Ain't Nothin' but a Number

Nope, not age. I mean, that's just a number too. But I'm talking about something much more sensitive. I'm talking about weight. Let's face it, most Americans are overweight or obese. Our lifestyles do not condone keeping a healthy weight. Food is readily available in large quantities, fostering larger than necessary appetites. Healthier choices are usually costlier than less healthy and more convenient alternatives. Most gatherings of friends and family are centered around food. Between working 8 hours a day, and sleeping 8 hours a night, that leaves only 8 hours left for everything else, including commute and other necessary daily activities like hygiene, chores and similar. (To put it in visual perspective, check out this video). Where is there time for exercise? Who has time and money for a gym membership, or the space and money for home equipment?

Optimistic Pusheen



Reality.

 

 

 

But like those other things we must shove into those 8 precious hours we have free in a day, we need to make time for exercise. If you're like me, you sit most of those 8 hours at work. Sitting at a desk doesn't do much for your body. Sitting idle leads to snacking, too. And drinking more and more coffee. Aside from bathroom breaks and walking ten feet to the scanner, I don't move much at work. And what do I do once I get home? I cook, which I guess involves standing, then I plop myself in front of my Xbox. Or I'll do some desk work. Or do the dishes. Regardless, I don't live an active lifestyle.  On Sunday I went to Hershey Park with my boyfriend and his family (super fun), and my legs are still sore in places two days later. To be honest, I never really minded my weight. It was there, but it didn't stop me from doing anything I liked doing. It was just a number. A number that meant nothing, because I judge weight based on how I look and feel. Everyone carries weight differently anyway, and I'm short which throws off my BMI. (Seriously, I'm supposed to weigh 130 lbs for how short I am. I haven't weighed that little since I started puberty.) Not only that, but even my doctor never mentioned it. In other ways, I'm healthy. Nothing to worry about.

Until recently.


I started noticing over the summer that last year's t-shirts and shorts didn't fit anymore. I was self conscious of my belly when I was at the beach in my bikini. Then I went to the doctor in September, and I saw the number. The doctor mentioned it, for the first time. Then again, it wasn't the number itself so much as that I had gained weight over the last 2 visits with her. She ordered blood work, which I haven't done yet. I'll get that done and know the results in January. She didn't say it, but I know why she ordered it. I may be in danger of some pretty terrible things, like diabetes and high cholesterol. At least my blood pressure is consistently perfect. I have a healthy heart, which means I should be able to fight the weight. And I will. The number haunts me, and I'm determined to change it.


That number? 208 lbs.That makes my BMI 38.Obesity is a BMI of 30 <
This means I am very obese.

Fat Cat be like SAY WHAT?

 

 

Yeah. Those are scary facts. The truth is, I've always gone by how I feel. Now I'm starting to feel those numbers. My feet hurt almost all the time from carrying all that weight, and my heels have painful fissures in them. My clothes are tight and I don't look good in them anymore. It's hard to find clothes I do look decent in. My shoulders and back hurt from the weight of my breasts in bras that probably aren't enough support anymore. I'm hyper aware of how I hold my head in a photo to reduce double-chin, and quickly finding in the mirror that it's hard to hide anymore. I actually had to hold my belly roll out of the way to try to see a hole I felt in my panties the other day.

 

 

 

Let's compare, shall we?

 

 

 

On the left I'm at a wedding. On the right I'm in cosplay for a Comic Con.

Juxtaposition FTW.

Numbers vs appearance. Knowing that I weigh 208 lbs now, how much do you think I weighed in the picture on the left?  I know these aren't amazing pictures but just go with it. I'm wearing dresses with form fitting busts and flowy skirts in each, and I'm sleeveless in each. You can also see my knees/ upper calves in each. I was purposely trying to hide my belly behind the flowers on the right. On the left, I have a control top pantyhose on, not super slimming but it does help. How much difference is there between 2013 and 2014?

The answer: in 2013, I weighed around 190 lbs. There is a 20 lbs difference between the two pictures. Does it seem like less? Does it seem like more? I don't care what you think either way. I just want you to think on what you assumed versus the real numbers.

Hard to swallow. Harsh facts. Disheartening. These are all words that come to mind when I really compare then and now. But, while I know those phrases come to mind, I don't feel sad or self pitying. Sure, I know I'm fat, but I also know I'm pretty. I have a wonderful man that loves me for me and is always telling me how gorgeous he finds me. I get dressed in the morning, and while my clothes are tight, I still see them on me and say "yeah, that's my style. I look good." My clothes don't really look great on me, but I look great in myself. Because I don't really see the belly when I think about myself. I see my smile. My new short haircut that I'm very excited about. I see the fun colorful stripes and patterns I like to wear. I think about how my nose wrinkles in a cute way when I laugh. Sure I see the bad stuff too, the belly rolls and the double chin, the thunder thighs and junk in the trunk. Those things don't define me though, because they weren't always there, and wont always be there. My sense of me will always be there. My wrinkly nose laugh, my big smile and sense of style will always be who I really am. And that's what gives me the strength to do something about that ugly number. Not for my image, but for my own comfort and well being. Who needs to walk around feeling like crap AND looking like crap? No, if my body weight makes me feel crappy, I can at least think I look good to make up for it.  I don't need anything to drag me down, I need to be pumped up! Positive reinforcement is always better than negative.

Basically, I say to those negative thoughts: "Bitch please, I'm fabulous!"

 

No, I do not have the audacity to claim to be nearly as fabulous as Beyoncé.