the bathroom to pee. My body held that water like a sponge. "these jeans must have shrunk in the wash" it couldn't possibly be the synthetic mysterious meat like product that is supposed to be meatloaf and the dehydrated potato like flakes which needed extra salt. Goodbye Boston Market. Your remnants cling to the inside of my microwave like epoxy paint.

Goodbye microwave popcorn butter blasters movie time type popcorn to which I added extra melted butter. 'Nuff said.

Hello fresh whole foods, real meat, whole grains, fresh fruit, seasonal lovely homegrown vegetables. Hello kitchen stove....did you miss me? Hello soup pot. Hello freezer for left overs (dinners for another day!? whooda thought??).

Hello Doctors office: "Dr Heather!!!", "I'm dying....or I have cancer....something is terribly wrong inside...my ass is falling off" "I swear to God I have anal cancer like fucking Farrah.....I saw that on TV!!" I'm going to have to go to some ass/colon specialist right??"

"No Nancy......although I applaud your dietary changes and your commitment to making healthy choices, your body is in a state of shock" "What are you saying Dr Heather!...Funyun withdrawal?? "You can't be freakin' serious!!"

This could only happen to me.

Fido Fitness

So what are my fitness options here. I need to find a program that will work for me long term and there is no shortage of advertisements on TV. I can hop, swing, ski, slide,box, dance, dangle and fart my way to a slimmer trimmer me........all for an introductory price, no obligation, trial offer. WOW!!! these folks really aren't expecting me to stick with it are they? "If you hate it....send it back!...hurry!! quit!! send it back!!"

Am I the only one who HATES these infomercials. I get to see some sad fat girl who's picture was snapped just as she hoisted an Oreo Cakester to her lips. Then I get to see the newly thin girl happily holding out the waist of her old fat pants. I often visualize a large incontinent bird flying over head at that very moment. All she had to do was call in her credit card number and get the patented Tubby Bunny Abdominator 3000 with optional cellulite jiggler attachment. I will never understand what purpose the jiggling of fat serves. I think the small "results not typical" at the bottom of the screen says it all.

So back to my fitness options. I can walk my dogs and it won't cost me anything and it wont involve any battery operated jiggling and I won't have to look at Chuck Norris (are we really sure he's still alive?) and I won't have to have a stripper pole installed ("hello 911....you're not going to believe this but....") I can walk my goddamned dogs.

Nickolai and Willow love the walkies. My little sausages are trimming down right along with me. We have been working on coordinating the walk to avoid what can only be described as inadvertent, leash induced, doggie yoga (Hello 911....you're not going to believe this but.....") Willie has had to learn commands like "come around" and "forward". Nickolai has had to learn commands like "really Nick??....really??...you pissed on that stump 2 laps ago" Ahhhhhh...my boy! 2 1/2 years of obedience training have paid off. OK there is the squirrel issue but does that really count anyway?

I love walking the dogs. I never realized before what I was missing. The beautiful, tree lined path, the cool breeze, the smell of pine, the communion of woman, dog and nature, the......"good God Nickolai again??!!!?? you can't be serious!? The poop trash is like 16 miles from here!!"
I love my life....seriously.....no, I really do.

Where shall I put my new scale??

It's only the size of a text book but I can't find anyplace to put it. I know it needs to be away so I can't get on it .....oh........20 or 30 thousand times a day to check my progress. Upon taking a good look around, I notice that everything useful and of value to me is out on counters and tables. That's because my closets, cabinets, and drawers are all stuffed with useless crap that I'm terribly busy being in denial about. Stopped chewing......remember??
So here's how it goes: "OH MY GOD!!!.....my life is completely out of control!......and disgustingly dirty and dusty as well!!! Dr Fucking Phil could do an intervention at any moment!"

"You do realize Ms. Houston that on top of being fat, your house is a toxic waste dump. We are going to send you all expenses paid to tubby rehab while our camera crews follow the HazMat team in to what can only be described as............following this commercial break"

OK. Eyes open. I need to get this under control. As Nancy's house goes, so goes her life. Thats a goddamned depressing thought. I'll start right this minute. Here's how it progresses from that thought: stalling stalling "What do I have in the fridge....I want something...apple? nope cottage cheese? God no, edamame? What the fuck is edamame?? Oh yeah, Hilary said thats good. What do I fix with edamame? pork chops? barbeque chicken and edamame? edamame edamame edamame.....that just makes me laugh. Oh look! The Barefoot Contessa is on. I love her. All I need to do to make lovely braised short ribs and edamame is start 4 days in advance. Yeah......that'll happen. Is it lunch time yet?

F O C U S....... Turn off the television, get your little yellow gloves on and accomplish something!!! Today I gutted the spare room. I am still alive, and I still haven't found a place to put the scale, but I'm hopeful.

Up next: The importance of dogs in Nancy's goddamned fitness program....or......why does Nickolai always poop as far away from the poop receptacle as possible during our walks on the fitness trail. The little bag always swings like a tiny Vera Wang purse. What does THAT say about my life!?

The beginning

Let me just start by saying that I was not at all a willing participant in this journey. I backed in to it....reluctantly. I had spent years carefully avoiding the scales........and mirrors......or any surface that might cast a reflection. That was reality. People always say that if you visualize your true inner thinner person, that your outside can do nothing else but match that. Nice try. Total bullshit. Funyuns and toffee ice cream effectively preclude your inner thinner person. Body slamming while laughing hysterically may be more accurate. So much for the power of visualization.
That's why I started this journey calling it my "goddamned diet"lets call it what it is. I joked about a possible book deal: Page 1) Don't eat if you're not hungry. Page 2) Eat an ass load of fruits and vegetables. Page 3) Shut up and deal with it!....you're on a goddamned diet!!
I knew I had to find something that worked for me. No Adkins......No South Beach....No Weight Watchers (good god!....don't ask me to do the freakin' math!) No deprivation......spiritual suicide via lettuce wedges and lemon water. Step # 1 was a visit to the doctor. I'm a pre-menopausal woman. My days of bungee jumping as a fitness program are long over. I could damage something I may have a use for later.
So here we are at the beginning of my journey. I have committed to "Nancy's goddamned diet" and "Nancy's goddamned fitness program" for 1 year. This is the year before my daughter Hilary's wedding. Let me just say that the possibility being "Jabba, mother-of-the-bride"in all those wedding photos is a powerful motivator.
I have 100 pounds to lose. I've asked myself over and over "can I really do this?"........"with just diet and exercise?" To be honest, I don't want my gastric bypassed....or my lap banded. I don't want to be nipped or tucked or lipo-sucked. As of this writing, approximately 7 weeks into my journey, I've lost 11 1/2 pounds....or 46 sticks of butter. Somehow that sounds more impressive.
Amazing what you can see when you stop chewing long enough to look. But there will be more about that later.