Week 1: 217 pounds

Wednesday.  217 pounds. One doughnut, one "healthy choice" frozen meal, one "healthy choice" frozen meal with extra turkey and sauce added, a couple peppermint kisses.  A few dances, a few games on the Kinnect, about 20-30 minutes total.

I suppose that before I go into a series about losing weight, I should start with a few declarations.  I am fat.  That is my preferred term.  Fat is the word for the kind of cell that stores energy and hangs out underneath the skin, and in large quantities, will change a person's outward shape.  Since my shape is visibly altered by the quantity and fullness of my fat cells, that makes me fat.  I will accept the terms overweight, round, or heavy.  I hate the terms fluffy and big-boned, and don't get me started on real woman. 

I think that the accumulation of fat cells is sometimes, but not always, a result of unhealthy choices regarding food consumption and physical exertion.  However, those unhealthy choices do not always result in excess fat, and those choices are not the only cause.  Some thin people sit on the couch eating Cheetos all day, and some fat people can happily hike up mountains.  Therefore it is not possible to look at someone's shape and determine anything about their diet and exercise.  We can guess, and sometimes we're right.  But we are only guessing. 

I do believe that carrying weight adds stress to the body, because just as one person might get more tired after doing their daily routine while carrying a 30 pound backpack, I am going to get more tired after doing my daily routine while carrying 50 pounds of fat.  My body is working harder, my joints are under more pressure.  But am I working harder than someone who actually does physical work all day?  No way.  And no one says, "don't work hard because you'll have a heart attack and die."  The body is meant to work.

The danger of heart attacks and diabetes is not the fat under my skin, it's the unhealthy choices in diet and exercise.  Not only do some fat people eat well and exercise, they demonstrate all of the standard signs of good physical health—blood pressure, endurance, heart rate, and cholesterol levels.  (And conversely, some thin people have terrible cardiovascular health, and get tired walking across the mall parking lot.)

I am not one of those people.  I am fat and out of shape.

10 am, Thursday. 216 pounds.  20 minute warm-up on the Kinnect, a 40 minute walk to the bus (locked myself out of the house yay), and a doughnut (free food is my Achilles heel). 

I would like to say that this is about my health.  I would like to say that my goal isn't to lose weight, my goal is to be healthy.  And if I can be healthy and stay fat, then why should it matter?  But it matters to me.  Yes, I want to be healthy.  Yes, I want to stop being out of breath after two flights of stairs.  But I also want, desperately, to be thinner.  Because, no matter how many role models I can look at, who are fat and sexy, no matter how much I analyze the way that cultural messages negatively impact the way we see beauty, no matter how well I construct my fat-positive manifesto, I still look at myself and think that fat makes me less pretty.  And I want to be pretty.  So I am losing weight.

I have done this before.  In August of 2008, I weighed 245 pounds.  In September of 2009, I weighed 185 pounds.  I ate less food.  I went to the gym 5 days a week.  And I lost 60 pounds.  I am going to do it again.