327.6 - Lets talk body image... especially after birth!

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say *most* babies are cute.  Not all babies are cute even though as a society we have to coo and aww at the little ones even when we are secretly saying in our minds "For the love of god put that thing back in, its clearly not done cooking..."


I am a very lucky mama in that I have 2 kids who are just plain cute.  I have a Collin; he is my squishy, and I have a Gemma who is my little bean.  Collin will be seven in a few weeks and I can't believe how much time has passed.  Gemma is 9 months old and is hilarious.  Both were(are) adorable babies and both were absolutely worth completely ruining my body for life for.


I was never a super skinny girl.  Even before I got pregnant with Collin I was in the 280's but back then I had a waist!  I had a little tiny waist and even though I was at 280, I carried my weight in all the right ways. I was still incredibly self conscious about my body though.  I never felt better about my body than when I was pregnant because I had a reason to be big - I was carrying a child, people!  After Collin was born though... things just didn't bounce back.  Ever.  I was resigned to waddling around - looking like I was 8 months pregnant even though my baby was almost a year old.  I was resigned to buying the.largest.size that the store carried to cover myself up. "Do you carry this in a size circus tent?"  I had resigned myself to the fact that I was a heavy mama and it was awful.  I gave up. 


I gave up like so many of us do after we have kids.  They change us.  Of the people who have not had children, many of them don't understand the toll it takes on our bodies.  Mental health aside (because it takes a strong woman to have a baby and keep her sanity) our lives no longer center around us, they are now focused on this itty bitty thing that depends on us for every little thing.  Our routines are shot, our sleeping patterns are out the window and our bodies?  Pft.  It's like Flubber went rage-binging at the jelly belly factory. 


We've all seen the mom standing in a bikini with her three young and impressionable young boys at her feet with her perfect body and her perfect hair and her tagline "What's your excuse?"  If you haven't, it's pretty maddening, for sure.  As if her lifestyle is the perfect life style for all of us.  As if that type of BS body shaming is supposed to motivate us when it does quite the opposite.  I don't know about the rest of you but I have been putting my time and my love into my kids and not into myself.  I'm really happy for her that she has it all figured out and can balance her 8 hour job, her 2 hour work out routine, her 8 hour sleep and her full time being there for her boys - maybe the rest of us aren't as clued in as she is?  Or maybe she's a crazy fitness nut who is trying to impose her radical lifestyle on the rest of us fat (normal) people.


Its been a struggle for me, as it is for many moms out there to balance loving your kids and loving yourself.  I don't think it makes us selfish to take a few minutes a day for just us.  Society has this crazy double standard for us now days - where helicopter parenting is the norm.  You can't leave your kid in the cart at the grocery store checkout for even a second while you run to grab some mayonnaise really quick without some snarky old hag giving you the stink eye.  They expect that baby to be attached to your hip but are all too quick to show you on every magazine cover out there how you don't stack up.  They love to show you how inadequate you are.  Give your 100% to your kids but you also have to look like Beyoncé.  I don't understand it and I 100% reject it. 


The honest truth is that I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to being a mom.  98% of the time I am completely winging it but I HAVE to find some time to make a healthier me.  Not to fit into a mold.  Not to look like Beyoncé.  Not to shame all of the other moms who are doing their best to try and figure it out.  I have to because if I don't, my kids will grow up just like me.  If I don't, I won't be around to help them through life (although lets be honest here, there are going to be a fair many years where we will want to END their lives... ahh teenagers...)  If I don't, I won't be able to grow with them - instead I'll be watching them live from the side lines unable to participate because of the pain my weight has put me in.


We can't do any of that though until we start loving ourselves enough to infest in ourselves.  It's a hard lesson.  It's a painful lesson.  Like the birth of our children, 100% worth it.


327.6


12.4 lbs down.  Mountains to go.

So much for fat girls table manners....

A week ago - 340 lbs.  Tears.  Hopelessness.  ANGER.  Pain.... so much pain. 


In the orientation to bariatric surgery (I am still shocked that I have allowed myself to get to this point, mind you...) they tell you to plan your meals ahead of time...I can hear him saying this but in my mind I am yelling at him  - We have too much to try and cram into our lives as it is!  I'm sitting there in the class and I am getting angry because the bar is WAY THE EFF UP THERE and there is no way my 340lb tired body can bounce my way up that tremendous ladder to skinny....


and then....


We started with small goals and we did it together.  First thing is first - NO MORE TV WITH DINNER!  That's right - no more Dr. Who.  No more baseball.  No more distractions while eating and just like that, we did it.  At first, my husband twisted his face and stuck out his bottom lip.   No cell phones, no internet, no distractions at all. He silently protested as I expected he would - I expected my son to raise all kinds of heck because he couldn't watch Steve Harvey on Family Feud while nomming down a corn dog.  I was expecting it to be un realistic - in a society where people don't sit down together and eat a meal on a daily basis.  To my surprise, something amazing happened... My son told me about his day.  My husband shared the news at his job.  We told jokes.  We laughed.  We. had. a. conversation.  And it wasn't over text messages!  Strangely, we liked it.  And for the past week we have been enjoying our dinners at the table. 


We even took it a step father and took our meals outside.  We cleaned off the horribly neglected patio furniture and scared away all the spiders.  (KILL THEM WITH FIRE!)  We set up our little gazebo and cleaned out our grill and now we have dinners outside while the sun sets.  The kids love it and we have found that by cooking outside our meals are so much healthier! 


I have to weigh everything I eat as during this past week I have been sticking to a STRICT (not so strict...) 1200 calorie diet as suggested by my physician.  Don't worry, ya'all!  I am under the supervision of a physician while I slowly starve myself and deprive myself of the things I used to love.... training myself to resist the samosa cookie ice cream is still a struggle and it is very real.  I have been eating a lot of lean proteins, vegetables, and grains to balance my day and by far, dinner is my favorite meal. 


Breakfasts have been pretty simple, 2 hard boiled eggs and a cheese stick.  Nothing fancy here, folks!  But certainly some room for fruit if I want some.  Lunches have been of the "Lean Cuisine" variety and THANK GOODNESS FOR THEM!  I don't feel like I am starving myself and most of the time they're pretty good (though I will pass big time on the Salisbury steak.... sounds like a good idea but it's not, trust me.)


Meals are a big deal when you're fighting your waistband.  It's big - and can take a lot of time to master the right formula that works for us.  Everyone is different.  We have different needs and different habits and different influences.  It seems hugely overwhelming when you look at the big picture.  Heck, 190 pounds is a lot.... but we start small.  At the risk of sounding like a cliché -  We make small sustainable changes and it all adds up.  I have to lose the equivalent of a senior kicker on the high school football team.... I have to lose a David Tennant.  I can't focus on that though... I can focus on what I put in my body. 


Tonight, it's Garlic Chipotle Grilled Pork Tenderloin (5 oz), 1/2 cup steamed veggies, 1/2 cup of rice pilaf.  This still puts me under by 125 calories so ... I just might splurge and have some sorbet!


329.1 lbs.... mountains to go.

Talking weight loss pants.....

Dear Mother Nature,
I'm not sure if you got the memo... but it's almost October now. It's Fall, which means that we should be getting out the sweaters, long pants, and other garb that makes us fat people more comfortable. I don’t think I should be having to tell you this, but this 100 degree weather isn't going to fly and you need to knock it off. This girl doesn’t wear shorts (the world thanks me for it) and isn't a friend to sweating like a pig on the way home while I am begging my AC to start working. Cool it, kapeesh?
Thanks!
Your friend with plenty of built-in insulation,
Jess

Great, now that THAT's out of the way... Geeze. I get the feeling that maybe I am living in the wrong state.

My weight loss journey has been... how do you say.... TUMULTUOUS.  Yes, that is a good word.  Like many of us excessively fluffy, I am continuously surprised at how many ways I can come up with to hate myself!  Completely by accident, I assure you... But even 9 months after baby #2, I am still stuck in my maternity clothes because for the life of me, I can't get my socks on unless I unbutton my pants!

I think I also heard somewhere that when you're trying to lose weight that your NOT supposed to weigh yourself every day... well, I was never much for rules and I think that's a big part of my problem.  I weigh myself every day and have to constantly fight the urge to snack...I even wanted to chow down on some leftover scalloped potatoes and RESISTED for the sake of my fragile and emotionally broken pants who, if could speak, would say "Jesse, aplease!" (Completely imaging that my pants would speak in an Italian accent if they ever could...) "Jesse, aplease! Whaddya doina to me!?!?" This is going to be the next big thing in weight loss... you heard it here first, folks! Talking Weight Loss Pants! That's right... so that every time you sit down, they cry out "Mama mia!" We could even take it a step further and skip the dialogue - a simple air horn would suffice. Maybe even they would program them so that when you came within a certain radius of a fast food restaurant they go off... Someone is going to make millions.

It takes a lot of gumption to come back from the huge hole I've dug myself in.  That's right, folks, I, Jesse Forrest, dug the Grand Canyon of weight loss holes!  I have been looking into bariatric surgery to help me lose weight and at my orientation, I weighed in (for the first time in a very very long time) at THREE HUNDRED AND FOURTY POUNDS.  I just need another moment to wrap my head around that.  340.  I remember when I was younger how I vowed to my parents that I would never weight more than 200.  I have so many feelings about this, shame.  Regret.  Anger, oh the overwhelming anger among so many other things and the thing is - I don't even have a big shovel with which to dig myself into this mess. 

We are encouraged, as the fluffier of the species to love ourselves.  Love our bodies, no matter what they look like and EFF TRADITIONAL BEAUTY STANDARDS.  Yet, we are faced every day with people who would shame us for being large.  We are told that we're disgusting and lazy.  Every one of us has heard, at some point, "Why don't you have an apple instead?"  We are glared at when we put anything in our mouths.  We can't walk down the street without being sneered at and laughed at for the clothes we wear, although - finding clothes that fit and flatter us is a near impossible feat as we are forced to purchase everything online and pray that it all fits well.  We will end up shipping more than half of it back along with our arms and our legs because that's what it costs to clothe all of this booty.


Aside from the constant negative outside influences, we have our own battles that are dealing with as well.  Because of my weight, I have developed a crippling case of plantar faciitis - which means any amount of weight I put on my feet sends horrible shooting pain up my legs.  Cute shoes?  Oh, that's nice, I'll stick to my basic black sneakers with extra insoles that make it at least bearable to walk.  No, they don't look particularly snazy with my dress but I don't have a choice.    And that's IF and ONLY IF I find enough courage to wear said dress as more often than not my ankles swell horribly by the end of the day and it looks like I am trying to smuggle illegal watermelons in my feet. 


At 340 lbs I had to look at my life.... a little boy who is almost 7 and struggles greatly with his weight because of me.  A 9 month old baby who looks at me with those huge blue eyes as if to beg me to stick around.  My husband and I - who had every single meal in front of the TV and making up for the fact that we skipped breakfast by eating way more than we should for dinner.  Plus, ICE CREAM!  WHOO HOOO! 


Sure, I ate whatever I wanted.  My feet being in so much pain gave me an excuse to sit on the couch and stuff my face at every opportunity.  Was this happiness though?  Was this living?  I could barely walk myself to bed at night and at 34 years old.... what would my life be like in 10 years?  340 lbs. 


340 lbs. 


This is not living.  This is not happiness.  This is miserable and though nacho cheese can give you an immediate relief of that pain, in the long run, yes, it is killing me.


340 lbs and my Italian pants are crying in a corner "How coulda you doo eet?"


Time to start making some goals.  Time to start making some SENSE.  I CAN'T BE FUNNY AND MAKE PEOPLE LAUGH IF I AM DEAD, CAN I?

So here we are.  Back to square one and it's a lot smaller than I remember it for some reason.   340 was only a week ago.  Here we go!

Lets raise a glass to starting over again

Lets raise a glass to starting over again.  The thing about life is that you can always start over again, even when we fail, and WE WILL.  A LOT. 




Yes, it's true... I've come to the painful realization (again) that I'm a fat girl.  Where as before, I referred to the fluff as "luscious," cooked soul food proudly and nothing made a bad day better then something fried.   I was made fun of a lot when I was a kid - I developed much faster then my 5th grade female counterparts and received a lot of unwanted attention because of it.  Throughout my high school years, I learned that 1.) People don't make fun of you if you make fun of yourself first and 2.) Who doesn't love the funny fat and jolly girl?  From there, I did everything I could to stand out and in the process I met some amazing people who loved to laugh with me.



Nowa days though things are a bit different.  Health reasons aside, (Although those are very important...) I'm finding that my personality gets bigger as my ass does.  It's a very good gauge for me, actually -  HUGE BOOTY = HILARITY.  When you're as big as me, you have to be funny.   No one likes the boring fat girl.  And with that, it's about time that I change my mind.  The problem is that I'm finding it very difficult to fit all of this "lusciousness" into regular lawn chairs.  I'm worried that if I sit in a folding chair the thing will collapse and I'll end up on the floor and my face will turn beat red and I'll be forced to say something along the lines of "Crap, that's the 6th chair this week!" ... "They sure don't make things like they used to..."



Would I fit on an airplane or would I be one of those people that the skinny people dread being stuck next to?  Would they make me buy another seat to fit all this "lusciousness" in?  A belt extender?  Maybe they would just strap me to the belly of the plane to make sure it flies evenly with the extra added fluff - plus extra padding for the landing, eh?



This isn't the way to go, Jess.  I tell myself this a lot.  Then something happens, and like many other desperate women I grab the Cheetos to soothe the pain.  Sure, jocks and skinny people who have never had a problem with self image, laugh it up!  Not all of us can be so lucky... though we try, mostly we just end up being ridiculed for being the fattest cheerleader on the field. 



So the best thing that I think I should start with, instead of looking at this like an ant looks at Everest, is maybe making some smaller short term goals that will help me achieve the BIG ONE.  Maybe by breaking up my goals it will help me stay focused and will give me the results I so desperately need.  For my booty, for my babies, for the love of my life.  And also, for the LOVE OF MY LIFE - because I do love my life and this is the most important motivation of all.  There are things that I want to do, places I want to go, people I want to see and this "lusciousness" is completely weighing me down.




 I can do this... Queue "the final countdown."





Ok, Butt... the fluff wars are ON.  One of us is goin down. Eat my shorts, Richard Simmons, I'm getting my bounce on - It's my own personal wave of fluff moving throughout my body, colliding into itself to remind me how squishy I am and makes me wonder how in the seven hells I allowed myself to get this way.  This is my journey and my war.  Day one.  It's on.