5 Reasons I Broke Up with Fast Food (That Have Nothing to Do With Nutrition)

Dear Fat Jesse,

I am not a nutritionist (yet). So I'm not going to go into the details of trans fats, simple carbs, and calories. The fact is, I've always known that fast food is unhealthy but it did nothing to stop me. I've probably watched ten documentaries on Netflix that made me blubber with guilt over what I had done to my body, and then lasted all of two days before I was back in the drive-thru. The real turning point came for me when I realized that my affinity for fast food was more of problem with flawed thinking than it was a physical addiction. It was a series of lies I told myself for years that kept me trapped.

Lie #1: Fast Food is Fast

Fast food may be the biggest misnomer in the history of mankind. I have to giggle at the thousands of times the hubs and I made a declaration at 6pm that we just didn't have the time to gather ingredients to cook and then proceeded to argue for 45 minutes about which fast food joint we were the least tired of. My 'no, we've been to Burrito Hell twice this week' would be quickly rebuffed with 'well I'm sick of Crappy Burger.' When the decision was reached, we'd hit the drive-thru expecting a nice, hot meal. But nine times out of ten, we sat in a ridiculous line of cars, were asked to pull around to the front to wait ten minutes, or had to run inside for an item that was forgotten. That is, if we were lucky enough to catch the forgotten item at the restaurant and not the moment we were ready to eat at home. Sometimes we were lucky enough to experience all of the above in just one visit. Onset of hunger: 6 pm. Actual meal time: 7:30 pm. Sounds pretty fast, eh?

Lie #2: Fast Food is Yummy

Is it, Fat Jesse? Because I can pretty much guarantee that I had an inner complaint about how my food was made every single time I ordered some.The food that you see Maxim models wolfing down on Carl's Jr. commercials is not as appetizing in person. Just Google real pictures of fast food and do some soul-searching on what your eyes have been programmed to tell your stomach is "yummy" for so many years. I think these disgusting piles of beige food have gotten past me for so long, because of how I ate them. Most fast food is conveniently packaged to be eaten right in your own lap, in front of the TV or in the car. I would never sit at the table with a plate. If I had, that would involve actually paying attention to how disgusting the food looked. If I went to a nice restaurant and they brought me food like that, I would probably send it back. Because I paid good money for it. Which brings me to my next point.

Lie #3: Fast Food is Cheap

This one is so bewitching that the entire country has bought into it. Experts blather on about how low income families don't get proper nutrition because they have no choice but to buy cheaper junk food. Well, those experts have never seen the checking account of a fast food-aholic. Say you stick to the dollar menu, buying two meals per day for two people. Let's give each person three items at each meal from that dollar menu, and the inevitable 'ooh, get me a dessert' impulse add-on at the end of the order. That's $8 before tax. Times two. Times thirty. I'll give you a minute. This, of course, is just a baseline. Sometimes more per month, sometimes less. But it also forgets to factor in milkshakes masquerading as coffee and those special nights when the dollar menu just isn't enough to say I hate myself. No, on those nights, it was Chinese food or our adopted child...pizza. Seriously, when tax time came this year and the form asked if we provided more than half support to any other dependents, I was tempted to write down CiCi. Here's the kicker, F.J. We practically never gave fast food to our daughter. So, add to the monthly food bill:  healthy groceries for the kiddo. Enter Lie #4.

Lie #4: Fast Food is Not Okay for My Kids, but It's Fine for Me

I committed to authenticity when I started writing these letters to you, Fat Jesse, and I am going to see it through. It is embarrassing to admit an inconsistency so harsh as this one, but I have to expose it so that it stays away for the rest of my life. I kid you not, after arriving home from the drive-thru, I would prepare a healthy meal for my toddler. I vowed to show her how to eat healthy and expose her to veggies and fruit and shield her from fast food, because I wanted better for her. But there is so much wrong with that. For starters, how long would it have taken for her to say I want what Mommy's having? But the less obvious problem this presented to me was the fact that I was telling myself that she was worth it, and for some reason...I wasn't. When I tapped into this mistreatment of myself, I was able to change. Now, F.J., if someone other than my mom stumbles across this blog, they may think I am judging any parent who takes their kid for a meal and some time in the playhouse at a fast food restaurant. Absolutely not. There is a reason I write to you, Fat Jesse, and that is so the world can know that, at all times, I'm talking to me. Because I have a problem with food, the best way I can teach my kids how to be healthy, is to stay away. A recovering alcoholic will warn their children about genes and overindulgence, but they know that the best way they can teach their kids to not follow in their footsteps is to simply stay out of the bar themselves.

Lie #5: Fast Food is an American Staple

One thing is for sure in American culture. We like to fight for our right to be stupid. If there is an injustice to be found in illogical places, we'll find it. Anytime the government steps in and wants to take a closer look at how fast food restaurants are making their foods or marketing to children, there is a group of 'we don't actually understand the First Amendment' champions to say You can't do that! And I have a question. Why don't we want them to? We throw up in our mouths a little when we find out that horse meat is an ingredient in our dog's food, but throw a fit over an investigation of something that we put in our children's mouths being potentially poisonous. I just want to know why. Is it because we couldn't handle the guilt of welcoming this stuff into our homes for over thirty years if we really knew what it was doing to us and the next generation? Maybe so. All I know is that it involves believing at least a portion of the other four lies.

Fat Jesse, this is truly our biggest obstacle to overcome. I know that many people have been born with awesome genetics and great metabolisms and can pound down cheeseburgers like it's their job. Others don't even eat fast food, but can eat themselves silly on what they have at home. We're all different. But you and me, F.J....we've got to stay away from this stuff. For good. It's the only way we're going to survive.

I'm Not Lovin' It,
New Jesse, -16 lbs.

Step 8: Report Spam

Dear Fat Jesse,

Pinterest. When a 'Like' button on Facebook just isn't enough to express how much you...um, like something. It's a visually driven, delightful social media site where people go to tell the world that they are making three cheese penne that night. I adore this place. I don't pin as much as I want to, but love looking at what others are up to. Yesterday, a total stranger tainted Pinterest for me, Fat Jesse. And she got me angry on another level as well.

I admit that I was a social media rookie until I got a spiffy smart phone. Now I'm taste-testing all of it: turning mobile pictures in beautiful sepia toned works of art, sharing my thoughts in 140 characters or less, and posting videos of my kids. I'm having a lot of fun, but one thing I have found is that in all of these awesome sites are irritating jerks just waiting to spam people they don't even know. Which brings me to yesterday, when I received a notice that someone had mentioned me in one of their health and fitness pins on Pinterest. I was confused, and eventually irritated, when I realized that I had just been mass-tagged in an advertising scheme to get people to pay for the most unhealthy diet on the planet.

No need to go door-to-door. I can now bother you from my wireless device.

And now for that higher level of anger I was talking about.

Fat Jesse, this woman has board upon board of only pictures of stick skinny women. They are obviously professional models and athletes, and obviously have nothing to do with the diet she's claiming helped her lose four tons in two days (come to think of it, where are your pictures, annoying spam lady?). And as a woman--no less, a fat woman--I am livid. Because I've come to the conclusion that not only are people like this trying to spam my Pinterest account, a sacred space of craftiness and dreams, but they are trying to spam my self-image.

Funny thing about women, F.J. When we want to lose weight, we have this nasty habit of looking at other women and saying Those are the arms/butt/thighs/shoulders I'm going to have when I'm through with myself. Oh, I've done it. I used to have a 'vision board' with pictures of fit people snowboarding and doing Krav Maga-- things that I'm too fat to do. But I've never really stopped to think about what an insane thing that is to do to myself. Forget the fact that someone staring at a collage of pictures of attractive strangers living their lives is the perfect beginning to a really creepy episode of Law and Order: SVU. The real problem is that another person's shape is probably the most futile and destructive thing we can kill ourselves trying to achieve. I mean, I would never see my friend's cute new car, love it, and consequently paste a picture of it on my bedroom wall to motivate myself to acquire it. And that's way more achievable than another person's musculoskeletal system. Well, maybe not in this economy.

It turns out that a little spam was all I needed to realize my next step. You see, Fat Jesse, we all have self-image inboxes. We receive thousands of messages every day on how we look, what we're good at, and where we fit into this world. Just like the internet, there will be times when messages creep in that don't make sense with what we know to be true. And there will be those that look completely legitimate until we take a closer look. So I've issued a challenge to myself, F.J. I'm going to send those messages to the junk folder. But before I do, I'm going to report them to my brain. Reporting them ensures that they may not be able to spam me again. So every time I see an image that makes me think I want to look like that, I'm going to yell SPAM! Not out loud, Fat Jesse. Not out loud. That would get me a one-way ticket to a padded room. And while I learn to send those messages where they belong, I'm going to spend some time thinking about what I would look like snowboarding or doing Krav Maga. I assure you I will not forget my camera when those days come. Now those are some pictures worthy of hanging on my walls.

Suddenly craving Spam (not really),
New Jesse, -16 lbs



Skeleton Image: farconville / FreeDigitalPhotos.net


Salesman Image: Ambro / FreeDigitalPhotos.net


TA3FJFGATKUR

Step 7: Don't Sleep through Salina

Dear Fat Jesse,

I stepped on the scale this morning and realized that I am one pound away from being in a new weight decade. Well, of course I'll bounce back up before I go down. That's just how Lady Weight Loss does her thing. But it's just around the bend. And you know what that means, F.J. We're approaching Salina. What does approaching Salina mean, other than being a killer hipster band name (check out my easy Hipster Band Name Creator here.)? I'll explain...

When I was a kid, we would take regular trips to see my grandparents in Utah. At the beginning of these trips, I would be wide-eyed and buzzing on Twizzlers and Pringles, promising myself to soak in every moment of scenery on the road. And without fail, a little more than halfway there, I would pass out. When I would wake up, I'd ask 'What'd I miss?' I kid you not, the answer I got every stinking time was 'we just passed Salina.' Now, mind you Salina, UT is no great landmark. I'm pretty sure my dad just meant we passed the exit for Salina and not the town itself. But it grew to be this mysterious land that I would never get to see because my little kid brain would tap out under the pressure of twelve pounds of sugar, artificial coloring, and good old fashioned excitement.

Salina...the land where dreams come true.

What on earth does this have to do with weight loss you ask? Well, this number I am about to see--and thirty of its closest friends in descending order--are numbers that I have never seen on the scale. Because I fell asleep and passed them. This is where the story gets tough, F.J. But we need to barrel through and get stronger because of it.

What was I doing when I missed those numbers? I was getting married to my now ex-husband, ditching my college education, being lied to, being lied about, becoming a terrible friend, sister and daughter. I was dealing with hopelessness, anger, and rage. I was mourning the loss of dreams, and wandering aimlessly from one goal to another. The truth is, I spent the early part of my twenties in a spiral of loss, failure, and disappointment. It's okay to cry, F.J. I am weeping as I type this, because I can only count on one hand the people I have confided in about this terrible time in my life. And though it's hard to publicize, it's a necessary step in the process of doing something that I haven't done yet. You see, Fat Jesse. I forgave my ex a long time ago. I have reconciled with a lot of the family and friends that I hurt during those tough years. But the one thing I haven't done is forgive myself.

Now, as I approach Salina, I realize that the time has come for me to stay awake and face down the things that have stolen my worth for far too long. I am worthy of new dreams. I am ready for a fresh start. And I forgive myself. And now I offer you a promise, Fat Jesse. In exactly thirty pounds, I will hop in my car, drive to Salina and take a picture of myself there. And, because I'm driving, there will be no way I will fall asleep on the way there.

Terrifyingly Vulnerable,
New Jesse, -15 lbs


Image: Nathan Greenwood / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Step 6: Avoid Crabs

Dear Fat Jesse,

One of the most powerful concepts I've learned in my adult life is the idea of a crab bucket. It's the popular metaphor that perfectly illustrates the fact that misery loves company. You see, Fat Jesse, if you put one crab in a bucket, he'll find a way to climb out. The best way to keep that sucker down? Put him in there with some other crabs. When one crab tries to climb out, the others pull him down and scramble to be the next crab on top. I'm 94 % sure that this is where the creators of The Bachelor got their idea.

"I'm almost sure I could possibly be considering
falling in love with you."

This is an important thing to keep in mind when you're trying to lose weight, F.J, or doing anything worthwhile for that matter. There have been times during previous attempts at getting healthy when I've rubbed my eyes, looked around, and realized I was in a bucket full of frenemy crabs...and I was one of them! In fact, the biggest difference in this attempt might not even be in what I'm eating or how hard I'm working out. It's avoiding the Crabs. Here's what I learned from my time in the crab bucket.

The Top 3 Characteristics of a Crab

1. Inability to take a compliment. I've done this more than I'm proud of. EVERYONE does this at some point. But it's critical to learn to stop. It doesn't equal humility and it makes others uncomfortable. And when it comes to being a friend to someone else, this terrible habit can be downright poisonous. Refusing to take a compliment tells everyone in the room that they are now in a bucket, and if they try to get out, they'll get pulled down.

2. Whining. If crying and talking got married, grew apart, got a divorce, and went through an ugly custody battle...whining would be their poor conflicted child caught in the middle. Nothing sucks the life out of a workout partnership faster than hearing the person who is supposed to be motivating you...whining. You've suddenly become this person's mother and they want their boo boo's kissed. Please don't confuse this with the natural commentary that comes from working hard. For example, I've never felt a burn like that in my life! after a workout is not whining. Do we have to lift weights every daaaaaay? Whining, in crab sauce.

3. Back-handed compliments. Oh, Fat Jesse. If I wrote down every back-handed compliment I've gotten from women in my life, I would have a room full of Lisa Frank journals filled with the icky comments I've had to slough off. And yes, I am most certainly singling out women on this one. Women are experts at saying something that sounds nice enough, but makes a person's stomach turn with insecurity. When would you ever hear a man say I always thought you had a pretty face in there somewhere? If you hear a compliment that has a little baby insult riding around in its kangaroo pouch, try your best to ignore the crap out of it. Analyzing its validity will only put you in the bucket.

Fat Jesse, I have been incredibly blessed during this crack at weight loss with an almost Crab-free experience. My husband, friends, and family are some of the best workout partners I could ask for...and I rarely even work out with them. What makes them great is their glaring lack of Crabby characteristics. They motivate me with their quiet confidence, sincerity, and beautiful absence of whining. Even the messages I've gotten from people about how this blog touched them in a small way has made each and every one of those people my workout partners and saved me from the crab bucket for another day.

You know what I'm going to say next. While finding those traits in other people is important, the only thing I can truly control is whether or not I'm being a crab. So I challenge you, Fat Jesse, to check up on yourself every once in a while. Open up your eyes, take a look around, and make sure you're not sprouting claws.

Suddenly craving seafood,

New Jesse, -14 lbs

Crab Image: Simon Howden / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Step 5: Make Room for Better Things

Dear Fat Jesse,

I made a decision this weekend. It's time for the shrine to go. Let me explain...

I, like many people at this time of year, am in a closet cleaning kind of mood. This morning I woke up, filled the baby's tummy and handed her off to her dad so that I could do some major overhaul in my cluttered linen closets. I am proud to announce that I have cleaned all of my makeup brushes and organized my earrings. But something way more important to the fabric (no pun intended) of who I want to become took place today, Fat Jesse. I ditched your shrine...

That is a ginormous trash bag stuffed with clothing of various sizes. I can't even remember what I was up to when each item fit me. Some are probably too big now, but most are definitely too small. There are maternity clothes and plus-sized clothes fashioned into maternity clothes (hey, sometimes you don't feel like paying $40 for a maternity shirt). There are jeans which I'm pretty sure, much like gerbils left unattended, mated and gave birth to other jeans over the course of ten years. All I know is that for all this time, I have held onto these things with the promise that someday they will fit. You must think I am absolutely insane to get rid of perfectly good clothing that will someday fit, and some that may even fit now if I gave it a try. But I don't care, F.J. I am tired of having a museum of different sizes in my home, essentially giving me permission to yo-yo between them if I need to. Each piece is like an exhibit to what I was when I wore it last, and that needs to change. Because I've changed.

Don't worry, I won't be forced to walk around in the buff until I hit my goal weight. But my closet now contains only things I have purchased in the past few months, for my current taste and body size. When I lose weight...I get new things and throw out anything that is too big (my definition of new usually means thrift store finds anyway). I must also mention the two free Planet Fitness t-shirts that the hubby and I scored in much smaller sizes and set a goal to be in them by August. This may seem silly and impractical to anyone who has never battled with a weight problem. But I tell you that nothing in this journey has been more cleansing than this. It's me telling myself...telling you, Fat Jesse...that I'm never stepping out into this world as you- ever again. Even though we stay in communication, F.J., you are no longer invited to the party. Besides, what would you even wear?

Headed to Goodwill,
New Jesse, -13 lbs

The Disney Princess Weight Loss Guide

Dear Fat Jesse,

As with anyone born before 1995, I have a special place in my heart for old school Disney animated movies. Pixar is great, and I love the fact that everything can be seen in 3D for only $300. But there is just something about those classics that can't be beat. The songs, the drama. Just the greatest. Come to think of it, Fat Jesse, the chicks in those movies are pretty skinny. They might just have a thing or two to teach me while I try to get my weight issues in order. Here's what I can glean from my three favorite Disney princesses...

Briar Rose/Aurora: Question the Past

We can all identify with Sleeping Beauty. Girl has evil spell cast on her, and is forced to live with three zany undercover fairies to protect her from the spell's fulfillment. Can we say been there? I jest, F.J., but Briar Rose and I really do have something in common. We both went our young adult lives not questioning the way we'd always done things. She never once asked, "Why am I living in the forest with three women, with no Starbucks in sight?" She just went about, picking berries and dancing with owls in stolen clothing. And me? I've just gone about, ordering fast food twice a day, complaining that I was still fat....and dancing with owls in stolen clothing. I'm telling you, the similarities are eerie! From now on, I'm going to question every practice I've taken for granted my entire life. The ones that are helpful stay, and the destructive ones go in the wood chipper. Oh, and I also need to score a wood chipper. My only hope is that I don't fall into a trance, prick my finger on a spindle, and slip into a coma in the process of finding my true self. That would suck.

Belle (Beauty and the Beast): Hit the Books

Kourtney, Kim, and Khloe? 

I'm not going to blather on about seeing the beauty in those the world calls ugly. Because anyone with a lick of sense would agree that Beast was actually way more handsome than his princely counterpart. That guy was just weird looking and I've always wanted him to go back to being Beast. No, I walk away from this movie with the inspiration to use my brain. Belle was the town smarty pants and wasn't always on trend because of it. Let's bring Belle's character into modern times. These days, a woman either has the option to simply see (Insert K name) Kardashian on one of her twenty-seven reality shows and say, "I must buy her diet supplements" or she can find information for herself. She may not lose weight rapidly. She may not get the respect of beefcakes in glittery Ed Hardy jeans (aka Modern Gaston). No sir, if Belle lived in today's world, she would totally be a science geek, researching the safest and most effective ways to lose weight. Rock on, Belle. I want to be like you.


Ariel (The Little Mermaid): Keep Some Things for Yourself

No father would wish for his daughter to give up her greatest talent and her fin, all for some guy she's only laid eyes on. Really, what father would even approve of that skimpy sea shell bra? But Ariel had it right in one respect. She kept her dream close to the vest until it was time to act, and rightly so. Look at how her dad flipped out on her the moment he discovered her collection of gadgets and gizmos a'plenty. All gone the moment they were found out by someone who didn't approve. Fat Jesse, there will be times when others unintentionally derail you from what you really want in life because they don't have the capacity to understand. There are also those special few who will quite intentionally try to sabotage what you have going  on (see also: Ursula the sea witch). At the end of the day, it just takes a conscious decision to keep swimming--er, moving-- forward. If it's your dream, it's worth (respectfully) ignoring a few people over.

Waiting for the Disney Vault to open,
New Jesse, -12 lbs

P.S. Aurora's blue dress was definitely the prettier one.

Step 4: Bench Press the Baby if You Have To

Dear Fat Jesse,

I gained a pound. Which doesn't stress me out much, because I've been nursing an awesome calf cramp and have been banned from exercise by my husband since Saturday. All the more reason to purchase that foam roller that I know I need. It's times like these, when I am sore and don't want to move forward, that I need to remind myself that I have no excuse to not work out.

Having two kids under the age of three is a death sentence for a woman who wants to exercise. What am I saying? Having one kid, no matter the age, can kill your best laid plans to work out on any given day. That's why, this time around, I've dropped my perfectionist standard of having to be able to go the gym for two hours every day in order to feel like I've done something worthwhile.

These are my favorite ways to get in a super quick workout while the baby swings, or the toddler colors. Although she will inevitably drop what she's doing, stand three inches from me, and copy what I'm doing. That's okay too. I'd rather have her copy my exercises than be able to recite my drive-thru order from Burger King. You laugh, Fat Jesse, but that day wasn't far off before we quit the King.

1. Leslie Sansone. I have been a fan of Leslie's DVD's for years, because it's a great way to get in a nice walk on those days when you don't want to go to the treadmill farm. She has workouts on every level, from walking a quick mile, all the way up to 5 mile walks with optional resistance. Her walk/jog and walk/kick DVD's are no walk in the park either. I even use her pilates, yoga, and stability ball DVD's. She is friendly, gives good cues, and her stuff is cheap and can be found at pretty much any Walmart. (F.J. Difficulty level: 3-6 out of 10, depending on the DVD)

2. EA Sports Active 2. When the Wii first came out and people started exercising with video games, I really brushed it off. Maybe it was the silly looking characters or possibly my intense association of video games with laziness that I couldn't shake. When we got this game two years ago (for PS3), I thought it would be fun, but not much of a workout. Boy, was I wrong. That calf cramp I'm rocking this week? This game is the culprit. It's not your ordinary video game. You strap on arm and leg sensors that track your heart rate and form. Then it takes you on a crazy roller coaster of interval training using basketball, soccer, boxing, cardio, and resistance. At the end of the 26 minute session, I am left panting on the ground, questioning the pivotal decision I made to do that workout 26 minutes ago. It's that awesome. (F.J. Difficulty: A solid 7 or 8, at least in the beginning)

3. Kettlebell. When I first announced my interest in kettlebell, I quickly received a phone call from my brother urging me to take my time and learn proper form. I am so glad he did, because the fact is that kettlebell done improperly can rip out your head and spine like a 1990's Mortal Kombat finishing move. I may be exaggerating a teeny bit, but I want to emphasize that form will make or break this amazingly intense workout. I personally have only busted out the kettlebell in those times that I really wanted to punish my body into submission (like weight gain days). My brother taught me how to do Tabata drills, which are intervals of kettlebell swings, rest, and longer 'active rests' with jumping rope, jogging in place, etc. All in all, the workout adds up to 16 minutes. I can only do half of that. But since it's been proven to burn 20 calories per minute (!), I'm okay with that. It really is the most intense workout a person can get in such a short period of time. I hope to be able to get to the point where I can do the drills multiple times per week, but that will be a while. I'm still pretty wimpy, Fat Jesse. But you knew that. (F.J. Difficulty: 10. Times 10.)

4. Fitbit. Not technically a workout, but it has the potential to make life a workout. Nothing more than a fancy-schmancy pedometer, but it has changed the way I see my day. I just strap on my Fitbit (come to think of it, I don't have mine on yet...) and it tells me how many steps I've taken, stairs climbed, calories burned, etc. But the best part is the free access you get to their website with food and activity logs. I now get calorie burn credit for things like dressing and changing my kids, doing laundry, and vacuuming. Logging my food and seeing the comparison with how many calories I'm burning has truly changed my relationship to food. I now see it as fuel, and I will only lose if I burn more than I take in. Simple as that. (F.J. Difficulty: Facing how much you're really eating in relation to your activity? A whopping 11.)

Someday, Fat Jesse, we will be more focused on one thing. It is my goal to train for a 5k, or to take an hour Zumba class at the gym every morning. But right now, I have to commit to work with what I have. Something is always better than nothing, and I will never let anyone tell me differently ever again. Because at the end of the day, I am the only one I have to answer to for my own health.

Gainfully,
New Jesse, +1 pound

Step 3: A Daily Dose of Vitamin H2

Dear Fat Jesse,

I know you're dying to get to the part where I tell you what we're doing to lose the weight. Workouts, recipes, weird rituals, etc. But we've always cut to that part first, and look where it has gotten us. No, F.J., we must be patient and make sure our brain in on track. We'll get to all of that later. Today, a science lesson....

There is an enzyme that the body produces after consistent weight loss. It's called superiose (soo-PEER-ee-ose). It causes delusions of grandeur, memory loss, and the inability to stand in a normal fashion while taking 'after' photos. Okay, fine. You got me, F.J. I'm using fake science again. But you have to admit that claiming that something is scientific fact makes it so much more compelling. Although there is no physiological explanation (that I can prove) for why a person has the potential to become a huge tool after succeeding at getting the weight off, the fact is that it does happen. And I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen to us, by way of a little preventive medicine every single day. I am an absolute sucker for alliteration, so I have no choice but to go with my two favorite H-words to help us along.


Honesty

The hubs and I watch The Biggest Loser on Netflix religiously, mainly because it's impossible to watch people working out for hours without wanting to do it ourselves. But there are actually quite a few things that irritate me about that show. One moment, F.J. Let me spit out my Extra dessert flavored gum and grab a Yoplait, with many flavors that are only 100 calories. Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes. One of the issues I have with that show is that of clothing choice. Early in the competition, the female contestants are put on display, with just a sports bra and some tight shorts. As they begin to take on a more average build, the wardrobe changes. They actually show less than when they were obese. I've scratched my head over this for a while and have now come to a conclusion. Those women probably have a ridiculous amount of excess skin from rapid weight loss, especially the ones who have passed a few kiddos through their bodies. Even in the final episode with the big reveal, they all stand with that uncomfortable stance that just screams, I can't move or my Spanx will roll down. Am I saying that they have done something wrong by not being able to lose that skin, or even wearing Spanx to tame it? Absolutely not. I just wish they would complain about it a little more on national television. Why? Because it's the truth. And when I get down to my goal weight and will undoubtedly have areas that still look like my mother had a a secret affair with the Michelin man nine months before I came on the scene, I want to know that it's normal! Even at eleven pounds down, I am surprised at the funky ways my body has chosen to change. For example, all of that weight loss is only in my face and my toes. Nothing in between has shown a substantial change, except the now distorted butterfly tattoo you decided to get on our shoulder, Fat Jesse. I want others to be real with me about how much it stinks to get an out-of-shape body into shape. So I commit to do the same for others. No deceptive 'after' pictures. No pretending that things come easily to me that simply don't. And there is no way I will ever make it into the Heidi Klum Klub. You're required to lose your pregnancy weight within 30 minutes of having a baby to get in. I personally believe she kidnapped those kids. Someone should look into that. But I digress, F.J. I must remember, above all, to be honest with myself...er, with you, I guess. It took years of bad habits to get this way. And this is going to be hard. Period.


Humility

Feel the burn!

Human beings are hilarious. We can have an accomplishment under our belt for all of two seconds before we become full-blown experts. I would need an abacus to figure out how many people I've met who got on a very high horse the moment the scale gave them that ultimate number. Why an abacus and not a calculator? Because an abacus burns more calories. Use your head, F.J. We're trying to lose weight here. So what do you do when your pal is up there on their freshly brushed high horse, when months ago they exceeded the weight limit to ride any horse? I wish I knew. I guess all I can do is control how I treat people throughout the whole process. Anyone who knows me well can testify to the fact that this will not be easy for me. I am incredibly bossy, super pushy, and a know-it-all to a fault. And that's what I do when I love someone! Which brings us to our honorable mention H-word....


Helpfulness

My heart would drop to my cankles if anyone that I love read the above and thought that I might be talking about them. The truth is that the abacus count that I have done (and burned 9 calories!) consists mainly of people that didn't even know me well enough to be advising me on such matters. I have a gaggle of family and friends who have offered me so much help and advice to push me to succeed. They've taught me proper form to prevent injury, shared their research with me, and told me how much things were going to hurt. The point that I'm trying to make, Fat Jesse, is that when you share your experiences with people using honesty and humility as your standard, you become helpful.

Always Alliterative,
New Jesse, -11 lbs

Abacus Image: nuchylee / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Step 2: Lay Down the Law

Dear Fat Jesse,

Now that we've established that I'm going to whip you into shape until you finally get it, I think it's only fair that I give you some guidelines. Don't cry, F.J. You'll get used to it. You might even start to like it. Besides, I only have two.

Law #1: Take what people think and Zumba dance (poorly) all over it.


Forget the President being the leader of the free world. I submit for your approval that people really have all the power. Every person on this planet has, at one time or another, refrained from doing something they would love to do because of people. Who are these people? No one really knows. They stay hidden in the shadows until we finally give in and go home because we might look stupid. Then they all come out after we're gone and do all the fun stuff we tried to do...only they do it perfectly.

What's that, F.J.? That doesn't make sense? Well, then explain to me why that kind of rational  thinking has kept me on the sidelines for so long. I have always wanted to run, but don't want people to see my ounces bounce. I am crazy about dancing but, other than a few hilarious videos taken in college, people would never know that.

The bottom line: People might just be a figment of our imagination, F.J. Don't walk away as I get nauseatingly deep, but their opinionated voices might even just be a reel of tape that I recorded in my own head at some point and wrote 'people' all over it. Don't get me wrong, there are some nasty, judgmental people walking this Earth. Some are actually laughing at the fat person on a treadmill. They will text their friends on the stationary bike about how ugly a woman's workout clothes are. People might even be personified in a well-meaning friend who thinks their unsolicited exercise advice is priceless. But here's the truth. Their logic is flawed, not mine. For so long, I've said, "What am I thinking, running at my weight? I must look horrible. What if one of these athletic people is laughing at my form?" What I should have been thinking was, "If anyone at this gym is busy watching me run/dance/lift weights, fat and all, they're obviously not working out that hard themselves." It's impossible to have a challenging workout while worrying about what someone else is doing. That's just science, my friend. Okay, maybe not. But it should be. Fat Jesse, you run. And dance. Do whatever gets you moving. And remember to keep your eyes on your own treadmill so that no one mistakes you for people. 


Law #2: The only thing worse than food running your life...is a DIET running your life.


Yes, ma'am, I wrote the word diet in all caps. Because there is something about that word that cries out to be announced. Emphasized. Repeated for all to hear until someone finally buckles, buys the same book, and joins me in the torture. I don't want to think of all the times I've walked into a social situation with a sign around my neck that says I'm on a diet. I'll be watching you eat. And on the occasions that I forgot my sign, the obnoxious Tupperware full of diet food I brought may have given it away for me.

About a month ago, Bennett and I decided to adopt a vegan diet. Although I admit to discovering vegan eating last year while bawling over stories of little piggies being tortured in Skinny B----, we have made the decision that we are doing it for nutritional reasons, not ethical ones. We both still want to go hunting someday. We don't insist on vegan clothing or scour food labels for things like honey or gelatin. All in all, I still believe in the whole "man having dominion over animals" business. I just no longer want them to have dominion over my gallbladder or my husband's arteries. We have chosen this way of living to correct years of unhealthy eating that has inevitably brought on health problems for us. And it just turns out that it's easier on our stomachs, improves my skin, and has made my constant companion for most of last year-gallbladder attacks- stay at bay. Not to mention, in the absence of my raging germaphobia over handling raw meat, I'm actually a pretty rockin' cook. We have found what works for us.

The bottom line, F.J.: The word diet has an entirely different meaning in the U.S. than it does pretty much anywhere else, and it's time to stop buying into it. My--ahem-- diet will be the group of foods that I choose as fuel on a regular basis, for my specific needs. And I trust myself to make some occasional exceptions. Never again will I go to a friend's house and refuse to eat what she's cooking because it isn't on the conveniently compiled list provided in the index of my latest diet book. Write this down, Fat Jesse. Wait, do you have pens in there? Anyway, just remember this: Being able to think on your feet in all kinds of situations--without wearing that sign or bringing that Tupperware--will be the real proof that you can do this for the rest of your life.

That is all the law I have for you today, Fat Jesse. Be forewarned, if you start doing weird things and tripping me up, I may have to write more.

With Love,
New Jesse, -11 lbs.

Step 1: Establish Contact

Dear Fat Jesse,

It's time to have a chat. I've heard so many people on their weight loss journey say, "I feel like there is a skinny person inside me just waiting to get out." I think that's nonsense. At least for me. I have been fat my entire life, ranging from "she's of average build" to "don't mention her weight at all." So, I have determined that you- my inner me- are fat. It only makes sense. If ever I had a skinny woman living inside me, I wouldn't be a raging fast food addict. I wouldn't have a ten year love affair with seven hundred calorie coffee beverages under my belt. I lied. I don't wear a belt. Belts are very uncomfortable for fat women.

So I've decided to expose you. Oh, of course the world knows you're around. That's what sucks about a weight battle. It's one that is fought with the entire world in a front row seat, and success is pretty objective. Either you get smaller or you don't. No, I've decided to expose the parts of you that aren't that obvious. The parts that keep me from believing that I can do something different than what you've wanted to do for twenty years. Why? Well, one of my favorite authors, Dr. Kevin Leman, puts it simply. If you want to lose pounds, post your weight in a public place. That's a great idea.

Really.
Incredible.

Yeah, I'm not doing that. But the next best thing that I can do is to post the journal of my weight loss in a very public place. I'm not looking for a huge readership. I'm pretty sure my mom will be my only fan. The point is knowing that it's out there and that I now have accountability to do what I set out to do. And don't worry, F.J. This isn't goodbye. I know that you'll always be around, trying to tell me that food is the best replacement for pretty much anything. I'm just going to dedicate this blog to convincing you that you're wrong.

With love,
New Jesse, -11 lbs