Hot By Thirty

Boobs

I am probably going to cry while I write this and then if I manage to click "Publish" I will die of instant humiliation, but maybe some of you know what I'm talking about, maybe you've been there. And this is such a huge part of this weight loss thing - my LIFE, really - and I've been feeling like I can't really close up shop on this website unless I get this out. So.

Maybe I was never fixated on my weight because I was spending all my body image-related energy on my bra size. My mother bought me my first bras in fifth or sixth grade and it's been a dysfunctional relationship ever since. I never knew what to do with these suckers. I mean, it's not like you can really hide them.

I "went out with" a slew of pre-pubescent boys in junior high and from my nearly 30-year-old perch I'll go ahead and chalk that up to being well-endowed. In high school I struggled to find a sports bra solution that worked- I ended up just wearing regular old sports bras OVER my real ones, something I was totally ashamed of until one of the coaches noticed and said she had to do the same thing. I was never teased or singled out for embarrassment in school, but I was mortified plenty of times by lewd and cruel high school boys. Objectified, shamed, with a tiny twinge of relief because at least there was something about me boys found attractive. 

I wasn't thin, but I was a totally different size on top than I was on the bottom. Things never fit me. Sometimes even the largest size wouldn't button or zip up. I never dreamed of wearing anything strapless. I'd seen those strapless bras and there was no way one of those things would work on my body. My friends would talk about not needing a bra, or they just wouldn't wear one after a Friday night game and we were going out in search of dinner - what a totally foreign world.

I gained weight in college and I just got bigger and bigger. But you know, by that point I wasn't even noticing. This was just me. Who I am. The way it is.

Sometimes I'd go bra shopping and the 38Ds wouldn't fit. It never occurred to me that I was BIGGER than that. I just thought I had to find a different brand. You know how they all fit differently.

I asked my aunt to make my wedding dress. Partly because I wanted my aunt to make my wedding dress. She'd made my prom dress, which I loved, and I wanted almost the exact same thing, only in white. I thought it would be so special, to get married in something made especially for me, by a family member I loved. I also wanted my aunt to make my wedding dress so I wouldn't have to suffer the humiliation of going to wedding dress stores, where there appeared to be only strapless dresses, and not fitting into them. I know, now, that much heavier women than me have been married in strapless dresses, that they have a million sizes, that there are all sorts of torture devices for shoehorning any body into things, but I didn't know that then. The thought of trying on dresses in those stores that don't have mirrors in the dressing rooms - I just wanted to die. And even with my aunt making my dress, I don't know how many times she cut the bodice before it fit.

A couple years later a friend of mine asked me to be in her wedding and my first thought wasn't, "I'd be HONORED!" it was "Would I have to wear a strapless dress?" I couldn't. I just couldn't.

There were so many things I couldn't (or wouldn't) wear. So many requirements. I remember my mom saying something about how I didn't let my weight keep me from doing anything I wanted to do (this is after I'd lost it, she's not THAT mean) and that's true. I knew I was on the heavier side, but I wasn't all that upset about it. What I WAS upset about was my stupid bra size. Talk about holding yourself back. LITERALLY.

Several years, two children and 30ish pounds later, I have a new bra size. I never thought this was possible, folks. And yes, I do have nursing to thank (well, first I must thank nursing for the size F nursing bras HOLY GOD) for part of it. Post-nursing boobs are not a happy topic. But between that and losing weight I found myself in the department store a month or two ago buying bras a full cup size smaller than my old ones. And I tell you internet, NOTHING felt better than that. Not fitting into my pre-baby clothes, not fitting into a new pants size, not wearing a bathing suit in public, NONE of that compared to the day I found myself in a Target dressing room trying on a size Medium button down shirt AND BUTTONING IT. Yes I DID have a full on Ugly Cry in the dressing room.

I have known very few people with this problem and it's been a lonely and embarrassing place to be. I never thought I'd be able to wear some of those cute summer empire-waist tops, just like I thought I'd never be able to run a mile without stopping. The boob thing trumps the mile thing by... miles. 

...so I was sitting here deciding whether or not to post this collection of random sentences when I decided to get my wedding dress out of its box and try it on. For kicks. And. Oh you guys it is huge. It's the simplest plainest empire-waist white dress in the world, with a top that was pinched and darted and fitted and yanked into the right place about twelve million times before the wedding and now, this dress that was made to my exact measurements no longer fits. It gapes. It falls off my shoulders. It's too wide and too long and I cried again. I cried because I remember the embarrassment of trying on the first draft and the frustrated frown on my aunt's face, and I cried because I felt sorry for and proud of myself, all at once. A relieved, triumphant, apologetic, non-linear cry.

Not going back

It's Sunday night. The Grind starts tomorrow, and I'm anxious about weighing in. I haven't weighed myself in a few days, and the only reason I stop weighing myself for a few days is when I suspect I've gained weight and I don't want to deal. I haven't been thinking about what I eat, I haven't been exercising. It's been at least 3 weeks since I did a Shred and I am dreading having to suffer that level of Sore all over again. I've been off schedule and sick and not at home and [fill in excuse] and I'm guessing I've probably got a bit more than 8 pounds to work off to reach my next goal. DRAMATIC SIGH.

If you follow the other blog you know I've been a teensy bit obsessed with organizing my house. Today I was going through some photo albums and scrapbooks in the bookcase downstairs, trying to decide which ones I'd take upstairs to live in the new bookcase. I was looking at a half-finished scrapbook (the last one I ever attempted, ANOTHER DRAMATIC SIGH) from my first trip to the Midwest. Phillip's brother lives in Ohio and we flew out to see them, before driving down to Alabama for my little brother's wedding. This was one year after we'd been married- the summer of 2004.

One of the pictures I managed to rubber cement to an actual page was of Phillip and me sitting on a bench outside. I remember that day. I'd had my hair cut at my sister-in-law's salon and they styled it afterwards- the longest my hair has ever held a curl. I remember feeling so pretty, and I was wearing a red tank top and a black skirt and I was out seeing a movie with my husband on our first big vacation and everything was right in the world.

Except, when I saw that picture, I thought, "That was me?"

Of course it was me. At least 30 pounds heavier. I have no idea how much I weighed back then- I wasn't paying attention. I knew I wasn't thin, but I don't think I realized I looked like THAT. Maybe I did see the picture and didn't think it was a big deal, and it's only now, from my 30 pounds lighter perspective, that I find it embarrassing.

Ooh, this post is veering off into Being The Fat White Wife In The Teeny Asian Family post, but it's past my bedtime and I don't have time for those neuroses. Suffice to say that this year, when we meet up with the inlaws in Vegas in August, I have no intention of coming home with Fat Pictures. That's a whole MONTH past Thirty, so THERE WILL BE HOTNESS.

ETA  Starting weight: 158.5. That's a half pound more than I predicted last week, which isn't bad since the only form of exercise I've had in a while is helping my mother push a piano six feet across the living room. 8.5 pounds to my next goal. New progress sidebar on the left. Here we go!

A not quite weigh in post

Can I pre-write a weigh in post? I'll fill in the blank in the morning. But now is when I have time to write so... ETA: I am down 2.5 pounds. After Halloween. Am total weight loss rock star.

Last night a friend and I were planning when to take our other friend out for her birthday. The three of us tend to do birthdays together- Thai food and movies, shopping and ice cream, that kind of thing. Last year our November birthday friend wanted to go to a Korean spa for her birthday. Korean spas are the ones where you walk around all naked like. Anyway, she told me this and I was all, "NO THANK YOU." I'd had a baby six months previously and no freaking way was I going to a NAKED SPA. Especially not with my two friends, sizes two and four respectively. HA HA HA.

So my friends went without me which was TOTALLY FINE BY ME and I think I met up with them later for lunch or something. I don't remember. The only part I remember was the Sheer Horror at the thought of taking my six-month-post-partum body into a naked spa with my teeny tiny friends.

Now, while I love my teeny tiny friends, I reflexively had the Fat(ish) Girl Suspicious Thoughts. Do they think of me as the Fat Friend, which is how I think of myself? Were they just asking me to be nice? Did they have any idea how hard such a thing would be for me?

Gah. Whatever. This year November friend wants to eat chocolate fondue and get her toenails done. I have no problem doing THAT.

Have you been in a similar situation? I'm sure I have a million more things to say about this, but Molly is insisting Phillip hold her while standing UP and he doesn't WANT to stand up and I am getting Pointed Looks so... I'll fill my weight in in the morning. Kisses!

Day 3

We're not quite done with Day 3. I'm tapping my foot on the bouncy seat and eating my dinner (grilled chicken and peppers). Phillip is at a meeting tonight and I hoped to use the treadmill after Jack went to bed, but Molly's not really feeling that whole idea. I don't think using the treadmill at night is going to work out, not while she's eating so much in the evening at least. Through the grace of God she is napping before, after and during the entire time Jack naps in the afternoon (a four hour stretch!) so I'm thinking that should be my exercise-at-home time. If I can tear myself away from the computer, that is.

Anyway, I'm pretty proud of myself today. Jack and I got along, I took both kids to the playground and I ate good-for-me food. It helps that we are completely out of bad-for-me food. How did I let THAT happen?

I have the Project Runway marathon going in the background and I'm at the job interview challenge. Where they dressed the college grads for their first interviews? On the runway the judges ask Jerrell's client how it was working with him and she says something that really resonates with me: "he made me feel pretty". And while I think this girl is pretty, she doesn't think so. And she doesn't think anyone else thinks so either. I'm totally inferring that, of course, but that's the feeling I got.

Maybe because I SO RELATE.  There was a long stretch of time where it never occurred to me to try and make myself pretty, because I wasn't. What could I do about it? If I started wearing makeup NOW, everyone would notice and everyone would laugh because dude, obviously I'm going to need a lot more than makeup.

I know. I KNOW. That is wrong on SO many different levels. It was the worst when I got married. I was terrified of the whole gussying up part of getting married. A lot of it had to do with being The Center Of Attention, which is not really my thing (unless it's online, of course, or I have drunk a bottle of wine) and not wanting to be noticed like that. But I just had no idea what to do with myself. I asked my aunt to make my wedding dress, mostly because I thought it would be super cool to have my aunt make my dress, but also because I knew it would save me the embarrassment of shopping in stores with dresses that would never fit me. (Now I realize that that's not true, but my picture of Wedding Dress Stores only included size fours.) I wore makeup, but nothing flashy. Nothing that would stand out. A cousin did my hair (which I totally redid in my apartment bathroom, because it didn't feel like me.) That was the whole issue- pretty didn't feel like me.

I think that idea had something to do with never considering weight loss until the last few years. Why bother? It wouldn't work, and even if it did, I still wouldn't be pretty. It wasn't me.

I see things a little differently now, even if I'm still sort of embarrassed if someone notices that I got my hair cut. (Is anyone else like this? Phillip thinks I am the hugest dork.) I just like myself a little more than I used to. Pretty doesn't feel like such a lost cause. And? It's sort of fun. Like that one time we went to the fancy dinner theater place and I wore a little strapless dress and flashy earrings and eyeliner and lipstick and cursed myself the whole time for not bringing one of my 5 feather boas because this was TOTALLY the kind of place where you could wear a feather boa and HOW MANY OF THOSE PLACES EXIST?!

And so: the quest to fit into that little strapless dress again continues!

P.S. I am mortified to even write this, but I KNOW YOU PEOPLE: I am not fishing for compliments! If you leave them I will turn red and be embarrassed to check my email. Do you want me to miss out on my email? DO YOU?