Black & Blue Ego with a Pink Headband

Sometimes, when I know that a blog-worthy event is coming up, I will pre-write bits & pieces in my head.  Title ideas, little descriptive snippets & word combinations that I find humorous will drift around in my mind--sometimes making it onto a post-it note or old envelope to be found or lost at my leisure.  Today I had one of those events.  Today I bought my first running shoes (& an obscene amount of gear).
Titles that bounced in my head are as follows:

• Can't Catch Me, I'm New Sara
• These Shoes are Made for Running
• Kicking Fat & Taking Names

An astute reader (or perhaps one that is merely awake) will notice that the tone of these titles varies from the tone of the final selection.

I had a rather glamorous, albeit far fetched, version of shoe shopping in my head.  We would go to the small local running shop & easily find the perfect shoes replete with glittering halo & a host of villagers, ewoks & wookies celebrating my arrival to the running community.  I would run into the sunset & live happily ever after.  And, scene.

Here's what really happened: I took exactly 17 steps inside the shop door, became completely overwhelmed by the crowd & chaos, felt completely out of my league & literally ran out the door crying.  Sobbing, actually.    Maybe it was the fact that every piece of clothing I touched was XS or maybe it was the leggy high school track girls, or maybe it was the crowd in general, but I just couldn't shake the idea that I didn't deserve to be there, that I was too fat to be a legitimate customer that was worth their time.  I KNOW that this isn't the case, I KNOW that any of the employees would have been more than accommodating & likely excited to bring a new convert into the fold.  Regardless, I couldn't get rid of the idea that everyone from shop clerks to customers would wonder why I was wasting their time.  One hundred & four pounds gone & the biggest work is still not finished, the work in my head.

Dave was so sweet.  He convinced me to go to Scheels "just to look."  I didn't want to do it.  I didn't want to give up on the running store out of fear or shame & feel like a quitter.  Dave reminded me that the stated goal of the day was to get me set up with the things I needed so that when I feel ready I can lace up & take those first steps.  In the process, I may have stumbled upon a new goal for a different day, but today was about getting me ready to run. 

Lincoln requested that I model my new clothes

So, in the middle of a soul-less big box store, with a morose look on my face, I bought my first running gear...& more gear...& more gear.  It was shameful, really.  I even bought a special headband complete with pink sequins...because how could I possibly run without that?  As a side note, I may have found the best way to get my husband to spend money.  Have a level five meltdown about body image in public & he will buy me anything!  I have plans to recreate the whole thing in Pottery Barn next weekend.  Shhh, don't tell!

I haven't given up on any of my previously mentioned inspirational or aspirational blog titles.  They may show up some time in the future, maybe even when I walk into a small local shop & say, "Can I see those in an 8?"  For now, I'm still feeling a little fragile & unsure about what it means that I still find myself saying "I'm too fat for that."

The Good Old Days

Fat & happy (truly!)

Everyone can rattle off a list of things that can be drastically improved by removing excess pounds.  It's a no-brainer.  Here are some things that were better (either in perception or reality) when I was heavier.  Yes, I would like some cheese with my w(h)ine.

• I miss some of my clothes.  Not a lot, but there were some pieces that I really loved & hated to part with.  Hopefully someone at Goodwill thought they were just as great.
• I look older up close.  Yes, weight ages people, but get close to my face & I look older because the fat filled out the fine lines & the already huge hollows under my eyes.  Bye, bye fat!  Hello, wrinkles & dark circles!
• It's harder to get dressed.  With a body in flux, the areas that need camouflaging change week to week.  It was much easier when I knew the problem spots & dressed accordingly--all black.
• I have to carve out a new large-group persona.  In the past, it was very easy to play the role of Jolly Fat Girl #1.  JFG is a very well defined role in our society & without her, I'm feeling a little lost.  What's really hard is that JFG on a thinner body sometimes plays out as Stupid Girl or, worse yet, Self-Absorbed, Deluded Girl.  The self-deprecating humor that plays so well with JFG just feels conceited & out of touch.  For an introvert like me, a large-group persona is not only useful, it's a survival skill & I'm floundering without it.
• I now feel my meals being scrutinized.  When you're obese, you are quite aware that people watch what you eat & are judging you because of it.  You're damned if you do, damned if you don't.  Order a burger & people think "that's why you got that way," order a salad & it's "well, a little late for the salad, don't you think?"  That feeling is still there & I'm used to it, but the new layer that makes me supremely uncomfortable is that I feel like people are now trying to alter their behavior because they fear my judgement.  Just because I eat ___ doesn't mean anyone else has to.  I don't care what others eat & I hope they don't care what I eat. 
• I am less comfortable naked.  Before, I could look in the mirror & there was a lot to see...but it was relatively tight (lumpy, but tight).  Now, all I see are puddles of skin.  Did you know your forearm can have loose skin?  It can & I fiddle & futz with mine all day long.  It's depressing & could possibly be a permanent reminder of what I did to myself for so long.
• I am entirely too preoccupied with my (food, appearance, weight).  When you just inhale food, you don't have to think about it, especially if you're eating out all of the time.  Now I am in a constant struggle to get my head in the real world & out of my head.
•  I miss cake nights.  When I hear people say "I can't believe I ate like that.  It would make me sick to do that now,"  I don't believe them.  I think they are likely hiding behind mock disgust to alleviate some of their shame.  I'll come out & say it: I miss gorging on baked goods.  I will probably miss it until the day I die. 
• People sometimes think I'm fundamentally different.  It's hard when people treat me differently (either better or worse) because of my changes.  I'm still the same me on the inside, I'm just changing the hard-candy shell.

Feels good to come out & say it, there were things that were better when I was 269 pounds.  But, I'm left with this thought: I miss the puff of a cigarette on a cool Fall day, but I know it's horrible for me, so I don't do it.  Same thing.

To Butter, or Not to Butter

This frosting is good to eat & to wear...once in a while.

My daughter is small.  Not just, "oh, she's cute" small, but actually quite shrimpy for her age.  She's got the height...just not the heft.

At her recent well-baby check, our pediatrician told me that I needed to start pushing calories on her.  She recommended Pedia-Sure, bumping up her full-fat dairy, & then she said it: "...& it wouldn't hurt to put butter on all of those vegetables that she's already eating."

I've been in a tizzy ever since.  I'm stuck at the intersection of my experience & my job as a parent.  Though butter specifically was never my problem, I am hyper-aware of my job cultivating a healthy pallet for my children.  They don't have a concept of white bread, canned fruit or kool-aid.  They expect a vegetable at every lunch & dinner & a fruit at every meal.    They don't expect treats every day (though they do enjoy them on occasion!).   

I absolutely believe that Adult Sara is fully responsible for the choices that got me to 269 pounds.  That being said, in some ways Adult Sara was informed by some of the tastes that she developed as Kid Sara.  I want Kid Link & Kid Cora to have the best possible start at maintaining health lives & bodies by giving them an appreciation for wholesome food. 

The idea of putting butter on some peas may not seem like a big deal, but for me it has been one of those Big Issue moments in parenting.  Do I follow doctor's orders?  Do I go with my gut?  If I go with my gut am I compromising my child because of the mistakes I have made?  Is this just another example of others paying the price for my bad choices?

Possibly.  More probably I have a heightened awareness of the stakes of the game that cause me to be a little paranoid.  Two things ultimately caused me to stay away from "The Buttertons" & continue giving her veggies as God intended them--out of the freezer. 

1.  As Dave pointed out when I was wringing my hands & rending my clothes over the issue: the pediatrician likely used the butter merely as an example in response to my answer to her question, "what does she eat right now?"  I listed a few of the staples, among them veggies, & she gave me ways to boost calories within those parameters.  She was probably assuming that I was a rational, independent thinking woman who would take the ball & run with it.  Little did she know.

2.  As a good friend pointed out to me when Link was just a "folded-up-chicken" baby: the choices I make for my kids are the best choices for them because I am their one & only Mom, making decisions with love & their best interests at heart.  I'm the only Mom they have.  For good or for ill, it is my job to mother them, Dave's job to father them & our jobs to make the choices that will ultimately get them from point baby to point productive member of society (fingers crossed!).  If my mom-dar says no butter on corn, then no butter will be present on her corn. 

Doughnuts, a good "sometimes" food.

I feel very confident about our resolution of Butter-gate, but it has made me think about my job as Mom as it relates to my weight issues.  This will not be the last time I have to weigh my history & prejudices against what is best--or even just OK--for my kids to eat.  I am incredibly thankful that my own journey has made me mindful of the task of raising healthy eaters while my kids are still young enough to be unaware of the fleeting pleasures of whole meals of baked goods.