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Some more thoughts

I’m hella sleepy, so this may end up being a short post, but there are a few more things I want to get off my chest.

I am not really feeling better since my “invisible no more” post. Usually when I talk about things, it helps me be aware of them and helps me fix things, but I am having trouble getting over this hill. I am not really sure what to do. Perhaps it is just a feeling that will fade in time.

At the moment, I am really struggling to find reasons to keep going with the weight loss. I started doing this for health reasons, and that is mostly why I am doing this, but I have to work on my mental health, too. And if I’m just  not comfortable in my body, I don’t know if keeping attempting to change it is a good idea.

But perhaps those are just excuses. I think maybe they might be.

The fact remains that I am hitting a mental block, here, and I need to break by it. So I’ve been thinking of reasons for me to focus on to keep doing paleo.

Reasons to keep doing Paleo

1) I’m at 155lbs, only 6 pounds away from being a healthy weight.

Oh good lord, I am SO CLOSE. I really don’t feel like I can stop now. It’s so intense to think about how far I have come in so short of a time. If I gave up before I got into the 140s, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself. I think this is the chief reason why I want to, and still will, keep on this diet and lifestyle.

2) I’ve been happier, generally, since starting.

It’s really easy to get bogged down in the feeling of being oggled, but I have to remember a lot of the great emotional benefits I have gotten from eating paleo. Key to this is that I’ve pretty much cut out my binge eating, and almost entirely negated my stress eating. These are HUGE ACHIEVEMENTS, and I want to keep these habits.

One thing I am really proud of is that when I have been breaking in the paleo, I haven’t binged. Yes, I’ve had ice cream, Ben and Jerry’s, DQ, but it’s been like… a fraction of the container that I get. I have a control now that I didn’t before, and I can only get better.

3) I’m really close to a normal bra size…

I had a really disappointing bra shopping trip yesterday, in which it was revealed that I was a 32DDD, and I’m a “big” 32 at that. If I can get down to a normal weight, perhaps that will come off of my bust and get me down into a standard size bra.

4) I don’t want to give up.

I’m not a quitter, and I realize the ONLY way I will have failed in this endeavor is if I give up, and that’s just… not an option.  If I give up, if I let myself gain weight, then it really is sacrificing control over my body.

If I stop now, in a way, I let those people win (even though it’s not really what they wanted). My body is mine, and I’m taking ownership of it, gods damn it. And if someone wants to stare at me, fine. If I notice, and it makes me uncomfortable, then it’s their fault, not mine, and I have the right to tell them to find a spot on the wall and stare at it, cause if they don’t, I’ll kick their face into it.

Boo  yeah.

Invisible no more

Confession time.

I think I have been slowly sabotaging myself the past week and a half or so.  Popcorn at the movies, ice cream here and there, several instances of cheese.

Each instance of these had their own excuses internally, and I brushed them off, but after talking with my friend Melissa last night, I think they  might be signs of something greater. Perhaps stress-eating for stress/upsetness that I didn’t know was there before.

In explaining this better, let me tell a story.

Thursday of last week I left my home to spend the weekend at my boyfriend’s apartment, because he was coming home from a business trip. So once I got settled in, I dashed over to Publix to get some food. I had my headphones in, so I was zoned out pretty hardcore.And then something strange happened. I began to notice that almost every single guy I walked by or walked by me was — what’s the phrase? — rubber-necking. Letting their gaze linger. Whatever.

I felt watched. I felt exposed. I felt… vulerable.

But I tried to move on with it. Sometimes I just get paranoid.

The next day I rode the MARTA down to the airport. I like to curl up in the seats that are catty-cornered to each other, cause then I can pull my knees up and just chill. It’s a comfortable place to me.

Generally when someone sits in the other corner seat it doesn’t bother me, but Friday was different. As I was looking out of the window I could see this fifty-year-old man staring at my chest.

I looked at him, he looked away. I look back at the window and then he continues to gawk.

So I move to another seat — and then the man puts sunglasses on. Keep in mind, this is MARTA, so we’re underground. So this man just put sunglasses on so that he could openly stare at me.

I assumed a dominant posture and, at the very least, I felt better.

It made me really uncomfortable, and I felt very vulnerable. Though I would have punched the motherfucker in the face if he had even so much as thought about touching me, it was not a situation that I wanted to be in.

Me, more or less right now.

So, bringing it forward a little bit to this week. I get really confused and worried cause every time I look in the mirror, I see myself as fat. I look in my mind the way I did at 185lb — distended belly, flabby arms, even the muscle definition in my legs didn’t seem as pronounced as it had been a few days ago. I get on the scale and it says 155, but I almost don’t believe it. Everyone commenting on my weight makes me feel worse, not better.

Telling all of this to you now makes it seem pretty obvious what is happening, but I’m not always aware of  my internal emotional processes, so I didn’t really stop and think about it until I had a heart-to-heart with my good friend Melissa last night.

I always had a certain amount of comfort in being obese. I got stares and glances sometimes, but they were pretty  much few and far between, and the difference is that I weighed more, and so, ironically, I felt more comfortable.

The fact of the matter is, the more I lose weight, the more vulnerable I feel. It’s true that through TKD I’ve gotten ways to defend myself, and probably would be more successful at it than I would have been before, but at least at 185 I was in the same weight class as a lot of men who would try to hurt me. I would have been harder to pick up and carry. And really… a fat girl just doesn’t get noticed.

I was able to successfully hide in my fat and feel powerful. And as ironic as it sounds, the more I have lost weight the more my body image has tanked, because I feel so much less in control. And I have been slowly sabotaging myself to not lose any more weight because of this.

As soon as I voiced these concerns, I got up this morning and my “thin” was back. I am not sure if the distress from this is going to linger or, if it’s left, come back, but I just don’t know what to do about it. I don’t feel comfortable or secure in my body anymore, and that is detrimental to me in my quest to be healthier and also just not good for me. I’ve always had confidence; I’ve always been the person who is comfortable in her own skin. To not be… is almost a fundamental difference in who I am.

And I don’t know what to do.

Gina