Fat Shame on Me

A couple weeks ago, I was having a pretty lousy week (understatement).  Instead of going all DEFCON-drama-1 on social media and posting the truth about my miserable state of affairs, I opted to update my Facebook friends on my weight loss progress.  This news will typically, oh hell– predictably, generate glowing feedback, and I was sheepishly trolling for much-needed attention and support.

But, even I was surprised at the result.

down 46.5

Facebook will occasionally tell you what your most popular post or photo is.  My most popular photo UNTIL THIS ONE (see image to left), was a snap of my kids looking very attractive on a park bench in Brooklyn. This post far surpassed that one by nearly a third.  Once Facebook’s feed claw gets ahold of a popular post, it keeps serving it up to your friends and voilà: 162 of my Facebook friends reacted to the post with a like, a wow, or a love. There were over 30 comments of good cheer and a few questions.  So, I achieved my goal of getting attention, but it really unsettled me as the post kept racking up “social” points.

Granted, I did this for attention, so that’s on me.  I literally created a “piece of content” with this news as a cheap attempt to feel good about myself during a pit of depression.

Getting that out of the way, I had to ask myself, is losing weight the best thing I ever did? After over a decade on Facebook, and all the achievements I’ve accomplished in that time, is losing a few dress sizes the most notable? The most laudable? The absolute pinnacle of my success?  If we went to the grave with our most popular post on Facebook chiseled on our tombstone, would this be how I was remembered?

“In January of 2018, she lost 46.5 pounds.” 

Seriously? What does that say about me? What does that say about our society that looks is so paramount that it trumps everything else?  It’s made me feel terrible for exploiting my weight loss for attention in this way, perpetuating the myth that ONLY thin is beautiful and right. It prompted me to re-examine, as I have earlier on this blog, having empathy for and self-identifying with the health-at-every-size movement.

So, in the end, I fat-shamed myself.  Shame on me.

p.s. I’m not ending my weight loss.  Just not holding it out as some great accomplishment in and of itself.  In subsequent posts, I’ll  attempt to explain the whole mind, body, spirit makeover path I’ve been on. Need to push through this dark period first.

BeFit not BeFaT!

JustinI’m continuing on my path.  Justin, my trainer, and the co-owner of the BeFit Studio where I submit myself to his sadistic antics every week is pictured in the photo on the left. Although I tell him every time I see him I hate him, and I hate his wicked routines, I keep showing up.

We were discussing today, while I’m making progress having lost about 40 pounds, I still weigh as much as a football player.  We were trying to agree on which position now fits me best.

Where I probably started at as a burly Offensive Center, I could now possibly pass for an Offensive Lineman.  I told him my goal was to be a skinny Quarterback, but he told me some Quarterbacks can be big too.  In other words, I have some more flexibility and can start to feel some strength in my muscles, but I have a long way to go to get into fighting shape.

On that note, he convinced me to buy a bike.  I did that today.  I bought a sweet Fuji quasi-Mountain bike.  It cost more than I wanted to spend, but I decided it was an investment.  Florida has a lot of bike trails.  You can literally ride for miles on bike trails.  I have kind of hit a plateau with the personal training, and I need something more aerobic to get me moving the extra pounds around.  I think a bike can do it, so I’m going to try it.  Plus, it will get me outside in the winter sunshine.  I like that idea.


I made a promise to myself that when I started this whole, “I don’t want to be fat anymore” thing that I wouldn’t do anything that was horrible, like exercise I hated or starving myself to the point of feeling miserable and surly all of the time.  I told myself I was going to give myself a break and take it slow and EASE into a new way of living.

I’m doing that.

So far so good.

So, still at it.

The other day, I was in a dressing room, and I was shocked that I was fitting into pants sizes 4 times smaller than I’m used to.  That was really incredible!  I texted Justin, (because I have no life and there was no one else to text, of course).  He was happy for me, and reiterated that he knew we were making progress. But, I was over the moon.  Wow!  This is really happening.  I will be on a horse… soon.

Just tired of being fat

IMG_0312People with whom I share my weight loss journey normally ask me, “Why?”  It’s meant to be a why now, or what happened to make you decide to work on this.  I always give the same answer: “I just got tired of being fat.”

As the pounds disappear (fat literally breathes out of you; look it up), I am enjoying my ability to move easier– to pick things up easier, to fit easier into chairs, to crouch down in a squat to fix a rug corner– all simple things that are suddenly available to me in a smaller size.  Nearly every day there is an affirmation if you pay attention.

That my clothes are fitting better is fabulous. I now have an entire closet that is not out of reach. Even the larger clothes are just loose and baggy, but I can still wear them if I want to.  In other words, I’ve not seriously “undergrown” anything yet. I guess I’ve dropped from a 28 in pants to a 24 maybe?  Not sure.  I’m trying not to buy more large size clothes.

According to my scale, I’ve lost 38 pounds.  That might not be the same as the trainer’s scale or the doctor’s scale, but the weight loss is noticeable now.  People still aren’t saying much, but that’s okay.  My kids can see the difference.  Another 40 pounds, and it will be unmistakeable.  My goal is to get to 240, so I can mount and ride a regular-sized horse.  I don’t know how long that will take.  Maybe 6 months.  Who knows?

Segueing into something a little more uncomfortable, I was hospitalized last week to recover from some traumatic stress related to the work I do.  I’m feeling better now.  Normally, when you’re a patient in a behavioral health facility, the food is abundant and oftentimes great.  That was the case where I was at a prestigious center in Princeton, NJ.  I’m so thankful (today is Thanksgiving) I was able to resist eating a lot of foods high in sugar and/or carbs.  I actually lost a couple pounds in the hospital, and that is nearly unheard of.  So yay, self-discipline.

Here is a milestone photo to show my dear readers (all 3 of you) my progress.  The photo on the left was taken this summer with a friend who visited with me from Montreal while he was here on business.  The one on the right is one taken a few weeks ago.  I can see the difference, can’t you?  The good news is I look happy in both of them.



I’m really looking forward to making more progress.  As I’ve written before, the fat cells serve as a functional shield, yet they imprison me in a cage I’ve created to protect myself.  So, with vulnerability and a bit of courage, I’m continuing on my path.

Happy Thanksgiving. A holiday that would be better remembered for love, hugs, and family, rather than food. 

I’m especially thankful this holiday for this blog’s readers.  I think I have at least one on this blog.  Let me know if you’re here with a like or comment?






Hey! I lost 30 pounds. Can’tcha tell?


So, no one has noticed I’m losing weight.  That is so sad.  I told my trainer today that if he lost 30 pounds, he would be dead.  More on him later.

I’ve also said, when I’ve tried to do this before, that when you’re my size or larger… it’s an extremely slow process to lose weight.  I’ve used the metaphor that it’s like “emptying a swimming pool with a tablespoon.”

Of course, I haven’t broadcasted this news on social media like I did the last time I tried to do this.  I realize it’s going to take over a year to re-learn a new way to live in the new (old) skin I want to inhabit.  The first person who notices I’m losing weight may prompt me to post more publicly about it. We’ll see.

But I’ll tell you who does notice: ME.  Everything feels better.  I feel stronger, lighter.  My clothes definitely fit better.  I’m much more confident.  I’m not exhausted the same way I was.  My energy level is up, and walking up a flight of stairs does not ruin my whole day.

Even more than the physical change is the mental transformation.  As I said before when I started writing here again, I just decided I don’t want to be fat anymore.  Maybe it’s due to all the wonderful talk therapy I’ve been doing, I’ve realized I’ve been carrying this “extra person” around with me for way too long.  My trainer told me today that fat on a woman is designed to protect her.  I told my therapist recently that where the fat has always been a shield of armor– ensuring I would keep men away, being unfuckable and all–  I’ve realized it’s also a cage.  It’s been keeping me contained in a controlled, angry world of my own making.  I may have been keeping myself safe, but living in hiding or camouflage has served to perpetuate my own victimization and repressed hostility.

Unlike so many women who were always overweight and always were rendered invisible or déclassé in society, I was not always overweight.  I was once a hot cheerleader and even hotter twenty-something in business.  (Oh, the stories I yearn to write…)  I was one of those women who’d turn heads when I walked into a room.  That kind of power goes unchecked in the universe.  It’s a heady thing.

So, as I’m gaining a lot of ground with my new business, I’ve realized I need every tool in my tool belt to be successful with my ambitious goals.  I know a woman’s looks are a weapon of mass destruction, and I intend to deploy what I have left of them strategically to reach my objectives.*

Pretty women have been doing this since the beginning of time.  Don’t hate.

On my trainer.  He’s such a nice, young man. Funny too!  It’s reminded me that I long for a man to touch me in a caring way.  (Don’t go there.)  I’m talking about the way he gently presses his knee between my shoulder blades and stretches my arms backwards.  He cares about what we are working on.  He is encouraging me to be my best self.


*I updated this post as a result of the prevailing #MeToo movement on social media.  Don’t conflate a woman’s focus on maintaining her image with anything sexual, especially as it relates to power grabs. 

Still at it

horseback-ridingSo, I did a little research and found that experts recommend a horse can only carry about 20% of its weight.  This includes a human plus tack.  They draw the line at about 240 pounds for the average horse at 1200 lbs.  I like to ride bareback, so maybe I could get away with 250.

In any event, it’s an interim goal.

I’ve pushed through the temptation to eat all matter of food that is not good for me: rice, potatoes, bread, pasta, etc.  I try to limit sugar in foods too, like fruit.

I cut out all forms of pure sugar or any kind of sweets.  So far, I’ve lost about 20 pounds or so.  Depends on what scale I use.

I feel better though, but am getting increasingly frustrated that it’s not coming off more quickly.  I’m looking into hiring a trainer.  The food deprivation is the toughest part of this, but it seems as though I’ve mastered it psychologically for now.

It’s really simple: I just don’t want to be fat anymore.  Until I decide I do want to be fat or don’t care, I’m just going to keep doing this.

We’ll see where it goes.  My awesome doctor, whom I’ve written about before, noticed the weight loss and was very supportive.  I’m conflicted about that because, as you know, I don’t have any health issues related to my size.

I just want to do normal things in a normal size body.  That’s about it.

Hello, it’s me (again)


So, very quietly, I’ve started limited my food intake again to no carbs, no sugar.  I haven’t told anyone except my family.  I just decided it was time again.

This time it’s not personal; it’s business.

As wonderful as the new movement toward fat acceptance and health-at-every-size enthusiasts are, the rotten truth is people judge you when you’re fat.  You’re either discriminated against, you’re judged as inferior, or you’re simply invisible (which really is the worst).

I’ve been working too hard on my startup to sabotage my success.  I decided I have to look better to get the respect I deserve.  Does it piss me off?  Yes.  Do men have this problem? Not really.

Alas, here I am.

So far so good, however.  I’ve made the mental commitment to do it and have lost about 20 pounds.  It’s hard for others to tell, but I can tell.

And I feel better, so there’s that.  I will write here occasionally.  I’m interested in where this is headed and what I learn from the experience.




À Votre Santé!

doctorLike most overweight women, I dread going to a doctor– especially, most especially, a new doctor.

You never know if a doctor is going go treat you like a second-class citizen if you’re obese.  Worse?  They’ll diagnose you fat before they listen to what brought you into the office in the first place. There are some great pieces about this on the Dances with Fat blog.

I scheduled an appointment for a regular check-up with my new doctor here in Florida because I hadn’t had one in a while. To my surprise, I had a wonderful experience.  Not one person– the staff, nurses, or the doctor herself mentioned anything about my weight. Even after I weighed in on the scale. As part of the check-up, the doctor said she wanted to run a series of blood tests, and I complied willingly.

I took the blood tests and made a second appointment. The tests came back terrific.  No problems with cholesterol, high blood pressure, diabetes, or thyroid. All within the normal range.  The cholesterol could have slightly been better, but nothing to worry about at all. She did note that I had some B-12 issues, and I told her that was hereditary.  I remember my father having issues as he aged.  She was very concerned about this, and we set about to put a program in place to raise my levels.

Never once did she mention my size.

It’s as if I were a “normal” person, which in fact, I am. How refreshing. I will drink to that.