Susan Dennis (susandennis) wrote,
Susan Dennis


When I was a kid, there was a size of clothes called Chubby.  That's the size I wore.  When I hit my teens, I went on a diet and from then on - until I hit age 50 - I agonized over every single bite of food that went into my mouth.  For the most part I stayed in the 120-130 pound neighborhood and at 5'5" I really was not fat. I loved clothes and wore them well.  But, seriously, I never ate anything without knowing exactly what ramifications it would have.  If it was a food that was not good for me, I ate with a truckload of guilt.  Or didn't eat at all.  There were two times in my adult life - one at about age 30 and one at about age 40 - when I was in the 120 range and felt free enough to eat and enjoy good food guilt free for a little bit like maybe even a half a year. And I smoked.  Often when I was hungry, I just had a cigarette.

When I hit 50, I hung up my calorie counter and my cigarette lighter.  I no longer cared how fat I got.  I ate what I wanted when I wanted it. My only guide was taste.  If it tasted good, I ate it.  Last May, when I went to the doctor, I weighed 235 pounds.

My doctor is a wonderful man. He indulges me and respects my weirdness about medical stuff.  I refuse most all tests - pap, mammogram, colonoscopy. And he never pressures me.  He always tells me to that it would be good if I lost weight.  This last time, he asked me specifically to lose 10 pounds, please.

I have no doubt in the world that if I wanted to and was willing to change what I put in my mouth, I could lose at least 100 pounds.  It would take a while but I could do it.  I know I could.  However, I specifically do not want to live that way.

I figured, however, I could do a couple of minor little things that might give me 10 pounds that I could give to him.  I stopped eating at night.  I usually eat dinner early so after about 7 pm, I try to eat nothing.  I drink mostly ice water.  A half a diet Dr. Pepper with lunch and sometimes some grape juice but tons and tons of ice water all day long.  And I'm careful not to stuff myself at any one meal.  That's it. That's all I did.

I don't weigh myself very often.  Maybe once a month or less.  The scale is not easy to use because of the kind it is and where it's place but that's fine, cause I don't like to use it anyway.  But, last night I decided to give it a go.  226.  I don't go back to the doctor until May so by then, I know, I'll have his 10 pounds all ready for him.  (He's a tiny little thing, he could easily use my 10 pounds!!)

I miss not being about to buy clothes in regular stores.  I saw a bunch of interesting things at Costco the other day but I know without even trying that none will come close to fitting my giant ass.  I'd love to be able to wear Dolphin Uglie swim suits but their largest is still about 4 or 5 sizes too small for me.  And given my druthers I'd rather be not fat than fat but I'd much rather eat what I want when I want it than even think about it - with the exception of the 10 pounds for the cute doctor.  Goal met.  Happy. Moving on.


Edit:  When I first wrote this, I typed 135 for my weight last May and 126 for my weight last night.  The real numbers have been corrected but I'm astounded at my probably enormously freudian slip.  Astounded and pretty amused.
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