Uppercase Woman

We Begin Again

So, I finally did it: I went and signed up for a weight loss program. I have begun, once again, to watch my weight--or be a weight, shall we say, watcher (like how clever I got to try to foil random searches?).

I went to a local church, went up the stairs (funny, how for-profit meetings held in churches are always upstairs, while non-profit recovery meetings are always in the basement), paid my $15, got my booklets and sat down for the meeting. I calculated my "point" allowance, and was happy to see that thanks to being a) a nursing mom and b) fatter than hell, I get roughly a gazillion points a day. The last time I was a committed WW, I got about half the points I get now. Amazing.

I sat and listened to the leader. Oh, she was cheerful. Optimistic. Enthusiastic. And I hated every minute of it. The meeting was crowded, of course, being a new year and the "free sign up" that's currently available. Nice people, all of them. But GOD how I hated it.

I don't care how excited the leader is about it, this is a DIET and is not a "lifestyle." Who the fuck would chose a lifestyle where you take the calories, fat, and fiber of every food you eat, use a little cardboard calculator to assign it a "point" value, and then write it down in a little journal and THEN go to a meeting once a week where you are publicly weighed and measured.

Seriously.

I knew it was time to go. Unlike everyone else there, it isn't a New Year's Resolution for me (I only made one resolution--to be sure to kiss Tori at least 100 times a day all year. Easy to do). I chose this time to go because Tori has had breast milk for a full six months+, and is now eating solids a couple of times a day. Therefore I can take a small hit to my milk supply, should one happen, with a radical decrease in my calories. I am still trying to pump once or twice a day PLUS do all her feedings on the breast while I'm still home from work (I go back to work Tuesday--sob!). This should keep my supply up fairly well even though I'm eating a lot less.

So far, I've been "on point" for 48 hours. I do feel like I'm hungry all the time, but that's OK. I'm surprised to realize just how much I've been eating. Yikes. I'm hoping to hit my 10% goal by my birthday at the end of April. We shall see.

I find myself facing this, this yet another fucking diet, with a leaden resignation. It's different than the way I've dieted before. Sometimes I've tried to start a diet when I wasn't yet willing (like after I lost the boys). Sometimes I've been ready and enthusiastic and pleased as punch to do it.

But this time, I just know it's time and it's the right thing to do. I really want to be a bit lighter and in better shape by the time summer camping season comes around. I want to have a body light enough to run after Tori with ease when she begins walking. It's time, and I'm ready.

But I'm not happy about it. Just so you know.

_______________________________________________

Last night my mom babysat Tori again and Charlie and I got to go see another movie. We chose "Children of Men" because of its excellent reviews and Clive! Owen! is in it.

I haven't read the book it's based on; but as Brooklyn Girl pointed out recently, in the book it was the MEN that were infertile. In the movie, naturally, it's women that are infertile (just in case you weren't sure that Hollywood is misogynistic).

It's seriously depressing. I mean DE-PRESS-ING. But it's also really good. Great acting, incredible story, beautifully filmed. Tough, though. Not sure I could have handled it if Tori wasn't in my life (we both felt the need to run home and see the baby after). So if you are still climbing up the infertility hill, you might want to skip it.

However, it's finally provided something to say to people who don't understand infertility. The movie beautifully captures the loss of hope, faith, and joy that comes with infertility. Every moment of the movie is like an illustration of the grief and rage, apathy and exhaustion, misery and hopelessness that is the life of an infertile.

So if anyone asks you what it's like, just tell them to see that movie. It's perfect.

Fashion Follies of the Fat Pregnant Chick

So…have I mentioned that I’m pregnant?

Well, suddenly, I actually look pregnant. Mostly I’ve just looked like I was getting fatter—something I’ve been doing for months—so it wasn’t noticeable. This last week, however, I’ve begun to look like I’m hiding a basketball under all my fat. It’s odd, but nice and reassuring.

I’m also off balance. Putting on underwear is a challenge—I can’t bend forward, quite, like I used to, and it’s a challenge to put on shoes that require things like tying or pulling. This morning I tried to put on my very hip motorcycle boots (they’re kind of big on me, I thought that they might fit my elephant feet) and I couldn’t manage to pull them on without starting to tip over. Oh well.

It’s gotten chilly here on the East Coast, and I was surprised to realize that none—not even my lovely, big loose turtleneck sweater—of my cool weather clothes fit me any more. Plus, as I’ve mentioned, shoes are an issue, so I’ve been wearing my sandals and it’s making for some darn chilly toes. My store is about 10 degrees cooler than it is outside, so I’ve been freezing my tits off all week.

So I broke down and went shopping yesterday.

Payless gifted me with a not-too-hideous-or-uncomfortable pair of shoes, slip-ons with closed toes. Ah. Toes are nice and toasty today, even if ankles are bulging in an unsightly manner above the shoes. Then, it was off to try to find clothes.

Since you can’t walk into a store and buy plus sized maternity clothes, I just went to my normal fat girl store and hoped to load up on a couple long sweaters. Nope. Sweaters are short cropped this year (something I would love, normally, being insanely shortwaisted) but they won’t cover up the big blue patch in the front of my maternity jeans.

So the only thing I bought was that current silly trend, a poncho.

I grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, so I was wearing ponchos thirty years ago. It’s made me somewhat homesick to see so many young women wearing them this year. I’ve been considering one since I noticed they were going to be this year’s trend, but I figured that covering my large round body with one object of clothing would be, er, unflattering.

How wrong I was! A poncho, it turns out, is a fat pregnant woman’s best friend! It’s black (not a shock, all I wear is black) and the point is long and hangs in the center just above my knees. Turns out it’s about the most flattering piece of clothing I’ve donned in months. I feel rather sassy in it. I imagine it will be my new best friend this whole winter.