This year was chock full of adventures. Travel! Vistors from Oz! Romance! Chocolate!
It was a crap year for weight loss. I lost and gained the same five kilos over and over again. I could not tame my extreme tendencies. It was either intense effort or none at all. I dabbled with many methods that year — regular blogging for accountability, various online calorie trackers, new exercise classes, setting weekly Mini Missions, but nothing seemed to stick.
My attention seemed to be diverted everywhere else but my arse. When I wasn’t on holidays I was working seven-day weeks to pay for them. But there was also sheer complacency:
When you’ve lost a shitload of weight, the equivalent of an average woman, it’s so easy to think you’re on top of things, that the weight will surely keep coming off. But there’s still another twenty kilos to go. I just stopped putting in the effort. I stopped thinking of my weight as an issue. When there’s suddenly this someone who likes you for who you are, you start to think you’re not so bad and put the thought of those last twenty kilos to the back of your mind.
. . .
Looking back through the archives, I seemed to have been obsessed with chocolate in 2004. Not just the odd bar now and then, but major binges.
I am still trying to figure out what prompted my binging. I was so deliberate and calculating about it. Do you ever feel like you’re so eager to be skinny and tap into the sexy clothes and supple flesh, but part of you is afraid of missing out on something if you don’t stay fat?
Of course the binging always lead to those horrid dark moods, which the Scottish Companion bore the brunt of, if I hadn’t already ranted to the internet.
Have you ever just woken up and loathed yourself? Just felt like your whole being was nothing more than a huge puddle of flesh and a tiny paranoid brain? The Boy was there and trying to talk to me but all I could do was scrunch over one side of the bed and hope he wouldn’t notice me.
All day long I proceeded to make stupid little irrational comments. Like making breakfast, there were only two pieces of bread, I insisted he eat them. He asked why, I pointed to my body and just shrugged, "Well, come on!".
He shook his head, totally bewildered, "Why do you say things like that about yourself?"
And of course I just started bawling because I didn’t know why I was saying all this hateful stuff… I hadn’t thought such negative thoughts for years, let alone actually say them aloud.
I guess it just hit me that morning that I didn’t feel in control of my life. I thought of how I’d had to run around my room before The Boy arrived, ferreting out all the chocolate wrappers…
… Monday night I dragged myself back to the gym after a 3 week absence. But not before I scoffed a ‘final’ King Size Mars Bar and a 150g packet of sweet chilli crisps.
But at the other end of the spectrum were days like this:
There was a moment on the weekend when I had a glimpse of what it was like to just have a body, as opposed to The Body, that Thing that I waste so much time and energy worrying about…
The Scottish Companion and I were out with his parents for the day, and he’d persuaded me to play on the swings at the park.
To my surprise, I fit on the seat with room to spare. The two of us swang back and forth, made lame jokes about always wanting to be swingers, tried to make our swings crash into each other and yelled at his parents like five year olds, "Look at me! Look at meeeeeee!". It was such a thrill to feel so active and un-self-conscious and… normal.
And all that travelling helped too. Being out of your comfort zone in wacky countries is a good way to give your old fears a kick up the arse. I was on top of the world when I got back from Russia:
I take it for granted these days, the fact that I can walk as far as I want for as long as I want. I don’t think so much about how now I can find something decent to wear, how I can talk to strangers, how I can catch a train in a strange city or lift heavy objects. I don’t like to congratulate myself in case I should develop a fat ego, but on that day I allowed myself a moment. I couldn’t believe it was me on Red Square, in the country I’ve wanted to more than anywhere else, the same scared person who rejected the idea of living overseas just a couple years ago coz I was ‘too fat and stupid’ to do such an outrageous thing.
. . .
TRIUMPHS OF THE YEAR: My first Valentine’s Day with a real live valentine.
FEARS OF THE YEAR: The Running Shoe Shop. And fretting endlessly about what would happen when my Visa ran out. Would I be evicted or would true love save the day? Cue much melodramatic woe-is-me writing. Consider this a belated apology to friends, family and readers alike for being such a moaning pain in the arse 🙂
. . .
I finished up the year still around 95 kilos. I either failed to lose or successfully maintained. Despite that it was a cracker of a year, and I am going to be a lazy bastard and cut and paste what I said at the time:
2004 has been the busiest, most exciting year of my life and I put the flabby thoughts on the backburner:
- I spent 21 days in Scandinavia and Russia with three dozen strangers – something I’d never have even contemplated when I weighed 350 pounds.
- I backpacked around the Baltics for two weeks without any plans.
- I took my clothes off in front of a man, many many times.
- I ran in public.
- I took a dance class that left me beet-faced and breathless three years ago but now I keep up with the skinny chicks…
Yes, there were days and dozens of blog entries in which I bitched about my lard and longed to have smaller jeans, but for the most part this year I was just happy being in my own skin and stop fretting about my size. I just dove headfirst into life and scoffed up new experiences with the enthusiasm I used to reserve for scoffing icecream straight from the tub.
If 2001 was the year of me Obsessing About Fat, 2004 was the year of me Obsessing About Me. It was like the carefree, heady college days that I was too fat and depressed to have at the time. It was unashamedly indulgent and fun and now looking back, I am glad I took the time out to make the most of it.