Web Haunts

Wednesday May 28

Gym challenge or trainer signup conspiracy?

You decide.

Last night was the official start of the gym challenge. The gym brought in a couple who had done the BFL program and were runners up in the EAS challenge and they spoke in "seminar" fashion and sort of served as motivators for this gym challenge. The problem is the gym challenge is not a BFL challenge...I'm not sure that it could be maybe because of liability or whatever. So it was strange because they outlined what they did, but sort of danced around BFL. They didn't really give any solid out line for us challengers to follow. I have my own outline of course, but what about everyone else? There were also a couple of comments that irked me:

They encouraged challengers to set up a meeting time with a trainer to work out a plan...ok...$$$ anyone?

The woman said it was realistic to lose 25lbs in 10 weeks.

They didn't really cover the food issue apart from, "don't cave in and eat the bagels, donuts and chips!

Not exactly advanced advice here. Oh well. I'm just going to do my thing and hopefully get a fabulous prize out of it...a better body! Because I don't even know what they are offering for prizes?! Talk about not giving any added incentive! Personally I'll stick with abctraining, lean and strong and my BFL book for now.

JeAnne

5/28/2003 12:38 pm link to this post

Sunday May 25

Sunday morning ramblings..

Ok ...so we know that these blogs are just a convenient way of getting away with talking to ourselves right? And we know what they say about people that talk to themselves right? Hee Heee.. :D Note to self: must learn how to blog with emoticons.

So it's day one of my gym challenge, I've been awake for a half hour and I'm hongry. Not just hungry...HONGRY. I've been doing BFL for four weeks now (I actually started the food part of it two weeks prior) so why now? Is the evil face of competition rearing it's ugly head already? It could just be because yesterday was my free day and my metabolism is revved. yeah, that's it.

So I sit here with my green tea writing to you all. Killing time while puppy, kitty and hubby are comatose in bed. Killing time until the gym opens.

I have noticed a very strange phenomenon this week. I'm not usually prone to sweat. Even at the gym, it takes a good while to get me beyond the glistening point. Yet this week I have woken up in the middle of the night at least three times and I have been soaked with sweat. What is that? Am I going through like pre menopause or something? Is it my body working or what? Does the magic of BFL make me like do workouts while I'm asleep? I suppose I could ask this on a message board, but it's kind of weird...ergo...I post it here :D

Half hour until the gym.

Six hours until I watch the Buffy finale. We taped it on Tuesday and I'm sort of amazed that I haven't broken down and watched it before today (we're watching with friends). I wasn't even all burny and yearny to watch it either. I think it's because deep down inside where my true geekdom lies, I am sad. I know this is the end of the road for some of my favorite characters as I know them now. I've never enjoyed a program as much as I have enjoyed Buffy. Despite the rumblings and questionings of it's quality of late, every season has contained superior writing moments.

The only thing that prevents me from wallowing in a pint of Ben and Jerry's over Buffy's demise is the knowledge that Spike is going to be on Angel and the hope that some of my other favorites will make it there too.

Oh and if Joss is reading...I really hope you make it up to Giles. He really has been hit with the bad writing stick this season and deserves better.

JeAnne

5/25/2003 08:08 am link to this post

A funny thing happened...

on the way from the from the forum (Sondheim is a God).

The other night I was invited to and attended a women's networking group. A friend of mine is a member and I had expressed interest in meeting new people, getting into new environments etc.. The group meets twice a month and there's usually dinner and conversation followed by a topic of some sort. To be honest, I was a tad nervous...after all, it's been quite a while that I have been in a "small-talk" kind of setting. I've also had notoriously bad luck with female "friends" and women in my life. I say "friends" loosely because I can easily (with room to spare!) count my female friends on one hand. The bad luck started with the maternal nurturing I so DIDN'T have growing up, followed by a babysitter who shouldn't have been allowed near children, angry Catholic School Nuns, the usual high school drama when you play the fat Mother Confessor to all your skinny "friends", and ending with the joys of cut throat competition, backstabbing and manipulation in a singing career pursuit. I truly thought the friendships of the sweet potato queens & ya ya sisters was purely a work of fiction and something a woman vaguely ponders in a random and seldom "armor down" moment.

Imagine my utter shock and amazement when I discovered this group of women to be friendly, supportive and GASP nice to each other...all at the same time! There was a wonderful spread (yes!...I'm not the only gal in the NY metro area with more cookbooks than takeout menus!) being set up upon arrival and everyone was helping to get things ready. I had a marvelous time enjoying good food along with warm and friendly conversation.

And there I was scared shitless. There I was walking out the door with a smile on my face hiding the thousands of thoughts scrambling my brain all of which involved which food first....where could I stop and eat first to calm this unease in my stomach (ie. myself). I talked myself out of a Dunkin' Donuts, a McDonalds, two corner Delis and two Hudson Newstands. I made a deal with myself that if I made it to the PATH (NJ subway) station without stopping to eat (ie gorge) than I could pick out one thing to have at the newstand there. Of course the next 5 minutes was spent debating whether I wanted a bag of cool ranch Doritos or one of those Planters big bags of trail mix. Oh yeah, they pretend it's healthy, but lurking in that zip lock pouch (like you would even have to reseal it ...right) is almonds, raisins and the piece de resistance...m&ms. Thems a lot of carbs, fat and not to mention calories in that bag they say is "about" 6 servings....ummm...how about one serving? I mean who are they kidding?

So you see the twisted workings going on in my brain? Please tell me I'm not alone here?

Well, lo and behond the great moment came and I stood in the middle of the newstand looking around. I meandered from the snacks to the magazines the wheels forever spinning. A thought popped into my head blocking out all the nutritional analysis....what I "really" wanted was to feel "safe". I wanted to feel and experience something to make me feel comfortable with myself. Comfortable is not exactly the adjective that I use to describe how I feel at the end of a snarf down snack smack fest. For once in my life (ok, it's happened more than once but I can count these clarity moments on one hand) I realized food would not make me comfortable with myself...if anything I would be more uncomfortable because it's not who I am. It's who I was. So I grabbed a Diet Dr. Pepper and a copy of Energy Magazine and jumped on the train. How can I hold on to this positive anchor and remember this clarity the next time I get the fever for the flavor of a feeding frenzy?

As a side note, it must have been total fate that I came to the conclusions I did and made the choices I did. For who came to sit beside me on the train but a trainer I see at the gym almost every day. Oh my goddess...can you imagine how I would have looked with dorito ranch spices clinging to my mustache and wet fingers holding the bag (the newstand bag of course because maybe if I hide the Dorito bag inside another bag no one will see I'm eating?!)? I definitely wouldn't have looked hard core. Hard core lunatic perhaps...but that's entirely different.

Looking on it now, I realized I was scared because it was the unknown on a couple levels. First, I still haven't figured out what easily defines me. I'm no longer defined by my career. Though fitness, food and health are a large part of my life, I really don't want to go into it with every Tom, Dick and Harry I meet. And I have an independent streak a mile long so even though I adore Chaz, I wouldn't say "oh, I'm a wife". Of course it was Chaz that came up with the perfect answer and why I love him to pieces even though he can consume any thing on earth and still weigh between 155-160. He says, "how about I'm a secretary by day and a ____ by night?" Genius, right? Secondly, there was the totally foreign experience of being in the middle of a room filled with nice women. There was not a single representative from Mars and it was still strangely pleasant and fun. I was uncomfortable because I couldn't trust that those women were just plain good people. I kept waiting for the all too familiar signs of insecurity and fear to crop up. When it didn't, there was the tiny nagging fear that I wouldn't fit in...that I was the negative one in a sea of bright souls.

It was great to truly allow myself to experience that. And then even better to work through and understand the unease and discomfort I was feeling vs. medicating and numbing through food. Food would have temporarily filled me up, but in the end I would have to face those questions within myself...or of course continue stuffing. Working through it gave me the information relevant to making the needed paradigm changes for me.

I deserve to be surrounded by wonderful, strong, supportive women. I am generous and open enough to give of myself and can give to people who wont abuse it. I feel one step closer to healing...all for taking the risk into the unknown and working out the damn nutritional stats for the evil trail mix.

In the famous words of our sweet potato queens...Be Particular!

JeAnne

5/25/2003 07:30 am link to this post

Friday May 23

A NEW AND IMPROVED BLOG!!!

Hi Everyone!

For those of you who have been to the blog before, everything under this post is old stuff. For those of you who haven't, well welcome aboard!! Unfortunately with switching blogs, I lost the chronological, date stamp effect. However, I don't always post chronologically anyhoo ..so it's all good. Sometimes I'll post musings on yesterday, sometimes 50 pounds ago and a lot of times there will be flashbacks to.......my childhood! :eek: What I did gain however is the comment feature!!! Yes I can be completely narcissistic and I love when people talk back to me. At least then I know people are reading my madness! So where it says in purple "no comment/comment" click on it and feel free to leave one! I hope to be posting more often. I'm going to need the support as I'm entering a 10 week challenge at the gym. What can I say...narcissistic and masochistic..it's a two for one :)

Happy Reading!

5/23/2003 10:37 am link to this post

Turning the leaf

WOW...time does fly when you are madly hunting for a new job, pulling your hair out with endless interviews (the all time high for one damn position was 5 times - 5 times! You would think I was going for the FBI or something), eating sensibly, working out like a fiend and WOW ...STILL not losing weight! Grr.


The best news is that 1) I am out of job hell and have reached desk job nirvana and 2)I can look at it as plateauing or as maintaining during a most stressful couple months. My current spot is support for managing directors who are also lawyers for a small division in a large investment bank. I honestly forgot what it was like to work an 8 hour day, to go out at lunch time and work for people who respect me...what a concept. I would like to think that I will stay here until retirement, but the truth is I often get the itch to move around. For the time being though, this rocks and I'm riding the wave of excitement that was getting two job offers in a crappy job market. I did it now, I can do it again. I am woman, hear me ROAR.


I also had a recipe published in the April 03 issue of Cooking Light Magazine. You would have thought I won the Ms. Universe Pageant..yes, I was that excited. But I've always been a food and Buffy geek, so why would you be surprised? Fame hit me twice as I made a little chapter in a weight loss success stories book in March..yay me.


So on one hand I'm dancing on the ceiling (oh what a feeling), and on the other I'm incredibly annoyed that I'm still hovering around the 200 mark...this makes around 8 months (more?) losing and gaining the same 3 lbs. Worst yet, I joined a new gym so I had to weigh in on a new scale which had me no longer in Onederland...*sigh*. I mean ok, I'm thrilled that I'm maintaining. I'm also happy that my body continues to look and feel stronger and healthier (dont believe me, check out the latest pics!) But I've also been feeling like that ole hitting the brick wall thing. I mean, people look to me for advice, inspiration, motivation etc and here I am working my arse off with no weight loss! I've gone to other sites and have seen others losing a lot of weight, hitting the plateau wall and stumbling. I feel that pain and know that it's not just a numbers thing. It isn't calories in, calories out. I'm counting, journaling, watering, sweating, lifting and I'm plain stuck. What's a girl to do?


Not give in. Not give in to feelings of "oh, well it's not happening so what's the use?" The use is I'm not gaining. I'm not giving into feeling like a failure because I'm not. I'm not listening to people who say "oh, maybe you're eating more than you think you are" or "you're exercising too much" ..whatever.


So I've tried to eat more, eat less. I've tried high points and low points. I've tried exercising at night, morning and lunchtime. Cardio, lifting, not lifting. My latest incarnation is beefing up intensity at the gym and having a very structured eating regimen. Not to bore you with details, but I have cut out white (sugar, flour), increased fruits and veggies, decreased meat servings and bumped up whole grains and beans. On my "rest" day, I have a "free meal" where I eat what I choose within reason (ie no gorge fest). I'm working on my second month. My first month I lost two pounds which is still in the "hover" zone. If I lose this month, I will feel more confident that I'm back in losing mode. Right now I'm just living in the moment and trying not to get down on myself for still being a size 14 (except that Gap skirt which is a 12!).


Finally, I hope I have not let anyone down. For those of you who keep visiting despite my numbers staying close to the same, thanks for believing in me! I will get to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And I'll try not to stay away so long in the future.




5/23/2003 10:28 am link to this post

Job Hunt Hell

Gosh, it's been so long that I've written anything other than my food and activity points...it's no wonder why I'm a bit twitchy!


So job hunting...it's hell. My current workplace...the bowels of hell.


I feel like I have to recap a little to make some sense so here goes. I work in the facilities department for an investment bank which shall not be named though it's been named in the papers with quite regularity over the past several months. My job is by no means glamorous and involves maintaining building space which covers everything from cold/hot complaints to tearing down office walls. I fell into this position from an executive assistant role which is a position I fell into from a help desk operator job...over achiever much? I mean is it really a surprise that I'm taking care of people for money? I would be ever so grateful for the new and ever so challenging heap o' responsibilities except for the tiny fact that I have not had a raise in two very long years. I wouldn't even be so bitter if it were a fabulous department with a sympathetic boss. I call her ass boss...do I need to elaborate? She makes Sybil seem quite sane and I've woken up to a cold sweat in the middle of the night hearing her super nasally whine screaming out my name. Stir that up with some declining stock market and company financial woes and you have quite the sour concoction.


Fast forward through long stories of work injustice and here I am interviewing for a new job. I'm pretty sure the seeker to searcher ratio right now in nyc is about 1,000 to 1...not very pretty. There aren't too many facilities jobs so I'm also interviewing for exec admin work which I will take with the right personality fit and the right money. The fact that I've been on several interviews already is a good sign that I've at least got something going on. I feel positive enough of the light at the end of the tunnel that I have started clearing up my office and pretending that I'm on a temp assignment that could end at a moment's notice.


What the heck does all this have to do with weight loss? A lot. My first job interview when I moved to the big apple was for a head hunter who had a huge sign in his office that read "The bigger the girth, the lower the net worth." I remember how I went from "sassy in my brand new size 24 suit" to self loathing and all of a sudden desperate and fearful that no one would see through the wall of fat to my skills, work ethic and shiny personality. I did find a job, but it wasn't easy...I won't insult anyone by blaming it all on weight, but I'm sure it played a large (no pun intended) part in my not getting past several headhunters. During my weight loss transformation, I have stayed in the same company. I have also been promoted twice. People have seen me in a different light and all of a sudden it's discovered that I'm not slothful or lazy even though my skills have not changed all that much. Imagine that! What has also changed is my line in the sand...the fat me would cross the Sahara before drawing that line. The new me crosses the sandbox when it comes to a job place that's not giving back nearly as much. I work overtime when it suits me (ie my paycheck) and will not tolerate being made to feel inferior. I talk to a Director the same way I talk to a Porter...with dignity and respect, not worrying whether I'm kissing ass enough or not. And oddly enough, I am given more respect when I do stand up for myself...whether or not the boss is directly benefits from my stance.


So despite the declining economy, the high unemployment rate and the employer's market, I am getting interviews...2nd, 3rd and 4th interviews. I can be choosy over what position I interview for and there is a confidence in myself that I have never experienced. It may take awhile before I leave my current hell hole, but it makes me feel better knowing that for once I am in control over where I go next.



5/23/2003 10:23 am link to this post

New Year's Day

It's New Year’s Day. The shiny resolutions sit on paper just waiting for the clock to strike. For some, it's the same resolution, which has now become a predestined ritual. The cupboards have been purged of Satan’s food the likes of chocolate and chips. The fridge is stocked with chicken breasts, dark leafy greens, beans and assorted heavily processed, fat free indulgences. You are deciding on what your "last supper" should be, all you know Sweatin' to the oldies sits perched in the VCR or perhaps you've taken the challenge of a gym membership being closed on new years and hence buying you one more day of freedom. The sneakers still squeak and the cute chichi workout outfit is ready to go. New water bottle and everything. This year will be the one, the click, the light bulb moment, the year it all comes together in some glorious epiphany resulting in the skinniness you've long waited for and deserve. That is until the day you can't make it home to eat your naked chicken breast, or the afternoon you cave to the dark side in the form of a coworker offering you a delectable goodie you can't refuse. This is followed by the litany or stream of consciousness self abuse - what I like to call the verbal baseball bat:


"I blew it!"
"That's it, I just knew I couldn't do this"
"I'm doomed to be fat"
"Poor me, why can't I be like all the skinny girls who eat and eat and never gain an ounce"
"I just want to be able to do this"
"I might as well eat this and start over tomorrow/Sunday/my birthday/next New Year's"


Why am I so heartless you ask? How can I say such awful things? Because I've been there, done that, have so many tee shirts (each one larger than it's predecessor) I should open up vending stand. Do I believe that people can turn it around and get to a place where they start achieving their goals? YES! The funny thing here though is that *you* have to believe it, and take the actions that are going to result in success. It's easy for me to say yes because I've been over a hill or two. I’m in the groove and have tasted the sweet sweet flavors of victory. I now understand why most successful weight losers confess that they would rather give up a body part then go back to being fat. Think it's not different living in a "normal sized" world? Think again, gentle readers. I'm living in a size 12/14 world and it is galaxies better than a super sized world.


So the first part is believing in the possibilities...a little Disney of me, I know. You have to believe it's possible to achieve this healthy lifestyle, that it's possible for you to be a size smaller (or two, or three), that it's possible to get to a happy weight and be able to maintain that for an indefinite period of time. If you don't believe it, it's not going to happen...trust me. You are fighting against the tide of nay Sayers, doomsayers, tongue waggers and head shakers. They certainly don't believe it's possible. You have to believe so strongly that it's possible so that your voice may be heard and your will be done. It's your will...your will to do what you have to do. In order to will it, you have to believe. One of my "light bulbs" was realizing that I never believed it was possible. Did I want it? Is the pope Catholic? One of the crappiest things a food civilian can say is that in order to lose weight, you just have to “want” it enough. Would you tell a starving beggar that all he has to do is want money to get it? I wanted it all right. I don’t know any woman regardless of size who doesn’t want to 1) be thinner and/or 2) be healthier. However I started each and every diet with the little voice in the back of my head saying, “Well, we’ll see how long this lasts”. I didn’t believe I would ever get to the point where I could look in the mirror and be happy with what I saw. I didn’t believe that I could have more days of healthy eating than not. I didn’t believe that someday I would look forward to sweating and working out. I didn’t believe the potential was in me because I was only scratching the surface, too worried about everyone else’s problems and working hard to build a soft cushion of protection around myself. When I started Weight Watchers in September 2000, I believed that I was happier trying to be healthy than not. I knew I could lose weight as I had done it before five million and one times. I believed that the love and support of my husband would help get me through some whining, pouting and moaning. So I believed in myself and I found a program that could work for me.


After believing comes taking the actions that will get you results. This doesn’t mean dive gung ho into changing your whole life and giving up the second one tiny thing falls apart. The definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting a different result. Read that sentence again. If you cannot drink liquid shakes twice a day for the rest of your life, don’t do it. The only constant is change. If you try something and it doesn’t work, try something else. Find something that is doable because you won’t find something that is easy. This is a lifestyle change. There will never be a day where you will bask in the joy of consuming delicious food day in and day out and not gain a pound. There will probably never be a day of maintaining weight while not writing down what you eat. Once you accept these two facts, you can see the difference between a diet and a lifestyle change. Do I resent it sometimes? You bet. Just this morning I had a little (ok huge) tear fest because it wasn’t fair that I couldn’t have beers and nachos and burgers all night with friends because I had only so many points to spend. My new year’s eve was spent cautiously judging every item of food and drink that went into my mouth. Heck yeah sometimes it sucks. But what’s the alternative? Being 338 again? Being too tired to socialize? Fearful of being approached while hovering at the food table or trying to hide behind an overstuffed pillow on the couch? Being in physical and mental dis-ease? No thanks. It doesn’t make it easier, but hey, no one ever said it was easy. And it’s not. It is hard work. It was hard work when I started and it’s hard work today…different, but hard nonetheless. And yet it has been the single most important thing I have ever done in my life. I look at my pictures and see a different person…the weight shed is just the surface. I have confidence, strength, motivation, sympathy and empathy. I can see the world around me and see things for what they truly are…not as what I want them to be and not as mirrors of the negativity I allowed to dwell deep inside me. Believe. Achieve. Don’t give up. Try again.


5/23/2003 10:23 am link to this post

A Mother's Love

A mother's love is something I am not sure I have truly ever felt - at least my perception of what a mother's love should be. Then again, how many people have said you only hurt the ones you love? Of course there's June Cleaver love and then there's Mommy Dearest love.


Despite my philosophy of weeding the garden and choosing people who will support our journeys, there is a small part of my brain (heart?) that keeps thinking that someday my Mom will come around. I had over a three-month period made the incredibly difficult decision to cut the umbilical cord. The final straw had been my mother accusing my then fiancé of being interested in me solely for a green card (because no one could possibly love me, the fat girl?) After two years of only the basic "I'm healthy and happy" written communication every few months, I decided it was time to let her know all that I have accomplished - especially in the area of mental and physical health. How could she possibly criticize the fact that I have lost over 100 pounds and have gone from a couch potato to a vivacious and active young woman? Surely now will be the approval I have longed to hear. Maybe an "I love you" or better yet, "I'm proud of you."



I write:


Seeing as you asked about my health, the major news would be that I am in excellent health. Over the past year I have lost over 100 pounds and can easily say that I am quite a different person. To give you a better idea, I am now smaller than I was when I lost weight to get into the dress you made me for my high school prom. Hopefully by now you have gotten rid of any clothes I had stored at the house - if not, do so! I am proud to say that I have out shrunk them! Chaz has really been an incredible support and source of strength for me. It took not only the right timing, but also the unconditional love and acceptance for me to achieve those goals I have struggled so long for. I still have a bit to go, but I feel my body will know when it is at a comfortable weight that I can maintain. I not only control what I eat, but I also work out doing cardio and weight training 4-5 times a week. I truly enjoy being at a weight where I can enjoy all of what life has to offer. I hope you can be happy for me.


I get:


I'm glad to hear you are making another attempt at achieving permanent weight loss...I wish you luck in your efforts.


The question I ask is WHY? Why after two years of not really speaking do I set myself up for the fall again? Why do I think she is going to change? Why do I want her support and her love so badly when I have found people to support me?




Then deeper: Why can't she just be happy for me? Why is it never good enough? Why is it always a buttered criticism or worst yet, just plain negativity? For someone who prides herself in "telling it like it is", she is often just plain mean. It's not telling it like it is, it's telling it how she sees it to be. Would it kill her to say, "Wow, that's really an incredible thing you are doing. Good for you. Great job."


So why am I surprised every time I go there?


This is the woman who when announcing my engagement said, "I'm happy if you are happy". This is the woman who sent me away for a summer to stay with unknown relatives in Portugal while she got remarried and didn't expect me to come back fatter. This is the woman who forced me to eat in front of a mirror convinced that I would be disgusted if I watched myself eat. This is the woman who refused to believe my stepsisters when they told her before she married that my stepfather was sexually abusive. This is the woman who sent me to stay with my manic depressive biological father when she wanted to vacation with her new husband. This is the woman who always asked about the lost 3 points when I got a 97 instead of 100. This is the woman who also says that I am just oversensitive.


I'm sure this is too much information for you all, and I apologize for that. I apologize for the hurt that people will feel when they read these words. Truth is I have been silent for so long, and when I tried to speak up - well let's just say denial is a wonderful thing. The truth is I'm just telling it like it is. The truth is that I have been in a funk for the past few days. I haven't turned to food, but I can't seem to care about anything right now...least of all me. The definition of insanity is repeating the same behavior in hopes of a different outcome. Though I have undone so many years of negative brainwashing, I still have much to learn in the difference between what is reality and what is just shift of perception.



5/23/2003 10:05 am link to this post

Scale Trials Thursday

Ok...so it happened on a Wednesday, but I'm writing about it today and besides it has a ring to it this way. Indulge me.


(Clearing throat) Good morning kind Ladies and Gentleman, I'm here to tell you that the scale doth stinketh.


Last night I trotted off to my fat club meeting fairly hopeful. Despite the dreaded time of the month, I wasn't feeling terribly bloaty so I expected perhaps to stay the same or maybe perhaps even a teeny loss or gain. I even patted myself on the back for the extra nine miles I walked over the weekend as well as turning down the free Haagen Daas at work. What is it about free food and buffets that turn everyday people into drooling Neanderthals? Though I feel I mostly have a handle on the food portion control situation, there are two situations that send me into complete diet panic orbit: buffets and free food. For some reason I have it ingrained in my head that in order to get my money's worth, I can't leave a buffet until at the very least the button is unbuttoned from my pants or has popped off of its own volition. The idea that someone would leave an all you can eat buffet satisfied versus stuffed still boggles my mind.



Similarly, free food sends me regressing to the past life I must have had where I was starving and worried about financing my next meal. Someone says, "free pizza day at the office" and my immediate reaction used to be to run to the conference room to inhale the first slice before anyone else turned up. Then I could have the normal two slices that the real world has and sneak in a fourth piece while helping to clean up. Food issues: all aboard...toot toot! Civilian I am not. I still have to fight the urge to have more than I really need. I fight the battling line of eating to satisfaction.


So I shed my button down shirt, lost the clunky jewelry, checked my rings for water retention (yes it's now become a nervous habit) and stepped fearlessly onto the scale exhaling as much as possible (air has weight?) and holding my breath (even though I'm fearless remember?) with eyes penetrating into the weigher's skull willing her to write down some magical number. I watched the giant black pen loom over my weight-tracking card as the numbers were written down and the receptionist looked up at me with the deer caught in headlights look: UP TWO HORRIFIC UGLY POUNDS...(sound echo..pounds, pounds, pounds)


(Cue the Psycho slashing music followed by high piercing female scream.) In a premenstrual enhanced Kodak moment, my mind reeled with huge hateful thoughts the voice of doom has inhabited my brain. Here it is. 'It took 3 weeks to lose 0.4 to get a hundred.... Now with the gain I'm back at 100...The shoe has finally dropped...I knew it was too good to be true...I'm never going to lose this weight...This doesn't really work and it's finally caught up to me...I'm destined to forever be a voluptuous, bodacious ok-who-
am-I-kidding FAT babe.'


I crawled off the scale with my now tarnished little white book and meander to the dieting goodie table trying to seek solace in a WW magazine or a teeny weenie itsy bitsy two point snack bar. I vaguely hear the receptionist mutter about the heat wave and her ankles being huge. I avoid the people who have deemed me their WW hero and find a quiet corner thinking that running for the border or the golden arches sounded much more appealing than staying for the meeting.


By the time the leader started speaking I had finally stopped to take a breath and calm down. I decided the scale was just plain wrong. I checked my ring finger again for the tell tale signs of swelling...nope...ring is loose and there are no marks. I glanced down at my ankles maybe hoping to see they have grown to the size of Texas...nope...normal ankles. I sneak up to the other weigher throwing on my sweetest puppy dog eyes and say, "I would just like to check on this scale, I think the other one is wrong." She looks at me and gives me a Breaking Through booklet. "No", I say, "I really think it's wrong...you don't have to change my book or anything I just really need to know in my head." I step on the scale prepared for the worst - this time leaving my button down shirt on. 235. That would mean I lost 1 lb instead of gaining 2. The scales are 3 lbs apart. I give the weigher my best told-you-so look, hand back the Breaking Through Booklet and show her my little white booklet. Her response, "wow".


So despite my little white book showing a 2 lb gain, I've decided to keep my online numbers the same to remind me that the scale is just information and not terribly accurate information at that. I'm labeling this the week the scale forgot. I'm hoping that if I tell myself enough times that the scale is just a number and not always indicative of my work, I will SOMEDAY believe it.


Onward and DOWNWARD, even if the scale won't show it.



5/23/2003 07:34 am link to this post

The darkest days

I’m not sure what started it. To be honest, I didn’t even realize I had been in a depression for about five months until I one day I was just on the outside looking in. I was sharing a two bedroom apartment with a roommate who was either too busy or not enough of a friend to tell me to wake up to myself. (In all fairness to him, would I really have listened at the time if he had said anything?) I had lost a temping assignment and it seemed far too much effort to call the temp company every morning to beg for new work. So I would roll out of bed like a deteriorating eighty-year-old granny and slap on my bright orange moo moo. Ok, so it wasn’t really a moo moo, but it was this oversized (and Silhouettes oversized, not one size fits all oversized) button down shirt that hung down to my knees. I woke up with my roommate to give the impression that I was actually going to have a productive day and sat with him idly chatting about singing and perhaps going to the temp company to see if there was work. Meanwhile, I still had a little money from when my stepfather passed away and I had a part time stint selling my soul to the devil singing at St. Patrick’s Cathedral so I felt no compulsion to leave my apartment unless absolutely necessary. The irony of that gig is most classical singers would give up a major body part to have it and I despised it. I was spending more money pursuing the singing dream and the singing I was doing wasn’t real music in my opinion. Looking back now, it is clear that I only left the apartment to go to the Cathedral or go to the corner grocery store. Sometimes I would make the trip to the large supermarket down the block because I didn’t want the corner store counter clerk to know how many pints of Ben and Jerry’s and bags of Cool Ranch Doritos I consumed in a week. In my mind, he kept track of every chip, every morsel and every bulge that appeared on my already corpulent body…some days I cared more than others. I was dating a man who was in his 30’s and acted old enough to be my great grandfather. It was a long distance relationship and was probably the only thing that kept me thinking I was okay…that I wasn’t slowly but surely killing myself with the sweet promises of safety coating my tongue and sliding down my throat into my nice big warm belly. After all, I thought I was the only one who knew how good it felt to eat so much that you were literally comfortably numb. When I wasn’t sleeping, I was eating. I had discovered online chat and it was wonderful because I could be the belle of the ball in a “room full of people” and still eat to my heart’s content with no one knowing. I didn’t even have to disconnect the modem when the doorman buzzed the apartment to let in the Chinese deliveryman.


There was a recent discussion on the message board about our highest point days before we started Weight Watchers. While I don’t remember my all time highest day, I do remember my eating routine during this time. I woke up with my roommate and shared a bagel slathered with cream cheese with him before he left to go to work. Sometimes I would luck out and he would be in a donut mood. Though he was a food civilian, doughnuts were a weakness. He could polish three of them and if he could do it at 170 lbs, than damn it so could I at over 300 pounds. After he left the house, I would log on to see what was happening in my favorite online rooms. Around midmorning it was time for a box of Mac and cheese along with a large bag of Cool Ranch Doritos – and not the big grab either. By the time I polished off the Doritos and washed them down with Diet Coke, it was lunchtime. Lunch was almost always Chinese food. I would start with an order of wontons in hot sesame sauce or fried chicken wings. Then I would have either an order of 10-ingredient chow fun - noodles packed with greasy goodness, or General Tsao’s chicken. To this day I have no idea who General Tsao is but there is nothing like battered and fried chicken chucks in a spicy sweet coagulated sauce with a few broccoli florets to round it out. The lunch portion was always the best because they always give you way too much fried rice and it came with an egg roll - more fried goodness. After lunch I would have a nice nap…any surprise there? Nap, or food coma? You be the judge. Before dinner there was the ritualistic pint of Ben & Jerry’s; my favorite flavors were Chunky Monkey and New York Super Fudge Chunk though in an emergency I wasn’t choosy. For dinner I would either cook (if there was nothing happening online) or it was take out again; either pizza or Chinese. With the pizza, I would always order two sodas because I didn’t want them thinking there was only one person eating. And the great thing about being in New York is there are plenty of Chinese delivery options…I wasn’t loyal to one. There was never dessert after dinner because dessert is what makes you fat you see, or so mom always said. We’re talking major points here…you think I’m saving any by skipping dessert after dinner?


I’m sure there are a few of you reading this and maybe you find yourselves horrified, disgusted or in utter disbelief. For others it’s maybe a realization that you are not alone. Or maybe just that someone who is willing to write about it lived it and has come out on the other side. There are some days I still have to battle the urge to emotionally eat. Some days I win and some days I don’t. I don’t pretend that my demons are gone forever and I don’t cheerlead or preach a path of perfection...only one of acknowledgement and hope.



5/23/2003 07:32 am link to this post

Dearest J-

There are so many things to say...I tried to get you on the phone but sometimes the written word holds a little more value anyway so maybe it is for the best.


Most people save the best for last, but I'm not going to. I love you J...always. That is something that will not change regardless of the lack of phone calls, the ins and outs and ups and downs. Can you believe that you are the person that has been around the longest in my life? Despite the weird bizarreness that was college, some very wonderful events took place there and one was the beginning of my friendship with you.


Your letter was in some ways very much a surprise and in other ways not at all. I'm sorry to hear that things have been spiraling down for you and that you are having such a hard time right now. I'm not exactly sure why you feel it so difficult to share this with me. I know that when I was living with M and in my darkest depression gaining weight by the hour, I sought only the people who were emotionally the furthest from my life...mainly via internet so no one could be witness to the pitiful creature I had become. But I also know that when tragedy has struck in the past with you, I have always been the last to find out about it. I'm not sure if this is because you wish to spare me, if you feel you shouldn't ask help from a "younger sister", or if you feel we were so close that I needed no real explanation.


Whatever the reason, it is ok. I will not give you advice because you have not asked for it. I will however tell you that I am here and have been all along…I’m not the one that really went anywhere! You say that you don't want to burden me and you feel I am seeking a new life and want to lie to rest all that has come before. Well this is only partially true. I do want a new life...I am working my ass off to be the person that has been hidden away my entire life. I celebrate life now in so many new ways because I can. But this doesn't mean that I left every thing behind. If you think hard, you may realize that I have been here all along. Over the past few months I had been the one making the phone calls and trying to get together. For some reason you never could commit to setting a date etc. This is not the blame game J, I'm just being honest here. Some of my phone calls didn't get returned and the last time we spoke, you didn't want to make plans with me. After that phone call I came to the realization that maybe it was you who had moved onto a new life and didn't want me around. I was hurt that things were going on with you that you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share with me. At the same time, I am also hurt that now things are finally going well for me, my closest friends have decided to disappear. Misery loves company? Was I only worth having around when I was playing mother confessor? Or is it that we have simply gone on?


The last year has been joyous for me and difficult at the same time. The things that matter the most are the things you have to work the hardest for...marriage, friendships, self-awareness. One of the most difficult decisions I made in my life was the decision to not pursue an opera career. Once that decision was made, the various windows of possibility opened and now I can enjoy my life without pressure and explore my options. J, you are only a failure if you don't try to find happiness. No one cares if you are a world-class singer, a supermodel or the best Executive Assistant this side of the river. We do care that you make a mean turkey dinner, that you are one of the most giving and generous souls, and that you allow us all to see ourselves always in a new light. That is the J I miss. Despite all of my physical changes and my newfound ability to lift weights, run (I could now run to catch the bus...remember that drama? *laugh*), dance and celebrate, I'm still goofy weenie. I may not take as much shit from people as I used to and I have certainly grown more selective in who I call a friend, but I'm still the girl with the big gap in her front teeth that can laugh louder than anyone in a room. I feel you have changed in so many more ways than I. The funny thing is I just want *you*. I don't need the song and dance. I don't need you to have the answer for everything. I need the laughs and sharing of memories that only we can share. I need the brother and only true family member I will ever know. I need to know that we can be friends even when I'm skinny and I don't need your dieting advice anymore. I truly believe that we are special souls and hope we can grow past all the conventional milestones that mark our lives.


As for bringing on the hard lessons to yourself...there is no answer there. Life just is...this is the hardest thing to grasp. I spent so much time waiting for the other shoe to drop when things were good, and I looked for people to blame when things were shitty. I still have to catch myself when I have the nagging fear that it can't stay good forever. The truth is, life is what we make it. We are either victims of circumstance or we plod on and find whatever happiness we can attain regardless of what others tell us. I only want you to be happy, Chaz wants you to be happy, and the people that really mean something (there are probably fewer than you think) only want you to be happy. If you make that your agenda, than maybe things will lighten up a little for you. I have no money to offer, but I always offer my friendship...and a good pot of Portuguese sausage and peppers.


Love always,
sis




5/23/2003 07:31 am link to this post

The day I gave up on the scale

As most of you know, I have lost around one hundred and forty pounds - the last forty pounds coming off a heck of a lot slower than the first one hundred pounds. I can honestly say I'm a very different person inside and out...I love working out, my food struggles are so much less than they used to be, and I feel I am getting stronger week by week. And yet despite my personal success, I have been in a digital scale demon fury. The past three weeks I have had fabulous work out weeks. I increased my caloric intake based on recommendations by both my personal trainer and a clinical dietician. I am training for a three day 60 mile hike and have felt totally exhilirated by the changes brought on by my work at the gym weights and cardio. So I feel wonderful until about Friday morning when the weigh in anxiety/anticipation kicks in. I have spent the past three Fridays stressing about Saturday morning. To make matters worse, I have had three weeks of gain which then put me in mental anguish thus ruining my weekend. This past weekend was the absolute worse. I forced myself to stay for the meeting though I couldn't tell you for a second what was discussed. By the end of the meeting I was in tears and remained devastated all day Saturday. I truly felt unbelievable emotional angst over a stupid scale number and then felt incredible anger for letting myself get in a frenzy over it. This is not healthy living. Seeing myself as a failure for a ridiculous scale gain is proposterous frankly. And yet it's happened three weeks in a row. Three weeks I have had wonderful weeks and then horrible emotionally damaging weekends...each Saturday getting progressively worse.


I didn't sleep Friday night because I was worried about weighing in. I didn't sleep on Saturday night because I had gained again and I knew that weighing in once a week was out of the question after this weekend but I didn't know what the next step was. All I know is that I couldn't keep doing the emotional yo-yo dance to myself (never mind my poor husband) every week.


And so I walked instead of going to the gym - and I walked until I came to a decision I walked about 130 blocks to be exact (you can be exact in manhattan )...thinking. I thought about what my ultimate goal is, and oddly enough it's not a number...size or scale number. My ultimate goal is to be able to live my life enjoying all of it...food included. I want to be able to live without a scale and know what my body needs based on activity level, hunger level and satisfaction level. I want to have a loving relationship with me, inside and out.


I came up with a plan that seems reasonable to me. My only hopes in sharing this is that maybe someone who is having the same scale struggles will be able to benefit from this advice.


Here's the plan:


1)I am weighing in next week simply to give myself a starting point that is clearly not premenstrual related. I am also going to take measurements. I will not weigh in or measure for a month. That is a month of working out and food intake without the scale. In my opinion it's time to cut the umbilical cord and time to stop beating myself up over a number that is not indicative of my success. Though measuring every week is kind of intriguing, I do not want anything to have the power of me that the scale currently does ..therefore I do not want to replace the scale with the tape measure. I also think that it takes a lot more work to lose one inch than it does to show scale fluctuation..I think measuring once a week is not a realistic amount of time to show improvement.


2)The next month I will measure BEFORE I weigh in and I will reward myself based on measurement changes vs. scale fluctuation. I thought long and hard about ONEDERLAND and that reward stays the same as I feel onederland is more an emotional goal than an actual number goal. I will post pictures and measurements on my site once a month (what I have done so far will remain there) in work out attire if I can bring the courage up to do it! The scale will be information only and I'm going to work really hard over the next month to journal emotionally how I feel in regards to food and working out...positive and negative feelings.


3)I'm going to look into Weight Watchers in regards to missing meetings. I think you have to pay if you miss, but I believe there is an option where you buy meetings instead of having to go every week. I really want the option of whether to go or not. I feel I can handle myself without a meeting, but I want the option of going. So I haven't committed to remaining for every week and I'll decide more once I know my options.


4)I really, truly and whole heartedly believe in the Weight Watchers eating plan. I could easily just count calories, but to be honest, I like points better and firmly believe that not all calories are the same. To me it just makes it more enjoyable and I really want to enjoy food. If I were to get all into calories and macro nutrients blah blah blah..it would kill it for me. Saying that, I do believe there are slight adjustments to be made. My husband's logic is that for the past twenty months, I have been training my body to slowly accept less and less food energy. At the same time, I have been increasing energy I put out. He says that it is unrealistic for me to expect my body to do anything OTHER than freak out when all of a sudden I give it more food and I happen to agree with him (even when my initial reaction is to starve myself). One thing for sure is that despite sizes, scale or measurement, my body shape has changed drastically since March. You can stay the same size and be leaner looking in that size. I also cannot ignore what my body feels...which is pretty darn good at about 1600 calories and up. When I upped my caloric intake, it was like everything really sparked up inside me. I feel hunger and satisfaction easier, I have more energy, I am more "awake" etc.. if I'm fueling throughout the day. Saying that, I do think there is room for tweaking. Seeing as I am not totally counting calories, I do have to allow calories for foods that are zero points. Veggies do have caloric value and are mostly carbs. So the nutritionist said 1800-2300. The trainer said around 1800-1900 6 days a week (9x body weight)and then a "spike" day of around 2800 (14x body weight) reset. I am going to shoot for around 1600-1800 calories per day (we'll see on the spike) and I've decided to journal but not add points as I go along. I am going to write what I eat and then count up at the end of the day. Hopefully this will help me focus more on what my body feels it needs vs OH I HAVE X NUMBER OF POINTS TO SPEND! By aiming for 1600-1800, this gives me leeway for the calories I don't count. I also believe in tracking calorie deficits. I have read a lot of the information on Hussman's site (hussman.org) and really think his approach to tracking deficit is more detailed in WW's activity booster.


5) I'm not going to exercise any less...if anything it will be harder up to this three day hike. My hugest problem with Weight Watchers is the activity component. In my opinion, they do not spend enough time addressing activity so why even include it in the plan? Everyone from the fitness end says to eat more. I am more fit. I exercise 6 days a week...cardio 6 days in the form of spinning, boxercise, cross training and jogging and weight lifting 3-4 days a week. That in itself is celebration and success in itself.


I hope and pray that this will make a difference and if it does, then there's hope it will in turn help someone else. I'm not even going to call it the JeAnne Plan *evil grin*.


Please take care and be good to yourselves on this weight loss journey. We are all leading ourselves to healthier and fuller lives.




5/23/2003 07:27 am link to this post

Giving thanks

Well another turkey day has come and gone ...another year of best intentions out the window. I do believe that I am however one step closer to "the light." Cue the flashback music because we're going back in time...


Thanksgiving was always the "biggest" holiday around my house. Dad loved it. He was pretty crafty with his pen and would spend days coming up with the perfect yarn to be read at a huge table which we constructed just for thanksgiving each year. I think the largest year was somewhere around 45. Mom would pretty much make everything except dessert and relatives brought enough drinks, cakes, pies and rum balls to feed an army. In fairness to Dad, it was a pretty special day..family came from miles around and it was a day of eating, laughing and having a good time. It was also the one day in the year my plate wasn't being analyzed by my mom. When my dad passed away, Thankgiving stopped. Well basically life stopped until my mom decided she was ready to deal with something other than work again. Mom didn't want to go through the effort of having everyone together even though people were more than willing to help her. My aunt and other cousins took over hosting it, but it was never quite the same as all of a sudden it turned into deciding which of 3 dinners to go to. By this time I was in NYC and on my own and I decided that if mom wasn't going to make the effort, than I wouldn't make the effort.


For the next couple of years I went to my friend's house...a crazy greek Adonis with family issues of his own who knows his way in the kitchen. His tradition had been to host Thanksgiving for all the "orphans" who either didn't want to or couldn't make it home. The cast of characters varied, but it was always a wonderful evening filled with wonderful food, fun games and unassaulting company.


Fast forward to Chaz entering the picture. By now things are really rocky with mom i.e. every phone conversation ends with me putting the receiver down and bursting into tears. She had yet to meet the man of my dreams, but in her opinion (just tellin it like it is) he looked like a muppet (she saw a picture), he was probably a drunk (like all english and irish and people from this general vicinity), and probably had a secret family/life back in Scotland that he was running away from and was looking for me as an easy way out (because I'm such a sucker and a horrible judge of character). But she was happy if I was happy (?!?) and wanted to make the attempt to get to know him and why not have Thanksgiving together? In a temporary bout of insanity I agreed.


In my defense, I had spent the last five months listening to her talk about how much evolving she was doing. She was making an attempt to find herself and enjoy life more. She was interested in another man and I wholeheartedly supported her moving on. Did I mention that this man wasn't invited to Thanksgiving? Ohhh..well we couldn't have the chance of more than one person at the table being critical could we?


So as a "buffer", I invited two friends along...both of which she knew and liked....I needed to feel strength in numbers. That weekend will probably go down as one of the worst weekends in my entire life that I actually could have prevented. But no, I bought the hype hook, line and sinker. The entire weekend was spent criticizing Chaz ...and no not the annoying but cute and concerned mom 21 questions. I believe he was accused of being an alcoholic (because he had a beer after dinner) and stupid (it doesn't work out of context, but yes she did and got three pairs of gaping "oh my god you didn't just say what I think you said" eyes). We were all alcoholics (obviously a huge button for her after making the incredible mistake of marrying one) because we brought up 4 bottles of wine for Thanksgiving and for the weekend (even though we went home with three) and didn't appreciate her hospitality because we actually went out to eat one night instead of saving money and eating at home (there are way too many issues in the last part of that sentence for a funny barb).


Needless to say, I spent the weekend in tears when mom wasn't looking. I felt so horrible to put my friends through this ordeal and felt even more horrible that my monster mother couldn't even get over her nasty self to give Chaz a chance. Need proof of food as medicine? I kid you not, the first stop on the way back to NYC from mom's house was Burger King. Even though I was the only "obvious" one with food issues, it was like some karmic decision for us to go there and soothe ourselves. We loaded up on shakes, whoppers, onion rings and fries. I let the fat and sugar nurture and numb me. It was the proverbial straw and the defining moment (after a string of endless shite) of our current relationship.


Well damned it *that* was going to happen again! The next couple of years we were back at Mr. Adonis..but alas the cast of characters had changed so much and Mr. Adonis had changed a lot from the wonderful being that I went to school with. Last year Chaz and I sat in a corner watching everyone else get wasted on Costco economy box chocolate covered liquors and trying to get our puppy (he begged us to bring him) stoned on pot brownies. *sigh*..so not fitting into this picture. By this time I was already doing Weight Watchers and had lost a good deal of weight. My first year I ate a spoonful of everything and was the perfect dieter...and fell to pieces the day after eating everything I could get my hands on...how weird is that? The second year on Weight Watchers (and my last year at *this* shindig), we had such a horrible time that I just didn't care and ate away...not a 100 point day, but nothing to really be proud of.


Ahhh...good old present. Well this year...we didn't have a plan. I made a turkey dinner a couple weeks prior as we were having friends over and it went well. One friend is also doing WW, so we sort of had each other to lean on. But for Thanksgiving the day, it was just Chaz and I. The day hit me and hit me unexpectedly hard. I grazed all day and ended up over points. I recovered and was back in the gym and on program by Friday. My point in this whole post? I never realized how important this day was for me. Now I do. Chaz and I need to establish our own traditions like we have taken the time to with Samhain and Solstice/Christmas. I need to realize I have family and it's not necessary for them all to be seated around a table on one day. Some days my family is me...army of one. Most of the time my family is Chaz and I (and precious furbabies). And often I am graced and blessed with my cyber friends..the souls that touch me day in and day out with inspirational stories, bright blessings, friendly encouragement and unending support.


For this I give great thanks.




5/23/2003 07:26 am link to this post

Saying Goodbye to Old Faithful

This past weekend my husband and I decided on a quick trip to the local mall. As I did my usual brisk walk through J.C. Penny to get to Lane Bryant, I stole a quick glance to see that, sure enough, the misses department carried sizes up to size 16. With growing interest, I of course had to stop in all my teenage shopping spree fantasy stores - The Limited, Express, Gap etc. to check their sizes. As most big gals know and can sympathize (to the total oblivion of our thinner counterparts), I was never able to relish the thrill of trying on new clothes all afternoon with my teenage girlfriends. My mall memories revolve solely around standing around picking fashions for all my girlfriends and then overspending in the only areas of the mall I could...the music store or the food court. I have never had a ‘normal clothing’ shopping experience. It seems I went from Sears ‘Tough Skins’ straight to Fashion Bug Plus as a kid. I dreaded the annual shopping trips with mom because I knew there would be the ‘you need to lose weight’ lecture on the way over in the car, followed by the disapproving head shake with martyred eyes looking heavenward for answers while I tried on the clothes, topped by the medicating trip to the food court.


Imagine my surprise when all my fantasy shopping stores all carry size 14 or 16 and here I stood at the threshold of normalcy. Chaz saw me carefully running my fingers over the folds of this beautiful diaphanous black scalloped dress in size 14 and asked if I wanted to try it on. The dress called out a siren’s song luring me to embrace her. Like having the key to Pandora’s box with the awareness for potential disasters, I slowly shook my head no. I’m not sure if the option of a thousand clothing stores to choose from is more thrilling or terrifying. As misses 14 varies from women’s 14 (another rant for another day), I shook my head knowing that I would rather wait until I knew for sure that I could fit into "normal clothing" lest my virgin shopping fantasies be shattered in my very first normal dressing room. Lane Bryant I knew would not let me down.


I first discovered the greatness of Lane Bryant in college. Being from a small town in the smallest state in the union, my choices were severely limited from the already limited plus size store options. It was either Fashion Bug Plus or the polyester plus sized nirvana offered in the one department store. Once in college, my fashion world opened up to include the Avenue and Lane Bryant. Though I have nothing against the Avenue, I have always gravitated to Lane Bryant. Their clothes are always becoming more and more fashionable and in my opinion, Lane Bryant is still really one of the only plus sized stores that pay special attention to plus size girls under five foot seven.


I even worked there for a short time in college...what could be better than spending a paycheck with my employee discount on my favorite store? Lane Bryant saw me through the best of times and the worst of times...always able to provide the size I needed at any given month.


So with a spring in my step I ventured over to good old Lane Bryant with no real need for new clothing but a $25 off coupon burning a hole in my pocket. I scoured the sales racks, browsed the latest in stretch technology and had just about resigned myself to waiting until the biggest size change ever...the one that separates the proverbial forest from the trees...size 12. I was about to head out of the store when a flash of shiny red caught my eye. There it was...the hottest, most fabulous fall coat I have ever seen...ever. A lined shiny red pvc trench coat with black buttons and a waist cinch - fitted on the upper body and then a slight flare from the waist (think serious 80’s glam rock). Lane Bryant has surely come a long way baby. I looked at Chaz with the biggest grin on my face and he grinned back coaxing me to try it on (twist my arm...not). My mind was swirling with contradicting scenarios...the fetish dominatrix strutting by hoards of men falling at her feet, the happy little girl with the shiny rain slicker dancing in the rain, and the NYC fashionista not afraid to wear something other than black.



The sales associate helping me looked at me and said, "You're a 14 right?" THUMP! Oh my god! I’m really a 14! She sees me as a 14! She had no idea that I could have kissed her right then and there as I nodded happily, my eyes twinkling with cherry apple colored stars. So I carefully eased myself into the coat and buttoned it up making sure to tie the waist cinch before strutting over to the mirror. A perfect fit. The coat is fabulous. I am 108 pounds thinner fabulous. And Lane Bryant has finally witnessed me in its smallest size.


This is exactly how I want my very long and loving relationship with Lane Bryant to end...with that cherry apple shiny pvc coat. I suppose I could buy a pr of 14 chinos when they fit (I still wear a 16) or buy some underwear or jeans (still an 18 in jeans), but why should I? Eventually a woman claims her womanhood and takes the plunge to the wonderful world of fashion and shopping. And I feel completely armed with my shiny red coat and the confidence to know there is a black scalloped dress out there waiting for me.



5/23/2003 07:22 am link to this post