Author's Note -- My journal began in 2011 and I lost 70 pounds:
Show Yourself, Thin Bitch
December 1: I stood in front of the wall mirror and screamed, “Show
yourself. Show yourself. I know there’s a thin woman in there somewhere.”
Nothing was working. I had prayed my last prayer. Maybe I had prayed the wrong
prayer, or maybe I had too little prayer. Maybe I had too little faith. Lord
knows how hard I’ve tried, but those who eye me as being that obese woman in
the grocery store don’t know me. Look directly, look askance, but don't look with pity. I’m still
trying. That’s all I can do. Maybe I should just blow up the refrigerator.
Maybe I should tape my mouth shut. Maybe I should set off chocolate with my Bic. Maybe I should shape shift into a gull soaring with a stuffed stomach. I could throw it up like I used to, but then I’d have another
problem: bulimia.
Never
to Die Fat
December 2: The strangest thing happened while the hospital
tech performed an ultrasound on my lower anatomy. Every touch left me feeling
the sting of guilt from binging. As she pulled the nozzle around my lower and
upper abdomen, I felt fatter than usual, and wondered if it would’ve been
easier without all of my lump deposits. I tried to think of something pleasant as
she poked and prodded. Every touch left me feeling the story of guilt glutton. What a disturbing few hours I spent there, but there was one
caveat. No distraction but peace because of a quiet machine. One was
a trainee, and the older woman would occasionally tell her what she was looking
at. “I see fibroids here…” It felt strange because I was just a body to work
on, and not necessary a human being. All I thought was: “I’m not going to die with elephant weight.”
Horse
Racing and Good Food
December 3: I’m in this race running like a horse at the tracks.
Its owner’s heart beats swiftly like mine with hope to win the race against
life’s clock. I haven’t been this serious about my obesity since the late
sixties right after high school when I gained sixty pounds and lost it back in
six months. I struggled then, too. It’s always a battle.
Losing
weight opens a world with one moment as beautiful as a horse racing through the
meadows and another as ugly as an outhouse at a cottage behind a mansion. I, of course, prefer
the meadow, but some days I feel like an outhouse, the days when I binge on
pecans, walnuts, or Brazil nuts. Being overweight is like walking through hell
in inflammable rubber pants, and there are no splendid moments when your fat is sloshing
around like water in a half full gallon jug.
Only
Dream of Ice Cream
December 4: The snow falls heavily with the wind blowing over trash
cans and shaking street signs. I watch in amazement but imagines sitting
in café in Paris Seine,
glancing across at the Eiffel
Tower
Shucks,
I’ve nothing but spam, and now I feel like eating chocolate ice cream. Thank
God, there’s none in the house. Now I feel like taking a nap, but then I think
why not take a walk in the snow and let the wind push me forward. That would do
more for my creativity than sleeping. Then maybe my blubber would melt off like
wax. I wished I was wax. Then it would melt off. That would be a miracle, and I
am counting on a miracle this time. Miracles do happen. That’s what everybody
says, but there are no weight-loss miracles; none have surfaced for me anyway.
Losing
Weight’s Giving Birth
December 5: Losing weight is the hardest thing I’ve ever done and
the most unsuccessful thing I’ve ever done – at this point. I think it’s like
digging ditches the perspective of my brother who did that in prison. I know
it’s worse than child birth, something I succeeded in over thirty hours of
sweating, squirming, straining. I didn’t think it would ever end but unlike dieting,
which never ends, it brought a baby that filled my heart with honey and hope.
Losing weight would do the same for it’s giving birth to thinness from my insight.
Every day that I overeat must be recorded.
Like the brownies my husband is now mixing for baking. It will take more than
will power to keep me from eating them. I'm cognizant of having to dig deep into the bottom of the deep tunnel of my mind. He simply doesn’t consider that I’m
addicted to chocolate. One time I went a year without eating chocolate, but I
was single without any distractions. Newsroom people at work in Moline , Ill., where I worked as a copy editor,
A Reading
December 6: I slip my feet into socks and sit in my tattered
recliner for an evening of reading a novel. I have chosen RL’s Dream by Walter Mosley. I relax in my chair and let the
author’s words, thoughts, and stories soothe me. I bless those trees, glue,
ink, and book binders for making it possible to put a book together. But most
of all, I bless my husband whose cooking allows me to have more reading time.
He knows how much it means to me. While growing up, reading kept me from
feeling poor. I read my way out of misery. It was an illusion successful
in letting me escape page by page. Now reading keeps me from having that
evening snack, and solves my problem of eating sugary stuff. A good book is an
appetizer for me. The joy of reading is one of the greatest pleasures of my life.
I can read until my heart soars or until my heart’s afire. I’d like to call it
a reading orgasm.
The
Quadruple Threat
December 7: My doctor delivered the quadruple whammy. First, I’ve
gained ten pounds of the fifty that I lost. Second, I need to exercise more but
knee and back pain create obstacles to that. Third, I must bear the pain rather
than get stronger pain pills. She doesn’t want to turn me into an addict.
Fourth, knee surgery is improbable because I’m the poorest candidate
around. “No one will touch you because of the risk factors,” she said. I have
sleep apnea, diabetes, and the weight thing. Putting me under is a huge risk.
If I lose enough weight, it could be in the foreseeable future. I was so bummed
out that I went to the bookstore, but I ordered African flavored hot tea
instead of my usual frappuccino. But when I got home, emotional needs sent me
racing to the refrigerator, and I overate for the one millionth time in a few months. I’m not
going to take this thing lying down.
What is my greatest worry, she
asked. Not being able to walk at all, I said. It’s even
hard to get out of bed in the middle of the night, in the morning, and even to take a bathroom break after sitting for 30 minutes or less, which is why I don't see a movie, rarely eat out, rarely go for a walk, or for long rides. It's why I must ride scooters in grocery stores and never go shopping in department stories. These are more impediments to losing weight because we need activity to remove pounds.
Oh,
I forgot to talk about the positive stuff. My cholesterol, blood pressure, and
three-month diabetes readings are perfect. Imagine that for an obese woman who's sedentary and nearly house bound. Some days that are good -- few and far apart -- I’ve got something to shout about. Now if this damn pain would go
away and if these hefty days would reduce my ozone levels -- I'd trade ice cream and cookies for carrots and blueberries.
Magic of Music
Magic of Music
December 8: Tonight I have chosen an evening with music instead of
watching TV, the place where food entices me. Music calms the binger in my soul
because it fills my heart with soul and jazz. Music is better than eating
chocolate. At least, that’s what I tell myself. Duke Ellington, John Coltrane,
Nancy Wilson, and Smokey Robinson, Phyllis Hyman, Alicia Keys, Mary J. Blige bring splendor from summer mornings to midnight. If I choose. There is a
playfulness in Duke Ellington that makes me think I’m on the beach dancing or
in the Savoy
Football’s
My Non-fat Friend
December 9: Sunday Night Football on NBC: Sunday night is football
night in our house, and I was hungry enough to eat something fattening. I
looked into the frig to find something healthy and discovered that I was out of
emergency healthy food. That’ll never happen again if I can help it. Then my
husband, Taft, came in and popped some popcorn, and I was saved from making a
chocolate pudding or even eating a chocolate licorice. I rationalized that
eating popcorn and drinking a 3 ounce glass of Splenda sweetened CranGrape
juice would only add a few calories to my day, but it wouldn’t raise my
blood sugar too high. That’s a serious concern since I left the doctor on
Friday because she injected a cortisone shot into my knee, and that
messed with my blood sugar readings for it runs unusually high for three or four days. Meaning: a blessing to a body of one who must eat lesser to keep it under dangerous level of 300 plus. A inch-reduction blessings, and I'm encouraged that this new strategy would exceed three or four days.
The
day didn’t go all that way because I had to decide how early to eat to allow my
digestive tract to do its thing. You see, I have acid reflux disease, another
problem associated with being overweight. Too much fat around the middle can
push up acid into the esophagus and increase misery of acid reflux, which
is an abnormal amount of acid released into the stomach. This acid rises and
goes into the esophagus sometimes causing esophageal erosion. A special diet of reduced stress,
the right amount of food, and eating slowly with smaller portions and early dinner are recipes for quiet sleeping. The burning and
burping problems irritated me so much that I had trouble enjoying the game.
After eating the popcorn I felt less hungry, and the juice added a little
sugar. Boy, I hope getting hungry isn’t going to become a habit because binge
eating generally comes out of the carpet. It’s important that I remain calm
and collected to keep that under wraps; bingeing is one of my greatest enemies.
It’s any obese person’s biggest foe.
Eat,
Poop, and Behave
December 10: Some things I’ve learned about losing weight, and I’m
reminding myself of them here. I tended to eat while working, reading, or
watching TV, and I wind up eating too much. I call it mindless eating, and it
should never be done. Eating is not like meditation where mindlessness is a
gift or a necessity. Eating deserves my undivided attention, thank you.
No
looking off in space and popping cookies into my mouth. No watching TV while
holding a bag of chips with quiet chewing to avoid eye-popping fat-haters. A no-no. Today, I give eating my
deserved focus. It’s a matter of weight or death. Of
course, old habits die slower than a Die-hard battery. So from time to time, I have to
stop in mid-bite to correct myself. I’m stopping myself less often today. Thank
God, mindless eating has gone to the grave where it belongs. But I'm grateful to poop for emptying my colon without irritation or constipation. An old adage speaks to the point that regular bowels frees up weight on the "dogs" (feet).
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