Sunday, December 4, 2011
A Very Good Day
Didn’t get on the scale all weekend.
Something to share: “Positivity is a coping mechanism.” This I got from Marc Maron’s “WTF” podcast (the 11/14/11 one, I believe). He was talking (complaining, actually) about people telling him to have a positive outlook and that the arc and quality of someone’s life would follow his/her thoughts: be positive and everything works out. He doesn’t agree with this philosophy and part of his response was to state that “Positivity is a coping mechanism.” It’s true. There have been times in my life when things were going so far wrong that I was in the fringe shadow, light gray areas of thought where I considered ending my life because I did not want to continue with conditions as they were and I didn’t see anything on the horizon that would convince me things would improve. I forget who talked me off the ledge, but I’m still here, so it happened. I shifted my thinking to the more positive frame and that has made dealing with ups and downs, particularly downs much easier. So, being positive as a coping mechanism? I recommend it. Highly. A little more grounded in reality than Charlie Sheen’s “winning”, perhaps, but you get the idea.
Today was another expedition to the storage unit (aka the Cave of Wonders as in “I wonder when I’ll be able to get all this stuff out and live in it again”) to retrieve more clothing in smaller sizes. Luckily, classics never go out of style (If it was parachute pants and tie dye, well...) We’re getting down to the really good stuff: the various articles of clothing that I would describe as the Holy Grails of personal weight loss: the size 11 tapered leg Levi 501 (red tag) jeans, the Ann Taylor silk knit turtleneck sweaters, my cashmere sweaters, the Little Feat tour shirt from 1987 and the Holiest of Holies, a black velvet cocktail dress, strapless, ballet skirt, size 10. When I was growing up, I remember looking at the print ads for Black Velvet whiskey in Sports Illustrated: always a beautiful woman in some sort of black velvet outfit. I couldn’t tell you what the ad copy was, I just remember wanting to grow up to be one of those women. The closest I’ve come is this dress. It’s been to corporate Christmas parties, a performance by Pavarotti, Christmas and New Year’s Boston Pops concerts; it’s my favorite garment and I haven’t worn it in this century, let alone year or decade. I refused to let go of it, believing that one day I’d be able to wear it again.
Well, today’s not that day. But…
My knitted silk turtlenecks: 9 years since I’ve worn them. They fit.
Cashmere sweaters: 8 years. They fit.
Little Feat tour shirt: 9 years. Fits.
Size 11 Levis’: yeah, okay, not just yet but the last time I had them in hand, I couldn’t pull them up past my butt. Today: I got them on. No way in hell I can button them just yet without liposuction and the Spanx from hell, but geez Louise, I can pull them all the way up.
This is encouragement. This is freedom from the tyranny of the plus size and all the crappy “workmanship” and cheap material that goes into making that clothing. I’ve dropped from XXL down to borderline L/XL (depends on the garment). And I did this on my own (Dear Doctor who told me 6 years ago that I needed to join a support group because obviously I couldn’t lose weight on my own: if you haven’t died or retired by now you flatulent old fossil, bite me). I refused to book passage on the guilt trips that those “with my best interests at heart” were putting on me (Blood relatives. And how’s your health these days? How many prescriptions are you taking? Still diabetic? High blood pressure? Bad backs/joints? In Lipitor We Trust? Still smoking and drinking? Talk to me when you’ve solved those issues). That also goes to those people for whom either my methods are not acceptable or my progress isn’t enough, in their eyes. (I see that ass of yours is still dimpled and your upper arms keep waving goodbye 5 minutes after you’ve stopped. You have no standing to discuss this subject. Therefore, shut up). I’ve never had a significant other asking me to lose weight “for him.” This is for me, in my time and those who have believed in me, thank you. Those who haven’t, fuck you.
I CAN NOT wait to get back into those jeans.