I’m a giver. Always have been, probably always will be. I give money, time, effort and love. I support, comfort, amuse and listen. I am honest and outgoing, without being a social butterfly. That’s just who I am, and those qualities are not ones that I feel compelled to change. They are qualities that I like about myself, and that I am attracted to in others.
However, while I know all these things about myself, I still tend to concentrate on the negatives, and relegate the positives to the been-there, done-that pile. I pick at myself constantly, finding fault with what I accomplish and berating myself for what I do not. I have always been my own worst enemy and the person that I am most critical of. My friends frequently upbraid me for making self-deprecating comments and jokes. I guess I’ve always thought that, if I say it first, nobody could hurt me by saying it to me. Strange thinking? Probably.
In the past couple of weeks, I took another blow to my fragile self-esteem. I‘ve written before about my sadness over my lack of success with relationships. It always seems like I get just so close – then it all falls apart. In this case, I had a date with someone I met online, but had not yet met in real life. I was very excited – had my nails done, got a pedicure, and even got my hair cut, colored and styled. About mid-day the day before, he let me know that it wasn’t going to work out – that he was going to have to work and wouldn’t be able to make it to town. I was, of course, very disappointed, but assumed we would reschedule. What I found out afterwards, is that he lied – he didn’t have to work; he got “a better offer” – a younger, slimmer, blonde offer.
Of course, true to form, the person I blamed was me. At first, I blamed myself for being undesirable. Then I blamed myself for getting into the situation in the first place. It took almost a full day for me to turn that situation around and, instead, blame the jerk who stood me up. But although I intellectually understand that he’s the one to blame, my emotions still told a different story. All those years of feeling inadequate came tumbling back and landed in a pile on top of me. I felt sad that, once again, I’d failed to be attractive enough, and I’d ended up alone again.
Here’s the kicker though – he never even met me! He had seen pictures of me- mostly shots of just the top part of my body. He never even bothered to read this blog to find out who and what I am. He didn’t really know who he had a date with. Truthfully, I don’t know why he wanted to see me in the first place – I guess he was attracted by my flirtatious manner online. After he told me he was going to be coming to see me, I told him that I was a big girl – I didn’t want to see a look of disappointment or shock on his face the first time he saw me. He said that didn’t make any difference to him – he was excited to see me. But in the end, it did matter. It mattered enough for him to stand me up in favor of someone completely different from me. He never even gave me a chance to disappoint him.
So why beat up on myself? Because that’s always my first impulse in any negative situation – it must be Kathy’s fault – she either did something wrong or she isn’t “good” enough, or … well, whatever – you get the picture. Let’s face it – this guy is a jerk, and that has nothing to do with me. I may not be arm candy, but I am a warm, loving, attractive woman with lots to offer the right guy. The right guy has just never come along – maybe he never will – but that doesn’t change who I am or my capacity for love and enjoyment of life. It would very much like to have a partner who wanted to share that life with me. That doesn’t mean that I should “settle” – I deserve a great guy! If a great guy never appears in my life, that’s too bad – but I will still be who I am. And that just has to be good enough.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Part 3 - The Diet-Go-Round or “Just Call Me Duncan”
My life started as a big baby – 8 lb. 8 ½ oz – oddly enough, my mother’s smallest newborn (the largest was 13 lbs., 2 oz). My earliest memories all have to do with people fussing about my weight. My paternal grandmother was particularly persistent – offered me all sorts of incentives (new wardrobe, trips to visit, Packer games, etc.) if only I’d “buckle down” and lose that weight. She was such a nag about it – I never saw her or got a letter from her that wasn’t full of pleas to “get that weight off”. I know now that she meant well, but at the time, I felt “picked on”.
No one who knew me could ever figure out why I was a heavy child. I was extremely active – always outside, running up and down the hillsides with my cousins, biking, swimming, etc. In spite of that, I gained A LOT of weight every year. I don’t remember what I weighed as a child – but I have a very strong memory of an incident that occurred in 7th grade – my first year of junior high school, in a classroom full of other children that I didn’t know. Every year, even in elementary school, we were weighed and measured – not sure what that had to do with academics, but it was common practice then. Prior to 7th grade, I attended a small school in my hometown – so small that grades 1-3 were in one room and 4-6 in the other. In those years, the teachers called us into the office one-by-on and weighed and measured us privately. However, in 7th grade we were called to the front of the class and weighed and measured in front of everyone – and to add insult to injury, the teacher then called out each student’s statistics to a teacher’s aide, who recorded them. I’ll never forget that day as long as I lived – the humiliation of hearing her call out “5’5”, 185 pounds”, and the gasps and then outright laughter than followed. That incident alone has left a deep scar and I feel myself turning red just writing about it here.
Needless to say, I’ve been a yo-yo (that’s the Duncan reference, if you didn’t get that) dieter all my life. Down a few pounds, up a few pounds more. Sometimes even down a lot of pounds (as many as 125, at one point), but then gained back all that and more. Every time I gain it back, it becomes harder to lose the next time. And getting older is also a weight loss deterrent. My metabolism, never robust, is slowing down even more. It takes twice as much hard work to lose a pound as it ever did before. Of course, that makes it easier to get discouraged. That doesn’t mean I’ve given up, however.
Back in February of this year, I started having severe pain in my left knee. Now, I’ve had degenerative joint disease in my knees, hips, back, and feet for years, but this pain was different. I could barely walk. But this was different – it didn’t come and go, it wasn’t worse some days than others, and it was excruciating whenever I put weight on it. Eventually, I went to see my doctor and get it x-rayed. The verdict – I have no cartilage at all on the right side of that knee – absolutely none. I went to see an orthopedic surgeon – his assessment was that I need my knee replaced. HOWEVER – he won’t do it now. He wants my BMI (body mass index) to be under 40. At the time of the visit, it was 62. I got a series of SynVisc shots in my knee to try to give me some mobility back, and – lucky for me - it worked. I also began physical therapy to learn some exercises that might help strengthen the muscles around the knee. While I am now able to walk short distances without a cane, it’s a poor substitute for a working knee.
In April, I also began another attempt at weight loss, using a plan that has a slightly different approach and philosophy to preparing and keeping your body in a weight-loss state. So far, it has been working – I’m down 43 pounds as of today. I’ve also added a LOT of exercise – since land-based exercise is out of the question, I do my workouts in a warm water pool at my health club. I hope I can maintain the momentum. Experience has taught me never to take anything for granted.
I intend to chronicle this journey here on this blog. My hope is that my experiences will be useful to someone else who fights this demoralizing battle. I’ve never had a “thin day” in my life, and don’t know if I would recognize one if it happened. Many people I know who have lost a LOT of weight still have a body image problem –they still see themselves as extremely fat, even though you or I looking at them would think them normal. When we’ve spent many years being ashamed of who we are and how we look, it is difficult to imagine not feeling that way. But it’s an experience I hope to have. Come along with me. The only promise I will make is to be totally honest and open. I invite you to share your thoughts, dreams, hopes and fears.
No one who knew me could ever figure out why I was a heavy child. I was extremely active – always outside, running up and down the hillsides with my cousins, biking, swimming, etc. In spite of that, I gained A LOT of weight every year. I don’t remember what I weighed as a child – but I have a very strong memory of an incident that occurred in 7th grade – my first year of junior high school, in a classroom full of other children that I didn’t know. Every year, even in elementary school, we were weighed and measured – not sure what that had to do with academics, but it was common practice then. Prior to 7th grade, I attended a small school in my hometown – so small that grades 1-3 were in one room and 4-6 in the other. In those years, the teachers called us into the office one-by-on and weighed and measured us privately. However, in 7th grade we were called to the front of the class and weighed and measured in front of everyone – and to add insult to injury, the teacher then called out each student’s statistics to a teacher’s aide, who recorded them. I’ll never forget that day as long as I lived – the humiliation of hearing her call out “5’5”, 185 pounds”, and the gasps and then outright laughter than followed. That incident alone has left a deep scar and I feel myself turning red just writing about it here.
Needless to say, I’ve been a yo-yo (that’s the Duncan reference, if you didn’t get that) dieter all my life. Down a few pounds, up a few pounds more. Sometimes even down a lot of pounds (as many as 125, at one point), but then gained back all that and more. Every time I gain it back, it becomes harder to lose the next time. And getting older is also a weight loss deterrent. My metabolism, never robust, is slowing down even more. It takes twice as much hard work to lose a pound as it ever did before. Of course, that makes it easier to get discouraged. That doesn’t mean I’ve given up, however.
Back in February of this year, I started having severe pain in my left knee. Now, I’ve had degenerative joint disease in my knees, hips, back, and feet for years, but this pain was different. I could barely walk. But this was different – it didn’t come and go, it wasn’t worse some days than others, and it was excruciating whenever I put weight on it. Eventually, I went to see my doctor and get it x-rayed. The verdict – I have no cartilage at all on the right side of that knee – absolutely none. I went to see an orthopedic surgeon – his assessment was that I need my knee replaced. HOWEVER – he won’t do it now. He wants my BMI (body mass index) to be under 40. At the time of the visit, it was 62. I got a series of SynVisc shots in my knee to try to give me some mobility back, and – lucky for me - it worked. I also began physical therapy to learn some exercises that might help strengthen the muscles around the knee. While I am now able to walk short distances without a cane, it’s a poor substitute for a working knee.
In April, I also began another attempt at weight loss, using a plan that has a slightly different approach and philosophy to preparing and keeping your body in a weight-loss state. So far, it has been working – I’m down 43 pounds as of today. I’ve also added a LOT of exercise – since land-based exercise is out of the question, I do my workouts in a warm water pool at my health club. I hope I can maintain the momentum. Experience has taught me never to take anything for granted.
I intend to chronicle this journey here on this blog. My hope is that my experiences will be useful to someone else who fights this demoralizing battle. I’ve never had a “thin day” in my life, and don’t know if I would recognize one if it happened. Many people I know who have lost a LOT of weight still have a body image problem –they still see themselves as extremely fat, even though you or I looking at them would think them normal. When we’ve spent many years being ashamed of who we are and how we look, it is difficult to imagine not feeling that way. But it’s an experience I hope to have. Come along with me. The only promise I will make is to be totally honest and open. I invite you to share your thoughts, dreams, hopes and fears.
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