This is Why I Think about Gastric Bypass

because today I weight 219.8. Because eating almost ANYTHING causes giant weight gain.

VEGGIE DAY!

I had a kale-carrot-cucumber juice today for breakfast. Then, throughout the day I ate lots of yummy, crunchy celery and carrots. I had a potato, a grapefruit, a banana. Later, I had a veggie burger (at home, not at Islands!) with some veggies-and-hummus on the side. Totally indulged on really healthy, yummy stuff.

Of course I felt bad about how much I ate, because, after all, after nine days of drinking juice, one should have one's act together and she be delighted with clear cucumber juice and celery stalks, but alas, I enjoy eating.

Tonight I watched Chocolat, than which there is no yummier movie.

Completely hate myself for all my eating, even though it's all vegan and all healthy and all delicious.

217.6, of course. After all, I ate real food for a couple of days. Ridiculous. Oh, I also ate an apple. A delicious red apple, sweet and fine. Tomorrow I will wonder why I have gained weight, when anyone can see what I did today: apple, banana, grapefruit, celery, carrots, hummus, potato, almond milk, 2 slices of sourdough, vegennaise, vegan patty. For others, this might equal starvation. For me it equals at least a new pound.

DAY 11: FOOD!!!

Today I had that Veggie Burger and Fries at Islands. It was amazingly good--I know maybe I should have had something in between all those apples yesterday and the full-on meal, but it caused me zero problems and was suuuuuuuper yummy delish!

AND HERE'S SOMETHING AMAZING--I didn't add salt!!!! If you knew me, you would know this is beyond miraculous. I add salt to everything--I mean everything--and have since I can remember (I have very low blood pressure). I usually salt both the fries and the veggie patty, but didn't even reach for it--in fact the mayo (not vegan) seemed very salty to me and I used very little. I usually slather it all on.

AND--more miracle--I didn't eat all the fries. What? Me not even think to reach for the salt and me not finish all my fries and look around for more? (Scary, because Islands offers bottomless fries--they'll refill you if you want!)

EVEN GREATER-- I was sort of bummed out after eating all that--since I'd only had juice and yesterday's apples in all these days--but tonight when I got hungry again, I thought, "Well, I'm done with the juice fast. I might as well make some food," and what did I do? Did I reach for another veggie patty? No. Did I whip up some spaghetti? No.  (drum roll) I did what my body wanted--I cleaned and inhaled SIX CARROTS, kid you not. WHAT IS THAT?

What it is is this--I've been rebooted. I've been re-set. I can tell what I want! I really think the reason I went out for the burger/fries is because I've been talking about it on here all week and it was in my head, and now that that's out of my psyche (it was definitely more of a psych thing than a body-hunger thing), I'm all good with that.

As for the HORRIBLE CHOLESTEROL numbers, I think I need to get real and realize it's all the fries and mayo and kinda-vegan-if-you-don't-count-the-milk salad dressing I've been indulging in the three or four weeks just prior to my juice fast. So I'm going to forget about that and push onward.

Hubby still juicing. I'm going to eat whole veggies I think now, since I seem to have a real need for the fiber.

Today's weight: 214.4.  I'm a fan of that. Ten days prior to this weigh-in, I was 224.8.

DAY TEN: APPLES and ...

It's Day Ten of my Juice Fast, but today I ate two apples to get the intestines going. Success! I was not prepared ahead of time for the possibility that lack of fiber would cause trouble. Most people seem to have the opposite trouble--but since I've been vegan for a year, perhaps that had something to do with it.

I am about to out myself on Facebook as having done a ten-day (with 2 apples) juice fast. Or, to be quite strict: a Nine-Day Juice Fast Plus One Day of Just Fruits. That is, unless I eat a veggie burger tonight, which my body has been loudly asking for!

Today's weight: 215.

APPLES AND PERISTALSIS

Had an apple today. THAT STARTED THE ENGINE. I feel MUCH MUCH MUCH better now. Maybe have me some juice now, people!!!!

Super humiliated that my back pain was probably nothing more than BLOCKED INTESTINES--what a relief!  LOL. Joke's on me.

DAY NINE JUICE FAST

I've started asking everyone to bring over what they make so I can admire it and smell it and look at how gorgeous it is. Toasted onion rolls slathered in vegennaise, topped with avos, tomatoes, lettuce, and vegan patties. I mean it, that is GOOD STUFF.  I'm having a great time admiring it, although, to be strictly honest, I could like me some of that.

Son Number One made a juice last night and sucked it down.

The giant pile of produce is diminishing.

I feel fine, if slowed down some. I am able to just sit and read and think and drink water and have a few juices all day, so it's just been a lovely retreat. I haven't gone shopping or done any errands at all. Haven't even been to the mailbox. It's been like a lovely vacation from my life.

My back is significantly better just from taking it easy, using hot packs. Last time this happened to me I had three babies (3, 1, and 1) and couldn't really check out of life for the healing time.  I don't think I'll need the chiropractor at all. I never did take any meds.

I would like to eat something. I would also like to see how ten days or two weeks of this effects my cholesterol.

Today's weight: 214.6. Fascinating how we seem to be doing the point-six and the point-two fairly consistently. Down 10 pounds in 8 days (this is day 9 so 8 days have passed) of nothing but juice.

DAY EIGHT JUICE FAST

Who'd a thunk it? EIGHT DAYS OF THE WEEK! We are cruising along, with one tiny glitch to report today...my back failed last night.

This has happened to me only once before. Around Christmas, 2000, I leaned over (slight incline) my son's high-chair to give him a banana. Suddenly, and without any warning whatever, I was fully incapacitated, my back in a staggering amount of pain. I had to crawl to my husband to get help. Embarrassingly, extended family was in the house that Christmas, and my 87-year-old, very fit and sprightly grandmother thought this was part of the holiday fun--to laugh at me!

A visit to the chiropractor fixed everything, but I still stumbled around hesitatingly for a few days.

Fast forward 12 years. Last night, for no good reason except dire necessity, I was putting in a load of whites, when again suddenly and again with no warning whatever (no preliminary twinges), boom, there it went. Not as bad this time. I was able to pour in the bleach and get myself to bed, where I collapsed in pain, slept for a solid nine hours and woke up not-quite incapacitated, but mooovvviiinnnggg slowly.

I'm guessing that this has nothing to do with the juice fast, but rather, is just one o' those things that happens every twelve years or so.

I decided to treat it--not with anti-inflammatories and pain reducers--by letting my body heal itself, thanks to whoever sent me Pleasure Trap, which came yesterday and which I have been, Providencially, reading just as this moment of need. Am drinking lots of water and resting.

In the Food World, I did manage to (painfully) haul myself upright to help Elder Daughter make some Rice Krispie Treats for a party. It all looked very yummy, but I could see past the pleasure potential to the concentrated animal product (real butter), the super concentrated sugar (marshmallows), and the fiber-removed crispy rice. No, I didn't taste it.

I did blend up a juice today instead of juicing it--to get the fiber I mentioned yesterday I was in needing. Sort of a chewy juice, and I wasn't a fan. I think I'll just let nature take its course.

Today's weight: 215.6, more than yesterday by a touch, but I'm not worrying. We already went through this angst a pound ago, so I'm past that.

Fascinatingly, Pleasure Trap talks about water-only fasting to HEAL DISEASES. So I don't feel bad at all that my body is not begging for lots of juice today--it's in full healing mode on my back and can't be bothered with lots of food.

Thanks for reading. Stay tuned.

Oh! Hubby had two juices again today.

End of WEEK ONE

Just a few thoughts about this Amazing Week.

1. I was never hungry, except for the few moments today when I couldn't get to the kitchen. There was always plenty of food available for me.

2. I didn't drink as much produce as Joe Cross does in FSAND, not even close. But considering that he was over 300 pounds, this stands to reason. A 300-pound man needs a lot more food than I do just to stay awake.

3. I didn't notice until the third day that I hadn't had any salt for three days and, even better, hadn't noticed the loss. This is really quite extraordinary, because I am a SALT FIEND. I salt everything always and way too much at that. I didn't miss salt at all all week.

4. I do feel the need for--how to say this delicately--fiber. Unlike (apparently) most people, my intestines have not been working overtime. Rather, they have been doing almost nothing. So, I may chew on a few celery sticks tomorrow to see if we can get things moving. On the other hand, it's not like there would be a whole lot of bulk to move, if you know what I mean. Enough of that.

5. I feel fine. I've been super lazy and mostly just sat in my chair the whole week, hanging out with friends on Facebook, doing homework, cuddling sick sons, chit-chatting with people who come in the room.

6. Still no promises about anything past this juice I am drinking right now: it's a delicious concoction--let's go ahead and call it desert because of all the fruit--kale, cucumber, tomatoes, apple, and (delish) a whole grapefruit! Yummy in my tummy!

Thanks for staying with me!

DAY SIX JUICE FAST

Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish--hubby goes out today and lays in $200 worth of produce--40 cucumbers, bunches upon bunches upon bunches of kale, tomatoes in great masses, ginger root by the tree, oranges, apples, grapefruits, spinach enough to power Popeye for a year's worth of crises.

I'm super upset. I feel PRESSURED now to juice all this stuff. I know he was just being sweet and accommodating and not wanting to be sent to the store every three days. But, first of all, the MONEY was a TON, and now I feel that if I don't carry through for at least ANOTHER WHOLE WEEK, I will have disappointed him and wasted his money!!!

He bought a 25-pound bag of carrots!!!!

I'm torn between the typical (I think) reaction of simply bursting into tears and whining, "What? You think I'm so fat you want me to stay on a juice fast forever?!?!" and then he will say, "I thought you wanted a lot of produce," and I will say, "I do, but this is not a lot of produce--this is the Garden of Eden," and he will say, "isn't that a good thing?" and I will cry and feel stupid and run out and eat a veggie burger and fries at Islands!

216.2 again today. Whatevs. The whole day is an emotional loss, so who cares about the fact that the  scale is stuck in FATLAND. Never mind that I am drinking KALE JUICE spiked with grossnesses like SPINACH JUICE.

So this is Day Six, and I'm very upset, and although I do not feel physically bad or otherwise discouraged, the emotional toll of the day has been heavy.

GASTRIC BYPASS AND JUICE FASTING: THOUGHTS

If you've read any of my previous posts, you may have seen that I have been seriously considering having gastric bypass surgery, and have gone through all the steps requisite for that surgery. My hesitance has been the whole idea of invasive surgery to mutilate a perfectly-healthy organ, my stomach, just so I won't stuff as much food and faux-food into my face.

This seems like maybe it is not the wisest thing for me to do. After all, Gastric Bypass is not miraculous and it is not magic. It doesn't make you thin. What gastric does is give you a window of opportunity during which you are unable to ingest more than the smallest amount of food, most of it liquid. This gives you an opportunity to think about food and your relationship to it while you very quickly lose a good amount of weight. With any luck and a decent amount of motivation and support, you will continue to lose weight once you are eating again. And, with a little more luck and a good amount of motivation and support, you will maintain your large weight loss and have you life. Or have it back again, depending on when and how you gained all that weight.

Sort of like juice-fasting, except without the major surgery. Except doing it this way you have a choice at any moment to go get a burger (vegan Boca) and (baked) fries.

Might work for some people to "reboot" as Joe Cross says.

DAY FIVE JUICE FAST

Hello, friends! Guess what--I'm here on Day Five chugging along, still no problems.
By no problems, I mean: no diarrhea, no starvation, no shakes, no feeling faint, no angry husband or children saying what-the-heck.

Of course, there are the mental nudges, which I'm going to out as Messengers of Satan--those creepy little demonic THOUGHTS that intrude upon an otherwise happy day and go, "You are such a failure--maybe you're on Day Five, but you are not EVEN going to succeed," whereat I shout, "HA!" because you and I both know that I have made no promises, nor have I even subliminally formed any aspirations about how long this particular eating (or rather, non-eating) activity is going to last. To be clear, I can't fail because I have already succeeded.

NOT ONLY THAT, but people, come on--why do we always judge ourselves every time we try to do something? Why must we evaluate everything we put our hands to? Why do we continually assess and analyze and scrutinize, instead of just doing something? So, down with all that judging.

This mental nudge I'm calling "fear of inevitable failure because I've always failed before" can be debilitating no matter what your battle. The thought-that-turns-into-fear that poses this idea, "You know there's going to be fresh bread at Mom's, and you know you won't be able to turn that down--and you shouldn't turn it down, so--ha--you are going to fail then, so you might as well give up now!" This would be akin to telling some man who struggles against lust for other women than his wife, "Well, buster, you know when you go to the beach this summer, there are going to be some hot babes there and you are just simply going to utterly and wholly and delightedly fail not to lust after them, so what the hey, turn on the porn now!" It's the same thing. It is exactly the same thing.

Down with all that.

Today's weight 216.4. Yes, I felt that way too. HIGHER than yesterday, what is up with that? Well, consider this. Two-tenths of a pound is 3.2 ounces, less than half a cup of water. I have no explanation for this gigantic, self-esteem destroying GAIN. We'll just see what it says tomorrow, how 'bout that instead of saying, "What the--! If I can't lose weight by doing a juice fast, what is the point of even trying?"

Dear Self: there is a point in trying. There is value in effort. There is a positive good in being kind to your body, in being affirming to your spirit. Do another day, why not?

Here's a little blessing: Number One Son (age 13) has declared himself to be the World's Greatest Juice Maker and is now in charge of Mom's Juices. I call out the ingredients, he gathers and rinses them and then does his magic. His spinach, cucumber, kale, and apple number from today was yummy.

Food craving today--grilled salmon. It's strange that all my food thoughts have been of meat--I don't eat meat, haven't in a long time. Maybe I need more protein. Let's stuff some broccoli down the jaws of that juicer, shall we?

Down With Comfort Zones

Fine. I have a meeting this week with a bunch of people I've never met. Truth is, it's a support group for FATTIES LIKE ME. We're going to talk about our Relationship To Food (constant, loving) and wonder aloud how that plays into all our other relationships.

So, now that you've encouraged me, I'm going to go to this meeting, not in jeans and a frumpy top, but ALL DRESSED UP, including make-up and jewelry!!! I won't wear heels, because I can't walk in them, but I will definitely wear a dress and nice flats. AND SPANX, to show that I am not totally unselfaware.

The thing about me and SPANX is that when I walk, it makes that woosh-woosh sound of "HEY, YOUR THIGHS RUB TOGETHER!"

Fat story about thighs rubbing together: I went to private schools where we were required to wear pantyhose, and if you walk around in pantyhose day after day (let's say you don't have very many pairs, so you have to wash and reuse them for over a week, or until they die of runs), and your thighs are rubbing together hour after hour, THEY WEAR OUT at the inner thigh, but you still have to walk around.

So now your thighs are rubbing together and there's these blobs of inner-thigh fat that are bulging out of the holes in the pantyhose and (I don't mean to be overly graphic but....) friction, erosion, whatever, you can get very painful friction burns, which makes you walk funny, because you are in an inner hell of pain and what are you supposed to do about it? You can't take your pantyhose off, because they are part of the dress code, and you can't put gauze or tissue there because it will still rub together and sort of flake off as you walk, leaving a damning trail. So you just live in pain and agony and try to walk like you're not dying and hope you don't actually start to drip blood, because you know what THAT will look like.

To this day, I won't go to the mall or take any long walks if I'm wearing a dress, because this problem has not magically gone away, and pantyhose are not required. Fat thighs that rub together will eventually cause friction burns, and these hurt really really badly, plus then you have sores on the inside of your thigh, and who wants to have to explain that to a skinny husband whose thighs couldn't touch each other if he were put in some kind of thigh vice? So, if you see me around, and I'm wearing pants, fine, I'll go on a walk with you. If I'm wearing a dress, nope. Not happening. I'll say, "Sorry, I have a headache," or "Sorry, I'm a fat, lazy bum who never takes walks," but the truth is, if I go walking, my giant thighs will rub each other to death and I'll have sores.

Nor can you put bandages on sores like these to protect them from future walking, because (as above), when you walk, the bandages will just friction off.

Anyway, I'll be wearing a DRESS to the FATSO SUPPORT GROUP ("and why do you think you had french fries tonight when you know they are bad for you?"), therefore I will not be able to walk around the mall on my way home.

Eighteen Inches

I have so many necklaces. For years I've picked them up whenever I find a super cute one. I don't wear necklaces though. They're for "one day" when I'm not so fat and can adorn myself without feeling like I'm trying do the whole (faux) silk purse from a sow's ear thing. Besides feeling like people would pity me for trying to pretty up this mess there is also the fact that jewelry looks ridiculous on me. I'll find something really cute that would go perfect with some outfit and then I'll try it all on and I'll look so unnatural and forced and weird that I just can't imagine going out in public. I have worn a few little pendant necklaces with sentimental value, always on very long chains because short chains (which are always so much shorter than they're meant to look on my fat neck) make me look like I'm some giant monster trying on human jewelry. Dear lord. I know how horrible I am to myself. I'm only trying to be completely honest and these are the things I think. I mean, I know I should be kinder to myself, but when we are all alone in our thoughts and all the bullshit is pushed aside, when you're not having to worry about hurting someone's feelings or not coming across as a bitch, there is truth and this is truth. Jewelry looks weird on me because of my size. Bracelets only accentuate the fatness of my arms, rings on these sausage fingers look silly, anything more than studs looks like I'm trying too hard and the rest of the package is too lacking to be doing big earrings, for goodness' sake. And the exact same thing happens with clothes - everything looks awkward and awful and so it sits unused just like all my damn costume jewelry. I know what's going on in my head is not healthy. I don't know how to increase my self-worth except for to increase my value in my own eyes. I don't know any better way than to start being a better person who does the things she believes in (like eating a lot of whole plant foods to nurture the body and not a lot of shit food). The other day I put on a little star pendant I got for Christmas many years ago and I put it on a short chain because when it comes to other people, I've decided I'm tired of caring what other people think. I'm too old to keep caring. Maybe after I have regained the respect of myself I can start worrying about other people. In the meantime I want to stop waiting for "one day" when everything is perfect because I'll be thin and just enjoy now, just as I am (but hopefully constantly working towards a better me). I want to wear my jewelry even if I look awful. Let them go home to their families and tell them about the hideous beast in Target who dared to wear big old hoop earrings and a funky necklace while also being hefty.

-Lilly

Eating All the Time

The truth is, I have to always be chewing something. I chew gum, I eat ice. I drink diet soda. I drink coffee. I do as much non-caloric eating as I can so I don’t become a 300-pound woman. Sugar-free jello is a great space-filler. But it’s not necessarily about emptiness.
I always thought this urge to always have something in my mouth to be the result of being told to stop eating. “You don’t want that much, do you?” or “Are you really going to eat that?”
This compulsion needs to be fixed before I go further with gastric bypass surgery. What would be the use if I just can’t stop putting things into my mouth?

-Olivia

The Gigi Factor

My best friend in high school (let’s call her Gigi!) was super thin and had all kinds of other wonderful traits about her. She really enjoyed pushing the limits and often wore very little clothes. At fifteen. In the late 80’s. She was pretty punk rock. You can imagine how much attention she garnered in our little town. As awesome as she was in so many ways hardly anyone bothered to know, though, because they were so hung up on her extreme body confidence. The way girls HATED her because of her body and the way she showed it! And then there were the guys (pretty much any and every man and boy) that would fall all over themselves to talk to her. But that was only when she was around. Behind her back men would say the filthiest things about her, which I get, it’s what guys do, but that’s all they’d say. They wouldn’t talk about her witty jokes or great taste in music or any of the other things that made ME want be friends with her – it seemed to always be something filthy or hateful and mean. All the wonderful things about her seemed to be negated in the majority’s eyes by her body and their reactions to how she displayed it. So what got fed into my brain as an impressionable teen from all of this is that being sexy makes you a joke and forces guys to no longer see you as a real person. And what I’ve learned in the years since then hasn’t changed that general impression. What’s been added is the knowledge that, even when a woman IS respected, if she’s even moderately pretty and has a nice body they may be extolling her other virtues, but there are dirty thoughts going on about her in male minds. I’m no prude. I don’t mind being an object of desire and I understand that many women enjoy that attention and find it flattering. It’s totally natural! But I’ve got issues. The thought of ­ inspiring dirty thoughts in random friends and strangers freaks me out. That’s not hyperbole; I am thinking right now of walking down the street and men leering and I can’t stop myself from shuddering and feeling queasy. Does being fat allow me to be more in control of who’s attracted to me? Does my extra layer of fat give me an extra layer of protection from creeps and predators? I’ve concluded that some part of me must think so.

Gigi and I remained best friends through our twenties, but she was pretty toxic. She was always saying shitty things about my flaws, I mean really MEAN things, but it was in joke form so that made it okay. She would literally cluck her tongue and make a little frowny face at my imperfections. How does that not mess with your head when your beautiful best friend acts like she pities you and you know that you’re going to be the butt of some joke at some point any time you get together? I’m kind of disgusted that I didn’t end my friendship with her sooner, but self-respect has never been my strong suit. I did end it, though, and thirteen years later I am still confident I did the right thing. The thought of having a half-dressed best friend hanging around making me feel like shit all the time now that I’m all old and bitter just makes me want to puke. I’d probably have ended up punching her if we’d stayed friends. So, that’s one little peek at one little contributor to my fat psychosis. There’s plenty more where that came from so stay tuned!

-Lily

EDIT: I read this post to my husband, who knows that I’m trying to blog through some feelings about my weight (although not exactly where). His reaction? “I didn’t realize Gigi affected you like that. Don’t let that bitch affect whether or not you’re fit. Don’t let her…” Make me feel like less of a woman? Continue to affect how I feel about myself? Allow how people reacted to her oversexualized dress to make me so cynical? Don’t let her cruelty hurt me any more? No. “Don’t let her ruin it for ME.” Because the tragedy here is not how my self-worth and worldview have been affected, but that The Husband doesn’t have a thin wife. Way to reinforce the ever-present belief that nothing is more important than NOT being fat.

Gastric Bypass

I’ve been considering gastric bypass surgery seriously for about three years. For the past eight months, I’ve been jumping through the necessary hoops.
The necessary hoops include the information meeting, the meet-the-surgeon meeting, the support group meeting. I lost the 12 pounds the surgeon required me to lose. Then I met with the psychiatrist to see whether I was mentally and emotionally stable enough to have the surgery and succeed at the weight loss. I’m ready to go. I just need to schedule a surgery date.
Now, let’s be honest here. Gastric bypass surgery is nothing more than surgically-enforced portion control. It’s the surgical removal of 90% of a perfectly healthy, optimally-operating organ because the patient can’t keep her big mouth shut.
Sure, it works, although the literature they give you is quick to point out that you’ll lose about half of what you want to lose, and then you’ll gain half of that back. Math has never been my strong suit, but this works out (trust me) to a sorta-kinda promise that you will probably lose about 25% of what you fantasized you would lose.
So, utopianly, I’d like to lose 100 pounds. Given the above math, I’ll eventually go from 220 to 170 and then gain back up to 195. That makes no sense whatever. But let’s just say I was able to lose and keep off the 100 pounds. Let’s just say I could live the rest of my life at 120 pounds. Wouldn’t that be the greatest thing in the history of the entire world?
What I wouldn’t give for that!
It gets better: the whole thing is free to me. It’s all covered by our health insurance. I wouldn’t have to pay a nickel.
Even better—I’m so on track with this that I could schedule my surgery before the end of 2012. I could be thin by next summer. Really thin. After all these years—these decades—of hoping and trying and praying and working and depriving myself, I could be thin.
That kind of thin—that 120 pounds thin—is something I have not been since one freakish summer starvation diet in college. I was thin for about six weeks. To get there again, to be thin for real would be amazing. Would be life-affirming. I don’t know if such a thing can be overstated. Thin people won’t understand this, but every fatty does: to be thin is something we would do almost anything to achieve.
And yet, I don’t think I will do it. It seems somehow wrong to cut out a perfectly good organ (and yet I made my husband have a perfectly healthy function disabled a few years ago). It seems like giving up. It seems weak—like I should be able to lose this weight on my own—with my own effort, through my own vigilant self-control.
Or is it that I so identify as a fat person that this “easy fix” would somehow invalidate me?
I’ve jumped through the hoops. I can schedule the surgery. I can be thin by spring. I could go to Hawaii next summer and not be the fat one on the beach. My boys could go to their sports activities and not have kids say, “Why is your mom so fat?” I could go through my day unashamed, not worried that people are disgusted. I could feel pretty.  
It’s entirely my choice. I just have to make the call. I don’t know what to do.

-Olivia

Junior High Angst

I want to be thorough as I discuss my way through my weight issues, and I think we can all agree that junior high looms large in any discussion of body consciousness.
Body/fat issues that stand out to me about this long-ago time (and yet no so long ago, is it? How simple to suddenly be there and feel that humiliation…) are these: my knee-socks keep falling down. My clothes from last year don’t fit. I blamed these phenomena on my being fat. The truth is, I needed new clothes. I needed soft knee-socks that stayed up, not those thin nylon excuses for socks that slid down constantly, that didn’t stay up unless I secured them with rubber bands, and even then, not always. I needed new tops that didn’t pull across my growing breasts. I needed bras. My mother had a rule: no bra until you can hold a pencil under your breast. What a stupid thing to say. At the very latest, a girl needs a bra when she first asks this: “When can I have a bra?” The answer is “now.” Because having a bra is not about being physically mature enough to fill one out—it’s about the fact that everyone else is wearing one…and they know you aren’t.
Junior high is bad for everyone—I know that. And everyone feels awkward and body-conscious at that time because everyone’s body is undergoing massive changes. How nice for those other children who went home to, “Don’t worry.  You’re beautiful. Let’s get you some new socks.” I went home to, “Here’s fat Olivia.”
My mother again: at 12, my mother said, “You weigh 125. You should never be more than 125.”
In eighth grade (at 125), I fasted for the first time. I went forty-eight hours without food. It wasn’t the last time. It wasn’t the worst time.
I fasted because there was a book in the house called Fasting: The Ultimate Diet. If you’re 12 and at the utter limit of what you should weigh (ever!), you definitely want the ultimate diet. The author was a pastor who fasted for spiritual reasons, but mentioned that he lost 20 pounds on a two-week fast. After all, if Jesus could fast for forty days and forty nights, you should be able to do a week or two! Twenty pounds would have put me at 105, almost the holy grail of 99, don’tcha know. I fainted in class. Not awesome.
Note to junior highers: fasting is not a plan. At 12 or any other age. Fasting is for religious purposes, or humanitarian purposes or whatever other purposes. It is not for losing weight. Fasting will make you fat, because the moment—the very moment—you break your fast by eating that apple, you will not be able to stop your body from eating until it is satisfied.
Your body wants to be loved not hated, nurtured not deprived. I’m just now thinking about that.

-Olivia

Hi, I'm Lily Olé

I grew up in a fat family with a (very) fat mom, fat dad, fat aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. Most of us were good, old, American FAT – twenty to fifty pounds heavier than we ought to have been. Although I was always bigger (fatter and taller) than most girls in my class, at puberty, I started to really balloon up. I have had this gut of mine since I was about thirteen and the thick thighs and wide butt, too. Chubby at thirteen can be cute, but the older I got the fatter I got and now I’m forty and there’s nothing cute about it. My fat, disgusting body has been the source of extreme self-loathing almost my entire life. It’s so frustrating to be so hugely impacted in so many areas of your life by an issue that you haven’t been able to overcome in decades and how depressing to know that all it takes is to control your diet and you can’t do that one thing. With all I’ve accomplished in my life and I can’t get a handle on this one thing? How do I spend time every single day feeling shitty about myself, being nearly CONSTANTLY and painfully aware of my fatness in practically everything I do, and not have just FIXED my weight problem by now? It’s maddening! Well, I’m at a point in my life where I there is no going back so I may as well go forward. Becoming vegan six years ago set me on a path where I’ve learned a lot about nutrition. I understand the science of my body enough now to know how I got here and what it’s going to take to finally live healthfully. And I’m starting to understand how the things I’ve done and the things that have happened to me (some of them pretty awful) have all worked to help keep me fat. I’m hoping that sorting it all out here will be the thing to motivate me, but also…release me. Even if I stay fat forever I just want to stop hating myself. I want to look in the mirror and not think terrible things to myself.  I want to forgive myself for all these years of torment and stop living with shame in everything that I do. I’m ready to open up and L E T   I T   G O. I’m ready to love myself.

Introducing Olivia

I’ve been blogging for a while now, but always about something else, like books or movies or politics…never about myself. Never about my struggle—my lifelong struggle—with my weight.
It started when I was eight years old. My mother was excited about a new book she had purchased, The Diet Revolution by Robert Atkins. Having fought against overweight all her life, she must have wanted to save me the struggle—you know, get a handle on it early, before it was a problem. Nip it in the bud.
But what happened was this: at 8, I learned that meat was good and fruits and veggies were bad. I learned—at 8—that my mother thought I was fat and that oranges were a sin. Can you write a better recipe for body-angst?
That was the genesis of my body/weight consciousness. I dieted for the next four decades on-and-off, mostly on. I did what probably everyone reading this has done—been “good” and lost weight, been “bad” and gained it back plus some.
About a year ago, I became a vegan. This happened instantly—as powerfully as a religious conversion—because a friend (my co-blogger here) kept on and on and on about vegan living until I finally heard her. She sent me some books. I read them, and I was on board. In one frantic half-hour, my kitchen was cleansed of all animal products, from the meat in the freezer through the milk and cheese and eggs, and down through the boxed mac-and-cheese in the pantry. I never looked back.
But I was still fat. I am still fat. So, I’ve decided to blog my thoughts, feelings, struggles, and victories here—out loud—to find whether this kind of public catharsis and airing of long-kept secret hurts will be beneficial to my health.
If there is a way to losing weight in a healthy, longterm way, catharsis is certainly part of that. Vulnerability is certainly key. Speaking truth is certainly required.