Tag Archives: Clothing

The Nicest Things I’ve Never Worn…

Battle of the Butt, Get Real!, Get Serious!, , , , , , , , , , ,

My usual flurry of weekend activity has been intensified by my determination to keep the “Plateau Blues” out of my head.  I busied myself with a myriad of tasks this weekend from my regular housecleaning to lunch with a girlfriend…and even cleaning my make-up brushes.  Yeah…I’m look’in for shit to do.  🙂  I’m focusing on the positive and doing things that make my life easier.  This also included straightening the closet.  That is, until my eyes fell upon a pretty storage box in the corner of the top shelf…and I stopped for a minute to look in it.

T-shirts.  Bunches of t-shirts that I’ve never worn.  Why?  Because there was a time in my life when I thought it would be motivating to buy clothes in a smaller size and hang them over the treadmill.  Turns out I was wrong.  It just made me feel bad.  It was like failure hanging over my head.  So I boxed them up and put them in the closet.

First, my apologies to all blondes. 🙂  I mean no disrespect…that shirt just made me laugh!  Second, I’m not sure I can pull off the “brown eyes hypnotize” shirt at my age…or the pink blinged out Super Girl shirt.  These two shirts feel like missed opportunities to me.  The OMFG STFU shirt is so small I’m not sure I’ll ever fit in it – as is the “Screw You We’re From Texas” shirt (great song!).

All of them are cute and I can understand why I bought them, but the problem with these shirts is that I was a giant fat girl when I bought them and I had no idea what size I would end up fitting in.  I bought mediums.  They all look unbelievably tiny to me when I hold them up now.   They almost look like little girl clothes to me.  I’m looking at the world through fat colored glasses, I guess.

I suppose if they don’t fit me when I hit my goal weight, I’ll have another raffle and send them off to all of you who are good enough to read this blog.  🙂  It seems like such a silly thing to have done, but I really wanted the shirts at the time and knew they wouldn’t still be for sale when I hit my goal weight.  I’m sure I thought it would happen sooner than this.

It could be that I’m so used to wearing giant Jabba the Hut pants that these normal sizes look tiny to me…so I’m hanging on to them for now.  In fact, as I write this, they’re already stowed in that pretty flower covered box and shoved to the back of the closet shelf again…waiting for goal weight day.

There are other pretty things that are waiting to be worn as well, including a bracelet my husband bought me right after we were married.  My wrist was/is too fat to wear it.  He felt terrible when he tried to put it on me and it wouldn’t fasten, even though nothing about it was his fault.  I own that, not him.  We’ll celebrate our 9th wedding anniversary this year and he’s never seen me weigh less than 265 pounds.

That shit’s gonna change!

Many of my readers have asked me lately “What’s keeping you motivated???”  I understand why those questions are being asked.  We’ve all been down this road a million times, haven’t we?  We’re doing well for a while and then BOOM…plateau.  Frustration gets us.  We want to lose weight, we don’t understand why we’re not, and we feel like…what’s the use?  Twinkie City, here we come.

I feel that way too sometimes, but the idea of doing this again seems absolutely insane to me.  Why would I put myself through all this again?  Granted, I have about 177 pounds to go and that’s overwhelming if you think about it (which I don’t)…but when I started this, I had 219 pounds to lose.  Why on Earth would I ever want to slam this car into reverse and go back to that?

I can’t help but see my bathroom scale when I walk through the master bedroom.  Many times lately, I see it and think to myself “It’s probably not going to move tomorrow either, damn it…”  I feel frustration.  I feel a little anger, even.  Sometimes I’m tempted to “just take a break…”  I know that leads to trouble.  You probably do too.

Then I think about that bracelet in my drawer that’s never fit me and I realize…simple science will win this battle for me.  Now is not the time to give up.  Less calories in, more calories out, water in, water out, cardio done, weights lifted.  No plateau in the world can stand up to the simple science of weight loss.  Why, oh why, would I reach for Twinkies or call for pizza?  If I do that, I’m guaranteeing that the bracelet will stay in its little velvet box a whole lot longer.

No plateau’s going to stop me from wearing it for my 10th anniversary.

Simple science + a little determination = success.  That’s how I’ve done it, that’s how I’m continuing to do it…and that’s how you can do it to.

The only way out is through.

SPACE: the Awesome Frontier

Battle of the Butt, Non Scale Victories, , , , , , , , , , ,

There is space in my closet.

Not too long ago, my closet was crammed full of clothes in a variety of sizes.  From the 32’s I was wearing in December to a size medium t-shirt that I’ve never worn, years and years of yo-yo dieting and wishful thinking come together in a relatively tiny space.  Hangers that used to be crammed together like Kardashians at a ho convention are now inches apart.  My clothes are beginning to have room to hang properly.  Why?

Because the size 32’s have officially left the building!  I can’t wear them anymore.  I swim in the tops and walk right out of the bottoms.  They’ve all been packed up and donated. I’m too small to wear them.

Does that sound silly?  How many 339 pound, size 28 women do you know who have ever said they were too small for anything?  Probably just me…but it’s important.

Looking back over years and years of diets and failures, I remember how much I absolutely hated to be told that I needed to appreciate and celebrate the little victories along the way.  I just wanted to be smaller…healthier…and less self conscious.  I just wanted to shop in a normal store for once.  I just wanted to live a regular, non plus sized life.  NOW!

I didn’t want to have to care about the little victories…so I would patronize myself and say “Oh, yes, Dianne…good job…you lost a pound.”  I told others that I was happy with my progress because I knew it was what I should say.  I didn’t really feel that way, though.  Inside, I was really thinking “Big effing deal, you lost a pound…lose MORE…you’re a huge cow and I can’t believe you did this to yourself.  I hate you!”  Inside, I was trying to figure out how to lose 5 pounds a week and still have a Twinkie once in a while.  I just wanted to get through to the end…I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the middle.  Slowly, I’m beginning to realize that the middle is the best part – not unlike the aforementioned Twinkie.

It was hard in the beginning.  I started this whole thing with only one goal:  never quit.  I’ve quit a million times before and it’s only ever gotten me fatter.  It’s like that Seinfeld episode where George Costanza realizes he’s been a loser his entire life…and he decides that from that point on, he’s going to do everything opposite – because if all his past decisions were the wrong ones, then going against his own judgment should pay off.  And it does, at least for a little while.

In the beginning, I would lose a pound and my auto-pilot would kick in and I’d think to myself “So what…big deal…you’re still huge.  It’s one pound out of over 200…Jesus!  Look what you’d done with your life!!”  As soon as I realized that negative crap was going on, I forced myself to say “Knock it off!  Shut up!!  You’re done!  You’ve gotten me nowhere!!!  I’ve lost one pound and I’m going to accept it and be happy that it’s one less pound I have to work off.  So shut your pie hole, bitch!”  Yeah…it was like that.

As I progressed, it got easier and easier to stand up to my auto-pilot a lot faster.  I’d feel the negativity creep up and would think “No!  Knock it off!!!  That doesn’t help…I know this sucks right now but just deal with it and keep moving forward.  You’re not going to think horrible things about yourself anymore and I’m not putting up with it!”  It sort of felt like I was disciplining an unruly teenager.

If you’re trying to lose weight like me, I hate to tell ya…I think it’s incredibly important to celebrate all the victories you can along the way.  But you’ve got to FEEL it, peeps.  You can’t go through the motions because you know that’s what you’re supposed to do.  You have to actually feel it.  In the beginning, it will feel awkward and it will be hard…but just do it.  Look at your situation and find something good about it.  Say “Okay…I hate where I am right now, I admit that – but I’m not going to hate me.  I hate that this feels so hard, but if I don’t try I’m just going to keep being fat.  I will try.  And when I feel like quitting, I will refuse.  Quitting keeps me fat.  I don’t have to be perfect, I just have to get going…so I’m going to look at this half pound I lost and I’m going to be happy with it.  I know it will turn into a whole pound, then 2 pounds, then 3…as long as I refuse to quit.  I just have to get through the beginning and it’ll get easier…so today, I’m going to be grateful for this one pound.”

The ability to find the silver lining on your plus sized cloud will help make this process a lot less painful.  I started to see a light at the end of the tunnel when my gratitude for the little victories eclipsed the frustration I felt with my fat.   It’s still tough…but it’s a lot less tough than it was in the beginning.  There’s nothing special about me.  If I can do this, you can too.

Back to my closet for a bit.  There’s a certain top in there that I’ve never worn.  You might think it was a cute little fitted thing in a size I can wear when I hit my goal weight, but you would be wrong.  It’s a 26/28…and I’ve had it for about 4 years.

When I bought it, I was a size 32 and not feeling very good about myself. I was only clothes shopping because I was too big to fit into most of the clothes in my closet and I needed some decent looking tops for work. I wasn’t eating very healthy and I was feeling plenty guilty about it.  I didn’t like myself very much.

Everything in the store was either ugly or inappropriate for a professional office.  The more I moved through the racks, the more I hated how big I was.  There was just nothing that I really liked.  And then I saw this top.  As soon as I saw it, I heard myself say “Ooooh!”

It doesn’t quite come off in the picture, but the entire neckline is sparkly (and y’all know how much I love all things shiny).  And it’s pink.  I love pink.  I automatically went for the back of the rack where the biggest sizes always were.  Imagine my disappointment when the biggest size available was a 26/28.  I asked the store clerk for a 30/32 and was told that the 26/28 was the biggest size it came in.

I bought it anyway.  That’s how bad I wanted it.  I’ve never been able to wear it.  That is about to change.  🙂

I should be able to wear this top in about ten more pounds.  This is perfect, actually, because hitting 329 is going to be a huge milestone for me…so I deserve something pretty to wear that day, don’t I?  This top has waited patiently in my closet for 4 years.  It’s about to have a hell of a coming out party.

Count on it.  🙂

.

 

Sparkly Pink Square Crystal Rhinestone Cuff Bracelet, 1.25 Inches Wide

Catalog of Horrors: The Sequel

Battle of the Butt, Get Real!, , , , , , , ,

I mentioned the other day on my Facebook fan page that I got another plus sized clothing catalog in the mail.  I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder when it comes to one retailer in particular.  Their clothes are the worst quality…and they have a habit of using slim models to try and make plus sized clothes more appealing.

I really want to slap the bejesus out of whoever sets up this catalog.  The sales pitchy verbiage is condescending on its own – but then when you add the slim & trim models into the mix, well…they’re basically saying “Hey, fat girl!  Doesn’t this hideously ugly outfit with the giant strawberry embroidered on the front look absolutely red carpet ready?  Jennifer Anniston wore one just like it last week when she was in Mexico on vacation!  In fact, here she is modeling our stretch pants with reinforced cotton panels.  Isn’t she HOT?”

I am not so weak minded that a sales pitch and a skinny model can convince me to buy leggings and expect that my legs will look like the model’s.  No.  Every time I see this catalog in my mailbox, my blood boils just a little bit.  But I always have to open it…because, in some sick way, it makes me laugh.  I start wondering what the hell the photographer says to these poor skinny girls as they frolic to and fro while wearing the shapeless crap that we chubby girls have to wear.

I picture a beach…a sexy photographer named Enrique is snapping photos of our models…let’s listen in:

Enrique:  “That’s right, Kayla…that’s right…so beautiful!  Bend over a little, baby…come on.  Kayla, bend over a little.  KAYLA, can you hear me-”

“Enrique?” the photographer’s assistant butts in.  “It’s the mu-mu…she could be clog dancing under that thing and we wouldn’t have any idea…”

Poor Enrique…he has to try and dress these hotties up like chubbies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s move into what they call…the Comfort Lounge…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then there’s poor Kelly, the model who’s career is obviously slipping…

 

Poor thing.

 

Nice!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, perhaps I’m a little too harsh on these people…I’m sure there are some 5X girls who love leggings and want to wear them. And as much as I don’t understand that, I support their right to wear it. And some of the clothes in these catalogs are actually passable for cute – that is until you wash it for the first time and it comes out looking like a 10 year could barely squeeze into it.

Seriously the clothes I have from this catalog have shrunk so bad that they’re now my “post shower outfit”. I don’t have a bathrobe – so when I get out of the shower and dry off, I put on the tunic I bought from this catalog. It’s still wide enough to fit me, but the bottom just barely covers my stomach and it balloons out at the bottom. Weird. Then I slip on the pants. Yeah, they were supposed to be just regular pants, but now they’re capris. Quality clothing.  So that’s my post-shower outfit.  I look like an extra from The Hobbit movie.  Meet me at the Party Tree for tea and cakes!

I’m frustrated this week.  We all go through this once in a while.  I just woke up and had the realization “22 lbs?  That’s all??  Wow…that isn’t very much.  I suck!!”  It’s been nagging at me for a few days, but the thing is – even in the really hard times when I’m tempted to throw in the towel, I can’t.  I literally can’t.  Because I remember all the times I threw in the towel before…and what that did…and how it made me feel.  I can’t do it.  I have to push through it, even if I’m in a pissy mood for a while.

So this catalog hit me at just the right time, don’t you think?  LOL

I have faith that the scale will move and that my somewhat sour-puss mood will perk up.  But just for tonight I needed to whine and complain…and the Catalog of Horrors allowed me to do so.  Now wear are my forever lazy jeggings?  It’s time for bed.  🙂

Nite y’all!


$20 Off the First Order

Wardrobe Weary On a Road Well Traveled

Battle of the Butt, Weigh In Time, , , , , , , , , , , ,

My closet is a ghost town: a myriad of tops and faded jeans all neatly lined up and abandoned.  There are very few clothes in my closet that I can actually wear right now, thanks to my stubborn insistence that I not buy another piece of clothing until I drop a size.  I live in a world of elastic waistbands and frumpy, wide-width shoes. Fashion is not my friend.  Fashion is a word I can’t even relate to anymore.

I didn’t realize it until this week, but I have been avoiding my closet.  I’ve made a lot of big changes in my life in a relatively short amount of time:  I gave up sugar, diet soda, stopped thinking of healthy eating as a drag, and put an indefinite HOLD status on my plans to have lap band surgery.  It’s only been 6 weeks. These changes are still in their infancy – and, with over 20 years of yo-yo dieting under my belt, I guess it’s only natural for me to shy away from anything that might derail the motivation train.  My resolve is precious to me.  Who hasn’t given up on a “diet” within the first days and weeks of starting it?  I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve thrown my hands up and reached for the chips.  My resolve is something that must be protected and gently nurtured.  This is why I’ve been avoiding my closet and all those clothes I can’t wear.

My closet makes me feel like a failure – and yet I choose to stubbornly cling to a hundred hangers worth of memories.  I decided to stop avoiding it this week.  Time to grab the bull by the horns.  Just two steps in and I was surrounded by a half dozen different sizes.  All of them were judging me.

As I organized and sorted, my hands flipped past t-shirts and non-tunics galore.  I remembered the times I wore these clothes – times when the number on the scale was not nearly as shameful as it is now.  I weighed a lot less then, but I was never able to let myself be happy with where I was.  I may have been a lot smaller, but I remember I always felt just as huge as the day I hit my highest weight.

Then I saw it: the first leather jacket I ever bought myself.  It’s a size 22 – which is still plus sized, but 10 sizes smaller than where I am today.  I can’t part with it.  Every time I see it, I’m reminded of the first time I saw it in the store.  I had lost 75 pounds, but I was on the small end of a size 24 and wasn’t sure it would fit me.  I’ll never forget the triumphant feel of slipping that jacket on.  Perfect fit.

I stood in my closet, smiling at the memory of it, but the smile faded within just a few seconds.  I know all too well what happened next and my moment of joy was replaced with shame & disappointment.  Just a few months later, I started another downward spiral and I gave up on myself.  Again.

Having never been able to give myself credit for the accomplishment of losing 75 pounds, I was still berating myself for being 295 pounds (my top weight at the time) – even though I hadn’t weighed that much in months.  I call that kind of negative, automatic thinking my “auto-pilot”.  I didn’t even know I was doing it until my attitude hit the skids.  I tried to pick myself up with a pep talk.  “Hey!  I do NOT weigh 295 pounds!  I’m kicking ass!!”  I tried to believe in myself, but I never felt it in my heart.  It made me vulnerable in ways I couldn’t see.

While at my most vulnerable, I was unprepared for the jerk parade that ensued when I started dating again.  It only took a couple douche bags to break me down.  It wasn’t long before I started finding excuse after excuse not to work out.  Fast food was suddenly more convenient.  Ice cream was back in the freezer.  That bitch Little Debbie was back in my life.  It was easier to curl up on the couch with a plate full of pizza rolls and let the world outside go by than it was for me to look at what went wrong and try again.  By the time I stepped on the scale again, I was 299 pounds.  All the way back up to my top weight with 4 pounds extra.  Nice job.

The leather jacket in my closet is a symbol of the good times on the road to weight loss and the pitfalls that await me if I make the same mistakes.  In some ways, it might be better if I just gave it to charity.  I can’t.  Not until I can wear it again.  When I slip that jacket on my shoulders again and I feel in my heart that I am a Hot Mess Bad Ass, then I can let it go.  That’s the way it is with all the clothes in my ghost town closet.  There is peace to be made.  Retribution.

It’s going to be difficult for a while.  Auto-pilot is hard to fight when I have no physical reminder that I’ve lost weight.  An obese person can’t see or feel a loss of 5, 10, or even 20 pounds.  It doesn’t make much of a dent.  Pants don’t feel looser when they have elastic waists.  It makes it a lot harder to stay positive when you’re able to wear the same pair of pants through pounds and pounds of weight loss.  I don’t expect to be able to wear the next size down for at least another 10 or 15 pounds. The scale and the tape measure are my only real tools for measuring my success – at least for a while.

Just a few days ago, I caught myself on auto-pilot again.  I sat down in my chair at work and thought to myself “I can’t believe I weigh 381 pounds…”

Here I go again, right?  I don’t weigh 381 pounds.  I weigh 361 pounds.

That’s right, peeps:  I’ve lost more marbles since my last post!  I’ve lost 20 pounds since December 15th, 2011.  Why do I have such a problem acknowledging my own success?

That’s why I left myself this note on my monitor at work the other day:

 

 

Of course, now I’m going to have to put a new note up there:  361.  What a horrible inconvenience to have to keep rewriting these notes, right?  🙂

I was so excited to see 361 blinking back at me from the scale this morning.  I had to weigh myself three times before I would believe it, finally stepping back and muttering “shut UP!”  My groggy hubby, still in bed, rolled over and said “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell the scale to shut up, babe…”   Goober.

I’m two pounds away from the 350’s – which means I have two pounds more to lose before one of those little pink jewels go PLINK in the “Pounds Lost” jar.  It looks like I’m going to hit my next mini goal:  359 by Valentine’s day.

What’s my goal after that?  354.  Why?  Because I will no longer be able to say I have to lose over 200 pounds.  🙂  At 354 pounds, I will have 199 pounds more to lose.

Seems insurmountable, doesn’t it?  199 more pounds.  My God.  I’m here to tell ya:  I’m gonna do it.  I will kick every single pound squarely in the ass and send it packing.  Ten pounds at a time, they’re dust.  For me, success is no longer just hitting my goal weight.  Success is changing my life and earning my way.

So here I am:  a 361 pound success.  Proud and grateful.

 

 

Catalog of Horrors

General Hoo-Hah, , , , , , , ,

I’m inspired and motivated in my weight loss efforts by many things…

…my desire to ride a rollercoaster again

…my desire to be physically STRONG again

…my fear of having to be removed from my home by firefighters who have to cut through the side of my house to get me out, then load me on a flatbed truck and take me for a mandatory gastric bypass.

…and the simple joy of wearing beautiful clothes again

There aren’t a lot of fashion choices for those of us with multiple butts.  Truth.  In fact, using the word fashion to describe the choices available to women my size should be a crime.

I’m still clinging to my stubborn proclamation that I will not buy anymore clothes until I drop a size.  As such, my co-workers see me wearing the same thing week after week and my regular weekend uniform of workout pants and a t-shirt hasn’t changed since Bieber Fever first showed up.  It won’t always be this way, but for now…it is what it is.

Am I still curious as to what “fashion” choices are available to my fellow chubby girls and me?  Sure!!  It’s important for any chubby chick on the go to keep tabs on the current trends in “fashion” for the plus sized woman.  Naturally, when I get a catalog in the mail, I take time to peruse it…whilst eating my afternoon snack of healthy fruit and a small handful of almonds.  Tres chic.

I flip through the pages and try to ignore the fact that my blood pressure is skyrocketing as I see page after page of non plus sized models wearing these “fashions”.  By the time I’m hurling it into the trash can, I’m screaming.

I’ve had enough.  Really.  I’m so tired of the bullshit marketing that goes into these catalogs that I’ve decided to cut through it right here and now.  Let’s go through some of the real gems of the “fashion” catalog I just got in the mail and let’s dissect the real messages behind the bullshit marketing, shall we?

We’ll start with the cover.  What are they saying?  “We miss you, Dianne, since you bought those pants from us that shrank in the dryer and are now only fit for a 3 foot, 400 pound midget to wear!”

What are they really saying?


Hey, at least they’re honest now.  Let’s try another one, shall we?

Speaking of ugly shoes, what the hell is going on here?

I love it when stores name their stuff.  This model shoe is called the “Darling”.  So stylish…it’s the fat girl’s answer to Jimmy Choo.  Forget designer touches, ladies, these bad boys are precision stitched for extra support.  And the best part is they’re on sale.  Now you, too, can look just like Grandma on her way to an AARP meeting for only $44.99

Speaking of naming shit, how about this:

What decade did they pull this out of?  We’ll call this stylish little number the “Ward, I’m worried about the Beaver…so I’m covering it with yards of fabric!”

Let’s see what other bullshit I can cut through…

I love a good tunic, don’t you?  Actually…sadly…the tunic is a staple in my “fashion” wardrobe.  Just more motivation for me, though.  Someday my closet will be a TUNIC FREE ZONE!!!

Mmm…hmm.  I heard that, girlfriend!

This one really gets me going.  These jeans are a “tummy tamer”.  Look at the fatty who’s modeling them.  How many Twinkies does this chick eat?  Thank God for those hidden panels that shape her beautifully!  What a total cow.

By the way, someone should talk to her about her devil-may-care, thumb-in-her-back-pocket pose.  We chubby girls have to keep both feet firmly on the ground at all times…especially when we’re being controlled by hidden tummy tamer panels.

Nothing says “feel the burn” like getting your sweat-tunic caught in the rowing machine at the gym!

This last one is my favorite…

Wow.  I don’t know about you, but I’m buy’in what she’s sell’in!!  Look at all her hot, sexy mu-mu wearing friends, too!  They’re ALL feeling sexy in their mu-mu’s!!  I’ve gotta have one…I’ve gotta!

Why are they trying to bullshit us?  Do they think we’re so hopped up on carbs we won’t see through this crap?

At least Lane Bryant and the Avenue use models who wear their sizes.  Sure, they’re 14’s and 16’s…but they’re not trying to shove some size 4 model has-been in a denim mu-mu down my throat.  They’re realistic.

These idiot catalog companies would get a lot more respect from me if they’d at least be truthful.  Let’s face it:  when you weigh over 300 pounds like I do, a tunic really isn’t that slimming.  Nope.  My sick dependence on the almighty tunic is simply due to a sincere appreciation that it covers my multiple butts and my huge gut. That’s what a tunic really does.

Can we be honest?

I guess I’ll never have a career in “fashion”.

 

 

 

 

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