Wednesday, December 10, 2008

the right reasons.

Tomorrow will be four whole weeks of doing Weight Watchers! I'm pretty psyched about that! I'm also pretty psyched about the fact that I've stuck to the program completely: tracking and journaling everything, and not ever going over my points, and going to all my meetings. I've been trying out WW recipes, and measuring my foods, and doing grocery shopping at the actual grocery store and not the convenience store, aka the chip-and-pop shop.

I don't know, something feels different this time. I think something 'clicked', as they say. It's like, in the past, my reasons for wanting to lose weight were different. I wanted to be 'thinner', because I wanted to wear cute clothes and have cute boyfriends. But that didn't give me the long-term motivation that I needed to keep going -- I'd lose a couple pounds, my clothes would fit again, I'd have a good hair day, and I think, "I don't need to lose weight to look good!". And really, that was kinda true. Or I'd try to lose weight because I wanted more guys to be interested in me, but after a few weeks I'd get bitter about it, and start thinking "Why would I want to be with someone who only wants me if I lose weight?" And really, that was kinda true too.

Don't get me wrong, I hated being fat. I mean, I hate it still. I would lie in bed and dream about slicing off parts of my body. I would grab my stomach in my hands and dream about just tearing it away, ripping it off. (Of course, in this fantasy, the result is not a bloody mess, but rather, 6-pack abs. Obviously.) But I think that my motivation hadn't crystalized yet. I didn't understand yet why it was so bad, why I HAD to lose the weight.

I think I'm getting that now. I'm getting older and I'm getting pains where I shouldn't be. I mean, I'm only 28 which is not exactly old, and already my knees hurt, and my hips hurt, and my back hurts. I get stuck in the turnstiles at the subway. I can't walk up a flight of stairs without being embarrassingly winded. My, ahem, sex life is not as varied and energetic as I (and I'm sure my dear S) would like. My posture is terrible, partly from a back injury I suffered a couple of years ago, but also partly because I physically can't sit/stand straight, because my fat gets in the way. I try to sit straight up in my chair, but all the fat at the top of my hips bunches up around me. You know, what some people call 'the muffin top'? Well, we're talking more 'the six-tiered wedding cake'. And it shifts around and I can't. even. sit. straight.

That makes me sick. It makes me sick and it makes me sad and I think it makes me, finally, ready to do something real about it.

I wish there was a way to 'record' these feelings, a way to take a sensory picture. I know lots of people take their measurements, or save their fat jeans, or even just amass a huge and hideous collection of 'before' photos, but I wish there was a way I could memorize this feeling. The way it feels to be swallowed by fat. The way it feels to be buried alive.