Words

"Hey, keep an eye on what you say 
You think the words just walk away 
But they creep into my brain 
Sinking deep into my step"
—Lyrics from "Step" by Low

If anyone's guilty of spouting hurtful words, it's me. Honestly, I used to be quite a bitch. Why? Because I was insecure, and I was putting others down in order to make myself feel better. Of course, I didn't realize that that's what I was doing. I thought I was just being funny. And perhaps I was, but quite often at someone else's expense.

A significant portion of my time is spent either writing, or perfecting something that I've already written. Words are important to me. Words hold weight with me. And maybe that's why I'm thinking about their impact so much right now.
   
I'm not only considering how my words might influence someone else, but how someone else's words might influence me. I tend to take the smallest things and turn them into something huge. When, chances are, the person who said them had no intention of heaping that kind of emotion on me.

For instance, a while back a friend of mine made the comment: "I know a lot of people who've lost weight on Weight Watchers, and then gained it all back." I know she didn't mean that I specifically am in danger of gaining back all the weight I've lost, but it sure as hell felt like it. And it shook me for a moment. What if she was right? What if my success is only temporary? What if I'm going to march right back to the person I once was?

Words. What you say can have a much bigger impact than you might realize. What my friend, who hadn't seen me in quite some time, didn't know was that I've got a plan in place to maintain my goal weight once I get there. That my confidence has grown exponentially over the last few months, and I'm certain I'm going to keep this fabulous new body. And that I know better than to let some insignificant comment get to me.

I'm not going to lie, keeping a positive body image is a constant struggle. (It's called cellulite—hello!) But that doesn't mean it's impossible. Sure, I don't have any control over what someone else might say about me. But what I do have control over is how I let it affect me. So what if someone doesn't like something about me? So what if someone makes a dumb comment once in a while? Who the hell cares? Because the most important words, the ones that really matter, are the ones I tell myself.

Resolution

This is me, at 9 p.m., in makeup I'd had on for more than twelve hours. I'd worked until five, and then came home and spent several hours doing some contracted web design, and by the time I took this picture, I was ready to get in bed. So why am I showing you this? Because this is me—my real, true self. This wasn't some contrived head shot where I'd taken my sweet time getting my eye shadow just right. This wasn't me looking at the camera and pretending I don't care when I really do. No, this was me being honest with myself about who I am, and actually liking what I see.

I didn't have a New Year's resolution per se. It always annoys me when people make them, don't give themselves the opportunity to succeed, and then proceed to proclaim their failure on January 2. But if I had to make a resolution this year, it would be to love myself more. To accept myself more. To understand that I'm the only me there is, and that's pretty cool.

It's so easy to point out our flaws, and for some reason, always in the context that no one else has them. Tonight I came to terms with the fact that I'm probably always going to have cellulite. But you know what? So are a lot of other people. We all have things about ourselves that we don't like, but we're never alone in them. And we can't let those trivial things outweigh the good stuff.

When I sit back and really think about my life, I love who I am. I love that I have such strange and diverse taste in music. I love that I obsessively write books without worrying whether or not they'll all be published. And I really love the man I married. I have a great life, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. If you're looking for a key to happiness, I'd say that's it—knowing how good you have it. There are some things in life you can't control, but learn to love the rest of it, and to embrace what just might be amazing. Because you never know what might make you happy unless you open your eyes to see it.

A Permanent Change

You've seen the commercials—an inspiring young woman holds up a giant pair of jeans that used to fit her, only to reveal her stunning new figure beneath. She's thin, and she looks amazing, and you can be just like her. I'm not arguing the logic of these proclamations, but just like everything on television, it's never as easy as they make it seem.

I've been paying closer attention than I used to to all of the weight loss commercials saturating the airwaves. Apparently, watching what you eat and going to the gym is so last century. Now all you have to do is take a pill, and you'll be just as sexy as those anorexic girls in the commercials. To which I have only one reply: if a pill could truly make me thin, it wouldn't have taken me so long to get here.

When I first started Weight Watchers, I found it very inspiring to go through and read the success stories of other members. It was incredible to see how many people's lives had completely changed because of the weight they'd lost. You may be inclined to write that off as vanity, but there's so much more to it than that. When you're overweight, it's not just your jeans size that suffers.

This article from WebMD goes into detail explaining the health risks associated with obesity. It shouldn't be that surprising that your chances of getting heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, or certain types of cancer can be greatly reduced if you're a healthy weight. Sure, when you're young, in your twenties or thirties, those extra pounds might not seem like such a big deal. But what would your sixty-year-old self have to say about it? If you can save your joints, your heart, your health, your life savings from being swallowed up by medical bills, why wouldn't you?

I understand what I must sound like, and why now's a good place to stop reading. I'm just like every other person who loses some weight and somehow thinks she knows everything. But that's not the case at all. If I did know everything, I wouldn't be spending my time writing a blog post that, more than likely, no one will read. I have nothing to benefit from other than hoping that my tiny grains of wisdom can somehow help someone. And I can guarantee that my sixty-year-old self would be okay with that.

I didn't lose weight because I wanted people to tell me how great I look—I lost weight because I was seriously fearful that my health would deteriorate at a young age, and my quality of life would suffer. I'll readily admit that cancer is one of my biggest fears, and finding out that it's in my family was a gigantic wake-up call. I realize that just because I'm thin now doesn't mean that cancer won't come calling, but at least I'm not giving it an invitation with an RSVP.

Getting thin is one thing. Staying thin is another. You can't lose weight and expect your metabolism to work differently. I eat about half of what I used to, but if I started eating those same portions again, I'd gain weight. That's why I had to change the way I look at food, better understand my motivations for consuming, and control my portions. Not just today, but every day for the rest of my life.

Like it or not, your weight is linked to how much you eat and how much activity you have. It's biology, and a stern talking to isn't going to make it change. Just because I look like I do right now doesn't mean I'll always look this way. I don't just want to be healthy—I want to stay healthy. Which is why I didn't set out to diet, I set out to make a permanent change.

The Psychology of Weight Loss

When you really need to lose weight, you know you need to lose weight. And forgetting is impossible, because everything around you is a reminder—those jeans that used to fit, but for some reason don't anymore, skinny friends who can seemingly eat whatever they want and not gain a pound, and the big one: the mirror. Everywhere you turn, everywhere I turn, there's another subtle reminder that I'm just not good enough. Or at least, that's what it can feel like.

I know what it's like to live that struggle every day. And even after several months of intense dedication to my weight loss program, even after successfully losing 50 pounds, that "fat" girl is still inside of me. Which really makes sense, doesn't it? With our society's emphasis on looks, we've turned the notion of fat into a physical characteristic. But what about the psychological implications?  Because when I was squeezing into my roomiest size 14 jeans this summer, it wasn't just my body that was unforgiving—it was also my mind. I honestly don't know how a number can determine my entire self esteem (whether it's my jeans size, or my weight), but it can, and it does. Perhaps determine isn't the proper word. Rule seems better. Yes, I've allowed numbers to rule my self-esteem since I was in junior high school. But now that the numbers are finally going down, now that I truly feel in control of my body for the first time ever, I'm doing everything I can to shatter that mindset. Because it's not just unhealthy, it's detrimental.

I've struggled with my weight for my entire life. Like most women, I've had my ups and downs, my skinny and fat moments. But there was a never a time that I could seem to get the two to balance. There was never a time when I felt like I had control of the problem. Hell, I had moments last winter when I'd look in the mirror and think: You'll be this way forever, so you'd better get used to it. But I couldn't get used to it. Day after day I'd try to dress the body I had, and love it. But day after day, I just felt fat. What I didn't see then that I see now is that "fat" really doesn't have anything to do with my thighs (which I used to hate, but am learning to love)—"fat" is a mindset. It doesn't matter what size I am if I don't love myself. And it also doesn't matter what size I am if I do.

That being said, how did I get here—50 pounds lighter with a new perspective on life? This summer, I had an immediate family member who was diagnosed with uterine cancer. This kind of cancer is both genetic and linked to obesity. The thought of inheriting something like that scared the sh*t out of me—and still does. I was destined for high blood pressure and pre-diabetes and a lifetime of not being happy with myself, and I got to the point where I just wasn't okay with that anymore.

I scheduled a physical with a doctor I'd never seen before and explained my fears. I also confessed, to this total stranger, my struggle with being overweight and that, no matter what I did, I couldn't seem to get the scale to budge. I didn't know if there was something she could do, some pill or exercise regiment she could suggest, but whatever it was, I was finally willing to do it. What surprised me was her own confession that she'd struggled to lose a few pounds, and couldn't—until she signed up for Weight Watchers. She said that by tracking her food intake, she was able to slowly and healthily lose the weight. I thought, great—if it worked for her, it'll work for me.

Even so, I didn't sign up that day. It was the following day when I went to the site and read the success stories of the members. The program was actually working for real people, so maybe it could work for me, too. Still, I sat there, my fingers ready at the keyboard, contemplating why I couldn't just do this on my own without signing up for some kind of plan. It wouldn't be that hard, would it, to keep a food diary? To work out more? To see results? But if so, why hadn't I before? I swallowed down a stomach full of pride that day, and registered. And even though I didn't know it at the time, that one simple, humble decision changed my entire life.

Wow, I just took a moment to process that—what my thoughts were at the time. How I'd become so hardened that I was convinced I couldn't change. And on my own, I couldn't. But now that I have the correct tools and the proper motivation and friends to share my thoughts with, I'm a new woman.

But getting here, in new jeans with a new perspective on life, was just as arduous at the 33 years leading up to it. I'd never dieted before, not like this, and the first few days really sucked. Not because it was hard, but because I had to shift the entire way I looked at food. It was, simply put, culture shock. It was a complete life overhaul—changing what I ate, how much, when, and why.

It's important to note that while Weight Watchers has helped me lose over 50 pounds and 28.5" total inches, it was merely a tool. I didn't go to meetings, but instead used the app on my iPhone. I learned the right kinds of foods to eat in the proper portions. I was still the one making the decisions. I was still the one saying yes or no to food. I was still exercising willpower at every twist and turn.

If you're looking to lose weight, or change your life in any other way, I firmly and completely believe it's possible. But it starts with admitting that you've been making the wrong choices, and realizing that it's you—not the rest of the world—that needs to change. Once you're comfortable with that, real change will be possible.