I decided it's time to really start doing something about my weight. I'm going to use the Dr. Phil approach and see what that does to snap me into the place I want to be. I keep getting distracted. It's the usual way of keeping myself from getting anywhere. So rather than talk about doing this and thinking about everything else there is, I'm going to get going with Week 1 (It seems the boards which house this info are down for now. Hopefully they will be back next week.), which is titled above.

This week asks the question, "Why do I want to lose weight?" There are a million reasons why, ranging from superficial to deep and from bad to good. I think to deny the petty reasons just isn't honest, so I'm not going to do that. I'm listing them all.

I want to look better. So what if I "don't look bad" now. That's fine and nice. I'm happy that I don't resemble a bulldog. I can be thankful for all the things that are good about me while still wanting to look better. I am happier with my appearance when my stomach doesn't stick out as far as my boobs, and I can see my feet without bending over or pushing my belly out of the way. I think my face looks better when I'm thinner too. I like it when my thighs don't remind me of two big hams. I have less cellulite when I'm thinner, and that's much more asthetically appealing. My stretch marks don't look like the maze of landing strips at O'Hare, big enough to land a 747. I like it when the seamless underwear really is seamless rather than like it is now where it would have to be completely elastic-free not to push in the soft flab of my ass and waist. I prefer a firmer me. I think I look better that way, and I think it is a perfectly valid reason to want to lose weight. I'm not being idealistic. Britney Spears will never envy me. I can look better though.

All that unattractive fat is also uncomfortable in the physical sense. My bad knee aches a lot more. Shaving my legs is a lesson in contortionism, not to mention the amount of time it takes to mow through such acreage. I don't fit in the bathrub very well, and I practically have to shoehorn myself out when I'm done. Clothes never seem to fit right, and I've just had to adjust to my butt crack being chock full of cloth. Even removing a wedgie is an act of skill when maneuvering around my generous backside. And I have long arms too! Speaking of backsides, seats in movie theaters, airplanes, stadiums, and the like make me glad I'm not claustrophobic. They are also three times less comfortable when you're wedged in like a well-packed parachute and afraid to breathe for fear of popping a rivet in the seat and killing a few seatmates. (If only you could aim the popped rivets!) Breathing becomes quite a chore when hauling my bulk up a flight of stairs too. Simple walking causes my inner thighs to chafe from all the rubbing they're doing. I should go on Survivor. I could start fires just by walking around with some kindling between my legs. All this fat and rubbing and overlappy areas makes me hot and sweaty too. It's all around unhappiness.

Aside from the sheer discomfort of it all, I worry about my health. I don't worry about it a lot. Being a pear shape does have one benefit, since I'm less likely to suffer heart problems, but there comes a point when it doesn't matter the shape because fat is fat. I think I'm there. My blood pressure and heart are fine right now, but I can't count on that forever. I face knee replacement much sooner if I'm fat too. It's simply not good for me. I wouldn't have to worry about that stuff so much if I lost weight.

To put it simply, I want to lose weight to feel better. I want to feel better emotionally about how I look and about my health. I want to feel better physically. I want to stop fighting the hatred and bitterness toward fat people from the front lines. I want to have sex with the light turned on again. That's the real reason right there. In a way, it is. I'm uncomfortable with myself. I want to change that.

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One Year Ago Today:

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