Shameless Steal

If anyone is interested (and it's cool if you're not), I put up a link in my Little Addictions to the weight-loss blog that "Andie" and I started to support each other on this crazy road back in October 2005. I have found it to be a useful tool, and I thought that linking it to my regular blog will help me on my quest to "come out of hiding" regarding myself and the many issues I've had with weight. It helps us, and I thought if anyone out there is reading my main blog and struggling with the same hell that I am, that maybe, it just might help them, too. Or, at least serve to remind them that they are not alone. Since I'm putting it out in the open, I won't be using my code name ("Watts" - from Some Kind of Wonderful) anymore. It's all here. Raw, and open, and real. Without comments, of course, by anyone who's not "Andie" (from Pretty in Pink; yes, we love our teen angst movies) or myself. And so today, I am being extremely lazy and stealing a November 17, 2005 post from that blog and pasting it here. You know - just to kick it off. Raw, open realness begins.

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"Timeline"

The first twenty pounds are OFF! YES, YES, YESSSSSSSSSS!!!

And yet, here's how my never-satisfied mind works: I REALLY, REALLY wanted to be down to 220 by Thanksgiving, and all I keep thinking is that it's not going to happen. I am obsessed.

What is WRONG with me? I mean, if you look at it, four pounds in a week is pretty phenomenal! That's the most I've lost in a week since I started! I know part of it is because I so desperately want to get the hell out of the 220's. Even when I've supposedly been "dieting" many times before in the past three and a half years since I've ballooned up, the absolute lowest I ever got was 221, and that time was about two and a half years ago, and it lasted one day. SO, as much as I don't want these numbers to affect me, I'd be lying if I said that they don't. I know it will happen; I just want it all to happen now, even though I absolutely know that it doesn't happen this way.

I honestly thought I would feel a little more ecstatic, but I think I'm just tired today. Plus, it's always a let-down when you put impossible goals on yourself, which I am definitely learning day-to-day.

You know what's funny? I have all of these little "levels" in my head that I am using to track my progress as I go. And I know you didn't ask, but sure, I'll share them:

In no particular date order...

252 lbs. - the absolute HIGHEST I've ever been, and not too damn long ago, either. Being closer to 300 lbs. than to 200 lbs. was completely terrifying. February 2005.

244 lbs. - my weight the morning of October 18, 2005, the day I finally got effing serious about what I have put my body through. And my health. And my heart. And my spirit. And my personality...you get the idea. Tomorrow is my one-month anniversary of adopting new thinking. No matter what the scale says and what I WANT it to say, I feel so proud of myself that I've actually stuck with this for a WHOLE MONTH; something I have never done.

227 lbs. - the weight I was at the last time I went to my doctor; when he said, "You REALLY need to get serious about losing some significant weight", and then gave me a goal to shoot for. That was August 2004.

224 lbs. - where I am today.

219 lbs. - I need to get out of the 220's. Psychologically and emotionally, I NEED TO GET THERE.

202 lbs. - the number staring up at me from the scale less than two weeks after I got married. The Husband had already hurt his back and I was taking stress eating to ridiculous levels. I didn't even have time to be shocked and apalled that I was in the 200's for the first time in my life. From this weight into the 230's is all a blur. March 2002.

195 lbs. - my weight when I got married, March 9, 2002. I couldn't believe it. I was devastated. I was also deliriously happy, and was not focused on my body. The best I could do was down Metabolife like a freak the week I met my in-laws (I almost passed out while we were at a museum in OK City from eating nothing but Metabolife) and pray that I fit into my wedding dress. I did. Barely. I promised myself it would all be okay; that I would get some focus and lose weight immediately. Just please, do NOT let me go over 200 lbs. was my constant thought.

185 lbs. - what I weighed when I met The Husband-to-Be. I was in the middle of a bit of a depression here, and my weight had already spiraled quite high from "normal" ("normal" was still pretty overweight for me). December 2001.

182 lbs. - the weight my drill sargeant shouted to my whole platoon as he announced those of us who needed to join the Army's version of, basically, fat camp. I. WAS. MORTIFIED. July 1995.

175 lbs. - I started noticing that my beautiful suits were way too tight to fit right. May 2001.

170 lbs. - my weight on September 11, 2001. I was standing on the scale that I had bought for Weight Watchers as I flipped the news on just in time to watch the second airplane hit the other WTC building, and Katie Couric was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I was housesitting for my cousins who were in Italy at the time.

165 lbs. - lowest weight I reached the first time I tried Metabolife. It worked for me only that one time; never again in the many other times I tried it. This is when I dated the Toad - the biggest rat bastard I've ever met. I starved myself for him, and I was never, ever good enough. July 2000. Also, this was pretty much my constant weight throughout high school.

162 lbs. - the weight I was at when my Army recruiter told me I was too heavy to ship out to basic training. I had already signed my contract, so I was obligated to lose that weight. February 1995.

159 lbs. - what I weighed when the Army kicked my ass out for being overweight, after my best performance EVER on a PT test, and after having to write a tearful letter to the base commander explaining why I needed to stay in the military, and why the military needed me to stay. In short, they didn't buy it. I am still extremely embarrassed by this, and I don't even like to talk about my being in the Army (which is sad, because it was one of the best times of my life) because I imagine people are looking at me and thinking, "Well, Fat Ass, it's pretty easy to see why you got kicked out!" I actually get the "YOU were in the ARMY??" bit quite a lot, and I can't even begin to list all of the scenarious that play out in my head as to why someone would say that. When my future children are old enough to judge me, I wonder what they will think of me and my Army "career". It breaks my heart into a zillion pieces to picture their faces. I know I need to let this go and let the past be what it is, but it's like a choke-hold around my neck. December 1996.

152 lbs. - the weight I had to be to leave for basic. I starved myself for three months and worked out obsessively at the YMCA, wearing garbage bags tied around my torso and thighs to melt off water weight. I finally shipped out after the third time my recruiter took me to Butte to see if I made weight. After I found out I was leaving, I was so happy that I celebrated by going to the vending machines, buying obscene amounts of goodies, and gorging myself as fast as I could in my hotel room before my roommate came back. May 1995.

149 lbs. - I weighed this my senior year for like one minute. I was obsessed with eating sandwiches from Subway and walking four miles on the treadmill every day after school, even after tennis practice. Spring 1993.

147 lbs. - the weight my driver's license says I am. Same thing since the day I got it in high school, and I lied about my weight even then. Fall 1991.

146 lbs. - my weight in sixth grade. I worked in the lunch room, ate all of the homemade treats the lunch ladies made, and made a total pig of myself all year long. I remember making caramel apples for a fundraiser and eating so many caramels that I had to go buy more and sneak them back into the caramel supply the next day before my teacher caught me. This was also the year of my first attendance at a boy/girl party. I painstakingly selected my very cool outfit of a denim skirt, an oversized yellow sweatshirt with a cartoon cat on it, and red tights to match the red bow around the cat's neck, and I spent most of the party crying on the front porch and then later to my mom because Jessica J. told me that Josh W. thought I was fat. Rodney G. took pity on me and danced with me to "You Give Love a Bad Name" - my first-ever "dance with a boy!!". There were, of course, about four feet between Rodney and myself. 1986. ELEVEN YEARS OLD. These are NOT the memories I want for my daughter.

145. lbs. - my current goal weight, set by my doctor, and something I feel I can, and WILL, achieve AND MAINTAIN.

There ya go. It's sick how much I remember about being specific weights, but when your whole life has been governed by your weight, as well as your confidence and sense of self-worth, you don't forget the numbers.