And there's always a catch.

I realize while trying to simultaneously lose weight, I want to shed light on fat awareness and move towards fat acceptance.  It puts me in a bit of a bind.  On the one hand, I'd like to rid myself of adipose tissue for health and somewhat shallow fashion reasons.  On the other hand, I want to get to a place where I love and accept myself with all of my fatty lumps and bumps.

And then there's the losing of street cred with the fatties...Girls, I'll always have your backs.

Powerful. Moving.

fat body (in)visible from Margitte Kristjansson on Vimeo.

I love a good calculation...but not so happy with its results.

Thanks to the fine print, I did a Body Mass Index (BMI) calculation.  It's instrumental in assessing a person's level of body fat.  BMI does not measure body fat directly, but it does correspond fairly close to the direct measure of body fat in most people. It's a relatively simple calculation.  BMI = (weight in pounds/ (height in inches)*(height in inches))* 703

As of this morning's weigh-in my BMI = (248.4/(71*71))*703 

Ugh.  It's 34.64.  I'm OBESE.  

That's so not sexy. 

Fine print be dammed!

I've been convinced to enter Commit to Fit regardless of my eligibility.  Hell, what do I have to lose (other than weight)?  It might set the stage for me to start my career as a professional contestant.

And then I read the fine print...

I picked up a flyer from DIAKADI Body on Monday, announcing their new Commit to Fit contest for 2011. It's a golden ticket to health and fitness. One contestant will win a year's worth of personal training, nutrition and life coaching.  All you need to do is fill out a minimal application form and submit a three minute video.

I can do this.  I set the wheels in motion.  I contacted friends, assembled a crack team of visual visionaries and figured I could win this damn thing.  Then I read the fine print...

I'm ineligible. :(

Applicant must be at least 18 years old.  Check.

Applicant must qualify as obese with a BMI greater than or equal to 30.  I meet the fatty-boom-bah-latty requirement.  I calculated my BMI...it's over 30.    Check

Applicant cannot be a current or previous client of DIAKADI Body or MV Nutrition...Whaaaan Waaaaa.  Oh, poop.  I'm a current client.

This isn't going to stop me.  I'm going to Commit to Fit on my own.  Watch out world.

  

I'm Fat. Let's Party!

Need I say more?

Four weeks ago today...

Yup, I'm the one on the gurney.  It's hard to believe it was just four weeks ago I was wheeled down the halls of the Come and Go surgery center at St. Francis and on my way to the operating room.

The anesthesiologist played 40's swing music for me while he tapped my vein and told me to pick my favorite beach in Hawaii.  I told him I'd like to go to Waimanolo with the pavilion dedicated to Gabby Pahinui.  I woke up a hour and a half later feeling like I had drank three Halekulani Mai Tais and was ready for a steady stream of Percocet.          

What this blog is really about...weigh-in tiime

I hopped on the scale this morning.  I'm holding fast at 245.7 lbs.  Bummer man.  I've gained nearly 8 lbs. since my last weigh-in.  Time to get back into the swing of things.

Not very Canadian, eh? Well, maybe French Canadian...

Say what? No fat girls allowed? Huh?

Post-surgery Perspectives pt.3 - Physical Therapy at St. Francis

Post-surgery Perspectives pt.2

My parents finally got me off of the couch and out of the house and on to a chaise by the pool for a little sun.

The magical elf hiding beneath my bandages

Some of Dr. Lewis' finer work.  By the lack of flourishes (stars, bow ties, flowers) - it looks like the surgical team had me sutured up in a jiffy.

Post-surgery Perspectives pt.1

My five day view from my parents' couch...My ass was numb, but my knee was not.

Owie! That shit hurts.

PT is about as fun as a hemorrhoid in my book.  I know. I know.  No pain, no gain. Blah blah blah... 

I can easily imagine hating the person who makes you do evil, pain filled exercises essential to your recovery.  The cards are not stacked in their favor.  Fortunately, I have a fantastic physical therapist with fabulous shoes and a great sense of humor...and a potty mouth.  I couldn't have been paired with a better PT lady.  Thank the lord.  

     

I'm back!

Yup, it's been awhile.  So much has happened since my last post.  I finally went under the knife to deal with my knee issue.  I've got a brand new cadaver tendon standing in for my anterior cruciate ligament. It's going to be an uphill battle to get back to walking normal, but I'm incredibly happy I made the choice to get my knee fixed.

17.4 lbs down!

2.6 more lbs. to 20!

Back on that horse

After a four week absence, I'm back.  I injured my knee a few weeks ago and I stopped exercising.  No fun 6:30 am sessions on the elliptical at UCSF's Bakar Gym with Paige or Mondays and Wednesdays at Diakadi with Shelby.  My knee was the size of a grapefruit and I wasn't taking any chances.  It was ice, ibuprofen and immobility for me.  And then I did something that I don't usually do...I went to see an orthopedic surgeon.

I've had my knee worked on before.  You go to the doctor, they move your knee around, they give you orders to get a MRI and see you in a few days or a week later to discuss the results.  That didn't happen this time.  I saw the doctor for ten minutes, she moved my leg around, she sent me down to radiology for an on the spot MRI, I went into the MRI tube for twenty minutes, came back to the doctor's office and discussed my results thirty minutes later.  I have a hole where my ACL should be.  My ACL is missing.  Poof!  Gone!  I'm sure it's on a beach somewhere in Hawaii.  I don't want to consider the alternative...it's flapping around somewhere in my upper calf.

In by 9, out by noon with orders for surgery.  I'm having my ACL replaced with cadaver tissue in June 3rd.

And now for the good news, despite my lack of exercise I've lost more weight.  I'm down to 238.2 lbs!  

I love this town!

To make up for the horrible car accident I saw this morning, the universe gave me a great gift on my way to work...A man dressed in Miner 49'er gear, zipping down the Embarcadero on a motorized bar stool.  He saw me give him the double devil horn hand signal of approval (What can I say?  I was in a "Metal" mood and channeling my inner rocker).  He waved in riposte as he whizzed past.  My morning outlook changed immediately.

As promised...The Uni-tard of SHAME!

(Stinker! Thanks for capturing the Plumperina magic!)

Mid-week weigh-in

I normally weigh-in once a week on Mondays, but curiosity got to me this morning.  I'm happy to report I'm back down to 243.0  lbs.  I didn't eat much this week.  I've been high on stress since Monday.

Oscar sees dead people...

but couldn't see Bea.  What a damn shame.

Gentle weeping heard coming from Bernal Hill

Not quite as good as the Virgin Mary appearing in the rain soaked eaves of the church up on Folsom hill, but still  a mysterious phenomena.  Was it ninja stealth fat sneaking back to my hips and thighs that brought tears to the hills of Bernal?
 
Nope.  It was me eating fatty cheese, bread bits and brownies.  I am powerless over brownies.

I gained 2.1 lbs. this week.  My weight is now sitting at 245.5 lbs.  

Fuck accounting...I'm reinventing myself as a bangin' granny DJ, rockin' the beats

Please let me introduce you to the grandmother of Paris nightlife...
DJ Ruth Flowers! 69 year-old, granny DJ.  Not only does she rock the decks...she rocks the post-cataract surgery sunglasses.

The photos are coming! The photos are coming!

I wiggled into the unitard of SHAME yesterday morning for a photo shoot.  I know a month has passed since my original promise of a BEFORE photo and I've lost a little weight.  I guess you could say I'm cheating you out of a full-on Fatty! Fat! Fat! BEFORE picture, so I'm going to try to give you something to hold you over until I can post the unitard of SHAME photos.

I found an awful photo of me on the series of tubes in full Fatty! Fat! Fat! glory at a burlesque show in Honolulu's Chinatown (I'm the one with the peacock on her head - photo 5 out of 17). This photo spurned me into diet action.

I won the hat contest by the way.

Where does the Fatty! Fat! Fat! go?

Where did those 12.2 lbs. go?  Does my fat go stealth ninja and deposit itself onto unsuspecting folks? (Shelley would have you believe my disappearing fat has magically attached itself to her butt and thighs).

I'm pleased to say I have an answer thanks to the magical series of tubes.

Thank god, it's not creeping around at night in a ninja outfit.

It's Monday!

That means it's weigh-day.  I was sure that I'd gained weight this week.  Absolutely positive.  I was a  baaaaaad girl last week.  There was bread.

In spite of my diet transgressions...I'm down to 243.4 lbs.  I lost 0.8 of a pound...or as I like to say, "lub."

I can only imagine what I'd been down had I stuck to the "rainbow meal plan" and had steamed chicken breasts for seven days straight.  I would have lost my sanity and some extra lubs.

It's the Smackdown to keep your fat down!

If you're tired of the usual workout music (Paul Oakenfold comes to mind) and on the look out for something great to listen to while doing cardio, try CBC Radio 3's "Sweatin' to the Indies" podcasts.  They've just released their fourth workout companion* It's hailed as "the return of the world's only all-Canadian, all independent work out podcast with special guest Olympian athletes".  They're obviously milking the spectacular winter sports hoe-down in Vancouver...BUT it's void of cheese factor. Or at least the cheese is swimming atop delicious gravy. (Yes, that was a poutine reference).

With CBC Radio 3 host, Grant Lawrence, acting as my inspirational fitness guide and Chris Kelly's pumping playlist - no cardio machine is SAFE. I think "Sweatin' to the Indies" might just give me enough super power to make an elliptical drive train burst into flames or at least start smoking.

Playlist:
Ruby Jean and the Thoughtful Bees

Peaches

MSTRKRFT

Woodhands

Thunderheist

The Constantines

We are Wolves

Kevin Drew

The Stills

Priestess

Sam Roberts

King Kahn and The Shrines

Panurge

Creature

Green Go

Hawksley Workman

The Ghost is Dancing

K'naan

*You may want to turn down your speakers or be quick with the mouse because the site automatically streams Radio 3's current playlist upon opening.

Banana Test Part Deux

I was not-so-secretly hoping I'd have a reaction so I could permanently mark bananas off my safe food list. Drats. No adverse reactions.

The Banana Test

I'm having a diet sanctioned banana today. I chose a slightly green tinged banana for my first foray into the fruit world. I've eaten 1/3 of the banana and now I'm supposed to wait for one to two hours and gauge my body's reaction. If no reaction, I get another 1/3 of the banana. If I continue to have no reaction, I get to eat the final 1/3. Lucky me!

I'm not a big fan of bananas. In fact, I'm with Dr. Zira on the banana thing.

"I detest bananas."

Food allergy ALERT! Weeeeooooo! Weeeeeeoooo!

I neglected to disclose that I had a strange reaction about a half hour after eating my glorious tuna melt. I felt like I had drank an entire pot of coffee in one sitting. My body was buzzing and my face felt itchy afterwards. I was able to narrow it down to one possible suspect...mild white cheddar cheese. I had two slices. I ate one slice while chatting with my mom.* The second slice was sacrificed to appease the tuna melt goddess.


*The Bun called to tell me that my 94 year-old grammy was having a big day out. She bought herself a new Lay-Z-Boy recliner, but she was lamenting that the Little Man wouldn't have a place to sit now that her old recliner will be going the way of the Do-Do. "The arms are so narrow on the new recliner. He won't fit!" Clearly a first world problem.

It's challenge time

I started to get a little poopie after my mediocre weight loss result this last week. 1.4 lbs! Piffle! Traffic on the Fatway be damned!

I'm giving myself a short-term weight loss challenge to keep me moving along. Who doesn't love a good challenge?

I'm going to be 15 lbs. lighter just in time for the monthly Alameda Antique Faire. I'm shooting for 240.6 lbs by the morning of March 7th (That's 3.6 lbs. in thirteen days). I originally thought 20 lbs. but I've decided to be a little more reasonable. I'm not a contestant on the Biggest Loser for god's sake.

I'm looking forward to carrying 15 lbs. of fantastic purchases from the Alameda Antique Faire, not 15 lbs. of Fatty! Fat! Fat!

I have tasted glory

and it came in the form of a tuna melt. Oh, how I've missed tuna melts. I could go on and on about how much I've missed them...but I won't.

I made myself and a co-worker an open-faced tuna melt with mild white cheddar on sourdough spelt this afternoon. I covered the top of mine with a salad of baby lettuces with olive oil and lemon juice and a pinch of Celtic sea salt. Super yum. Gail opted for plain. She missed out.

I should start a daily photo blog of delicious items whipped up in a sub-standard break room, using nothing but a toaster oven as cooking device and dull knives. That is my Kitchen Stadium.

Traffic on the Fatway

Yellow cones and red lights ahead. Fatty! Fat! Fat! tires screeching. It's bumper to bumper traffic on the Fatway.

I'm starting to experience weight loss slow down. I shouldn't complain. I did lose 1.4 lbs this past week, but gone are the days of finding my weight down 6 lbs.

I'm 244.2 lbs as of this morning. That brings my total weight loss to 11.4 lbs.

If Yves St. Laurent loved FAT...

The evil lurking in the corner

My co-worker has a box of goodies sitting on her desk.  It calls to me sweetly..."Oh, Señora.  Please, come indulge yourself."  If I'm left to my own devices when I'm stressed, indulgence quickly turns into something else.  I'll pop open the box to survey its bounty - chocolates, fruit gummies, and Chinese confections.  The Chinese confections are the most dangerous.  It's almost as if they dare me to eat them.  "Gwailo are you brave enough to pop me in your mouth? Your inferior mind cannot read the ingredients. I may have melamine or lead!"

So far, so good.  I've been staying out of that dangerous corner, behind Kelmen's desk...but the box's pull is strong.  It's especially strong when I find emails from the Fiji Island Revenue and Custom Authority in my inbox.

WWJE? More like WTF?

I didn't know dieters are asking WWJE?  Hell, I didn't think Jesus cared what the fuck I was eating.  Apparently HE does.

Thanks Anne-Marie!

I'm not pregnant. That's my food baby.

I'm convinced that I'll need plastic surgery post-weight loss.  A tummy tuck is in order.  Think about it.  My belly has been stretched as if I were 7 mos pregnant for over ten years.

I've been gestating a food baby for a decade.

Slowly finding my waist again

I've lost some inches and my waist is starting to emerge from the shadows.  46.25 - 41.75 - 47.25

That's half of the Little Man!

I've lost 10 lbs!  I weighed 246.5 lbs. this morning.  I must have stepped on the scale eighteen times to be sure that it wasn't playing tricks on me (My scale has been known to lie at times).

I weighed myself in the bathroom: 246.5 lbs.

I weighed myself in the hallway: 246.5 lbs.

Did you hear that thud?

That was me falling off the diet wagon.  It happened Tuesday night at the Quiver Bar.  I was celebrating a friend's birthday and couldn't resist ordering a cocktail...which led to ordering another cocktail and sharing a plate of frito misto, two dozen kushi oysters, an ahi & hamachi crudo and a tuna skewer. 

Then the kitchen sent out the ubiquitous complimentary dessert for the birthday girl...a warm Scharffenberger chocolate banana cake with caramel sea salt ice cream.  I had two bites and called it quits.   After one week on this diet, my behavior around food has started to change.  In the past, I'd probably elbow everyone out of the way for the last morsel and run my finger along the plate to skim any leftover fatty, sugary bit.

Once I realized my behavior shifted, I was able to forgive myself for slipping and feel proud of my current progress.  I've dusted myself off, hopped back up on the wagon and snapped those reins.  The horses are off!

Woman's last stand (against Dodge and its stupid super bowl ad)

I had a colossal WTF?!?! moment when I saw the original Dodge ad during the Super Bowl.  I'm so happy to have come across this "ego-blistering spoof" of Dodge's ad on Salon.com this morning.  Thank you MacKenzie Fegan for producing such a great response. 

Morning temptation

In my sick state I didn't want to cook another egg for breakfast.  I'm tired of eggs.  I started rummaging through the cupboards for something to have for breakfast.  I came across a beautiful box of pecan flakey things just sitting above my head.  Oh,  how I wanted that cereal.  It was CALLING to me.  "Renee!  Renee!  Eat me!  Eat me!  Have me with nonfat milk.  No one will ever know.  It'll be our little secret."

I went to the fridge and pulled out two eggs.

Shop boy! You were wrong!

I put on the leggings of shame this morning to take the Little Man out to the park for his morning constitutional.  No pinching!  The misguided American Apparel shop boy was WRONG! The elastic wasitband sits at my hip with no muffin top producing effect.  They're perfectly comfortable.

Call me paranoid, but I had a sinking suspicion that the shop boy was trying to politely suggest that I was too big for the leggings of shame.  It was his duty* to keep the fat girl from humiliating herself in public. Perhaps he thought I was going to wear the leggings with a leotard or some other cringe-tastic American Apparel outfit and run off to a disco or a much needed jazzercise class.  Nope. I'm wearing them beneath a short skirt to keep me warm while peein' the dog.


*It's in the gay boy handbook under section fat girlfriends. 

mouth breather

I've come down with a cold and can't breathe through my nose. It's a good look.

Don't get me started

I've noticed that when a fat girl complains about her weight, it's an uncomfortable experience for others.

Get ready for the awkward.

I don't know how many times I've had to listen to an average-size or an incredibly thin person complain about their weight. I cannot begin to tell you how annoying it is to sit through those conversations.  It usually starts with the "I'm so fat!" exclamation.  The non-fat fat complainer is fishing for the reassuring "Oh, you're not fat!" response.  I'm polite in these moments, and come up with all sorts of flattery...or point out that I'm the fat one.  I'm Fatty! Fat! Fat!

To be honest, it's hard for me to have compassion for someone who may be sporting an extra 2.5 lbs from water weight due to excessive booze consumption or needing to take a really good shit.  Try living with seventy-five extra pounds hanging on your frame and all of the inconvenience the excessive weight brings. 

In full view

F A T T Y ! F A T ! F A T ! is now in full public view on the series of tubes. This may bring a new level of shame or encouragement.  I'm hoping for the latter, and preparing myself for the former.  People can be so cruel when it comes to the larger-styled.  I've had my share of upsetting moments over the years, but there's nothing like being moo'd at when you're in your forties.

The last time I visited Las Vegas, a guy decided to make a joke at my expense as I walked into a bar.  He thought it was incredibly funny and perfectly acceptable to say within earshot, "I didn't know they let cows in here." as I waked past him and his group friends.  I felt such incredible rage and shame in that moment.  I was eight years-old again, and wanting to kick him in the shins.

Monday morning weigh-in 249.6 lbs.

The results are in...6 lbs. down, 77.6 lbs. more to go.

There's something about being in the 240 lbs. range.  It is such a psychological boost for me.  I'm dipping my toe in the 240's, and I can tell you the water is lovely.

Uni-tard of SHAME!

Nothing like a heaping dose of shame to motivate you towards your goals.

I'll be posting "before" photos of me in a lovely, black cotton spandex jersey uni-tard for all to see on the series of tubes.  I had a preview of me in all of my uni-tard glory this afternoon in the American Apparel dressing room.  Not pretty.  Pretty funny, yes.  A lumpy, stuffed sausage came to mind.

Upon check out, the shop boy suggested higher waisted leggings.  He motioned over his waist as if he were a girdle model from the Fifties and revealed that the leggings I had brought up to the register are known to pinch and create unsighlty rolls.  Honey, when you're several big, unsightly rolls, a little pinch at the hip isn't your biggest worry.

Let's be honest

I'm not the greatest when it comes to setting personal goals. I take that back. I'm good at setting general, nebulous goals like I'm going to lose weight this year and get a haircut next week.  Obviously, I haven't done so well with the hard and fast, carefully plotted benchmarks in life when it comes to weight.  I was easily distracted by luscious cheese, what was waiting on TiVo and/or yummy Mai Tais.
This needs to change.  
It is changing.
How's this for a goal?    83.6 lbs. in 83.6 weeks.
Gantt chart to follow...

Not the "Perfect 36 from San Jose"

Okay.  Okay.                                          
I'll spill.  
My starting measurements are: 47"(bust) 43.5" (waist) 48.5" (hips).
My waist was slowly becoming one with my boobs and butt.

Weights and Measures

255.6 lbs on 2/2/10.

I don't know if I can post my starting measurements. They're dismal. What waist? I didn't know my waist was missing. How come no one told me my waist was missing? Here waisty waisty waist. Here waisty waisty waist.

Come back little waist. Come back.

I made it through the wilderness. Somehow I made it through...

On February 1st, I took a massive leap and started the elimination phase of a yeast-free diet. After three days of wanting to 1). kill someone for a piece of chocolate, 2). bargain my soul for a nibble of Challerhocker, and 3). roll around on the floor of my office and weep like a crazy - I emerged from the nasty, headache-filled detox. I haven't felt this great in ages. I'm absolutely PERKY. Watch out!

fat.