Losing a lot of weight and keeping it off for a long period
of time is a difficult enterprise and it takes a toll. Every day I have to pay
attention to what I eat, morsel by morsel. Every day I have to find time to
exercise, preferably for an hour if I can manage it. It doesn’t matter if it’s
a holiday, or a birthday, or a long day at work, I still have to do these
things. If I don’t, if on a particular day I say oh to heck with it, I pay the
price, which generally means gaining back a few pounds. There is no vacation
from this and that fact has done a number on my sense of humor. It’s had an
even bigger effect on my ability to conform to the social etiquette, which dictates
that you don’t speak the blunt truth about things like weight.
So I guess you could say that long-term weight maintenance
takes a toll on your relationships too. I was never the most outgoing person in
the world, but I could go to a party, make small talk and generally enjoy
myself. Now, social gatherings feel like a minefield. First, there will be all
kinds of things to eat that I should not eat. Then, people will offer those things
to me and I’ll have to find a way to say no without offending anyone. Or say
yes and beat myself up later. Inevitably, someone will make a funny comment about
how all the calories in the munchies will be cancelled out as long as we don’t sit
down; since I know from bitter experience that this is not true, at least not
for me, my choice will be to laugh politely and feel like a schmuck, or be the
jerk who can’t take a joke. Or just stay home.
We all want to fit in. When I was fat, I dreamed that if I could
ever lose the weight and be slender for good, I would finally be a normal
person and fit in. But sometimes I think the opposite has happened. Many days, I
feel more like the odd woman out than I ever did when I was obese. It’s not quite
what I expected, yet as someone once said, that sucks, but too bad, that’s the
way it is.
Why do I persist with this then? Well, I feel pretty damn
good physically, better than I ever felt when I was heavy. I also think keeping
my weight low will make getting older easier, and I’ve realized that I don’t fear
dying nearly as much as I fear being disabled in my golden years. I guess I
also still have a tiny bit of optimism left inside me, a mini-hope that someday
this will all get easier.
Keep your fingers crossed.