Although, sometimes, criticism is actually complimentary, it can still ruffle my feathers.
Thank you to my friends and family who notice without fail when I am healthier, which includes being smaller. Some of you been with me on my weight-loss journey for the past 10 years; some maybe only have seen recent changes.
I’ve been considering participating in the “Throwback Thursday” rage so long that it’s really run its popularity course. That one particular slap-up-a-photo without much explanation day isn’t the best way to go about it, anyway. I am therefore instituting “Blogback Tuesday.”
I don’t usually allow pictures of myself to be taken, and even more rarely allow them to circulate. I can tell you everything I don’t like about the last picture posted of me, and it’s quite a list. I look completely bald. I have serious neck waddle, unsightly elbow hangover, and my clothes, while cute, seem too big. I’ll deal with that last notice later.
I can also, after more than a minute, manage to see some good in it; a genuine smile.
Ok. RE: my clothes are too big.
It’s such a nice thing to say, and a great validation that the self-work I am doing is noticeable. The problem is my clothes are not actually too big. They unfortunately fit perfectly around the parts that are going to remain a problem for the rest of my life.
Slowly, with effort, I adjusted my forage and exercised off 100 pounds over the course of 3 years. Then, there was plateau, devastation, regain, some re-loss, stressors, plateau, some regain, more re-loss, discouragement, encouragement, life with its ups and downs. My latest attempt is the one that complicates things a bit.
I was feeling pretty good about where I’m standing. I also felt pretty good in 2005 less than a pound away from 300. I also felt pretty good in 2009, down 108. Between those points, I fluctuated – mostly up. With great effort, I’m now below 2009’s benchmark, but well-aware that between then and now, the goal line was completely achievable. Total, I’m down 114, but not I’m feeling good about it.
Shoulda-woulda-coulda doesn’t count anymore, and I am left with the consequences. Without being gruesome: there’s a lot of extra, saggy, flabby stuff; everywhere. The elbow hangover is the most inoffensive example. Yes, it’s incredibly awesome to be able to fit my arms into sleeves that don’t restrict my movements to B-9 level.
For my own mental comfort, I’d rather wear garments that come down past the joint point. I certainly don’t want to feel that flap or see it reflected in photos. I highly suspect nobody else does, either. While I thought the sleeves on the picture-blouse were adequate, I now think I need to invest in more three-quarter length sleeves.
I mentioned this before, but I don’t have a magic mirror. I physically prefer not to roll-over or roll-under any garment. It’s just not comfortable, and I don’t need the what-was-she-thinking speculation that I admittedly quick- judge when encountering people either have magnanimous mirrors, self-righteous self-confidence, must need to spend their money else-where or simply don’t give a cat’s patootie.
The problem really isn’t with them, though. They’re obviously as comfortable with themselves as I used to be at my max. I thought I dressed appropriately, but historics show otherwise.
For those who haven’t seen me in a long time, please try to understand, through comparison, why I’m letting last Saturday’s picture float around through cyber-space. Having pictorially reminded myself how things used to be, I’m feeling a little more inclined to say it’s not such a bad one.
So here I am: 2004, 2005, 2014 and 2015, all out. Re-photographed just this evening with bumps and humps and lumps and not bothering to suck-it-in, because I don’t live that way. I’d pass out from pretending.
I’m used to majoring things on my own, but I think this time around I could use some real encouragement and positive reinforcement as I try to affect the few things I still have the power to.
I’d also like everyone to ignore my clothes. Please.
Quote for the Week:
Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:
B-9 Level: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robot_B-9 .