madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2/4/02 I lost a pound last week, Woo-Pee!! If it weren�t for the fact that I gave in and �relaxed� at both my hubby�s birthday party Saturday night, and at a friend�s house for dinner Sunday, I think I would be really angry about that single pound. Last week I was a neurotic freak-a-zoid about my diet. (Ask my mother....she was probably about ready to commit me Saturday morning) sorry mom.. But, since I caved and ate appetizers at the party and indulged in alcohol and a full-on steak dinner plus Brie & roasted garlic & olives & topped that off with a slice of apple cake last night... I guess I know why I didn�t lose more this morning. So, onto another week of neurosis for me... I woke up this morning with the intent on doing a cleansing, 24-hour fast. I�m not a faster, but I�ve been doing a lot of reading about fasts and how a single-day fast can rid your body of toxins. Considering all the cheese & crap food I ate this weekend, I thought it would be a good idea. I made it through breakfast, no problem. I drank a bunch of water and some hot tea. And actually, all was well until about 10a.m. until I started getting really cold and really sleepy. By noon I was shivering - even though I had my heater under my desk on high. It continued... I got sleepier and colder, until my fingers felt like frozen fishsticks and I could barely keep my eyes open at work. At 3pm, I went home, changed clothes, made myself a sandwich & came back to work. Geez - I can�t believe I couldn�t make it but half a day!? Truly, though, after eating I feel soooo much better now. I�ve trained my body to eat every 3 hours, so just going from midnight to 3pm today was a LONG time for me. Maybe I�ll try again another day...maybe not. ?? Today, a sweet woman that works down the hall from me said to her co-worker, �John - do you know Heather?� while pointing at me. He replied, �Yes - but sometimes I don�t recognize her!� They went on to comment about my weight loss and how great I was doing. It felt so good. I just wish I could see it. Why, when I look into the mirror, do I only see how far I�ve yet to go instead of how far I�ve come? Sometimes I wonder, if a few years down the road, I�ll completely forget what it feels like to have weighed 375 pounds. Its already becoming a fading memory to me....the pain of it. With every day, in my new body, I forget how much it hurt - how much I hurt then. Now I�m flying low under the radar again. In a restaurant a few weeks ago, I noticed a very large, but beautiful woman sitting at a table across from me. She was an average height, about 5 foot 5. She must�ve weighed around 350-400lbs. (I�ve gotten very good at guessing people�s weights..) She was the largest �thing� in the room. By that I mean that you could scan the room and she was larger than any of the furniture, any of the artwork, the flower pots, the deli case or any of the other people. She stuck out. She stuck out the way I used to feel like I stuck out. The way that my husband assured me, time and time again, that I actually did not stick out. That I didn�t actually stick out, but it was all in my head. Now I saw the truth for myself. This woman�s hair was nicely styled, curled and pinned atop her head. She wore an empire-waist dress concealing her pear shape, amber jewelry, and birkenstocks to accommodate her wide foot. The definition of her chin, eyes, and lips were lost in the mounds of flesh...but you knew that underneath all that she was stunningly beautiful. In every aspect, she was restrained, controlled. I couldn�t help but watch her as she ate small bites, chewed respectfully with her mouth forcefully closed, and patted her napkin delicately to her lips. She smoothed her skirt when a wrinkle appeared. She shifted her weight away from her fellow diner, so as not to bump him with her elbow. When going to use the restroom, she moved slowly, calculating each movement. She knew that the sway of her hip could catch on a tablecloth, knocking over a glass of ice water or spilling a plate of pasta into the lap of an unsuspecting victim. She judged the spaces between the chairs and tables and made the path to the lady�s room with her eyes long before she took one step. She was gone a long time. The stalls were very small. I imagined her fumbling to reach herself inside the tortuous cubicle, unable to stop the sweat from gathering at her brow. I envisioned her as a giant contortionist, straining to reach those private places that become unreachable at that size. I pictured her face reddening with exertion, and finally a small tear slipping from one duct as she gives up, destined to go straight home after dinner to clean up in the shower. Then she�d spend another 5 minutes replacing hair that had come undone, patting the beads from her upper lip, and re-arranging her skirt. She�d splash cool water on her face to cool her cheeks. She�d practice looking unaffected in the mirror before returning to her guests, so they�d never know how she struggled. Returning to the table, I watched as she politely declined dessert when the waiter looked her right in the eyes and offered to show her the menu. She said no, and thanked him. Her face was slightly strained, but controlled. She was me 13 months ago. and she did, in fact, stick out. I didn�t mean to notice so many details. Honestly. I tore my eyes from her direction again and again in an effort to not stare. I averted my eyes when she rose to use the restroom - but I couldn�t keep them away. She was a headlight and I was a deer and I felt frozen in a subtle terror in her stead. I couldn�t help myself. Our eyes met once, for a fleeting second. My face immediately flushed red at my rudeness for observing her every move. I apologized in my head, for being such a bitch, for doing something that I HATED others doing to me when I was that heavy. To tell her I was sorry *out loud* wouldn�t help. It would only make it more real for her, more real for me. She made me realize it was all about perspective. I remember being that heavy, struggling to do simple things, and trying so very hard just to appear normal. I know what its like, to be sitting in a public place, and be the biggest �thing� in the room. I know what it feels like to stand out, even when my husband is reassuring me that its all in my head....ya, right. I know what its like to be stared at by smaller-I-hope-I-never-get-that-fat bitches who can�t seem to keep their eyes to themselves. Yet here I am, not much has changed and everything has. I still feel that big at times, yet I know I�m not. I still calculate, control, and manipulate myself to appear normal, and then sometimes I actually am. I pick the chair in the room that I know I can get up from without struggling, yet if I have to choose the floor I know I can get up. I�m still running those same tapes in my head that say, �Ya, you�re smaller, but you�re still huge...� Now I run from empire waist dresses, even though when I put them on they are still flattering. I know I�ve lost a lot of weight. But when will I feel good enough about myself to actually order off the dessert menu without thinking everybody in the place is staring at me? When will I find the power not to stare? 1:52 p.m. - 2/4/02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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