Fat Jokes

This is going to sound really weird, coming from someone who's fat.  But do you know what I love?

Fat jokes.  

Seriously.  I love them.  Not because I find them funny (the same way I don't find racist, homophobic, sexist, or other cruel jokes funny).  Because they're not funny.  Not at all.

I get it, because she's a whale.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FUNNIEST GODDAMN JOKE EVER.  Or, she's beautiful and IMMA CUT YOU.

They fuel my rage.  They motivate me.  They make me want to punch people in their stupid faces.

So keep telling them, jerks.  I LOVE that shit.  With every joke you tell, my determination grows.  

I think of every fat joke, every cruel name I've been called, every asshole who has shouted hateful things at me from their car, or their porch (I'm talking to you, North Fair Street crackhouse) when I'm working out. 

WHY IS THIS FAT BITCH WEARING LEGGINGS?  HOW DARE SHE WEAR SKINNY PEOPLE CLOTHES?  Releasing mob of angry villagers with pitchforks in 3...2...1...

 As I do my bicep curls, I imagine the weight rack landing on your head with each rep.  When I row, I picture my elbows landing right in your stupid faces.  I find I have to be careful when I use the treadmills in my building...I subconsciously find myself whispering with each step "fuck YOU, fuck YOU, fuck YOU."  

In all seriousness, if you find these jokes funny, you are an asshole and I have no use for you.  If you find these jokes funny, you clearly have no respect for me anyways.  And yes, I am just as "sensitive" about sexist jokes (because I have a vagina and a SOUL), racist jokes (because not everyone is white and I have a soul), homophobic jokes (again, I have a soul) and other ignorant jokes (because I'm smart and have a soul).  

But keep telling them.  The rage pushes me to be better.

Remember the time a bra made me cry?

I DO!  IT WAS TODAY!

I have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of my new Enell bra.  I started running with the hubs recently, but until I found a decent sports bra, it's been hard to do much of it.  I've been wearing three bras and still having to hold my boobs cleverly with my arms when I run so as not to put an eye out or straight up get sore jugs.  It's awful and awkward and probably unattractive.

Well after polling my friends, doing copious amounts of research, and trying on the "sports bras" offered at Lane Bryant (the ONLY store within 50 miles of my that carries halfway decent plus sized underthings), I ordered the Enell 100, the sports bra to end all sports bras.  Online reviews said it would strap you in like nothing else, eliminate all bounce, and that their sizing system is "idiot proof and flawless."

I measured myself and ordered one.

And waited.

It came today.  I was so excited when I got the USPS email notification that it had arrived!  I couldn't wait to rush home from work and try it on.

I snatched it from the mailbox, stripped down in the living room and tried it on.

It's horrible.

The band is tight, as advertised.  The website states that it may feel too small at first, but this is part of the design/support.  Ok, I thought, As I continued hooking it up.  I adjusted myself.  I looked down.  Hmmm...this looks weird.  I went into the bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror.

While the band is so tight I can barely breathe, the cups are HUGE.  Like, so huge I could smuggle oranges or possibly my twelve pound dog.  The straps are too long (and not adjustable) and it provides no support whatsoever, because the cups, which I measured to fit myself, are ginormous.

I stared at myself and cried.  Over a fucking bra.

To most of you, this probably seems ridiculous.  Maybe I need a nap.  Maybe I have PMS.

Maybe let me explain.

When you spend your entire life not fitting into things you want to, and not looking pretty in things you want to, and you find a garment specifically designed for women with your body type, a garment to make your new fitness routine that you are so excited about a little less awkward and painful, and it doesn't fit you even a little bit, it pretty much makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Fuck bras.  Fuck boobs.  I'm really pissed.

Flat Foot Floogie

Dr. Livingstone and Dr.Schwalenberg.  They are excellent.  And super weird.  And hilarious.  They're our chiropractors.

I started seeing Heather Livingstone this summer when I was having excruciating headaches, and while I'm still having some neck stiffness/pain from time to time, I can say with 100% confidence that she has helped me more than my neurologist, more than the ER doctors, more than Imitrex or Maxalt or Ibuprofen or Excedrin or Vicodin.  She is awesome.

Dr.Lee is Jeff's chiro.  I've seen him a few times when his lovely wife was out of town or unavailable.  He is super weird and inappropriate and so funny...just what I like in my practitioners (as long as they still know what they're doing, which he does).  First of all, he's a super feminist (not even sure if he knows it).  We had a long conversation about the double standard between overweight men and overweight women at one of my visits.  Another time, we had a conversation about how men just shave and slap on deodorant and are ready for the day, and women are pressured by society to slap ten tons of creams and paints and sprays and whatevers onto their faces and bodies to look perfectly shellacked at all times.

Like I said, they're the shit.  If you're in the valley and need a chiro, it's worth the drive to K-town.

Now, the point of the story.

Dr.Lee mentioned to Jeff that he does barefoot running.  I was super skeptical.  And by that I mean, I thought he was crazyballs.

Have fun stepping on glass and dog turds!

Jeff started doing it a few weeks ago.  He's wanted to start running for awhile, but whenever he tried to start a running routine, his feet and knees would cause problems, swell, and get painful within a few days of starting.  After a few weeks of barefoot running, no problems.  He ordered "barefoot shoes" so he can do it in the winter and so his nasty feet won't track ten tons of dirt into the house.  After about a week of running, he was already up to 1K plus walking...not a marathon by far, but when you start from zero, that's pretty impressive.

He talked me into going with him.  I HATE being barefoot because my feet feel icky and God knows what's on the sidewalks.  However, when I'd run in the past, the arches of my feet would ache and burn after about 100 yards of running.  This happened in Sauconys, New Balances, Adidas, and Reeboks.  Nikes fit my feet weird and I hate them, so I didn't even try them for running.  

I've only been out a few times, but so far, no foot pain.  In fact, the only thing bothering me on our walk/runs are my boobs, because my sports bras are nearing the end of their lives.

Curse you, breasts!

My Big Fat Revenge

Have you ever seen that show?  It's on Oxygen, and the producers should be ashamed of themselves.  Picture a fat person, who goes through professional training for 3 months to lose weight.  After their weight loss, they take revenge out on a person who made them feel ashamed while they were fat.  Holy.  Crap.  It's so bad.  So, so bad.  Although I have to say, there are a few bullies in my life, both fat related and not, that it would feel really good to give the ol' "eff you" to...really?  Is that how you want to celebrate your health and your new life?

That said, two things have happened since I last blogged.
1) I started having debilitating headaches.  Like, headaches so bad I thought I blew an aneurysm or was having a stroke.  After thousands of dollars of testing, these headaches apparently have no cause.  Fantastic.  Good news, I haven't had one in almost a month, so there's that.  I also wasn't able to do anything physical for a few weeks because I was sick all the time, but now I'm back to walking Taco daily and sometimes jogging with him, but after 3-4 weeks of lying on the couch feeling like death, I pretty much had to start the training over from square one.  BUT at least I'm starting over and not giving up!

2) Some light as potentially been shed on my perpetual fatness.  Among many other things, a specialist that I see thinks I might have PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome).  Even though my hormone panel a few years ago looks normal, I have every.  Single.  Symptom.  Of.  This.  Syndrome!  In addition to difficulty getting pregnant (check), excess weight around the middle (check), dark patches of skin (check), raspy/deep voice (check on the raspy), metabolic syndrome (check), hormone fluctuations make it darn near impossible for PCOS-ers to achieve or maintain significant weight loss.  After over a year on Weight Watchers, I'm down 24 lbs (almost 20 of which was lost in the first 6 months), my doc says it's pretty impressive that I've been able to achieve this and maintain it with messed up blood sugars and hormones but to be honest, it's embarrassing and not what I want at all.  So I'm now taking a host of supplements because I don't want to start another new medication...so I'm hoping the Cinnamon and EPO will help.  I really don't want to take Metformin, the side effects are awful and for my issues it would be a band-aid (and I already have one of those slapped over my blood pressure).


Also...as I write this, I'm watching this episode of Extreme Weight Loss about Trina who's an RN and bawling my damn eyes out as I write this.

Playlist

Try as I might, I legit can't run more than like a quarter mile without my calves siezing up.  What. The. Deuce. It's really getting annoying. I take baby Taco out for a walk/run at the dog park, and halfway around the lake, mama has to stop and stretch out her calves. 

Frankly, I'm surprised it's my calves, as usually my pain issues are concentrated in my lower back and right hip from a work-related injury in 2008ish.  Now my CALVES are jumping ship, too??  Uncool, guys.  Uncool.

So basically, the next plan is just to fight my way through it.

Since I don't have an iPod or any other portable music device, I sing to myself to get through the running and subsequent walking.  Usually I just sing "Just Keep Swimming" a'la Dory from Finding Nemo in my head the entire time, but that gets a bit tedious. 

What are your go-to work out/inspiration/motivating/jam out songs?  I need help with a playlist I can sing in my head.  Or maybe for the day when I have enough disposable income to purchase an iPod. GO.

Frickin Work Snacks

I'm sitting here at my desk, trying to be a good girl and eat my raspberry yogurt (which is not good, by the way; after a year of eating Greek yogurt, we were broke this week so I went back to Light & Fit - NOT GOOD. It tastes like sadness and high fructose corn syrup) and everyone is walking around with cookies and donuts.

It's 6:25pm people.  Donuts are appropriate for pre-noon consumption only (which is convenient for me because I'm usually to nauseated to eat too much in the mornings. And no, I'm not pregnant, I have reflux like woah).

Things I would splurge for today (or any day, really): a cherry oatmeal cookie from Scaturos (these are the most delicious baked good to ever grace the face of the earth. If you're ever in Door County, I highly suggest picking some up if you have the means).  A vegetarian Reuben or Monte Cristo (with lots of mustard).  As previously discussed, poutine.

But not cookies or donuts.  Try again, office snack bringers!

Bariatric Surgery

This is something that crosses every fat person's mind from time to time...gastric bypass (roux en y), lap band, gastric sleeve, etc.  Two years ago, I contacted a bariatric surgeon in my area to get more info and go to a seminar.  Unfortunately, at the time, my insurance had a complete veto on all bariatric services (and infertility treatments, but that's another painful story).  I always thought this was crap. I had co-workers who had facial plastic surgeries which were covered under our insurance (under the guise of vision and nasal problems) but I couldn't get evaluated or treated for obesity.  Not even nutritionist services were covered well (our in-house nutritionist at the clinic I worked for, for example, was covered at 60% unless I appealed and had my physician document months of failed weight loss attempts). 
I've been doing Weight Watchers on and off for two years.  This last year, I really buckled down and had some great success.  However, since moving in February, I've not lost any additional weight because I've gotten lazy about it.  The good news is, I've also not gained any weight.  So several weeks ago, I started strictly following the program again (aside from my sister's wedding weekend, which was gluttonous and lazy and delicious).
I've also considered contacting my new insurance company to see if bariatric services are covered.  I've ruled this out at the current time.  Jeffers and I are $15,000 in medical debt from previous procedures (not related to obesity).  A bariatric procedure would add our $1,500 deductible plus at least 20% of the surgical cost (another $3,000 to $7,000) on to these medical bills.  It's just not feasible for us.  Also, until I get my mentality, emotions, habits, and desires on the same page, the surgery would be a waste of money. 
For those who do pursue surgery, more power to you.  There is a stigma on weight loss surgery that it is the "easy way out."  Not at all.  Post op, the patient has to work REALLY hard to maintain a diet that won't make them sick, but also won't make them malnourished.  It's a tricky balancing act.  They may lose their hair, develop thyroid and gallbladder problems, and have pounds upon pounds of excess skin in their way that will likely require further surgeries.  It's no picnic, and I salute anyone who chooses bariatric surgery (and to be honest, would love to hear more about your experiences as it's an area in which I have almost no knowledge).  But almost all of them say it is 100% worth it.

It may not be the answer for me at this point, I'm not sure I know what is just yet.

***Disclaimer: Again, I will say, I am lovely and am not trying to lose weight for my appearance. I would like to never have to take a Metoprolol again and am really looking forward to beating my C-Pap machine with a bat like in Office Space.