Shame

Yesterday I ran into an old friend. She is a friend I made years ago, as we were first beginning our little family, but one that I only see on occasion. We ran into each other in a local store, and it was fabulous to see her again. She looked fabulous! I mean it, she really looked great. Since I had last seen her she has lost about 100 pounds. She looks amazing now, and I am so happy for her.

I am really and truly happy for her...but I am so sad for me. You see, as she was telling me about her weight loss, I stood there wondering why I couldn't do it. Why is this something that I continue to fail at, time and time again? Will I ever get it right and lose the weight?

I stood there thinking that there was no way I could tell her that I work out each day, rising at 4:30 am to get in at least one hour of workout before my day begins. I couldn't tell her because my body doesn't show it. My body still looks the same...no one would ever look at me and think that I worked out 5 days per week...serious sweating. I was ashamed. I was so ashamed that I didn't mention it at all, but kept the focus on her and how fabulous she looked, and it worked. It was all about her, and it was safe.

Shame...it's a terrible place to find yourself. I cannot hide this body I have. It is a public sign of weakness and imperfection...and I am ashamed of it.

I have a few weeks off from my typical workout routine. I will continue to work out on my own at home, but my focus will be more on getting my thoughts and my heart in shape. When I see others out and about, I want to feel confidence, and I want to be able to tell them about my hard work. I want to not feel ashamed of the way I look, or of my failure at losing the weight. I want to be okay with myself, knowing that I am working hard.

Almost more important than the weight that has got to go, the shame has got to go. Now how do I do that?

Break

I am taking a break. You won't see me here for a while. I have already deactivated my facebook account, and will be stepping back from the computer for a bit. Don't ask why...it's a shame.

Measure

I decided that I would measure my body, since weighing on the scales didn't seem to encourage me. I thought just maybe if I saw some shrinkage in the numbers, I would realize that all of this hard work is paying off, even if the pounds are not melting off as fast as I had hoped.

Six weeks ago, when Boot Camp session #2 began, I measured several of the typical "measurement spots" on myself. Talk about depressing...it was NOT pretty.

This morning, two days away from the final day of Boot Camp #2, I measured myself again.

The results? You want to know the results? Well, I won't give specifics, but here are the highlights.

Waist - minus three inches
Upper arms - minus an two inches on each
Thighs - minus one inch from each

There were more, but you get the picture. In the last six weeks, I have lost 13.5 inches total from my body. I feel good about it. I feel like I am one step closer to a "fit Anne", and I know that I am earning it...sweating like a pig, and working hard for every single inch.

13.5 inches...good.

In case you were wondering why I hide things...

The following things were actually said to me this weekend...yes, in the course of 48 hours, these words were said to my face:

"So, are you skinny yet?", then looks me over and says, "Oh." (this was said at church!)

"Well, I guess going to fit camp is showing you just how out of shape you are and how far you have to go."

"Are you going to eat that?"

Nice huh? And to be honest, there was more, but I won't even type them here. I don't care to relive it.

So I write this here and remind myself why I tend to keep things a secret. I said to my hubby, "Next time I decide to do another fit camp, and there will probably be a next time, I am not telling a single person. It's just easier to keep it to myself." Sad, but true. Just like the rudeness about what I eat and how much I eat makes me want to only eat alone and in private, the rude comments and judgements on my progress when I am working so stinking hard towards a better me, simply make me want to keep that a secret too.

Some things are just better kept to myself. Next time, it's between me and my food journal. Period.

Fear?

I was watching Oprah the other day (and NO, I don't watch her much, but I do watch occasionally if I am interested in the topic!) and she had on a past TV talk show hostess who has lost lots of weight with the help of gastric bypass surgery. As she talked, I listened intently, and later found myself deep in thought. She said that she had never in her adult life worn any size that began with the number 1. She had always been plus size, and worn a size 20 or above. It hit me...that is me. Sad, but true, that I have never in my adult life been classified as anything except "Plus Size". She went on to talk about how losing the weight was scary. She wasn't sure who she was without the weight.

The more I think about it, the more there is to this weight loss journey I am on. Just who am I? Do I really know who I am at the core, without the extra pounds? I am not sure. When I take off the mask that I wear...the one that is full of laughter and smiles and exuding the "everything is okay" and "I'm fine with it" mentality...who am I? Star said that she didn't think losing the weight would change her, but it did. She found she didn't have to be funny all of the time for people to notice her. Before, she was funny so people would notice her despite her size. I do that. I laugh and joke and pretend that I am perfectly okay with the way I look, comfortable in my skin, hoping and praying that others might be able to overlook my size and give me a chance.

So who am I? When you strip away all of the excess "baggage", am I still the same Anne I think I know now? This weight loss thing is so much more than I ever imagined.

I have lots to think about.

Debbie Downer

Sorry for the Debbie Downer post this morning, but those were the true and honest feelings I have had today.

Despite the fact that I really don't want to go, I am going to get up tomorrow at 4am, put on my workout clothes and tennis shoes, and drag myself to fit camp (it hasn't been difficult to get up and go until now).

Pray for me...I need it.

Nothing says failure like failure

Three weeks of rising at 4 AM to work out, and not just a wimpy workout.

Three weeks of striving to eat clean and making some big changes to my meals.

Three weeks of mentally encouraging myself, and having a positive attitude.

All cancelled out by one day.

One day of being degraded by another person working out.

One day of disappointing the leader.

One day with a cruddy weigh-in.

One pound lost.

All positivity out the window.

Nothing says failure like failure. Apparently it should be my middle name.

Anne Failure Jones

Sad to say, but today it fits.