Saturday I woke up and found myself 46 lbs down. I struggle to see a difference in the mirror. I know there are little things that feel measurable– at work at my highest, I was a little uncomfortable in my chair. I didn’t fit the office chairs that had wheels, I felt myself slipping down the seat and would have to re-adjust throughout the day. That was a hard realization to come to– it was embarrassing, even if only I knew it was happening. I look at progress pictures and still sort of struggle to see a difference, but I know it’s there.
I have lost 10% of my starting weight, and that little number feels inconsequential. I know it’s not, but I can’t shake that sense of SO WHAT? I’m trying to talk back to that dismissive, often-times-cruel self-talk. So what? So I’m making strides towards an absolutely massive under-taking. It’s drastic weight-loss journey I’m on, and I need to remind myself that it’s going to take some time! I’m not starving myself this time and I’m certainly not relapsing into bulimic tendencies to “cleanse” myself of my “transgressions.” Fueling my body isn’t a transgression. I’m being mindful of what I’m putting into my body, and it’s showing in the ways that I’m approaching food now.
Saturday is our dedicated “cheat day” and I woke up and reached for the same foods I made for myself when I was trying actively to eat under my calories just days before.
I started seeing a psychiatrist in December and started taking an anti-depressant. She also suggested taking fish oils- it’s supposed to help with PCOS (which I knew) and PTSD (which I didn’t.) So I started taking 3 fish oils a day as well. I also started using the app “Plant Nanny” to track my water in-take– I’m drinking 175 oz a day. I didn’t realize I was drinking way under the water I needed, but it’s served to be a great incentive.
I have to say, I do feel better. I’m really not sure if it’s the SSRI doing its magic, but I do feel noticeably better. I was feeling really goddamn low for a few weeks, really struggling. I was incredibly depressed, passively suicidal and spiraling after a visit from my siblings that dredged up some really awful childhood stuff. Denial about the things I’ve overcome. I’ve been working on it in Therapy and that coupled with the medication has gotten me back on track.
In one of my last sessions I talked about the fear of losing weight– the anxiety of being smaller. Being over-weight is like a safety blanket. It shields me from a lot of the unwelcome advances and general creepiness and sexual assault I’ve experienced. It’s a strange place to be because of course, part of wanting to lose weight is wanting to feel desirable again. I don’t feel attractive being the size I am right now. I know that will change with time and with more weight-loss, but I also get nervous that I’ll be vulnerable again. The fact of the matter is that even in my current body I still have experienced sexual assault– in the line of work that I do, you’re constantly facing the public, inviting strangers into a small enclosed space and with the sheer amount of people I see, there are going to be bad people that come in. There will be creeps. There will be inappropriate comments. And that fucking sucks but it’s an unfortunate reality of being a woman. You’re vulnerable no matter what.
I posed the question to my therapist– how do I deal with this fear? She proposed that a way to start is to approach weightloss from a perspective of self-care and self-love, and remarked upon how far I’ve already come in that way.
It’s true– I’ve come quite a far way with self-acceptance. I feel excited about the progress I’ve made, and I’m trying to keep my momentum up while also getting pumped for the good things coming my way.