Validation by . . . stripper?

Let me introduce you to my new best friend.  His name is M-essi-ah.  I added though dashes because I get the feeling that he is the kinda guy who googles himself obsessively.  Here is a visual to get the story going:

There I was at the bachelorette party.  I was the designated driver because the shower was for my sister's best friend, so I figured she deserved to get as silly as she wanted to.  So keep in mind that I am stone sober for all of this.  Everything was good until the entertainment arrived.  Now, I am not a prude.  I like to think of myself as fairly laid back and open minded.  That is until last night when I went to my first "stripper at a private party" party. 

I was SHOCKED!!!!  I blushed.  I had to leave the room for bits of time.  And then my sister--well into the vodka by this time--points to me and sends our guy my way.  I was terrified and horrified all at once.  You see, he kept picking the women up.  As a forever fatty, having a guy try to pick me up fills me with fear.  I used to hang out with a guy that was always picked up his friends.  (I was young. Don't ask.) Anytime he tried to pick me up, I dropped to the ground like a sack of flour.  It was the only way I knew to make him stop.  Humiliating.  We are no longer friends.

Anyway, there I was in the middle of the floor swaying with terror when I said to Messy, "I am too heavy.  Please don't pick me up.  You'll drop me on my head and I will be paralyzed."  I swear to you that is exactly the ridiculous thing I said to the stripper.  He says, "Relax."  As if.  Then he lifted me up and ordered me to put my legs around his waist.  I was so scared that I did.  He released one hand and started dancing and said "Look. One hand."  I was dumbfounded.

After the show, as he handed me a card in case I want to book him for another party, he said, "I told you you weren't heavy."  Say what????  YES I AM.  I told him that I have lost a lot of weight recently so I guess I haven't processed it yet.  I HAVE NO FILTER.  The stripper does not care about my weight loss for chrissakes.  He just wanted a tip!!!  But he responded, "well get used to guys being able to pick you up and toss you around now."  I tipped him. 

Not because I want to be "tossed around" (well kinda), but because without even knowing it, he gave me such a great NSV.  A man--albeit a very muscley one--picked me up and didn't break his back or grunt with the effort.  Thanks, Messy.  I owe you one. 

The other highlight of the night was the bartender.  He is a personal trainer who was doing a favor for a friend.  We talked all night.  I am hoping that he asks our mutual friend for my number.  Ladies, please please pray because, well . . . look at him:

And for good measure here is a picture of me and my sister.  The bridesmaids all wore bustiers.  She does not normally dress like a French hooker, but she looked damn good.

wish my arm wasn't so fat, but look at that tiny curve at the waist!!!

Conrad

I just looked up the meaning of the name Conrad and it says "Bold; wise counselor."  I was shocked to find that it didn't mean "of Satan; the Devil's minion."  Conrad is my new trainer.  We had our first session today.  I am typing this with my arms glued to my sides because if I lift them, I cry.

Here's the thing though: I have been doing strength training on my own every other day for almost two months.  I have NEVER been this sore.  I feel like I have been wasting time.  I know that's not true because any calorie burned counts, but, damn, I wish I had shelled out for a Conrad sooner. I am about 4-5 good workouts away from fitting comfortably in the bathing suits of my dreams for Jamaica.  Remember these sexy little things?

I have also started doing the Couch to 5K training program and signed up for a 5K on March 6.  I hope to run the whole thing.  It may take me 90 minutes, but I'm doing it!!!

On the weight loss front, I think I am starting to see a pattern.  I tend to lose big (3-4 lb/week) for two weeks of the month and then I piddle around at .8-1 for the other two (if I don't gain .6).  I am not going to obsess about how to make it consistent (read: I am going to think about nothing else for weeks).  The point is that it is coming off. 

When they said you lose between 1-2lbs a week with the lap band I, of course, thought, "Oh hell no!  I am going to lose 4 every week and get to my goal in no time."  I have a little problem with patience.  I suppose if I really put my mind to it and tracked every single calorie and never gave into the cravings for cake and never had wine with friends, I could do that.  But, I learned something pretty important over the last 4 months.  Having a life is fun and oh so necessary.  The self-imposed exile of obesity is no way to live just as the anal, obsessive, food nazi is no way to live either.  So we come to my word of 2011.  I have gone back and forth between patience and moderation.  But, I think that patience is really what I need to focus on.

 /ˈpeɪʃəns/ Show Spelled[pey-shuhns] 

–noun

2.

an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay: to have patience with a slow learner.

3.

quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.

“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.”--Tolstoy

I'm Lovin It!

Last night was an impromptu picture night.  Rebecca and I met for dinner and then hauled our cookies--literally--up to Meghan's for wine, The Bachelor, and pictures!  I am very tempted to post the violin video, but I won't.  I love my friends.  Rebecca said the nicest thing to me last night.  She said that I looked like a girl--not a heavy girl--just a girl. I still have so much to lose, but compliments like that really spur me on.  They also both told me that I looked like a fool in the pants that I was wearing, so I will very shortly have some stuff for the Sisterhood. 

So here they are. Month 4 of the most unflattering outfit.  (Click on them to make them bigger.) The shorts no longer look like spandex and I can actually stand with my legs together.  Things are coming along nicely!

The Sunday Blues

I am really pissed at myself today because I have been eating like crap all weekend and just generally feeling like crap too.  I drank way too much on Friday night.  Sugary, fruity drinks and party noshes are a bad combo.  Even yesterday I ate like crap.  I did it knowingly with the excuse that it was still a holiday.  I am talking sesame shrimp and cookies bad. 

I feel like I was colluding with the old me all weekend.  The me that let myself get up to 310 lbs.  The me who used any excuse to eat like shit and not go to the gym.  Arbor Day?  Bring on the cake!!  UGH.  I hate that part of myself.  I think it is the part of me that is kinda scared by the changes that I am seeing. 

My belt is too big.  I should be excited by that--and believe me I am--but at the same time, I remember when I bought this belt.  I was in Maine visiting a friend and my jeans kept sliding under my rolls, so I needed a belt to keep them lodged between roll one and roll two (the same 18s that I can now take off without unbuttoning them).  I bought this belt in a bigger size because I wanted to be able to use one of the back holes.  Oh, the tricks we fatties employ to deceive ourselves. 

Over the last 3 years, I progressed to having to use the very first hole.  Embarrassed that the tip barely reached to the little tip holder.  Angry that I went from the back holes to the front ones.  Mad that I had eaten my way out of the Old Navy jeans I was wearing the day I bought them and right back into a sz 22.

So here I am and the belt doesn't even fit on the very last hole.  I know I need to buy a new one because my pants are sliding off, but I don't want to.  I am terrified of taking that step.  What if my band slips and I gain it all back?  I do have a weird stomach ache right now.  Much too low to be band related, but still.  The thought of not having Hedwig in there anymore just makes me so aware of how out of control I was before he made his way into my belly via my bellybutton. 

My therapist asks me all the time why I am scared to be thin.  I have given her many answers over the years, but I don't think I have really reached the root of it yet.  I guess the short answer is that it is the unknown.  I have never been thin.  I suspect I have been in the overweight-morbidly obese BMI range since I was 8 years old.  Being a healthy weight would be as strange to me as if someone suddenly turned me into a white male.  Ok.  Maybe that is a little drastic, but you know what I mean. Basically, being a fat person is so closely tied to how I think, that it is an essential part of who I am.  I need to relearn how to be me and that scares the shit out of me. 

Happy New Year!!!

I hope everyone had a great, safe night.  I went to a party and had a terrific time.  Lots of compliments and boob-touching.  The party was hosted by my friend Vinny and his partner Nick.  I don't know why gay boys like touching my boobs so much, but I wish I could get that much attention from straight boys.

My favorite guest at the party!!

Anyway, I over-indulged last night and I am paying for it today.  I am sooo tight.  Nothing is going down.  I think maybe I am dehydrated from the copious amounts of vodka, but I am not sure.  Any drinkers out there care to weigh in???

I have been sipping warm tea for the last hour trying to loosen things up because I am soooo hungry.  Nothing cures a hangover like a bunless, low-fat cheese burger (UM. NOT). 

I hope everyone had a great night and an even better 2011.  I started this year down 55 lbs in a size 16 jeans.  The year can only get better with such a wonderful start!!!