My husband hates reality TV. He especially hates The Biggest Loser, and will make rude comments about the show and the contestants when I have it on, simply to needle me. He just doesn't get it.
You see, he's one of 'those' guys. He's never had a weight problem in his life, and most likely never will. He can eat obscene amounts of junk and never gain an ounce. It's sickening really. I love him and loathe his metabolism. I will freely admit that I'm jealous. I eat a Dorito one day, and the next it's right there, hanging out on my ass in a little triangle form. I can only hope for our daughter's sake that she got his metabolic blessing and not mine.
But back to the show. He'll ask why I "watch this crap." I try to explain but it all comes out sounding rather obnoxious and self-righteous, and I wish I had a better way to put it into words that didn't take an entire blog post. Maybe I can get him to read this instead...
I enjoy the show because it reminds me of where I've been, and where I could be again in a heartbeat if I didn't at least try to keep a handle on it. It makes me feel good about the progress I've made. It makes me remember that you can sweat your guts out for hours, be utterly convinced that you're going to die during this workout, and come out feeling the happiest you've ever felt in your life. It makes me wonder how a girl can get over 300 pounds and not already be doing something to change that... yesterday... last month... a hundred pounds ago (remember what I said earlier about sounding obnoxious? yeah... I'm sorry). I marvel at their determination and ability to say "screw it... I'm going to get mostly naked on TV, and who the hell cares which jiggly bits are hanging out for the world to see." I would never, could never, do that in a million, billion years. I'm still a little flabbergasted that I've posted two entries that include my weight on a blog that anyone could accidentally read.
I've been over 200 pounds twice in my life. The first was due to nothing more than greed, gluttony and laziness. I was younger and determined then, and most of it came off pretty quickly. Which lead directly to time number two. The second was due to pregnancy (and pancakes and Taco Bell, Pop Tarts and milk... the only things I could stomach for a few months with my first born. I still tell him that's what he's made of). I will never go back there again. I hate myself when I'm fat. The kind of hate that had me standing in front of a mirror pulling on fat rolls and wondering if I could somehow get up the nerve to insert the hose from the vacuum into them in a desperate attempt at homemade liposuction. The kind of hate that had me thinking - literally every minute of every day - how ugly and disgusting I was. It still took me a good couple of years to actually do something about that hate. And now that I've lost most of it, I am painfully aware of how quickly I could be right back there, staring at a number I can't quite believe and wondering how to take the first step to fixing it.
That's why I mention the thing about my husband and why he doesn't get it. You have to have been there to understand how it feels to have this running inner dialogue saying "omg I'm fat" "I'm so fat I don't want anyone to look at me" "I'm really gross" "I hate the way the fat roll on my stomach feels when I sit down" "holy fuck I'm fat" "I have to do something about this" "right after I eat half this block of cheese on some tortillas." I thought all of these things and a bazillion more. None of it kept me from continuing to eat crap and sit on my ass. Not for a while anyway. What I really hope someone can take from this is that... wait... sorry... huge cliche coming... you can change it all if you just set your mind to it.
Obviously the power of positive thinking isn't going to melt pounds off your body.
Hmm... note to self... invent Incredible Positive Thinking Fat Melting Machine...
What I mean is that in order to make the necessary change, you first have to wrap your brain around the idea. You have to hit your own personal rock bottom. You have to learn enough about food and cooking to be able to make more than one healthy meal, and to know what a healthy meal consists of. You have to find a way to move - at your own pace - in a gym or around your block or in your living room - every day. You have to figure out what's going to work for you. It's not going to be an epiphany either. Finding what works is an ongoing process. But you have to find the healthiest, most sustainable choices that will work for you to start.
And so I watch The Biggest Loser and wish I could spend countless hours in the gym every day. I wasn't granted the ridiculous metabolism of... some other people I know... and some days it seems like no matter what I eat, if it's over like 1300 calories a day, I'm not going to lose a bit of weight. So I work out. I really would go every day if I could. It's what works for me, usually even if I'm not perfect with my food. It's why I've gained six pounds in six months instead of twenty.
Honey, I watch The Biggest Loser because I won't ever be the biggest loser. I'll just have to keep trying.
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