Project Pandora Update - Day 44
Current Weight - 85.3 kgs
A couple of people in my support network have brought this up recently. Friends and family have come out and said that they look too thin / a bit sick / they're going overboard.
One of the joyous paradoxes of losing weight is that for all the internal struggles, the public meltdowns, the trials, the sweat, the screaming at your PT that you're not doing effing burpees, the having to say "no" to things you really want to say yes too (ICE CREAM...), the self-sabotage - this is one of the most public private journeys you will ever embark upon.
Sometimes, having your transformation out there will be a great thing. Other times it sucks worse than your grandfather's grungy undies hanging on your very public clothesline for the whole world to see and comment upon. Depending how you are feeling, the direction of the wind, the aspect of Venus and what the NASDAQ is doing, you'll never know how you're going to react to this public outpouring of comments and criticism at any given time.
Thankfully, in my case and for the girls I'm doing this 12wbt thing with, it's been a really positive thing for the most part. We can all see the changes - and it's wonderful.
Other times, things get a big freaky when either you know you might feel like your sabbotaging yourself, or you know you can't stick to the plan.
For me, case in point, I'm going out to dinner on Saturday with some friends. Alice will bring a starter, Pete and Gioia will provide mains and I'll bring dessert. Thing is, controlling the calories for this meal will be next to impossible. Pete's a great cook but is heavy handed on the butter, cream and cheese. Alice is not as bad, but she makes yummy stuff too which I would normally have to say no to.
I think this will be a case of ask for smaller portions and suck it up - it's just one night. I'm making a cake - Pete's birthday cake - for pudding. It's a full fat, chocolate, cream and walnut filled, butter encrusted Gabriel Gate classic. I'm sitting here scowling. It just needs to be done. As it's a birthday cake it will have smarties on top because birthday cakes need smarties. That's the rules.
I'll have a sliver - with some vanilla ice cream thrown in for good measure. And plan a few extra exercise sessions around this indulgent evening.
Then you get the comments that throw you for six and you think "What the hell?"
Case in point. After dream group I stayed to have a quick chat to Viv. We got talking. I need to preface this with the fact that these comments were made with love and admiration and absolutely no offence was taken. If only all comments could come with these emotions attached.
Viv paid me a lovely compliment - I was looking lovely. Thinking, I'm just in jeans and a t-shirt - I'm happy and comfortable. I said thank you.
She then asked me not to lose any more weight off my legs and bum. Nope, that was not on.
Hmm. How am I supposed to make that happen?
I'm sitting here in size 16 jeans - which are comfortable, not too snug and with no apparent camel toe (or moose claw as some know it). My t-shirt - also a size 16 is baggy and I've made a mental note that this one is a good ebay proposition. I'm holding off buying clothes until I have secured a job and maybe lost one or two more kilos - so that snug size 14s can be shrunk into - makes sense to me.
"Pandora, you have no hips or bum, and your legs are too skinny." I had to smile.
"Sorry Viv, can't do much about it. I'm a clone of my mother, who at seventy, still has the second best set of pins I've ever seen. The first best set goes to my eighty-two year old aunt - my Mum's sister. It's genetic."
The women of my family are chook-legged, arseless, hipless wonders (with bellies and big tits). There is absolutely nothing I can do about it. (I'm also thankful I missed out on the tree trunk legs of my father's side)
"How much further do you want to go?" She asked.
"About 15-20 kilos."
"Won't that be too much?"
"I'm still technically classed as medically obese. I know that it's not the be all and end all, but I'd like to have a flat tummy. I won't know until I lose it where how far actually is." was my response.
"Oh - but if you go that far, you won't have a bum to speak of!"
How do you win? Should I be celebrating because I don't have a bum? Or should I be berating myself for not having one.
I shouldn't moan - at least I don't have to ask if my arse looks like the back of a barn. So I don't have any "junk in the trunk" - so be it. Can't do anything about body shape.
I'm also very thankful for the love and support of my friends - I'm just highlighting the irony. Others in my support group have not been so lucky. The taunts have been thoughtless and cruel.
Exercise wise, I'm getting back into walking. The bronchitis knocked me around once again, but rather than go back too soon, an hour of gentle walking today and yesterday have taken away some of the collywobbles. I'll go to Pump at lunchtime tomorrow and be back into it on Saturday with Pinochet. Missing the hard core exercise is one thing I can't be hard on myself for. I've been sick. I haven't been able to breathe properly. Getting better has been my priority. Thankfully, this is something I have full and clear perspective on.
Looking at all of this, I'm realising that there's been a hell of a lot more gained than just dropping a few kilos.