"Enough" of a Photo Comparison

Why I decided to take and post pics today, with no makeup and a shiny face is a little beyond me, but I did - so, here they are.

I always love looking at other people's progress pics - I can see the changes and love to scrutinize the side-by-side comparisons. But when it comes to my own, I loathe them. It's not that I don't like to post photos of myself - I don't even flinch from posting particularly unflattering ones - it's just that the "before" and "after" never seem like enough in mine. I realize this "not enough" feeling is a theme in my life that I'm still working through. So for today, I decided that these were enough for me.

You can click on any of them to see a bigger version (if you're feeling particularly brave). I see the biggest changes in my chin(s) and in my "butt shelf". (And - sadly - my shrinking boobs). I've had to give a bunch of clothes away and am firmly into a size 24 Lands' End/Eddie Bauer (which to me are a size smaller than Lane Bryant's 24 - at LB, I'm a 22ish now). I also like the way my shirts sit better.

I need to sit with this and let it be enough for now. I need to celebrate the steps and the long hard work along the way.

It's a little hard to see, but the right is "now" and the left is "then". From these two photos, there's a change of 41.5 pounds. My "total loss" right now is about 53 pounds (my highest pre-Band weight was 312 on 1/07).

Some progress pics:

SKIRTing the Issue, OR the one in which I go a little crazy with Photoshop

Even though my weight loss is not what I had dreamed at this point, I was feeling a bit encouraged last week and decided I really needed a skirt. I have not worn a skirt in 2 years. I wanted that free, kicky, summer-y feeling of a knee-length denim skirt. I found one at the Avenue online that was not only ON SALE, but also concealed underneath a pair of cotton shorts (which would prevent the awful chub-rubbing and inevitable rashing of my ample thighs). I ordered it, dreaming of the cute, curvy shape my new slightly smaller body would exhibit.

I envisioned this:

but I knew that such fashionable, a-lined curviness was not being realistic. So, I changed my expectation to something more like this:

Never in my wildest, most reality-framed daydreams (you know, the ones in which yes, I AM audited by the IRS and yes, my that lipstick IS too dark on me and yes, that little thing on my face IS cancer), did I think the ACTUAL skirt would look like this:

Oh. My. Gosh!
Apparently, my waist (ass) is sooo much wider than my legs are long. I'm sure you all have known this about me for a very long time, and I appreciate your not telling me because, well, some denial can be a beautiful coping mechanism. I should've figured this out, because I buy my husband's pants. "Huh?", you say? - well, my husband is a 38-34, meaning his waist measurement is 38" and his inseam is 34". Take 1/2 of 38 and you get 19 - which is how many inches across his pants are when you look at them (because the other 19 inches go around the back and cover his butt). My waist measurement is nowhere NEAR 38 inches.

Let's dig in to the last time I measured my waist...ok, here we go...back in January it was 49 inches. That doesn't seem TOO horrific, except for the fact that I'm a curvy gal. My waist actually dips in an hourglass-esque fashion (when viewed from the front, mind you). I know this will be a great trait once I've lost the weight, but for now it makes things a bit tricky. See, my "abdomen" measurement (chubbiest part of my tummy) is a whopping 57.75 inches, with my hips (ass) creeping up to 59 inches. Half of 59 is almost 30!! And my inseam (on full-length bootcut PANTS) is only 33"! So the length of this skirt, inseam-wise (I know, I know, skirts don't HAVE inseams) can't be any longer than 15 inches. Duh - no wonder the skirt was a bizarre sideways rectangle. It was still quite a mind-bender that I'm not sure I want to grasp.

Besides being so strange-looking right out of the package, my new skirt has another very common problem. Since my waist and abdomen measurements are so far apart, most things that fit at my ample patoot gap widely at my slightly curvy waist.

I end up looking like I'm trying to be a human funnel:

These large gaps between my waist and my waistBAND can be quite useful - for hiding items like money, lipstick, meds, and baby elephants. But for the most part, it's just frustrating.

The worst gap of all is the gap in back - I've got at least 5 inches pooching out in the small of my back where the fabric doesn't meet my waist. Then, four inches to the south, all the fabric stretches tight across my enormous derriere. This gap in the back is the most annoying. It makes my shirts flip out weirdly when I'm seated, and I'm constantly flashing my granny undies at the innocent and unsuspecting folks who sit behind me. I have no idea what to do about this crazy back gap.

I've considered letting the kids throw superballs into it as a game:

But the best news of all? The skirt was too big. On my waist AND on my ass. THAT part was a very pleasant surprise.

Hug Your Favorite Mom (or Land Mass)

200705 happy land mass day

I had a lovely Mother's Day. My boys and I went out for coffee (and cocoa), played Legos, and just enjoyed each other. I also got a big old nap.

I had Dave take this picture so I could show off my pretty handmade jewelry (Henry made me the necklace at school, and I bought the earrings and bracelet at his school's Art Night). Unfortunately, the photo is HIDEOUS.

I don't look like their Mom - my boys look like they're hugging a land mass, or Jabba the Hutt's twin sister.

It's so discouraging. I know it's an unflattering picture of me, but I'm still surprised by photos. I am HUGE.

I'm cautiously hopeful that in next year's photo I may actually look like a MOM and not a floating iceberg.

Guess what? I’m Fat.

This is not the post I thought I would be writing today. I thought I’d be writing about how I GAINED 2 POUNDS yesterday, even though I only ATE (DRANK) 1000 CALORIES AND OH MY GOSH THIS IS NOT FAIR. And then moving on to the inevitable I AM THE ONLY PERSON IN THE HISTORY OF LAP-BAND SURGERY WHO THIS WILL NOT WORK FOR. And then something happened.

I realized that wasn’t the way I was feeling after all.

You know what? I’m actually really really happy today. And strangely enough, I think it took the 2 pound gain for me to realize it.

Let me back up. On Friday, I realized that I had come to terms with the fact that I actually had Lap-Band surgery. It was more than just that – it was that by having the surgery I realized I had to OWN the fact that I was Morbidly Obese. I have spent a lot of this overweight time in a lovely state of denial: thinking that I’m not really fat – that it’s just a bad angle or an unforgiving photograph, or a super hot dryer that shrunk all my clothes. I had to let go of the idea that this last 40 50 pounds is temporary, y’know – tomorrow I’ll wake up and it will just be magically GONE! ‘Cause it isn’t really there! It’s just imaginary! I can quit any time I want!

Somehow, it wasn’t until AFTER I had Lap-Band surgery that it finally hit me. I am Morbidly Obese. No, I mean REALLY MORBIDLY OBESE. You are probably thinking “duh!”. I guess I’m just slow. I didn’t realize how much a part of me was holding on to this crazy idea that this was all some terrible misunderstanding – that I’m not really this fat. See! Look! I’m thin – your camera sucks! Your airplane seat is too small! All my clothes shrunk astronomically! I'm just really really big boned! Wow, size 28 is the new 16, huh?!

I think I finally had to wrestle with the fact that yes, I was so fat that I went in and had real surgery. I think according to my previous line of thinking I had convinced my subconscious self that I was just walking through a hospital when – whoops! - a Lap-Band fell in! Golly –they usually use those on Fat people. Huh – maybe it will work for skinny old me! (Yes, my subconscious can really be gullible sometimes).

Somehow, gaining the 2 pounds this morning and looking at cold, hard numbers on the scale helped me fully realize what I needed to know : I’m fat.

Let me say that again. I’m Fat. I’m so obese that I needed surgery to help me fix it.

I expected to feel an overwhelming tidal wave of shame in finally facing up to this (obvious to everyone else) fact. I thought it would make me nauseated at my own existence, and that I would scamper behind the next (extra large) rock I could find.

Instead, I feel an incredible amount of freedom. Hey, guess what? I’m fat! It feels to good to admit it and to be here in this place and to not feel the amazing shame and guilt.

I actually feel like for the first time I went and did something that was totally, entirely, selfishly, deliciously JUST FOR ME.

Guess what? I’m Fat. And I’m so excited.