I was with my pal Kim last week. She relayed a story to me. Her husband was at a conference and some nice lady said she liked my comedy. Said husband claimed we were friends, which she didn’t believe, so he showed her that we are friends on Facebook. Apparently, she looked at my picture and said, “She is so beautiful. I wish I looked like her.”
When Kim relayed this, I was touched and flattered – for about 1.5 seconds. Very quickly though, my brain put that to an abrupt halt and slapped my face – hard. My brain said, “Who would want to look like you with your manly nose, your huge head, your long face, your thin upper lip? But beyond all this, everyone knows: YOU CAN’T BE BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE YOU’RE FAT, idiot!”
Please understand that I am not writing this as a sick ploy for attention. It’s not that I’m above that being a complete attention whore, but this is about becoming aware of the shitty wiring in my own head.
Even in Walmart yesterday (hair toss) I found myself walking with a semi-strut. I was wearing the jeans I couldn’t fit into before, my hair and makeup looked good and I wore my grown-up lady coat. I felt great. I felt attractive. I felt confident. Then this effing voice in my head said, “Umm, hey dumbass? Let’s have a word, shall we? You DO know how much you weigh, right? Let me just emblazon that disgusting number into your psyche so you’ll realize what a delusional douchebag you are for even thinking that you should be strutting around like you’re anything to look at.”
Damn it. For someone who works on stopping negative self talk in myself and others, it seems I still have some work to do. Good thing I’m going to see Psych again next week. In the meantime, I’ll work on shooting that inner voice in the face when it starts mouthing off and then replacing it with something more healthy.
I’ve been thinking about ‘before’ pictures lately. ‘Before’ pictures are almost always as hideous as possible. Yes, please show me leaning back in a too-small chair with my bread dough belly cascading forth. Ensure that I look unhappy and/or ridiculous. No makeup, thank you. Gene Wilder hair is great. And above all, the overriding theme emanating from my pathetic, hopeless eyes should be, “I am so miserable I should cease to exist. There is no good in my life. I apologize to society for having to tolerate my hideousness. Please hate me.”
NO! I hate this. It strips any value from the ‘fat you.’ When I think of all the things I have accomplished, goals I have achieved, brave things I’ve done and people I have loved as Fat Lori, it’s clear that Fat Lori rocks the shit out of life. This perceived sense that I will be ‘Better Lori’ as Not-Fat Lori pisses me right off.
Oh wow, apparently going without psych for a few weeks tends to pile shit up, huh? LOL! If you’re reading this, I owe you $180. But I know that everybody struggles with their issues and we are far too hard on ourselves. I know it smacks of cheese, but perhaps we could use a reminder to treat ourselves with the love we have for our best friend or our children. I know I did.
I just read “The G.I. Diet” by Rick Gallop. Instead of counting calories, I’ve been eating lower glycemic foods that break down slowly. This keeps your blood sugar on an even keel which helps you avoid sugar highs (and eventual crashes, then more cravings). I’m also fairly vigilant about not eating sugar and white flour. It feels like it’s working. I gotta be honest, you guys. I’m just muddling through trying to learn things. There are arguments on every food subject. I’m just trying to find the answers for what’s right for me.
And now to the scale. Well, hot damn and hallelujah! 4.3 pounds down. Jeez Louise, maybe there’s really something to this low glycemic eating.
Sincerely I thank you for reading. It’s with a bit of trepidation that I post these raw thoughts. Then again, so many of you have shown me time and time again that you support me on this adventure that I needn’t worry.
I must add that despite the rather negative tone of this entry, life is pretty delightful. I feel my body changing. I feel air flow in my pants that wasn’t there before. *grin* I wake up with hope rather than self-loathing and that alone has affected me in countless ways. Also, “Air Flow in My Pants” should be a song.
Pound lost this week: 4.3
Total pounds lost: 35.1