The truth hurts....like a punch to the head.

It's true what they say. "They" being the powers that be that decide on what words will make up the numerous cheesy cliches that we use. And today "they" were proved right. Which of course made me want to hunt them down and tie them to the front of a train, but that's beside the point.

Where was I before I so rudely digressed? Oh yes. It's true what they say. The truth hurts. It's like a punch to the head, or someone giving you a supreme truth wedgie. Hurts like a ....well, that's rude and I won't go there, I'll save it for my other blog.

How does it hurt? Ah well my lovelies, you are smart to ask.

Oh let me list the ways....

1) Although I already have a job, it doesn't give me very many hours and it isn't what I went back to school to get trained for. So, I've carried on looking for employment in my field. I've sent out letters and resumes to all and sundry and not having too much luck. The job market here is not as great as I might like right now. But yesterday I got a phone call from a firm here in town who I have now applied to twice. Could I please come in for an "informal discussion" (read: interview that stresses me out beyond belief)? Absolutely!

This, of course, presented me with a problem. No. Nice. Clothes. Well I'll just go shopping. HA! Yeah right. This might be a relatively easy feat for you folks who fit nicely into the societal norm of what size we should be and, as a result, the averages sizes that the designers churn out. However, for a someone my size who more closely resembles the prize cow in the field down the road than Heidi Klum, it can be a tad more difficult.

As I dragged my extremely shopping resistant spawnlets (they come by it honestly. I hate shopping.) around the store trying to find something interview appropriate, I found myself on the verge of tears. So many gorgeous shirts, skirts, pants, dresses and jackets.....all in sizes smaller than I can even dream of fitting into right now. I finally found the "oversize" area (yeah..heaven forbid they call it "plus size" like the rest of the world, they have to label us like the back of those Mack Trucks hauling friggin' houses!) and guess what? Sweet F All!

Ok, that's not strictly true. I did find a pair of pants in a lovely grey colour that were my size. I tried them on and couldn't decide what was wrong with them. But something was. So I bought them (because I'm stupid) and brought them home to model for my mother. She kindly pointed out that because I'd got them big enough to go up over my ass just to get them to my waist, I now had pants that were too big in the ass and I looked like I was wearing saddlebags. Ok. The pants were returned, I spent another HOUR wandering all (two) of the "Heffers Shop Here" aisles and finally found a nice dressy pair of capris that look quite fetching on me.

All in all though, a very humbling and tear inducing experience. One I'd rather not repeat til I've lost a few dozen more kilos.

The truth is, I'm too heavy to shop happily. That truth hurts.

2) (This one will be shorter I promise!) One of the requirements for this job I interviewed for was that the applicant have "excellent presentation skills, both in manner and appearance". Well, I might come across as an uncouth redneck idiot whenever I open my mouth at times, but when it comes down to it I can sound pretty darn intelligent. Also? I clean up pretty good...my size aside.

When talking about this aspect of the job description with my mother, she pointed that my size might be a distinct DISadvantage for me. Huh? Yeah. I was all "Nuh-UH! They can't discriminate based on the size of my ass!" And she's all "Oh yeah they can. You are presenting the face of their firm and let's face it, a thin person would look better....they can be very selective when it comes to that."

(Note: NOT a direct quote from mother dearest, I'm paraphrasing and perhaps using what I heard as opposed to what she actually said because I'm pretty sure she put it more eloquently than that.)

Once I picked my jaw up off the floor (where, by the way, there was NO food!) and fought back the tears that were welling up, I proceeded to put that little ditty on a loop in my head where it played over and over and over and over and over again until AFTER my interview today.

The truth is, she's right. Given the choice between me and some skinny minny with the same qualifications and experience, they'll likely choose skinny because she looks better for them. And that truth hurts.

3) Children are, up to a certain age, brutally honest. Horribly so. When I went to pick up the spawnlets from school today, I was still all gussied up from my "informal discussion". As I walked down the hallway towards Girl Spawn's classroom, a bunch of kids were walking towards me. A couple of the girls started giggling with each other and I didn't think much of it.....until they got just past me.

"Oh. My. Gosh! Did you see how FAT she was?!" (like I'm the only queen size mama in the whole freakin' school?)

I brushed it off, filed it in the back of my head to put spiders in the offending kid's backpack, and kept walking. Then I heard more giggling and...

"Hahaha yeah she was big! Even MY mom's not that big."

"She looks like she's going to have a baby"

"Maybe she is!"

"Nuh-UH! She's just fat. Hahahahahaha! Like a cow!"

"Shhhhh!!! She can totally hear us!" (ok, you get a free pass for that one...this time.)

I had to leave. I went back out to my car and sat there and cried. It would have hurt to hear coming from anyone's mouth, but after the last 24 hours it hurt more somehow. I just sat there and cried for about 10 minutes before I was finally brave enough to waddle back into the school.

The truth is, she was right. I AM fat. And I DO look like I'm going to have a baby. And that truth hurts. A LOT.

But you know what? That's exactly why I'm doing this journey. One. Last. Time. So that eventually when I go shopping, I can shop on the same racks as my sister. (ok, that might be a stretch...she looks like a model) So that when I go for an interview, I know they're looking more at my qualifications and my boobs than they are at the size of my stomach. So that my kids don't have to worry about having the "fat mom".

And more than anything, so that I can live.

The truth hurts, but sometimes the pain is worth it in the long run.

What a great first week!

Well. I dragged my ass into the weigh in room last night, dreading stepping onto that scale. It's a horrifying feeling, standing there wondering if you really DID do well this week and if it will be reflected on the scale.

The ladies sitting behind those tables have the best poker faces I have ever seen. I'm surprised they're not rolling in $ from winning card games! As I stepped on the scale my leader, Heather, kept a perfectly dead pan face as she wrote down the numbers. Meanwhile, I just about fell OFF the scale in astonishment.

2.4 kgs!!

(That's 5.28 lbs for you non metric people)

What a great loss for a first week where in truth I've struggled a bit. Not from personal choices but from lack of knowledge about how best to allocate points. But it seems I didn't do that badly.

I am getting better at the points thing. Now it's more about meal planning.

When the rest of the family is having meat and potatoes, or meat and rice, I sub in a salad for the carbs. I haven't figured out how to deal with pasta yet. I LOVE pasta and it's kind of a weakness (along with chips and pop). I'll get there.

Oh! On the pop (soda) front.... I tried to go cold turkey on that. I tried to cut it out altogether. Screw that. I like my Coke. So instead, I switched to Coke Zero/Diet Coke because it's 0 points. BUT I made the rule that for every 250ml glass of coke I drink, I have to drink a whole 700 ml bottle of water. Seems to be working so far!

Before I go...

Last night, my son didn't want to finish his dinner. Hubby didn't want it. Ordinarily, I would just eat it because HEAVEN FORBID I just throw the leftover food out! I reached for the plate, my hand was half way there, and then I remembered what Heather (my leader) had said at the meeting just a half hour before....

"Plate pickers wear BIG knickers"

Too true, my friends! Too true.

Here's to another good week!

Progress....it's good yes?

It's been just shy of a week since I rejoined Weight Watchers. In the last 6 days I have tried to get used to counting points again, eating smaller portions (much smaller!), drinking more water and getting more exercise. Now, I LOATHE exercise. I would much rather sit on my backside on my couch and read a book than go for a walk, but I've been trying. Not much more than a half hour walk on any given day so far, but it's better than nothing.

What I have noticed more than anything in the last week is how much better I feel already. Just by implementing the stuff I just mentioned, I have felt 10 times better than I did last week.

For the last...oh I don't know, forever?....I have been exhausted. Permanently it seems. I've gotten headaches every couple of days, some of them so bad that I just wanted to crawl into a big dark (and quiet) hole. My stomach has been iffy at the best of times.

But since starting this? I feel awake. Alive! The last three nights running, I have gone to bed later than usual and then gotten up earlier than usual in the morning, and yet I still feel fine..nay! GREAT!...during the day. It's kind of amazing.

No headaches. And my tummy is soooooo much better.

As for my food choices, they're ok. Probably not as good as they could be, but better than they have been. No chips. No chocolate. I had some Weight Watchers ice cream for a treat on Friday night. And Saturday. And Sunday. Yeah ok, so that probably wasn't best...but I accounted for the damn points. So sue me.

I'm hoping my weight will be down tomorrow, but we'll see. Fingers crossed everyone!!

A move in the right direction

I joined Weight Watchers tonight. For the 4th time. *sigh*

I figure it's a move in the right direction isn't it? I need to do this. For my sake, for my children's sake, I. Need. To. Do. This.

So I walked in and filled in the forms, then payed the fee and stepped on the scale. It was better than I expected. I have actually lost weight since we moved here. Which is good right?

I'm not going to post my weight here, not yet. I'm not brave enough, nor do I know who (if anyone) is reading. I guess I'm scared of nasty comments. I suppose I could enable comment moderation. We'll see. I think I might wait a few weeks and see how it goes with the actual weight loss...then I might post it.

In the meantime...my goals for the week:-

• Go for at LEAST a 45 minute walk each day
• Drink at least 3 bottles of water per day. My bottle holds 700mls.
• Track my food, sticking to my points allowance.
• Chill. I know it sounds silly but if I stress about this, it won't work.

So there you have it. This is me, on my journey, for good this time!

Well don't I suck?!

May?! I haven't posted here since MAY?! What happened to all that resolve I had? All that "get up and go" to lose the pounds and pounds of weight that I'm carrying around every day? Weight that is doing damage to my back and my knees. Not to mention my heart and other organs.

It's November now! No. Vem. Ber! It's coming up to summer and am I ANY slimmer and closer to being able to look hot in cute little summer dresses and tank tops?

Hellz no!

You know what has changed since May though? Other than our move to New Zealand? I got a job. I'm a community support worker, looking after (mostly) elderly people. And on a daily basis I hear all about their ailments...largely around their joints and their hearts. It really hits home when they tell me that they wish they'd looked after themselves better when they were young.

One of my clients has had to go into permanent care because her adult onset diabetes has caused so many problems in her legs that she can barely walk. Not to mention the heart attacks she's been having since she was 45!

It's scary shit people...and it really makes me realise what I'm doing to myself.

I almost wish I WAS married to a guy who hated that I was fat. That he would tell me everyday that I should get off my fat ass and go for a walk. But then I realise how lucky I am that my darling husband doesn't talk to me like that. He's supportive of me no matter what I do, but he tells me I'm beautiful every day. And while that's a HUGE ego boost, it doesn't help with the weightloss.

What does help is hearing the tales from those the old folks, being uncomfortable squished into a tiny airplane flight for a THIRTEEN hour flight across the Pacific, not being able to find clothes that fit properly. I want to be able to buy the cute clothes...not the fat lady clothes. I want to make my husband proud when we go out together.

I know, I know, I sound like a broken record. I've said it all before. But I'm 30! I'm not getting any younger and it's not getting any easier to lose the weight is it? The longer I stay fat, the closer I get to my own personal heart attack...and my kids don't deserve that.

So. There is just over 6 months til my 31st birthday. How many inches can I slough off between now and then? How many pounds can I leave behind?

I actually have no idea how much I weigh. I'll have to stop in at the doc's office and use their scale as I don't actually own one. Sadly I can't afford Weight Watchers Online (or actual meetings) right now, but I'm trying to get my hands on a WW Points book so I can keep track.

Now I need you...if there is anyone out there who reads this....to keep me accountable. And hey, if you need to lose some weight too, then join me!! We can challenge each other.