Guest Blogger: Love Notes from the Fickle Monster, 1
I am not Cody or Sheila; so, I am honored to get a spot on their site. As a gracious guest, my time on this blog will be filled with honest discussions about things of importance to any 24 year old single girl: weight, faith, and love. Without further ado, let’s get down to business with a weighty issue.
Weight loss commercials and infomercials used to seduce me. I always assumed if I bought 86 prepackaged meals and ate them while doing the butt lift booty dance, I could get myself under control. The truth is: that is not control. It is a simulated lifestyle that works for some but often leads to letdown and ultimately failure. I considered purchasing one of these lifestyles last year when one of my dearest friends asked me to be in her wedding while wearing this dress:
The dress was beautiful, fun, warm, summery, and perfect for her wedding in TheMiddleofNowhere, Georgia. I called J. Crew and asked them to hold a size 12 for me. When I arrived, the woman at the counter must have realized something was not going to work, and she politely asked if I would like to try it on. Confidently, I said no and paid for the dress, sight unseen. I had been a size 12 for YEARS; I was consistent and certain the dress would snuggle up to my skin just right.
I was kind to the dress, knowing she was going to treat me well and make me look beautiful. I got home, and with the excitement of a child, put her on. Well…tried to put her on. That damn dress didn’t snuggle up to me; she reluctantly hemmed and hawed as I pulled her over my sprawling thighs. Perhaps I was the one hemming and hawing because when she was finally back on her hanger, I was weeping on the floor.
How could this be happening? A size 12 couldn’t contain my girth? Really body?
It’s remarkable the degrading things a woman can muster up in these moments. I marched myself into my parents bathroom, stood on the digital weight watchers scale, and watched it count...and count...and count and count, until….
The scale read 1-9-7. I was three pounds shy of 200. My rational side knew drinking bottles of Riesling, eating fried Oreos, and lobster risotto regularly wasn’t helping, but my irrational female self rose up and wailed. How was this possible?
So, after freaking out, hanging my dress up on my wall, yelling a couple of obsentities at her, and vowing to fit into her by the wedding day, I changed my life.
Starting the “Don’t eat shit. Run. Lose weight.” Diet was the best thing I could do for myself. It was that simple. Ok….I take that back. It was REALLY REALLY difficult, but in theory, changing my life was that simple. I believe some divine intervention was at the core of everything; I really loved lobster risotto, chocolate, and Riesling. However, I chose change.
In April, I weighed 197 pounds, as I write this blog today, I weigh in at 165.
In April, I ate whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. Today, I had a can of V8, for fun.
In April, I couldn’t fit in that dang dress. Today, I don’t have to unzip it to slip into it.
In April, I had trouble running for 30 seconds. Tomorrow, I plan on running 9 miles.
In April, I was silently miserable about my weight. Today, I am rejoicing for the freedom found in control.
My weight loss hasn’t been entirely dramatic; it has been slow and progressive and often frustrating. Everyone calls it a journey because it is; a journey I am still walking through and will be discussing on this blog.
I look forward to sharing stories about the heartaches of monster dresses and shifty scales, boys and faith. Let the good work begin, folks. Choose change.
**********************
Cora Ruth Flottman is the best friend and college room8 of Sheila. She is an actress, teacher, christian, lover of the written word and men who can change the tires on a car.
She will be a new feature on this blog every Friday until our new exciting blog comes alive.
Weight loss commercials and infomercials used to seduce me. I always assumed if I bought 86 prepackaged meals and ate them while doing the butt lift booty dance, I could get myself under control. The truth is: that is not control. It is a simulated lifestyle that works for some but often leads to letdown and ultimately failure. I considered purchasing one of these lifestyles last year when one of my dearest friends asked me to be in her wedding while wearing this dress:
I was kind to the dress, knowing she was going to treat me well and make me look beautiful. I got home, and with the excitement of a child, put her on. Well…tried to put her on. That damn dress didn’t snuggle up to me; she reluctantly hemmed and hawed as I pulled her over my sprawling thighs. Perhaps I was the one hemming and hawing because when she was finally back on her hanger, I was weeping on the floor.
How could this be happening? A size 12 couldn’t contain my girth? Really body?
It’s remarkable the degrading things a woman can muster up in these moments. I marched myself into my parents bathroom, stood on the digital weight watchers scale, and watched it count...and count...and count and count, until….
The scale read 1-9-7. I was three pounds shy of 200. My rational side knew drinking bottles of Riesling, eating fried Oreos, and lobster risotto regularly wasn’t helping, but my irrational female self rose up and wailed. How was this possible?
So, after freaking out, hanging my dress up on my wall, yelling a couple of obsentities at her, and vowing to fit into her by the wedding day, I changed my life.
Starting the “Don’t eat shit. Run. Lose weight.” Diet was the best thing I could do for myself. It was that simple. Ok….I take that back. It was REALLY REALLY difficult, but in theory, changing my life was that simple. I believe some divine intervention was at the core of everything; I really loved lobster risotto, chocolate, and Riesling. However, I chose change.
In April, I weighed 197 pounds, as I write this blog today, I weigh in at 165.
In April, I ate whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. Today, I had a can of V8, for fun.
In April, I couldn’t fit in that dang dress. Today, I don’t have to unzip it to slip into it.
In April, I had trouble running for 30 seconds. Tomorrow, I plan on running 9 miles.
In April, I was silently miserable about my weight. Today, I am rejoicing for the freedom found in control.
My weight loss hasn’t been entirely dramatic; it has been slow and progressive and often frustrating. Everyone calls it a journey because it is; a journey I am still walking through and will be discussing on this blog.
I look forward to sharing stories about the heartaches of monster dresses and shifty scales, boys and faith. Let the good work begin, folks. Choose change.
**********************
Cora Ruth Flottman is the best friend and college room8 of Sheila. She is an actress, teacher, christian, lover of the written word and men who can change the tires on a car.
She will be a new feature on this blog every Friday until our new exciting blog comes alive.
August 2010
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