#ALLGOODDAYS

If I weren't dying of whatever plague this is going around Victoria (and more specifically in that little dark cloud over my head that has been following me around for the better part of 9 days), I would most likely have posted more today than in all of 2016...but that didn't happen because I was in bed or resting or coughing so hard I thought my head would explode.  So I'm behind, but I can catch up.

Also, I joined a #allgooddays challenge.  I was impulsive and thought I should throw 50 dollars at accountability, and my former employee's mother (I wonder if she remembers me), because, like the foundation of all great ideas, I saw something about it on Facebook. 

Those of you who don't know my history, here it is in a nutshell:

I have struggled with my weight for the better part of 20 years.  And have lost and gained what seems like a thousand pounds.  And most recently I was a superstar health challenge participant, and then I wasn't....and I lost my ninja...and now I am fat and am getting stuck in sports bras again.  This challenge is the reclamation of my badassery, if you will.

2013 - 294 pounds, blah blah blah health challenge, ninja-in-training, popped ACL

2014 - 139 pounds, blah blah blah health challenge mentor, n-in-t, reconstructed ACL 

2015 - 165 pounds, blah blah blah h.c. mentor part 2, ninja-in-training, with & without ninja

2016 - 200 pounds, blah blah blah ninja-on-and-off, belt test injury, no more ninja

2017 - 250 pounds, blah blah blah work, home, food, wine, repeat, sleep, sleep, sleep...

2018 - 286 pounds, blah blah blah I gotta do something about this.  Again.

And today, I updated all the apps, tweaked the fitbits, unboxed the runners, squeezed into the sausage casing I call pants, threw on a Star Wars T-shirt, and donned a hoodie, and did a grocery shop for all the foods that when put into my fridge will really just be ingredients.  Even if I lack energy because of the pox placed on my house...I can't wait to kick this challenge's ass...and my own in the process.

And go!

Elephant relativism.

I have always had very good memory.  I remember random things that happened in high school a million years ago, and I'll also remember what everyone was wearing when it happened.  Stored in the deepest recesses of my mind are completely obscure facts about ancient mythology from my years of studying Classics at Concordia University, modern cooking techniques learned by watching far too much Food Network, horticulture for balconies and window boxes via my mother, and strangely almost all of the lyrics to arbitrary songs from the 1990s.  That's how my memory works...like an elephant, I remember things.

So why, oh why, did I forget what it was like to be fat?

Since the crunchy, poppy kneeness of June 2016, I have been eating and drinking myself into my former state of being.  And I seem to have lost all recollection of how difficult it was to be overweight, and dare I admit this, obese.

The last time I was fairly regular with my workouts (other than going to taekwondo class) was in the autumn and winter of 2015.  While visiting family in Montréal, I made arrangements to work out with friends, find a gym, find a yoga studio, and try and counteract the damage I was doing by eating out and drinking daily - and may I add, that I cheated a few times when it came to food on my trip, but I was pretty good about choosing healthy options.  I was something like 170 pounds, and though I was annoyed that my weight had gone up...I remained confident and happy. 

When I got back from Montréal, I started working a lot more regularly, and so I made sure to hit the gym before my shifts.  At that point, I had joined the "5AM Club," and I managed to do at least an hour of cardio before getting gussied up to work the floor as a painter of faces.  After Christmas break, I was off to Hawaii - I had gained a further 10 pounds, but it wasn't the end of the world, and there would be walking, exploring, hiking, swimming etc.  Not to worry.  Still content with life, I was in Hawaii, and there were all kinds of bodies out and about.  Not at all concerned about my "beach body," I was just thrilled to hit the poke bars and body surf at Magic Sands daily.  Good times.

1 definition of relativism

1. a theory that knowledge is relative to the limited nature of the mind and the conditions of knowing    

So what is elephant relativism?!  The further away I am from a state of being, the less I remember what it was like to live that way.  Which can be blissful or incredibly difficult.  The problem (and elephant part) is, recently my memory has been jogged...the first time I have jogged in 2017, in fact.

Things I forgot about being obese:

• Always waking up in the wet spot (from night sweats, get your mind out of the gutter)
• Shaving various parts of your body involves rigorous effort and training in contortion
• Sometimes towels don't fit
• Getting yourself into a bra is an intricate mix of origami and optimism (and you still get double boob, side boob, under boob)
• Dress code is always back, with a generous helping of loose and leggings
• Being overly effected by anxiety and depression  
• Low self esteem and a lack of confidence
• The cycle of binge eating
• Hopelessness

 

Wow, that turned pretty serious pretty fast.  But, right now, it's how I feel.  I am a hopeless, binge eating 250 pound woman who is again suffering from anxiety and depression which is leading to a lack of confidence and self esteem.  I have 3 outfits, none of which I like.  I would like to take off an article of clothing without being marked by it, and I would also like to sweat at appropriate times.  Don't worry, I also remember other things... 

Things I remember about being fit:

• Hitting the gym in the morning before I had a chance to think about it or change my mind, and then sometimes doubling up at night
• Getting an endorphin rush part way into my workout and really enjoying the process 
• Constantly being sweaty (whether at the gym or on the dance floor)
• Drinking insane amounts of water and being satisfied by smaller portions or healthy foods
• There will always be boob origami (when they are smaller they still need to be folded into shape), it's a process
• Being able to express myself through my outfits
• Endless energy to do things
• Feeling that there are no obstacles that cannot be overcome
• Realisation of goals
• Positivity

It's pretty obvious which state of being is my preferred truth.  Though not necessarily mutually exclusive whilst experiencing the in-between, the latter is a much better option for which to strive.  Going forward, I will mindfully go through the process of transforming myself so as not to lose track of where I came from and where I want to go.  Ideally, be more like an elephant in mind, to be less like one in body.

Here we go again...

Mine is a tale of perspiration, determination, and inspiration...or at least it used to be...no wait, IT WILL BE AGAIN!  And lemme tell you why...

It made perfect sense each year (2014 and 2015) that a couple of the Times Colonist running groups had invited me to speak to before their group run/walks.  After all, I was the contestant in the 2013 TC Health Challenge group who lost 52 pounds in 3 months, and then used the next 5 to lose another 50+ pounds...eventually losing 156 pounds.  At that point, I weighed less than than what I had lost.  Inspiring, right?!

Once upon a time there was a lady who let herself get to 294 pounds.  She was always a good time girl, who could be swayed into going to the bar, sharing pints with friends, eating pub grub...and even going to Le Banquise (she was a Montréaler after all) at 4 in the morning after the bar for some poutine, a Mae West, and an 'ot dog all dressed.  But that was then...this is now...

 

Or is it?!  I think I just described my last trip to Montréal.  And, my recent trip to Hawaii.

And possibly just a couple days ago.

Okay, so a lot of things have changed...but some have not.  I started writing about my plight to lose weight, get fit, and healthy in this blog 3 years ago, and it really helped me get through the tough stuff and see the humour in what I was doing.  Luckily, for dramatic effect, I had a lot to lose.  You see, that makes for a good story.  But what about now?!  Do I still have it in me to make fun of myself trying to get fit and healthy after some indiscrepancies in the food department, exercise regime, and the healthy living area in general?!  You betcha.

  

After all, it's exciting to learn about the 294 pound lady who, with the help of a ninja (Jonathan Carpenter), whittled herself down to a svelte 139 pounds from January 2013 to July of 2014 through a combination of eating right and exercise...because that's pretty amazing...but, I believe that it'll be even more inspiring to find out that lady is a real person.  And, that three years after she started her journey, it continues.  It has its ups and downs and ups (as the case is now)...and dammit, she can't even blame the knee surgery she had in November, because that was over 14 months ago now!

I remember stepping on the scale in front of hunky JCarps, the ninja, when I was 294 pounds and not really caring what it said...not even being embarrassed...because I was never going back there.  Now, when I step on the scale, I'm watching re-runs in reverse and it scares the shite out of me.  Am I slipping back into old patterns?!  Yes.  Am I becoming less active?  Yes.  Am I skipping meals and then binge eating later?  Yes.  Am I eating my emotions?  Yes.  What is happening to me?!  

It took me over a year to "cheat" on my healthy eating plan...on the Super Bowl 2014 weekend, I succumbed to junk food again for the first time...and, you know what!?!  I got away with it.  Lately, it's been a whole lot of junk food eating and not a whole lot of getting away with it.  I just hope the ninja doesn't try and weigh me in at our next session...because I will care and be embarrassed at what I've done. 

Luckily, half my wardrobe is stretchy and I seem to gain weight in all the curvy lady bits...but it's becoming a little more obvious now that its not just 15 pounds that I've gained since my knee surgery, it's more like 30.  And at this point, I cant blame being laid up and limpy...I have to blame myself...AND I can't even do that because my yoga teacher (Taryn Strong) says that you have to let go of blame.  

Letting go doesn't mean we don't care.  Letting go doesn't mean we shut down.  Letting go means we stop trying to force outcomes and make people behave.  It means we give up resistance to the way things are, for the moment.  It means we stop trying to do the impossible - controlling that which we cannot - and instead, focus on what is possible - which usually means taking care of ourselves.  And we do this in gentleness, kindness, and love, as much as possible.  - Melody Beattie

She's right...Melody Beattie and Taryn Strong.  Rather than getting all upset with myself and eating an entire bag of Doritos, which will only make the entire situation worse...I am going to let it go, and be grateful that I know how to do this, that I still have a ninja to help me, and that Illoana called to book me for a talk before her Henderson 10K Run Clinic...because that was just the kick in my significantly more voluptuous arse that I needed to get back at it!

And I should probably sign up and run that TC 10K.

Here we go again.

Are you with me?!

Advice and more from my Croatian conscience...

Upon hearing that I needed to lose one more pound to reach my initial goal of 50 pounds lost:

"Just go make big shet.  You loose van pound like det."

And, this is what he said when I reached that goal...and didn't answer any of his text messages (what?  I was busy!):

 "Bublićka, are you alive?  Did dey eat you finally?  Suzana vas so fet det kanabells use to write her luv letters daily, now only vunce a veek."

 Sometimes, if only very rarely, the Croatian is lovely...and says stuff like this:

"I had a vision of you dancing with me at the concert last night.  Your hair was blonde and you were at your goal weight."

Bring it on, Daniel-san.  Bring it on.

Love yourself! Go on, I dare you...

One of the possible side effects of losing 50 odd pounds has been unmerited über confidence - reverse body dysmorphism of sorts...at least for me.  

Last Saturday I was walking around like a rockstar...wearing size 18 blue jeans and a 3X leopard print sweater.  I even pulled out my old motorcycle jacket to go with, in my head I'm all Sophie Dahl meets Beth Ditto in Jean-Paul Gauthier (here I go with the comparisons again), but really, I'm Suzie Spitfyre, a fat girl in regular clothes.  I did don a pair of fabulous Tom Ford cream-coloured cat-eye sunglasses that I purchased last year in New Orleans though, so not ALL "regular."

I used to live under the cover of darkness...my entire wardrobe was black.  And I honestly thought that was my style, very New York, very chic, very MAC, but I think it was just a way to cover up what I didn't like about my body.  It's true what they say about black being slimming, but come on...how svelte can you look at 292 pounds?  On Saturday, I wasn't wearng a stitch of black...in fact, the only black that I had on was my eyeliner and mascara.  It made me wonder, how many people are out there running around, as I had been, hiding themselves under clothes that don't really do anything for them...clothes that don't express their style or personality?  Clothes that expound shame, self-loathing, and fear.

It is true that plus-size clothing leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to fit, colours, patterns, availability, cut, and cost, but they should never make you feel hopeless, unworthy, and depressed.  In the past, when I would get a new piece or an outfit even, I don't think I ever felt sexy or good about it, I was just thrilled that it bloody well fit.  And, that's a terrible way to live.  They are only  clothes after all!  They shouldn't dictate you mood or demeanor.  But, I couldn't have been the only one who yelled at their husband for throwing that extra, extra, extra large chemise that it took me years to find and went perfectly with all of my extra, extra, extra large dresses in the dryer.  I put so much stock into that one piece of clothing, that when it was shrunk beyond all recognition my life, for a few minutes, was over.  How horrible is that?

The other day I stumbled upon a page on social media called Big Hips and Red Lips - "A celebration of life, love, laughter, lust, and learning to love your body."  This page helped me see things slightly differently, it embraced beauty at all sizes, and made me think maybe I should have started this love affair with myself much, much sooner.  Don't get me wrong, I don't think I hated myself all the time....but I certainly embraced a lot of negative self-talk.  "If only I could lose some weight, then I'd be happy.  If only my thighs were smaller, if only my boobs were perkier, if only my gut didn't jiggle so much,"  I said a lot of mean things to myself, and I started to believe them.  And, don't be fooled, this isn't just a fat chick thing...this is universal.  I know plenty of girls and guys of all shapes and sizes who want to change this and that...and my point is...LOVE YOURSELF THE WAY YOU ARE!  Don't be afraid to accept yourself and rock out what you've got.

This is such an important message, because I've been there, and I know how it feels.  I have experienced thin, fat, toned, lumpy, fit, flabby, and everything in between.  If I had loved myself the way I was, whatever I was and taken care of the important things like my health, I wouldn't be posting this...but I didn't, so here I am pleading with my audience to accept themselves.  It's much easier to change the things you don't like if you know yourself and love yourself no matter what.  I now have the extreme pleasure of changing my life.  A change spurred on by the Times Colonist Health Challenge, but also a change spurred on by the triumph of the human spirit, and the knowledge that healthy and hopeful is much better, mentally and physically, than unhealthy and hopeless.

I am still going through this process of practicing radical self-love and body acceptance.  There are still times when I feel amazing, sexy, and powerful, and then I see a picture that someone has taken of me and posted online, and I think, wow, do I ever have a long way to go.  But, that doesn't get me down any more...that simply gets me even more motivated do everything I can to reach my health and fitness goals.

In the words of the saucy redhead behind the front desk of the Crystal Pool & Fitness Centre, "People see you how you see yourself."

So I conclude:  Confidence is always sexy...no matter what size you are.

Monster Munch

The Monster Muncher with her Monster Munch

There were only 3 of us who attended the information session at the Eating Disorders Programme.  I have to admit to feeling a bit uncomfortable participating in such a meeting as I certainly don't look like I've been restricting calories or purging...and the programme caters to people living with and/or affected by eating disorders, including anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, and/or eating disorder not otherwise specified.  The latter is the category in which I think I fall.

I have been a binge eater, with no purging, for the last...I don't know how long.  A shameful practice that I started training for when I returned from university one spring.  My friends and I would stay up late, rent movies and each of us would grab a large bag of chips to go with.  I don't know when 1 bag became a couple, for variety's sake, but I gradually stretched my stomach to fit the entire contents of both.  With this sort of training, it wasn't long before I could fit in some mac n' cheese or ramen noodles or fast food or Chinese.  And if I did indeed eat breakfast the next day, it would be leftover BBQ crisps or some sort of processed noodles or the remnants of the disgraceful feast of the previous afternoon, evening, or late night.  The heartburn I suffered was ridiculous.

Hot dog...it's what's for breakfast

This became my normal.  It would ebb and flow depending on my emotions.  I did most of my binging in private, away from scrutiny, gorging on fast food and drink, convenience store junk, and things I could order off of menus stuffed into my mailbox.  After a championship round of gluttony, I would hide the evidence lest someone close to me find out what I had been eating.  I would pack up all the proof of my pig-out and toss it in the building's communal bins or even in the trash outside on the street.  I was so embarrassed by my addiction.

Prajnaparadha - crimes against wisdom - binge eating is lawlessness against one's better judgment.  Why would I do this to myself?  The more I ate, the worse I felt, the bigger I got, and the more contempt I had for "me."

When I sprained my ankle in November of 2012, upon my return from New Orleans I saw an orthopaedic surgeon who gave me a huge reality check.  It didn't help that I had once seen him play the Lord High Executioner in Gilbert & Sullivan's Mikado, what he had to say dropped my penny so to speak.  The reason the injury was so massive was, in short, due to my weight.  Joints are not meant to hold up such poundage.  And he told me so.  Then I cried.  He told me that I wouldn't be able to stand long days on my foot, so there went work.  Medical leave, injury, and insult...well, not insult, but I think I finally realised I was killing myself with food.  Drinkers drink, junkies do drugs, and I ate. 

The counsellor explained the programme, defined eating disorders, and voiced the philosophies of the clinic.  This facility and all that work there is such an amazing resource in our community...and even though I found out about it through my family doctor...it is available through self-referral.

I am currently in my 10th week of the Times Colonist Health Challenge.  2 weeks in, when

The beige meal - steak, frites, gravy, bread, and butter

Sandra McCollough - the reporter that is covering the story, asked me what I would change if I could do something differently in the past,  I said I wouldn't change a thing.  Actually, I think I said that I lived my life without regret because every single thing I do and have done is a learning experience...and right or wrong, good or bad, the culmination of all my experiences has made me the person that I am today.  When I think about that statement and think back to how my food addiction started, the emotional and stress binge eating took over, and how I cultivated it for all those years...I really wish I had done something like this sooner.  But I didn't.  How many of us can be totally honest with ourselves, our doctors, our peers, our friends and family?  Experts, relatives, and confidants can tell us over and over until they are blue in the face what is best for us...but it isn't until we ourselves accept the reality of our own health that we are moved to change. 

Reaching out for a helping hand isn't a sign of weakness, it's a sign of self-acceptance and a catalyst for positive personal development.     

Heavy Mental

Two weeks in, 12 pounds down, and my first group mental training session.  We talked about setting smart goals - Specific Measurable Actionable Realistic Timely goals...all I could think of was bondage pants.  Oh, you mean the one we set with our trainers?  50 pounds gone by the end of this thing.  We talked of semantics, positive self talk and gratitude.

The session is geared around building mental toughness for your journey - it is a good time to check in with yourself to see how you are doing and learn some skills to help with any challenges that pop up - Christie Gialloreto

Grade 12 me.

About a month ago I had my one on one with Christie.  How do you sum up your life and how you got the way got and the reasons for that in an hour?  Realistically, how do you do that without laying on a couch with a box of tissues beside you?  I managed.  

I told her how I grew up healthy and active, I knew the ins and outs of food due to my dietitian mother, how I got really skinny in high school because my boyfriend thought I was kinda chunky.  I told her about my switch from feeling in control by restricting calories to mindful eating.  This is a tricky kind of consumption.  The "you told me I was fat, you told me to eat less," well, I'm going to stuff my face with potato chips because that'll show you.  How does that work exactly?  It doesn't.
 

Take me to the club!

University living, junior varsity field hockey, and a change in relationships started me back on track for a year or so, but I started new habits...staying up all night, hanging out with friends, eating junk food, drinking beer, and then going home, sleeping, and repeating.  Maybe throw some dancing in there for cardio - I had a love affair with Love Affair and the Drawing Room.  Ah, good times.  And this kept up until the 2nd part of 2nd year...when I was asked to leave.  Shame!  I guess that's what happens when you decide it's more important to attend Pub Night than Zooarchaeology 340...I know I'm not the only one out there that has gone this route, but I'm too polite to name names.  You know who you are...and we are all smart cookies with insatiable appetites for fun.  For the record, when I went back to uni I made the Dean's List each semester, and got my Bachelor of Arts with distinction.  Pheuff!

Aidy, Róisín, Me, Sarah, Kevin

Then there was Malta.  I was more curvy than ever, but that didn't stop me from packing 2 bikinis to sport on one of the rocky limestone beaches on that most magnificent rock...and my university residence had a pool!  Not to mention, the restaurant at said university residence sold very lovely $4 bottles of Matlese wine.  Heaven! Summer school in archaeology and a fabulous place to live?  Yes, please!  There's even an entire city in Malta dedicated to partying.  Paceville is chockablock full of bars and clubs...and university kids, like me.  House music poured out of the discos and into the streets where we roamed in search of the ubiquitous foam party.      

Summer school in Malta turned into real life archaeology in Ireland.

The terrors of Temple Bar - Su and Lu

I was 21 through 23 years old when I was abroad.  Archeology, despite what you might imagine, is hard work....it's not all old bearded British gentlemen donning suede-patched sports coats in oxblood coloured club chairs waxing philosophical.  For me, it was digging in sand and dirt trenches in the sun, rain, and even snow.  It was, "Here's this skull cap, now find the rest of this skellie."  But, archaeology isn't the only thing I indulged in whilst I was living in Éire.  I don't know if you have partaken in the nectar of the gods that is Guinness?  It is certainly one of my weaknesses.  From my first perfectly pulled half-pint at Bruxelles, I was hooked.  And, here's what they don't tell you about Ireland in the guidebooks...no one entertains at home, everyone goes out to pubs to socialise.  So when in Rome...erm...Dublin, do as the Irish do.  And, FYI,  you cap off a night of drinking the black stuff with a quick trip to the nearest Abrakebabra for some curry fries.  My bathroom window even opened out onto the chippy downstairs.  It was hard to resist the temptation of fast food when the smell of batter burgers wafted through my flat 24/7.  

So, I gained some weight when I was there, and when I returned to Victoria I dealt with it.  With my parents' help, I found an exercise physiologist who introduced a workout regimen that would take me from over 180 pounds to 160 something in the weeks that preceded my move back to Montréal.  

Murphy's Pub w/ the Royal Belles

After living in Europe, it became imperative for me to find a happy place somewhere between Valetta and Victoria, and what better city than my hometown of Montréal?  I moved back in 1999.  There, I returned to university and immersed myself in the subculture known as rockabilly.  I reveled in the scene for the next 7 years.  Montréal is the most cosmopolitan city in the world.  It's like Europe, but not.  It's idiosyncratic.  Québeckers, like me, are enamoured with the good things in life.  Fashion, food, drink, music, culture...the list is extensive...and these things are enjoyed with an unparalleled joie de vivre.  I'm not even going to mention the poutine.  Montréal, the temptress, took me in and showed me how to live life to excess.  Sadly, my intemperance lead to obesity, yo-yo dieting, and depression - certainly not the sort of hangover you can cure with a greasy breakfast.

Stéphane and I moved to Victoria in 2006, partly because we thought the lifestyle would be healthier.  Unfortunately, our bad habits had moved with us.   

West coast Suzie on a float plane.

What does all this have to do with my mental coaching session? Well, this is my history...how I earned my weight.  I was fine with food until my self-esteem took a bit of a beating, then instead of coping by starving, I coped by stuffing.  I gave up sports, I lived the life of a student, I ate too much and drank too much, my addiction to junk food started and sheer laziness prevailed until I returned from my adventures overseas where I took charge of my health for a brief period until I lost myself in la plus extraordinaire city in the world.  There, I learned to accept myself while trying to reduce my weight for several intermittent periods.  Moved out west, continued the languorous lifestyle, dieted down, ate myself back up, broke my foot, gained more, depression set in, sprained my ankle...enough is enough (and this time I mean it)!

Ask me about my ninja disguise.

Christine heard it all...and now, so have you.  I had already quit unhealthy food cold turkey and started training 9 times a week when we started working on mental toughness.  It's all about commitment, control, consistency, and confidence.  

I have learned that our background and circumstances influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become - Anonymous       

 If that's true...I want to become a ninja...in PVC bondage pants, of course.