I Just Can’t Quit You, 2XL Pants

As quickly as I’ve gone through clothing during this journey, there are a few pieces that I just can’t let escape from my closet.

In some cases, the reasons for letting these too-big reminders of my pudge days stick around are easy to understand. For example, my pair of 2XL purple pajama pants have escaped the trash bin because a) they’re extremely comfy and b) they match my bedroom decor. I’m a big loser; I like things to match. It makes me squee with creative joy when something that’s in my bedroom (in this case, my legs in purple pants) matches my bedroom.

Or, there are my sorority shirts. More commonly known as “letters,” I used to have enough of these to wear every day of the week during college, if I so chose (and often I did). If you’re a newbie to the fraternal world, throwing away letters is simply unacceptable. Doing so is the equivalent of using Old Glory to bag and toss your dog’s excrement on your evening stroll around the neighborhood. So I carefully bagged most of my letters and have them in storage with the rest of my old clothes, even though it’s not permitted to sell your letters to someone who is not a member of your sorority.

One sweatshirt remained at the back of my closet, like a stretchy gray reminder of my flab-but-fun days gone by. I reasoned that I kept it because, really, can sweatshirts be too big? Hardly. But recently, I felt empowered to let it go (to someone on whom it will also be too big, but let’s not go there).

Most of my previous bar/hookerwear wardrobe has remained unscathed as well. The glint of sequins and regret kind of seems to wink at me from the far reaches of my closet every time I open it. Tank tops, halter tops, extremely odd-strap tops… all worn previously (with a shrug sweater) to highlight my one good feature, my extreme cleavage. (As if my flashy bewb-age would somehow disguise the fact that I was fat from the eligible bachelors in the establishment? A.k.a. Look at my DDs. Be hypnotized by them. Don’t notice my fat rolls underneath. Oh, Old Lisa’s logic. So sad.)

Hiding in shame in a garment bag is my bridesmaid’s dress from my sister Stacey’s wedding. Don’t get me wrong, the dress is beautiful; I just regret the size on the tag. The process of trying on bridesmaids dresses was painful. Sample dresses did not come in my former size. Often, I was left to hang out and consult with my sister as the other two ‘maids slipped on dress after dress. I am grateful for the bride’s kindness, though; if there was a sample dress that I might possibly fit into, she asked me to try it on, even if I knew there was no way she could be considering it for her wedding. (I remember one particularly hideous pumpkin-colored number. Gag.) But on the day of her wedding, even if I hated my weight, I felt beautiful in that dress, with that makeup, that hair. So I keep the dress as a reminder of both celebrating a wonderful day with a wonderful couple, and to remember that there were days, even pre-Weight Watchers, that I felt like a beautiful person.

Size 20 remnants aside, it’s fairly rare for my clothes to actually fit me, anyways. As I type this I’m wearing a tank top that’s too big, layered with a t-shirt that’s too tight, pants that seem to be okay, and undies desperately trying to cling to my hips. Let’s not even broach the topic of my other lingerie item; I don’t think I’ve owned a brassiere of the correct size since this whole thing began. Either my cup is half-full or my cup runneth over, if you know what I mean.

That’s one of the things I really look forward to at goal weight – staying one size. Not having to shop for clothes and think “Okay, I have to buy this a little small because if I don’t, it will be too big in a few weeks and I’ll have wasted my money” would be fab. I can’t wait to buy a dress or a pair of jeans because they fit my body at that time, without worrying that as my shape/size changes, that particular piece of clothing won’t look as good.

So while my current wardrobe contains a pack of misfits, I’m content with the knowledge the someday soon, that’ll all change. Goal, here I come!


Week Seventy-Seven Results + Status Update

All right, let’s just get something unpleasant out of the way, shall we?

Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 176.2 lbs.
BMI: 26.0

I’ve made my peace with that number, mostly because things have been going AWESOMELY.

For starters, I’ve shaken things up a bit. My doctor recommended me to set my goal weight at 165 lbs. Uh… k, well, I’ve been relatively close to that weight and I wasn’t in a happy place with how I look, to say the least. But I also realize that while I may, someday, be able to get down to 145 lbs., I’m likely going to have a body shape (stick-figure) that I’m not happy with and never really wanted in the first place. I want to look less Callista Flockhart circa her Ally McBeal days, more Wonder Woman.

So I changed my goal weight. I’m now shooting for 157, a total weight loss of 90 lbs.

Also – even though it’s been less than a week since my new course of treatment, my night eating has been reduced to only once per night. This is a big change from the two, three, even four or five times I used to get up. The other night, I got up to (TMI) use the little girls’ room, and actually passed by the fridge on my way back. You read correctly… I went back to sleep without having to eat something. This NEVER happens.

And I decided to stop trying to count points for what I eat at night. Trying to put back together wrapper pieces to see how many total items there were, count bread slices to see how many are missing, etc., drive me crazy and cause me so much anxiety. Now that it’s only happening once per night, I’m just going to consider my weekly points allowance as covering what I eat during the night.

Though I feel like I’m cheating a little bit. Ever since I started taking Prozac, I’m not hungry. At all. I could happily go all day and not think of food. I still eat all my points because I plan my meals ahead of time, but I’m not starving and always looking forward to my next consumable item like I was before. With just that alone, I feel like a big weight has been lifted off of me.

The bottom line: things are better. And I hope they keep getting better.

‘Cause I’m gifting myself with that smartphone when I hit 172 again.


Week Seventy-Five Results

Well, a loss is a loss. I’m down .2 lbs. from my weigh-in last week.

More importantly, I’m scheduled for a doctor’s visit next week. This time, I am not going to let her brush off my night eating as a non-issue. This is srs bizness. I’ve lit shet on fire and everything, this is not something to ignore any longer. And I’m tired of being hungry after eating half of my calories while I’m not even fully conscious.

Good stuff: I’m back to pounding the pavement in my running shoes. I’m running the Fishy Four Mile in Chetek, Wis., in July with my sister and brother-in-law, and then I’m running my hometown’s 10K about a week after that.

Yeah, I’m batshetcrazy. What more can I say?

Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 172.8 lbs.
BMI: 25.5


Weeks Seventy-Three and Seventy-Four Results

Well, I’m just a regular broken record, aren’t I?

Week 73: gain. Week 74: gain.

Granted, this last weigh-in, I had to step on the scale in the middle of the day, so I’m really not sure what I weigh.

Why did I become overweight in the first place?

^^^ I don’t know. Or maybe I do, but I can’t verbalize it. So this is it: as loathe as I am to do it, I have to go talk with someone and get things fixed. I have to stop eating in the middle of the night. Have to… I keep eating all my Points in the night and then starving all day. I can’t do it.

The skinny – I can’t continue on like this. I have to fix the roots of my problems, or else slapping a Band-Aid on their symptoms means nothing.

Week 73 Results:

Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 170.2 lbs.
BMI: 25.1

Week 74 Results:

Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 173 lbs.
BMI: 25.5


Fabulous Friday #7

Well, this week has oozed fail all over the place. My ticket is secured on the S.S. Failboat, seriously.

I say no to a lot of things. It’s the reason I don’t buy the boxes of doughnuts and cookies that beckon seductively at the entrance to my local grocery store. I’ve said no to restaurant fettucine alfredo for the entire time I’ve been on Weight Watchers. I don’t think I’ve scarfed down a Blizzard from DQ in more than a year.

And yet… sometimes I just can’t do it. I still can’t let go of the Princess Mentality – if I want something, why shouldn’t I have it? Argh. Why indeed.

So I’m honestly not sure what the scale’s going to look like tomorrow. But whatever it is, I’m going to be okay. I’m going to keep going down this crazy and incredibly difficult journey. The only way I’d give up is if someone pries my points calculator out of my cold, dead hand, to use an extreme cliché.


Week Seventy-Two Results/Fabulous… Tuesday?

Have you ever wanted to smash the power button on your computer, wedge it tightly in a box, and make it keep company with the dust bunnies in the back of your closet for a while? I did. As much as I love my computer, the internet, my blog, etc., sometimes you just need to step away. Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m constantly plugged into something.

So I sent my laptop on vacay and focused on the non-electronic world for a while. But, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Here I am, refreshed, and working harder than ever so that I can finally open the box of my new phone.

Okay, at Saturday’s weigh-in: I stayed exactly the same. I’m cool with that!

Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 169 lbs.
BMI: 25.0

Last week was good in general. I worked out, tried new foods, had a *gasp* beer… it was great. This week I’m stressing a little because I’ll be going to my sister’s cabin and I’m sure we’ll be going out on their new boat and I might be persuaded to take a ride on the jet ski. You know what that means…

(You must read this next phrase out loud in a whisper with a properly horrified tone, and your hands either over your eyes or at either side of your mouth ala Home Alone.)

A swimsuit.

In pub-lic. (Thanks, Ron White, for forever ruining my pronunciation of this word.)

Don’t get me wrong, I feel pretty good about my body these days. But as I explained to the fab. @cindyelizabeth on Twitter last night, it’s one thing to think you look okay when covered with clothing and another when you’re essentially wearing a stretchy bra and underwear in broad daylight.

I’m also really excited because this week I’m going to post my first “real” product review EVAR. I kind of feel like an actual blogger now, lol.

And this is just for Meg, because I think she doesn’t believe I really have a psuedo-bike under my desk:

This is surely going to be fodder for people to make fun of me. Oh well! I'll live.