September 12, 2005

• She Don't Know She's Beautiful ...

  
  

  Some of you have been reading my site for a long time.  Very very few of you know the story of my body.  I didn't used to post photos of myself - ever.  There were very few photos of me taken.  In part that was because I've always been the one taking the picture, but in part it was because I didn't want to see images of myself. 

  
  

  I was fat.

  
  

  I was a terribly unhappy person.  My marriage was going badly.  I felt out of control and inadequate to deal with the special needs of my children.  I was lonely and isolated in a community where I couldn't make friends and had no support.  I consoled myself by eating and I got fatter.  My weight had been a problem for years, but between Christmas 2001 and Christmas 2003 I gained almost 60 pounds.

  
  

  I looked like this.

  
  

  

  
  

  Then I got this really good look at myself.  And it scared me.  I don't mean that I suddenly woke up and thought "I'm fat and ugly," I mean that in March of that year, I got a good look at myself and I thought, "I'm going to die."  SO I started losing weight.  At first I lost weight by simply eating less.  I used the Weight Watcher's point system to figure out daily menus that kept my caloric intake at a level that would bring my weight down.  I bought my treadmill and made it an act of religious dedication to walk on it every day.  And the weight started coming off. 

  
  

  Six months later, the sixty pounds plus a few more were gone and I looked like this.

  
  

  

  
  

  And six months after that ...

  
  

  

  
  

  12 months, 110 pounds

  
  

  I felt better about myself.  A lot better.  I was getting compliments from strangers.  People who had known me for years didn't recognize me on the street.  But I didn't lose 110 pounds by entirely healthy means.  I would go for days without eating more than a 290 calorie frozen diet entree.  On days when I knew I was going to be with other people who might notice or comment on my strange eating habits, I allowed myself 800 calories.  And then I'd walk extra long on the treadmill the next day.  I'd drink water and then take a diuretic pill to make sure that I urinated more than I took in.  And I'd take laxatives to prevent my body absorbing even the few calories I was consuming. 

  
  

  But just about 18 months ago, the weight loss began to slow.  And then it stopped.  I had abused my body so badly that it now hangs on to every calorie.  I got scared all over again. 

  
  

  Now I was scared that I was going to be fat again.  I began to eat a little more and a little more regularly.  But I relied more and more and more on the pills I'd been taking to keep the weight off.  Then I started having other problems.  My heart would race and I'd be dizzy.  If I stood up too quickly, I'd see flashing lights.  I became scared that my behavior was going to kill me even faster than the fat would have.  

  
  

  A very good friend of mine, the one who took that last photo I've posted above was talking with me and mentioned that she really admired me for losing the weight and for keeping it off.  And for some reason, I couldn't stand to receive admiration for something that I knew was ultimately hurting me pretty badly.  So I confessed to what I'd done and what I was going through. 

  
  

  That was six months ago.  I made her some promises then about putting away the pills.  And although they are in effect unenforceable promises, she's halfway across the country from me, they have been enough.  I have not lost a pound since July of last year.  And I was making peace with the fact that I am what I am.  And still feeling pretty good about the fact that I'm able to keep the weight off even without the pills.  Although a little frustrated because I would like to lose another 30-40 pounds and be closer to my ideal weight, I figured that being stuck at my current size is the price I have to pay for having gotten so big to start with. 

  
  

  I've consoled myself with the thought that I'm at least a great deal healthier than I used to be. 

  
  

  Then

  
  

  earlier this summer, I applied for a life insurance policy.  I worry about my kids and what might happen to them if something were to happen to me.  Plus, it's a condition of my divorce that I will maintain a certain level of insurance. 

  
  

  I was denied coverage.  The company stated two reasons for the denial.  The first is my history of sleep apnea, which has not been an issue since the weight loss.  According to people in a position to know, I barely even snore anymore.  And I know that I don't wake with headaches and exhaustion anymore.  I can't do anything about the fact that this is in my history and although I could probably get a clean bill of health if I were to make an appointment with a sleep lab, I can't afford the cost of that endeavor. 

  
  

  The second reason they stated for the denial is my current body weight. 

  
  

  You wanna guess what that did to my thinking?

  
  

  See I may not be able to control my medical history or change the record, but I can do something about my body size.  If I'm a little more disciplined ...

  
  

  I have just had two really really really bad weeks.  I don't know if I've lost weight or gained weight.  I've been afraid to get on my scale to see one way or the other.  Then last night I was talking with my friend Mary, who up until now hasn't heard my full confession, and we were expressing our frustration with our weight.  And talking about our desire to lose a bit more.  (She has also lost weight over the past several years, although she's done it at a slower rate and in a much more balanced fashion.)  And I told her what I've eaten for the past three days.  I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that it's a short list.  She called me on it and told me what I already know about how unhealthy that is. 

  
  

  You know what I want?  I want to be healthy. 

  
  

  I want to find my way out of the mess I've been living with and the threat I've been living under.

  
  

  I'd like to be beautiful. 

  
  

  BUT in regard to that last statement, I know some things about myself now.  I mean I really KNOW them.  I am beautiful, right now, today.  Tucker took exceptional delight in showing me off to my parents when he got back from his summer break, and showing them that he can put his arms around me and have "arm left over."  He tells people, "My Mom is the pretty one."  I am loved. 

  
  

  Now I want to find a way to live up to the love that the people I love so much are investing in me.  I want a lot of years to spend with you. 

  
  

  I'm being open and honest about my struggle not because I have the slightest intention of turning this site into one of those "this is what I ate today" sites.  I'm telling you because - well, the best way that I know to rob a secret of it's power is to speak it out loud. 

  
  

   

  
  

   

  • 12:30 pm
  • 22 Comments