Age 8: Learned how to ski for the first time and love, love, loved it.
Age 10: A solid Intermediate level skier, I'd happily graduated to doing stemming/skidding turns and self-imposed time trials on my favorite runs.
Age 13: Stopped skiing because puberty hit and I could no longer fit in my ski clothes, nor could I find any new ones in my dad's price range that I would be ok being seen in.
Age 17: Went skiing with my BFF for the first time in four years wearing jeans and a casual jacket (froze my ass off). Ended the day thinking I was going to die of bruising and muscle aches, and swore off any future skiing.
Age 25: Heavily intoxicated while watching the Winter X Games on TV with my roommates, Jonnel Janewicz crosses the screen as one of the contenders of Women's Snowboarder X. I attended school with Jonnel from pre-school through high school graduation, was in the Girl Scouts with her in 6th grade, and she, eh... really wasn't so nice to me. Seeing her success as an athlete and cool snowboarder chick threw me into a shame spiral of epic proportions, and I decided I was going to learn how to snowboard. Lack of funds, motivation and courage prevented this goal from coming to fruition.
Age 32: Honey Bunny talks me into going on a trip to his favorite resort to get snowboarding lessons while he skis. A month prior I find appropriate and not-completely-unfortunate snow gear for fat girls at Junonia, and HB orders it for me as a gift. As luck would have it, it was a warm winter and the resort closed the weekend before our trip.
Ages 33 - 36: Honey Bunny tries, unsuccessfully, each winter to talk me into going skiing or snowboarding with him. I give him various excuses each year.
Age 37: THERE'S NO GETTING OUT OF IT THIS YEAR.
I'll set the stage for you. Last week, HB announced he was going to go skiing on the weekend, and asked if I was coming with him or not. I said no. He asked why. I didn't have a great answer, and an argument ensued about my phyiscal and emotional readiness - or not - for snow sports. He left on the weekend to go skiing while I stayed home to play out my requisite secret single behaviors (usually involves a super veggie burrito with extra hot green sauce and a giant lemony Diet Coke from Zona Rosa while catching up on all the "chick shows" backlogged in my DV-R).
Just about to embark on my shopping marathon at the Union Square Macy's on Saturday (a not-so-secret, not-so-single behavior, but nevertheless fun to do while Man is out of town), I grabbed my coat from the hall closet... the same hall closet where the Junonia snow clothes have been stored since five years ago when they were purchased. I saw them hanging there - lonely, dusty, rejected - and wondered why I was being so resistant. I took off my nice shopping clothes and tried them on, right there and then.
Once I had the clothes on, I could picture myself at least trying to learn (snowboarding) or remember (skiing). One of the biggest reasons behind creating this blog was to push the notion that no fat girl should be afraid to TRY... to try something new, to try something scary, to try something that fat people don't normally try purely because they're fat. Little by little, my resistance was worn down as I stood there and stared in the mirror at myself in that snow suit, and tried to visualize having a good time trying something new.
So, I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna suit up and rent equipment and take a lesson and see how it goes. Not sure if it's skiing or snowboarding I'm gonna do, but I'll figure it out sometime in the next month.
Not before tending to a little business, however... the business known as vanity. As I told HB upon his return, there are two levels of comfort for me: the comfort of knowing I look ok, and actual comfort. The snow pants he got me are great on all levels. The jacket is... not.
I got to quick work on the internet (eg. the only place a fat chick can purchase sport-specific gear for anything other than the gym). Thank god Eddie Bauer, LL Bean and Lands End carry plus sizes because I actually found six jackets that would work. I can't help but think about five years ago and the now-unfortunate snow jacket I got, and how it was literally the ONLY thing available at that time, internet or not.
In the end, I whittled it down to two jackets, and decided to have both shipped thinking I'd return the one that didn't work. They both arrived yesterday and are both just lovely. So lovely, in fact, that Honey Bunny said I should keep both. The SnowPack 700 is a lightweight option, good for hanging out in cold and/or snow in general, especially good for warmer slope days and when/if I get better and need less padding. It also has a nice fitted shape to it and is strangely flattering. I got it in Persian Blue, although am quite tempted to exchange for the Bright Raspberry. Hmmm.
The SnowRoller is The Works, by comparison. It's not as fitted or flattering but is quite warm, has lots of pockets and ways to customize the fit both inside and out, and has the added benefit of looking, shape-wise anyhow, most like the regular size snowboard chick-wear. I got it in Ice Blue. As Honey Bunny also had me try on the original Junonia jacket (just because it's tough, thick and uber warm) and it didn't look so bad by comparison, he convinced me not to eBay it. It's also in the powder blue range. In toto, that makes three powder blue jackets: one light, one medium, one heavy. Sweet!
I also purchased some long underwear from Lands End along with the jackets. Ok, can I just say that they have come a long way since 1984? At that time, the only thing available for me (ahem, was affordable to dad) was the waffle-weave type in Men's sizes. Looking back, they were clearly too tight or not sized right in general because I remember wrestling with the bottoms at the end of every run, wrestling to keep them up to my waist and yet not bagging in the crotch. Yuck. These here modern "silk underwear" are thin, stretchy and fit correctly and closely to the body but without being tight. Who knew?
The last two things on my list are gloves and a beanie. Those I can get from an actual sports store and will probably be from a cool brand (yay!!) such as Burton, Da Kine, whatever. I told you I was vain.
Oh, and just so you know... I'm Facebook friends with Jonnel now after having messaged her to say that I saw her on the X Games in the 90's and was really impressed by seeing her success.
12 February 2010
Wholly offensive
Yahoo's Shine is just brimming with interesting information, it seems. When I was digging through the archives to find links for my last post, I came across this one:
Should your employer offer incentives for losing weight? Whole Foods does
GASP.
I can't figure out what is more offensive -- the fact that Whole Foods offers incrementally more % of an employee discount to those who have a BMI of <30, or that their CEO fully admits it has everything to do with reducing health care costs of the company (and, presumably, nothing to do with the actual health of the employees). I keep thinking, Could he have at least made some attempt at spin in this situation? (Although I generally hate spin, especially from companies who do almost $5 billion in annual sales. And yes, sometimes I forego my values in favor of being reactionary.)
Also of note in this article: "Research indicates that companies with employees who are fit and healthy do have a better bottom line." OMG.
When I told Honey Bunny about all this last night, in addition to interjecting the question "Has anyone sued them yet?" about 14 times during the course of my story, he concluded by saying, "The difference between a 20% and 30% discount isn't really a big deal when you're buying a $25 bottle of laundry detergent to begin with." Heh.
Again with the reactionary: I'm now boycotting Whole Foods. Let's see how long I can hold out, given that they're my go-to for all the crap our co-op doesn't offer.
Should your employer offer incentives for losing weight? Whole Foods does
GASP.
I can't figure out what is more offensive -- the fact that Whole Foods offers incrementally more % of an employee discount to those who have a BMI of <30, or that their CEO fully admits it has everything to do with reducing health care costs of the company (and, presumably, nothing to do with the actual health of the employees). I keep thinking, Could he have at least made some attempt at spin in this situation? (Although I generally hate spin, especially from companies who do almost $5 billion in annual sales. And yes, sometimes I forego my values in favor of being reactionary.)
Also of note in this article: "Research indicates that companies with employees who are fit and healthy do have a better bottom line." OMG.
When I told Honey Bunny about all this last night, in addition to interjecting the question "Has anyone sued them yet?" about 14 times during the course of my story, he concluded by saying, "The difference between a 20% and 30% discount isn't really a big deal when you're buying a $25 bottle of laundry detergent to begin with." Heh.
Again with the reactionary: I'm now boycotting Whole Foods. Let's see how long I can hold out, given that they're my go-to for all the crap our co-op doesn't offer.
10 February 2010
Jerri Gray's responsibility
I've been thinking about this article ever since I came across it:
Where do parents fit in the childhood obesity puzzle?
For starters I always love the inevitable accompanying photo of a really fat person - so fat that s/he is seemingly bursting at the seams - with these articles. [Sarcasm.] The fat person is always shown from the back or, if from the front, from the neck or waist down, presumably to preserve the person's anonymity. I especially love the one with this article since it's a fat child surrounded by several other fat children at the pool, everyone in bathing suits.
That said, I actually liked the content of the article and thought it made some good points. I got to it because I read this piece and also this one, about Alexander Draper being removed from his home and mother and put in foster care. Social services asserts his mother was being medically neglectful by not tending to her son's severe obesity.
This is one of those rare cases where an interest of mine (fatism) collides with my work world (child welfare). While I'm not a social worker myself, I've been orbiting in the public social services world for long enough to have an informed opinion.
To address that particular area: it is one of the most traumatic experiences for a child to be removed from his/her home, and it "should" only happen if there is an immediate and compelling safety issue at hand. Obesity, to me, doesn't qualify here. It is a compelling risk that can be managed (starting immediately) by social services while still keeping the child in his home. Unfortunately, Alexander's mother, Jerri Gray, fled the state with him upon learning that she was being investigated for neglect and thus, we have the makings of a safety issue for the child, and he was removed from her care when Jerri and Alexander resurfaced. It's just too bad that reports from news outlets are failing to mention this key plot twist in favor of sensationalism about childhood obesity and criminality.
Allow me, for just a moment, to indulge in being even more of a card-carrying member of the PC Police. Here we have a single Black mother who was working the equivalent of 2-3 jobs to make ends meet, and who said she'd bring home fast food for dinner because there was no time to cook. Let's assume that if she's working 2-3 jobs she's probably financially strapped as well, and fast food is cheap. Fast food chains also tend to be prevalent in low income neighborhoods and especially where there are populations of color, and therefore those populations tend to have health and/or weight problems as a result. There is also a huge problem in the US with disproportionality, with predominantly Black families in the child welfare system. Can you say "vicious circle"?
The point of the original article was to explore the question: if adults must always accept personal responsibility for being fat, then who bears the responsibility for a child being fat? I've often wondered that myself, especially as Honey Bunny and I have been trying to have a kid. Because I'm fat and have been so since childhood (and HB carries a bit extra himself), does that mean we're destined to have a fat kid? Because I don't have great exercise habits myself, will I care less about making sure my kid has an active lifestyle?
I think of my friend Gina and her daughter Chloe. Gina is petite in every way but I would never characterize her as "active". While she does enjoy some occasional snowboarding in winter and casual bike rides in the summer, she doesn't go to the gym or to yoga or anything like that. In fact, she eschews "working out" because it's not enjoyable to her. But yet, Chloe has been active in soccer and softball since she was about five years old, and at Gina's behest. Chloe likes those particular sports too, of course, otherwise Gina says she would find something else for Chloe to do. Chloe is now 13 and I've known her since she was four; Gina's got some years of parenting under her belt, and I plan to steal several of her methods (up to and including taking my kid to rock shows, Burning Man and various other events typically for adults that a kid could really enjoy). In the end, I don't know that parents manifesting the athleticism they'd like to see in their kids is what kids need to see in order to integrate being active into their own lives. I could be wrong, though.
On a different and last note, I have to say that the comments section of these types of online articles always really horrify me. There is a lot of judgement, and some outright hatred, for fat and fat people. It makes me wonder: what about being fat is so inexcusable?
Where do parents fit in the childhood obesity puzzle?
For starters I always love the inevitable accompanying photo of a really fat person - so fat that s/he is seemingly bursting at the seams - with these articles. [Sarcasm.] The fat person is always shown from the back or, if from the front, from the neck or waist down, presumably to preserve the person's anonymity. I especially love the one with this article since it's a fat child surrounded by several other fat children at the pool, everyone in bathing suits.
That said, I actually liked the content of the article and thought it made some good points. I got to it because I read this piece and also this one, about Alexander Draper being removed from his home and mother and put in foster care. Social services asserts his mother was being medically neglectful by not tending to her son's severe obesity.
This is one of those rare cases where an interest of mine (fatism) collides with my work world (child welfare). While I'm not a social worker myself, I've been orbiting in the public social services world for long enough to have an informed opinion.
To address that particular area: it is one of the most traumatic experiences for a child to be removed from his/her home, and it "should" only happen if there is an immediate and compelling safety issue at hand. Obesity, to me, doesn't qualify here. It is a compelling risk that can be managed (starting immediately) by social services while still keeping the child in his home. Unfortunately, Alexander's mother, Jerri Gray, fled the state with him upon learning that she was being investigated for neglect and thus, we have the makings of a safety issue for the child, and he was removed from her care when Jerri and Alexander resurfaced. It's just too bad that reports from news outlets are failing to mention this key plot twist in favor of sensationalism about childhood obesity and criminality.
Allow me, for just a moment, to indulge in being even more of a card-carrying member of the PC Police. Here we have a single Black mother who was working the equivalent of 2-3 jobs to make ends meet, and who said she'd bring home fast food for dinner because there was no time to cook. Let's assume that if she's working 2-3 jobs she's probably financially strapped as well, and fast food is cheap. Fast food chains also tend to be prevalent in low income neighborhoods and especially where there are populations of color, and therefore those populations tend to have health and/or weight problems as a result. There is also a huge problem in the US with disproportionality, with predominantly Black families in the child welfare system. Can you say "vicious circle"?
The point of the original article was to explore the question: if adults must always accept personal responsibility for being fat, then who bears the responsibility for a child being fat? I've often wondered that myself, especially as Honey Bunny and I have been trying to have a kid. Because I'm fat and have been so since childhood (and HB carries a bit extra himself), does that mean we're destined to have a fat kid? Because I don't have great exercise habits myself, will I care less about making sure my kid has an active lifestyle?
I think of my friend Gina and her daughter Chloe. Gina is petite in every way but I would never characterize her as "active". While she does enjoy some occasional snowboarding in winter and casual bike rides in the summer, she doesn't go to the gym or to yoga or anything like that. In fact, she eschews "working out" because it's not enjoyable to her. But yet, Chloe has been active in soccer and softball since she was about five years old, and at Gina's behest. Chloe likes those particular sports too, of course, otherwise Gina says she would find something else for Chloe to do. Chloe is now 13 and I've known her since she was four; Gina's got some years of parenting under her belt, and I plan to steal several of her methods (up to and including taking my kid to rock shows, Burning Man and various other events typically for adults that a kid could really enjoy). In the end, I don't know that parents manifesting the athleticism they'd like to see in their kids is what kids need to see in order to integrate being active into their own lives. I could be wrong, though.
On a different and last note, I have to say that the comments section of these types of online articles always really horrify me. There is a lot of judgement, and some outright hatred, for fat and fat people. It makes me wonder: what about being fat is so inexcusable?
11 January 2010
what comes next
I decided to get the title of this posting as a tattoo written across the underside of my left forearm. It will be always be there to remind me to think about what comes next. Or, to remind myself that I don't know what the hell comes next and that there is power in that.
Life has challenged me greatly in the past few months on this topic. For starters, there was the "intervention" by Yoga Trainer in early October. That did far less for me on a physical level than it did on a mental one, in case you're wondering. At the time I was envisioning that I was mere days away from finalizing a weight loss plan that would be perfect! and would work! and that I would be happy to do!, blah blah blah. All I have to say to myself three months later is, "Seriously?" It was far from a write-off or failure, though.
It got me thinking about the goals that I could set and achieve for myself, should I be ready and willing to do so. Admitting that I'm not necessarily ready or willing NOW was the hard part. Yoga Trainer has always been extremely pushy when it comes to my needing to set goals for myself. Having told him numerous times that I don't "do" goals, he decided to start setting them on my behalf. And, I always resignedly agreed to them, knowing that I'd walk out of the studio and likely not follow through. And, I'd return a week later and he'd ask me how my goal was going and I'd say "not so great" and he'd get irked and then spend the next $90 of my time trying to get me back on the path to righteousness. It took until mid-December, when YT turned his crosshairs on Honey Bunny instead of me, that I saw how he was setting us ALL up for failure. Yoga Trainer is a great guy and an incredible athlete, but I'm not sure he is as savvy in human relations as he thinks he is. (DUH. Look no further than how he said what he said to me in early October which in retrospect is kind of, well, fucked!)
We have actually not seen YT in awhile. Things got weird. Not only did my dysfunctional pattern with him come to light, his ego pushed Honey Bunny's to the point of literally walking out of a session. Yoga Trainer's three week vacation is now going on five weeks long, so I'm not sure if we are in mutual avoidance mode or what. I'm amenable to going back, but things need to change. I've been thinking a lot about what I need to say to him, and how to say it, and why.
Overall, Honey Bunny and I have had a rough winter together. It's a long and private story but I will say this: after three weeks of a perpetual battle to keep my head above water, there was a moment. I was so completely defeated by the situation and had done everything I could possibly think to do to right it. The next thing that popped into my head was, "I don't know what comes next," and I started to bawl. In telling my therapist about it after the fact, she said she felt that was a very profound moment for me, in which I needed to give up power and control and to be open to letting whatever needed to happen happen without my intervention. I think she's right. Within 10 minutes of admitting my powerlessness over the situation, it started to turn for the better. We're getting there. I don't have all the answers or solutions, which is the way it should be.
Part of our winter has included acclimating to new cats. They moved in in mid-October and it's been a hard adjustment period. We previously had a very mellow, very independent and aging kitty who was one of the loves of my life, and who passed away fairly suddenly in November 2008. My grief was so intense and daily after she died. I'd had 13 years of taking care of my beautiful cat and it was quite a process getting used to her not being there anymore. Every morning for a couple months I would wake up and think I'd hear her footsteps on the hardwood floors, coming to jump on the bed to snuggle with me... but she was no longer there. Just walking through the pet food aisle at the grocery store was torture, knowing I had no kitty to get food for. No feeding her. No scooping her box. No taking her to the backyard on weekends. But most importantly, no way to show love to a physical presence (although her spiritual presence is quite strong). I was so sad, angry, bitter, grief-stricken for so long. Until one day I realized that I no longer automatically looked for her in the morning, no longer cried after being around other people and their pets, and in fact, felt some relief when HB and I went on our annual summer vacation and I didn't have to get a cat sitter for the first time in 13 years. Not that I didn't miss her, because I did and I do and I probably always will. Because, for fuck's sake, grief is the ultimate "I don't know what comes next".
I grew accustomed to having some independence from my apartment and having to take care of another being, while at the same time feeling like something was missing from my life. Our friend's cat had kittens "accidentally" in July, and we asked if we could take two of them. I had such a mellow experience with my previous cat, why not have two... right? They grew up with their mom at home, and then moved in with us three months later.
They are the cutest little cats, playful and sweet and snuggly. One, or both, also has a peeing problem. At this point, all three chairs and the sofa in my living room have been peed on, as well as the bathtub, a small area rug, and almost every new toy they got for Christmas. Yes, the problem is medical for the most part, but there is a behavioral component to it that has to be tended to. I have been schooled by several vets on what to do and right now - and for an undetermined length of time - our bathtub has 2" of water in it, our living room reeks of vinegar (from treatments to get the pee out) and vinyl (vinyl carpet runners cut up to size/shape of the seating it's on, teeth side up), the bedroom is completely off limits, and they are contained in the back half of our apt while we are not at home and at bedtime. I literally don't know what comes next with them and the peeing and when they will be able to have free reign of the house again, if ever. On my worst days, it has propelled me into panic attacks and I have needed to consider finding a new home for one or both. On my best days, it's simply an adventure and a challenge. As long as I don't try to look too far forward and remember that there is no one hard and fast solution, I'm good. As long as I can remember the great and rewarding things about having cats, I'm good.
I will always wish I had that crystal ball to see what comes next and when. Instead, all I can do is take a deep breath and move forward and know that "what comes next" is only partially determined by me.
*****
UPDATE 1/12/10: Yoga Trainer called literally 10 minutes after I posted this and asked to talk in length about our relationship going forward. I don't think he's a reader, but who knows!
Life has challenged me greatly in the past few months on this topic. For starters, there was the "intervention" by Yoga Trainer in early October. That did far less for me on a physical level than it did on a mental one, in case you're wondering. At the time I was envisioning that I was mere days away from finalizing a weight loss plan that would be perfect! and would work! and that I would be happy to do!, blah blah blah. All I have to say to myself three months later is, "Seriously?" It was far from a write-off or failure, though.
It got me thinking about the goals that I could set and achieve for myself, should I be ready and willing to do so. Admitting that I'm not necessarily ready or willing NOW was the hard part. Yoga Trainer has always been extremely pushy when it comes to my needing to set goals for myself. Having told him numerous times that I don't "do" goals, he decided to start setting them on my behalf. And, I always resignedly agreed to them, knowing that I'd walk out of the studio and likely not follow through. And, I'd return a week later and he'd ask me how my goal was going and I'd say "not so great" and he'd get irked and then spend the next $90 of my time trying to get me back on the path to righteousness. It took until mid-December, when YT turned his crosshairs on Honey Bunny instead of me, that I saw how he was setting us ALL up for failure. Yoga Trainer is a great guy and an incredible athlete, but I'm not sure he is as savvy in human relations as he thinks he is. (DUH. Look no further than how he said what he said to me in early October which in retrospect is kind of, well, fucked!)
We have actually not seen YT in awhile. Things got weird. Not only did my dysfunctional pattern with him come to light, his ego pushed Honey Bunny's to the point of literally walking out of a session. Yoga Trainer's three week vacation is now going on five weeks long, so I'm not sure if we are in mutual avoidance mode or what. I'm amenable to going back, but things need to change. I've been thinking a lot about what I need to say to him, and how to say it, and why.
Overall, Honey Bunny and I have had a rough winter together. It's a long and private story but I will say this: after three weeks of a perpetual battle to keep my head above water, there was a moment. I was so completely defeated by the situation and had done everything I could possibly think to do to right it. The next thing that popped into my head was, "I don't know what comes next," and I started to bawl. In telling my therapist about it after the fact, she said she felt that was a very profound moment for me, in which I needed to give up power and control and to be open to letting whatever needed to happen happen without my intervention. I think she's right. Within 10 minutes of admitting my powerlessness over the situation, it started to turn for the better. We're getting there. I don't have all the answers or solutions, which is the way it should be.
Part of our winter has included acclimating to new cats. They moved in in mid-October and it's been a hard adjustment period. We previously had a very mellow, very independent and aging kitty who was one of the loves of my life, and who passed away fairly suddenly in November 2008. My grief was so intense and daily after she died. I'd had 13 years of taking care of my beautiful cat and it was quite a process getting used to her not being there anymore. Every morning for a couple months I would wake up and think I'd hear her footsteps on the hardwood floors, coming to jump on the bed to snuggle with me... but she was no longer there. Just walking through the pet food aisle at the grocery store was torture, knowing I had no kitty to get food for. No feeding her. No scooping her box. No taking her to the backyard on weekends. But most importantly, no way to show love to a physical presence (although her spiritual presence is quite strong). I was so sad, angry, bitter, grief-stricken for so long. Until one day I realized that I no longer automatically looked for her in the morning, no longer cried after being around other people and their pets, and in fact, felt some relief when HB and I went on our annual summer vacation and I didn't have to get a cat sitter for the first time in 13 years. Not that I didn't miss her, because I did and I do and I probably always will. Because, for fuck's sake, grief is the ultimate "I don't know what comes next".
I grew accustomed to having some independence from my apartment and having to take care of another being, while at the same time feeling like something was missing from my life. Our friend's cat had kittens "accidentally" in July, and we asked if we could take two of them. I had such a mellow experience with my previous cat, why not have two... right? They grew up with their mom at home, and then moved in with us three months later.
They are the cutest little cats, playful and sweet and snuggly. One, or both, also has a peeing problem. At this point, all three chairs and the sofa in my living room have been peed on, as well as the bathtub, a small area rug, and almost every new toy they got for Christmas. Yes, the problem is medical for the most part, but there is a behavioral component to it that has to be tended to. I have been schooled by several vets on what to do and right now - and for an undetermined length of time - our bathtub has 2" of water in it, our living room reeks of vinegar (from treatments to get the pee out) and vinyl (vinyl carpet runners cut up to size/shape of the seating it's on, teeth side up), the bedroom is completely off limits, and they are contained in the back half of our apt while we are not at home and at bedtime. I literally don't know what comes next with them and the peeing and when they will be able to have free reign of the house again, if ever. On my worst days, it has propelled me into panic attacks and I have needed to consider finding a new home for one or both. On my best days, it's simply an adventure and a challenge. As long as I don't try to look too far forward and remember that there is no one hard and fast solution, I'm good. As long as I can remember the great and rewarding things about having cats, I'm good.
I will always wish I had that crystal ball to see what comes next and when. Instead, all I can do is take a deep breath and move forward and know that "what comes next" is only partially determined by me.
*****
UPDATE 1/12/10: Yoga Trainer called literally 10 minutes after I posted this and asked to talk in length about our relationship going forward. I don't think he's a reader, but who knows!
10 October 2009
The inevitable intervention
It's happened. I knew it would at some point.
Last night Honey Bunny and I were working out with Yoga Trainer and I was having a hard time doing 21 Frog Squats as compared to our usual 15. The majority of the time I can make it to 12 before my thighs start to scream (no problem! - only three more to go... usually) but last night, my thighs were burning like crazy by number seven. A psych out, knowing that I had to go six past the usual 15? Normal flux between workout sessions? Or must I admit that in the two weeks Yoga Trainer was on vacation, I only exercised on my own a whopping three times and was feeling the impact of that?
I stopped at 16 and started rubbing my thighs and said, "Omigod, my thighs are on fire!" Yoga Trainer didn't say his usual, "Just take a breath and resume. You'll be okay!" while continuing to do the squats himself. Instead he stopped, stood up, put his hands on his hips and said, "I'd have a hard time doing these too if I strapped 100 pounds to my body."
Hardest words to hear, EVER.
Well, that's not entirely true. I actually think being talked to by my parents and sister over the years about needing to lose weight ranks as being just slightly worse, if only because it felt so loaded (they are my family, aren't they supposed to love me the way I am?), dangerous (oh god, what if they don't love me this way?) and, sometimes, just downright judgmental (Hi Dad! Thanks for saying that being obese makes people look "unkempt"!). Honey Bunny, too, has expressed over our six years together that he would like me to be more healthy so that we can live a long married life together. That doesn't feel so painful anymore, though... now that it is a dialogue between us rather than a suggestion or lecture.
It was extremely hard to endure Yoga Trainer's words, and the ensuing hour in which he asked us to sit down and for me to really talk about what it is I want out of training and, well, life. (Hey, he's a yoga guy.) Lots of tears were shed on my part. I contemplated getting up and walking out a few times because it was so uncomfortable. I wasn't sure in the moment whether what YT was saying was harsh or compassionate.
When people talk to me about needing to lose weight or be more healthy, my first reaction is to feel victimized. In reality, what I know for sure is that I feel thoroughly embarrassed and disoriented, and sometimes offended. Whether those things qualify me for the "victim" category, I'm not so sure.
My victimized stance usually includes a lot of tears and reasoning for why the person talking to me has no right to do so. So much so that the person (usually) backs down and apologizes for bringing it up. If it's someone close to me, s/he says they love me for who I am and meant no harm.
Something interesting happened with Yoga Trainer, though. By the end of our conversation, I no longer felt embarrassed, disoriented, offended OR victimized. YT is a tough nut with a big ego. And, apparently, so am I. He won last night, but his victory didn't seem like my personal defeat. While I can't say at this point that his victory is going to be my personal victory (cue YT to stop what he's doing, stare intensely at me and shoot back, "Why not?"), I can at least say that he talked to me about losing weight in a way that felt very different than the way others have. He's not part of my family and he isn't my friend really (at least not in the traditional way). It didn't feel so loaded and dangerous, and while he pushed me to my limit to get information and a commitment to have further intense conversations with him, it still didn't feel judgmental.
It was so weird to be raw like that. I talked to him about being in a dead-end job, feeling like I was going nowhere in life, not being able to set goals and stick to them, and how that all relates to losing weight (or not). It was the weirdest therapy I've ever experienced, that's for sure. With Therapist, we talk about things slowly and methodically in a safe setting where I get to (feel like I?) make discoveries on my own. Talking with YT was, literally, wild. I think both behoove me. (Lordy, is it too bourgeois to say that and to be able to take advantage of both??)
Last night Honey Bunny and I were working out with Yoga Trainer and I was having a hard time doing 21 Frog Squats as compared to our usual 15. The majority of the time I can make it to 12 before my thighs start to scream (no problem! - only three more to go... usually) but last night, my thighs were burning like crazy by number seven. A psych out, knowing that I had to go six past the usual 15? Normal flux between workout sessions? Or must I admit that in the two weeks Yoga Trainer was on vacation, I only exercised on my own a whopping three times and was feeling the impact of that?
I stopped at 16 and started rubbing my thighs and said, "Omigod, my thighs are on fire!" Yoga Trainer didn't say his usual, "Just take a breath and resume. You'll be okay!" while continuing to do the squats himself. Instead he stopped, stood up, put his hands on his hips and said, "I'd have a hard time doing these too if I strapped 100 pounds to my body."
Hardest words to hear, EVER.
Well, that's not entirely true. I actually think being talked to by my parents and sister over the years about needing to lose weight ranks as being just slightly worse, if only because it felt so loaded (they are my family, aren't they supposed to love me the way I am?), dangerous (oh god, what if they don't love me this way?) and, sometimes, just downright judgmental (Hi Dad! Thanks for saying that being obese makes people look "unkempt"!). Honey Bunny, too, has expressed over our six years together that he would like me to be more healthy so that we can live a long married life together. That doesn't feel so painful anymore, though... now that it is a dialogue between us rather than a suggestion or lecture.
It was extremely hard to endure Yoga Trainer's words, and the ensuing hour in which he asked us to sit down and for me to really talk about what it is I want out of training and, well, life. (Hey, he's a yoga guy.) Lots of tears were shed on my part. I contemplated getting up and walking out a few times because it was so uncomfortable. I wasn't sure in the moment whether what YT was saying was harsh or compassionate.
When people talk to me about needing to lose weight or be more healthy, my first reaction is to feel victimized. In reality, what I know for sure is that I feel thoroughly embarrassed and disoriented, and sometimes offended. Whether those things qualify me for the "victim" category, I'm not so sure.
My victimized stance usually includes a lot of tears and reasoning for why the person talking to me has no right to do so. So much so that the person (usually) backs down and apologizes for bringing it up. If it's someone close to me, s/he says they love me for who I am and meant no harm.
Something interesting happened with Yoga Trainer, though. By the end of our conversation, I no longer felt embarrassed, disoriented, offended OR victimized. YT is a tough nut with a big ego. And, apparently, so am I. He won last night, but his victory didn't seem like my personal defeat. While I can't say at this point that his victory is going to be my personal victory (cue YT to stop what he's doing, stare intensely at me and shoot back, "Why not?"), I can at least say that he talked to me about losing weight in a way that felt very different than the way others have. He's not part of my family and he isn't my friend really (at least not in the traditional way). It didn't feel so loaded and dangerous, and while he pushed me to my limit to get information and a commitment to have further intense conversations with him, it still didn't feel judgmental.
It was so weird to be raw like that. I talked to him about being in a dead-end job, feeling like I was going nowhere in life, not being able to set goals and stick to them, and how that all relates to losing weight (or not). It was the weirdest therapy I've ever experienced, that's for sure. With Therapist, we talk about things slowly and methodically in a safe setting where I get to (feel like I?) make discoveries on my own. Talking with YT was, literally, wild. I think both behoove me. (Lordy, is it too bourgeois to say that and to be able to take advantage of both??)
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