Tag: Weight

Posted in My Life Now, Texas- Living with Parents

Weeks of January 20th and 27th 2020- Work Woes, Weight Woes, and Workout Woes… Then a Reawakening.

Posted on by Lizzie Gomez

Yeah, it happened again. I was really sad. I skipped a week and almost another of blogging. Yep. It’s going to keep happening. But I’ve decided to do a joint recap instead of try to piece together whatever that mess was. Here’s the important bits:

 

Week of January 20th 2020

 

  • I found out I’d lost a pound of weight since the week prior.
    • I hadn’t really done anything to make that happen except being more conscious of my snacking and not being excessive with that.

 

  • I applied for a job at a hospital.
    • I’ve been really mentally blocked for a long time and just can’t bring myself to move forward in my life. Now I finally have my dietetic license and can apply for jobs in my career, but my heart hasn’t been in it. I’m so tired of being rejected. (Not from jobs per se, but in general. Especially since my internship, but also in recent personal matters.) Axyl gave me the real-talk chat I needed and I mustered up the energy to apply for one job. Still waiting on word from that hospital.

 

  • I replied to a health food company. 
    • This company seemed interesting and though they reached out to me to work for them as a cashier (well below my abilities now that I am licensed) I genuinely wanted to learn more about the company and network. I decided to meet with the CEO/ founder later in the week.

 

  • I met a guitarist in my piano class. 
    • He didn’t have his book, so I offered to share mine with him. We got to talking and it seems he’s also from a different discipline like me. Because of his experience with guitar and my experience with singing, we both know the very basics of music like notes and rhythm and such, so the class went pretty slow and we spent a lot of it chit chatting.

 

  • I didn’t go to the gym most of or the whole week.
    • I can’t really tell from my bullet points from last week. I think I didn’t go a single day…

 

  • I met with the founder of the health food company. 
    • He was not like I expected. Very stereotypical. I won’t even go into detail. Let’s just say, I’m glad I’m not working for him.

 

  • I got really sad because of that meeting. Vented to a friend. Had a fallout with said friend.
    • Tears in my cereal the next day. I’m not even joking about that. : ( Axyl gave me a pep talk and I felt better. I decided to let that relationship go. At least the way I was going about it. Why put in effort to be told to back off?

 

 

Week of January 27th 2020

 

  • Found out I’d gained 5 pounds in the last week.
    • Officially obese category II (BMI 35). New highest weight I’ve ever been.
    • That’s what being very sad and giving in to emotional eating will do to ya.

 

  • Opening up more in sign language class. 
    • It’s easier now that there’s only like 10 students instead of 30 last semester. I think I surprised my professor since he and the rest the class are used to seeing me as the quiet, smart kid. That’s the way I usually present myself in most places. A lot of people don’t get to see my dark, funny side. Ha, this class won’t know what’s coming!

 

  • Getting bored in piano class. 
    • It’s very much a beginning piano class and apart from some much needed practice sight reading. It seems I know the basics. Didn’t even feel like chatting with the guitarist.

 

  • Decided to start eating healthier one step at a time instead of trying to do everything “perfectly”
    • I know how complicated nutrition can be, but I also know how simple it can be too. I decided it doesn’t matter what I think about myself or how scared I am to be skinnier. This has gotten out of hand and I can’t keep putting it off and gaining 5 more pounds every time I get knocked down by life. There’s not next week, or starting Monday, or maybe if I feel like it. It’s now. It’s starting simple and building on it. It’s slow, but steady. It’s Wednesday. I started eating healthier on a Wednesday. I decided to start with the most basic thing. I know there are more than two dozen essential vitamins and minerals, but take it one thing at a time. For it to be a lifestyle and not a diet it has to be maintainable. Start with what you know you can do and that you can do consistently. So I did.
      • Maybe I’ll write a more detailed post just about this later. Or maybe not. I’m not trying to influence anyone into following what I’m doing for a healthier lifestyle. That’s different for everyone. Maybe it will help some, maybe it will hinder others. I’ll think about it.

 

  • First aerial silks class
    • We are in pairs for the class. My partner seems very nice and super extroverted. She made the class so much fun, even though I only successfully was able to do one of about 5 moves we were taught and it was basically hanging upside down. 🙈 I wasn’t able to climb the silk or do a pull through. (My arms are dying. >.< I need to build some upper body strength!)

 

  • Went to the gym for the first time in about 2 weeks.
    • I took my brother with me before sign language class and he also did a bit of exercise. That was cool! I used the stationary bikes. Why this gym positioned the spin bikes right in the middle of all of the weight machines (read: with my butt directly in front of a couple of guys), I have no idea. It was awkward, but I still got a short bike session in before class.

 

  • Went swimming for the first time in about 3 weeks. 😬
    • I almost didn’t go because my mom and brother didn’t want to swim. (They said it was too cold and they would rather do some other form of cardio.) But, I did my swim session without them and it felt refreshingly nice to just concentrate on myself. (Usually, I keep an eye on my mom and brother because they aren’t the strongest swimmers.)

 

  • Cousin’s birthday party!
    • Cousins invited me to join them for some bowling. 🙂 It was so much fun! I hadn’t seen all of them in a very long time, but they were very welcoming. I’m so glad I was able to go. (Even though I suck at bowling, haha!)

 

Next Week:

  • Last poem about someone I’m over. Just want to post it because it was something that hurt me deeply and I felt strongly about and now I don’t. I’m all about transformation and letting go of that is definitely a positive change in my life.
  • We’ll see how maintainable this healthier lifestyle really is. It’s been 4 days and it feels great. Hopefully I can say that after a full week. Otherwise, I’ll have to tweak it and make it more manageable.
  • Will I muster up the courage to apply for more jobs? I hope so…

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Note:

Picture is of my crappy little mountain bike that I’ve outfitted for future triathlons and indoor training. It’s not much, but it’s all I need. Such is life. I make do.

 

Posted in Uncategorized

The Happiest I’ve Ever Been

Posted on by Lizzie Gomez

I have four unfinished drafts. I haven’t written in four weeks… or more. I get four new ideas every sleepless night. There’s too much and not enough going on in my life. And I can’t take it anymore. I’m writing at 3 am and decided to publish whatever word vomit I create. A friend of mine once suggested (likely out of pity) that my readers must like the honesty that these sad writing sessions are born from. He said this after I expressed confusion that one such word vomit post did infinitely better, views-wise, than a post I spent upwards of eight hours on.

 

Audio of this post:

 

The Best Four Months of My Life

 

Living on my own, therapy, love, and more…

I want to write. I do. I used to fight for myself. I did very well- surprisingly well- the first semester I moved into an apartment on campus by myself. Sure I had apartment-mates, but I saw them each no more than three times that whole school year (they were worse recluses than me!). It took until finals time to falter. That semester in group therapy I gave more advice than sought it. My life was great and I ran with that. Literally. That was when I started running. I wanted to do a 5K. About two months in I was pushing myself and that was the only area in my life I would not be satisfied with. I wanted to continuously improve and did.

I loved my life that year. It was the best semester of my life. Best three or four months of my life. I did things because I wanted to and that was that. I tried the whole vegetarian thing. I was looking into studying abroad. It was glorious. And, of course, I was in love. My first boyfriend. That’s pure. Completely the wrong person for me and that became blatantly apparent in the next few months, but for that brief beginning… it was glorious. I didn’t know I could be so happy.

 

Friendship, Healthier Coping, and Constant Support

That was the semester I began a friendship with one of the most caring people I’ve ever met- Mariah. I’d never had such a close friendship with someone before. It’s incredible she’s still my friend. That was also the semester we both turned 21. Every other weekend we’d get together, just the two of us (well with her boyfriend playing video games on a nearby couch), at her apartment to hang out and try different types of alcohol. Not the wildest college drinking stories. Not even close. But the best I could have asked for.

I’ve had issues with emotional overeating since I was about 10 years old. That semester? Not until finals time. It was like I imagine nicotine cravings are. Awful. Constant. And gnawing. Obviously, it wasn’t without a couple slip ups, but until I gave up during finals week… it was amazing. I sang so much that semester. Constant music. That’s what they always say. Therapists and other positive role models I’ve had: replace negative behaviors with positive ones. It’s so difficult. Sounds simple, but a song isn’t as effective as a donut for me. Not at first. That’s the semester I learned to be okay with crying. I’d been told crying isn’t shameful since I’d started therapy two years prior to that semester, but on my then boyfriend’s shoulder I accepted it.

It was my first semester as manager at a little food shop on campus. I met my coworkers I’d be friends with for the remainder of my university career. I was so nervous about my first leadership role. The boyfriend was constant support through anything and everything that semester. I’d never had that. With him, my therapists, my friends, and a pinch of belief in myself I learned I could be happy. I didn’t have to keep punishing myself for something I felt I deserved.

 

Beginning to Like Myself and Learning to Enjoy Life

I can’t underestimate this next part. I’ve hated the way I look, especially my weight, over any horrible thought I’ve ever had about my intelligence or other abilities. I never in a million years thought I’d look at myself with anything but disgust and shame. That semester, sometimes I’d wish I looked like someone’s reflection or shadow I’d catch at the corner of my eye then I’d realize that reflection or shadow had been mine. It was extremely confusing and alien at first. I began wearing tank tops for Pete’s sake! I liked how they looked… I almost can’t believe I got to that point. I was by no means skinny. I’ve dreamt of being skinny for more than a decade at this point. I didn’t weigh myself that whole semester. Maybe once for a class, but I think I refused to look at the time. Yet, I’ve never been happier with my body. Sometimes I would look in a mirror (I hate mirrors) and like how I looked! Actually looked at myself and felt good- confident even!

Unbelievable! That whole semester… And I enjoyed the heck out of it. As I experienced it I knew it likely would end. I was terrified. Like an unsavory indigestion I kept swallowing down. Yet, I pushed it aside and had the best three or four months of my life. It doesn’t sound like much, but when you’re used to wallowing in sadness sure that that’s all you’re worth- pain and disappointment- four months is infinity. I regret nothing. I lived. I loved. And I sure as hell made the best of it.

 

Where Am I Now?

Wow. That was certainly not the direction I expected this to go. Usually when my mind wanders it reminds me how unhappy I currently am. Getting creative, Brain. You jerk. Well, since I doubt I’ll finish up those other four drafts anytime soon, here’s the summary.

  1. I used to publish just whenever I was inspired on my old blog which was about once a month. I’m done making promises I won’t keep. Not to be rude, but I can’t keep disappointing myself. I’ll publish when I publish. Sorry.
  2. I hate living at home. My friend offered to let me move in with her, but she lives in West Texas about six hours away from where I currently live. I said no. I regret that at least five times a day. Okay, maybe only three times a day.
  3. I’m codependent without anyone to be codependent with. That’s what those four drafts said in a nutshell.
  4. The fourth kind of overlaps with the friend offering her home thing. It was a pros and cons list of moving out or living at home with my parents.

 

I hate my life right now. I have plans to make it better. I hope I follow through with them. It’s kind of difficult at the moment to find motivation. But what choice do I have? It’s fight for myself or be miserable. I know I’ve written something like this at least five times before, but that’s what I’ve found life to be: a repetitive pep talk where I have to convince myself I’m the most qualified person to care and put in the work to make my life enjoyable. I don’t know what else I can do.

I’ve given up on people before and I will never forgive myself for it. I’m terrified of what will happen if I give up on myself completely. I’ve seriously let myself go, but I know there’s some line I’ve never crossed. I know I haven’t reached rock bottom. Things can be worse. And I’m afraid. I don’t want to get there. I won’t get there. Stupid pep talk after stupid pep talk- I won’t let myself get there. Thanks, Fear. Thanks, Unhappiness. I will only let my life get better because of you.

Posted in Uncategorized

My Reasons for Staying Fat

Posted on by Lizzie Gomez

Originally Published February 2nd 2018

In a way I like being fat. I like having a low self image and only a few friends. It’s easier that way. Let’s talk about the weight issue. It’s a relatable enough issue. Being overweight means less men hit on me. This means less unwanted attention. As much as you may think it makes a person stand out, it has been my experience that it pushes me to the sidelines. After all, you want the skinny, lithe player out in the spotlight and the chubby donut-muncher on the sideline in any game- including the game of life. Yeah, maybe people notice when I walk in a room or when my hips bump into a chair trying to squeeze through the desks to my seat in class, but otherwise people prefer to avoid me. And I like it that way.

Sometimes, I will get a wave of confidence. I don’t know where it comes from and at this moment it seems completely unwarranted, but when it has happened I sometimes get the urge to dress well and cannot help exude that unrighteous confidence. After a while, it wears off though and I’m left feeling more self conscious than anything. Then my brain flips and beings to wonder how it ever occurred to me that I could pull off an outfit like the one I got on my miserable body. In between this brewing storm, I catch the not-so-subtle glances of men and a few women. I tell myself I’m being paranoid. After all, who would check me out? I’m an abomination. It doesn’t matter what kind of bow you put on a trash bag; it’s still a bag of trash.

Being fat is safe. Less people bother me or bother with me. I don’t worry about getting raped. Why rape me when a giant pillow would prove the same? I don’t have boyfriend or crush problems because neither exist for me. I won’t ever have the urge to have a one night stand with anyone because it takes unrelenting coaxing to wear anything more revealing than a tank top. The days I wear tanks I feel like a whore. If I wear shorts or a skirt above the knee out in public without tights I feel like a whore. I’m not used to showing my body. I don’t want to get rejected. One of my theories is that I wasn’t bullied enough as a child. I wasn’t bullied so I am afraid of it happening. Like I mentioned in a previous post, I’m afraid of the unknown.

It’s nice to be fat because that way, when things go wrong it makes sense. “Oh, of course nothing happened when I stayed the night with that guy once. I’m fat. It didn’t ever cross his mind to lay even a foot on my flabby flesh.” These are the things I think about myself. And that’s just as well. Better this than the alternative. “Oh, of course your friends don’t like going out with you. You’re a shame to look at. It’s better you stay inside. Hidden.”

I know this isn’t healthy. But I won’t say I don’t like it. It’s familiar. It’s a pain I know how to deal with. Or at least one I feel like I know how to deal with even though a throbbing repetitive pain is still pain. I could change, but I’m not convinced. I enjoy the anonymity. I enjoy the solitude. Or, I think I do from the Stockholm syndrome. Being attractive would bring about a whole new set of troubles I am not prepared for. Though I yearn to be skinny. It makes little sense, I know, but I tell myself that if I were skinny most of my problems would go away. Suddenly I’d have confidence with myself. I’d thus be more social and outgoing. I’d be happier. I’d like myself. But I don’t. And a change, even if major, to my hardware would not change my software. I’ve been wired for self-loathing since I can remember. Time to get back to it.

Posted in Uncategorized

Why I am Self Conscious of my Belly

Posted on by Lizzie Gomez

VERSIÓN EN ESPAÑOL AQUÍ

May 26, 2018

I need to stop talking to this friend of mine. He can be really invasive. And I like that. It’s nice when someone wants to get to know you better. It’s even nicer when they want to know about the ugly, damaged parts of you too. It means they want to understand you. They care about you enough to want to know more than just the good things about you. So, I welcome probing questions from friends. I take it as an honor to be asked.

He thought I would be upset with him for asking. But he asked anyway. He asked, “why are you self conscious of your belly?”. “Because I have gigantic scar”, I should have said. But this wasn’t the first time he’d asked. No point shrugging his question off. I gave my typical answer first about societal pressures to be thin and beautiful. He asked for more. So I thought a bit more about it. In my mind, I usually stop at the society reason. I think it’s more than enough reason to be unsatisfied with my body. But it wasn’t enough for him.

After a few moments, I pull a slimy, repressed memory from its hiding place. It wasn’t even terribly hidden. Imagine a ratty stuffed animal poking it’s ears out from behind a dingy pillow in a corner of a room.  When I was young, I was skinny and beautiful. I was even popular in school, imagine that! Everybody loved me. Or so, that’s the way my mother tells this story. Though she just uses the word pretty (not skinny) to describe me back then.

However, the fact remains that once I was not skinny, I began to dress myself in slouchy too-big shirts and muck colored clothes to hide my outwardly growing body. This is when my mother would reminisce. She’d say it with a yearning as she tried to motivate me to do something about my appearance. What she refused to understand is that I would not dress any nicer unless I was comfortable in my body. And to be comfortable in my body, I believed I needed to lose weight.

My dad isn’t completely devoid of involvement either. He used to tease my brother for being overweight when I was young and thin. I saw that and partook. I still feel bad about it, though I understand that I was only mirroring the behavior around me. That’s when I learned that fat isn’t favorable. I also learned through the media, through T.V. shows and books, that fat people get bullied. I was only attempted to be bullied on once. Because of my freckles, someone called me a cheetah in second grade or so. I smiled real big and thanked the kid who made this clever observation. I used to love running around and my dad affectionately called me cheetah. And I’m so glad for the coincidence. No one ever tried to bully me again.

…Well, there’s the guy that would spit at me on the bus in middle school, but he was just weird. It wasn’t personal. Thanks Dad, for sparing me the cycle of bullying. In my later years I reflected back on the cheetah moment and some helpful tips on T.V. and books that recommended laughing in the face of bullies. The sources said bullies seek a reaction. You don’t give it to them and they won’t want to mess with you. You won’t be fun for them. Somehow, this worked.

What I mean by this long, rambley post is that I learned at a young age, through various sources that thin=success. It equals happiness. My mom would talk about her weight regretfully. Say my dad prefers thin people. As if the T.V. screens weren’t screaming this preference of thinness loud enough at me. At the same time she and countless others sang me praises when I did lose weight in high school (only to gain it back the summer before college). So, it became something to resent, my belly. It became a sign of my failures. What is keeping me from success. Because it’s much easier to think “all I have to do is lose this weight and then my life will fall into place” than the reality, which is that life is multifaceted.

If I want to be successful, I have to go to the dentist, continue learning everyday, brush my hair, spend time with friends, and a billion other things than just diet and exercise. There are so many parts to life. While it is important to health, why should weight loss be (ironically) such a huge part? It’s usually my first item on goals I want to accomplish. It’s not that I don’t know how to lose weight. I practically have a Bachelor’s degree in that. (My Bachelor’s is in Nutritional Sciences and Dietetics.) There’s other personal factors in the way, like the fact that I put thinness on the pedestal of success. If it’s so important, it’s also very intimidating to work on.

I don’t know what is best: working on the underlying issues or the problem itself. I am medically obese. I know, doesn’t help my credibility to admit that. Who believes fat people? They’re just lazy bums. (<– A half joke.) I don’t know if I should work on changing the way I think or pushing forward and adopting a healthier lifestyle. I’m afraid that by focusing on my thoughts I’ll only come to accept what can actually be adverse to my health (mainly being overweight and having a sedentary lifestyle).

Obesity is a precursor for many diseases like heart disease and diabetes and puts you at higher risk for certain cancers like breast cancer. I don’t want to be comfortable in my excessive weight. But, I also fear changing my life to a healthier one where I am within the normal parameters of weight for me and am physically active. I fear looking successful, but still being broken in my beliefs. I don’t want to change my outside if my inside doesn’t change too.

So, I am at an impasse. The solution, as I see it, is to work on both my faulty beliefs that thinness equals success and on my unhealthy habits like not exercising. If only it were that easy. Thank you. I sincerely thank you Richard for asking that invasive question. By answering you I find the answers to my indecision. I’ve been stuck in this place of wanting to do something about my weight and not wanting to do anything without knowing why for years. I see now that it is a matter of opposing factors (my perception of thinness, what it means to me, and the reality of weight as a factor in correlation to health).

Now I just have to convince myself to start. Maybe I’ll go on a run and then compliment myself for taking the initiative. After all, progress (not thinness) is success.