My Earlobes Still Feel Fat

Yesterday I had a total meltdown. Deep into week three of my workout program, I was starting the third and most difficult video after two days of extreme-cramp-related slacking. I got through five minutes before I wanted to throw the television across the room. I made it another twenty-five before I gave up and went to take an incredibly frustrated bath. Once clean, and somewhat calmed (repressed), I did the what-to-wear dance, battle number two. After my boyfriend chose an outfit and convinced me to leave the bedroom battlefield, strewn with the casualties of my fray with myself, I went to deal with my hair. A bit of battle history now: my hair was my best feature when I was fat. It was thick and lush and curly/wavy/versatile, and it was generally easy to deal with. When I lost a hundred pounds I also lost half my hair. It became wispy and difficult and generally looks best short. In the past seven years I’ve spent way too much time and money trying to make it do what I want it to do,

I hate London right now. As if I didn’t feel shitty enough about my body most days in the states, London is interminable. UK sizing is about 2 sizes above US. So if, like me, you usually wear a size 12 dress and size 16 jeans (yes, I am pear-shaped), then here you’d wear a size 16 dress (plus-size in the US) and size 20 (!!!) jeans. And if, like me, you had multiple surgeries and angsted for years in order to leave the twenties of sizing behind, you probably wouldn’t appreciate this. In fact, you might find yourself standing in the workout gear section of Marks and Spencer, crying as you tried to make yourself pick up said size 20 so you can do your workouts and try to feel better about yourself without having to always hitch up your old ragged Target pants. I scared my boyfriend, who keeps thinking his words will help and telling me how much he loves my body (as if it were his opinion that mattered), and I depressed myself, and am now hovering in limbo between two desires: starve m

Oh my god I am SO pathetic. I think I might be in worse shape than I was when I was heavy. Four minutes into my first attempt at what is admittedly a tough workout video (but not this tough) my arms felt like they were going to fall off. Another ten minutes and we were into squats. Well, they were. I was “marching it out” because my thighs were having seizures as a result of the few squats I managed. Luckily they recovered for plie time, but still! I have no idea how this happened. Probably the car my parents gave me for my 22nd bday, mixed with moving to the flat land of London. Yeah, I’m thinking that’s the combo. When I’m here I walk all the time, but it’s flat. When I’m home in SF it’s hilly and I try to walk a good bit but it’s nothing compared to when I used to have to take the bus/ walk everywhere. Gah! Anyway, day one is over, and although I dread the pain of tomorrow I’m also looking forward to feeling buff again. Stupid maintenance-requiring muscles. In case I

Today I start my 6-month intensive workout regimen. It's called Slim in Six, and it worked for me a few summers ago, in that I lost like 10 pounds and 13% of my body fat. Although, I was still the same pants/dress size I am today, and have been since about a year after the GB, cosmetic procedures notwithstanding. Anyway I'll be working out every day except Sundays (or, in this case, Tuesdays, because I'm supposed to start on a Monday but I figured procrastination=bad), without fail. Seriously. I'll be enlisting my boyfriend to put himself in the direct line of fire by reminding me every day, and kicking me in the butt if necessary. It will be necessary. So next time I write I should at least be smug, if not slender. I've decided that smugness and general strength (and flexibility; since I stopped working out I can't even reach my ankles!!!) will just have to suffice for the time being. If nothing else, working out regularly has always made me feel better