Archive for July 9th, 2015

Upon such weighty matters as …trying to lose fat

Yes, yes, I went there. Why, yes, I do think I’m funny. Thank you so much for noticing.

Anyway. I hate everything about talking about weight because it’s nothing but a mess of feculent maggots, so this post is probably going to be very profanity and sarcasm laden. Unlike my other posts, you see.

So, I’m trying to lose fat.

I’m currently 64.7 kg, which is about 142.6 pounds. I’m about 154 cm tall, which makes me a hair taller than five feet. That’s a BMI of 27.4, which puts me squarely in the “overweight” camp. Of course, if I’m tallying BMI based on Asian body types, that actually puts me in the obese category.

Part of the maggoty problem is my issues with trying to justify wanting to lose weight with the whole “don’t let the crazy society win!” thing. It feels a bit like selling out, a bit like being anti-feminist, a bit like I’m drinking the koolaid and the next thing I know I’m one of those crazy Asian pod girls.

Yes, I went there. You know what I mean. If you don’t, I’m not explaining it because then that’d be racist.

Step one in wrangling the maggots: justifying the weight.

I have severe sleeping issues. Chinese traditional medicine practitioners have told me that I have sleep apnea. This is not quite substantiated, but considering that I routinely wake up gasping for breath and feeling like I just escaped death… probably true. The terrible sleep patterns mean that I really don’t do well in terms of energy – in fact, I often wake up in the morning feeling like someone beat me with a flotation noodle and I’m usually yawning all throughout the day. This means multiple things for the weight issue, not the least of which is that not getting adequate sleep is known for causing weight gain. Not having sufficient sleep can also mess with your hormones, causing, yep, wait for it, weight gain. Even if that weren’t the case, not having sufficient sleep means that I don’t get enough energy for doing things like — exercise.

I also have anxiety issues, which contribute to my stress issues, which contribute to my hormonal issues, which contribute to …yep, the weight issue. And oh wait, let’s not forget my old friend, depression. Yeah, guess what’s comorbid with depression too?

I don’t eat a lot of sweets, I don’t actually overeat that much and I don’t drink stuff like soda or juice.

So my weight is almost certainly pretty solidly in the “health issues” camp. I need to just own it and be fine with it. It doesn’t matter if no one else believes me or if everyone else believes that I just need to yank myself up by my non-existent bootstraps and lose the weight. Whatever. It’s just something I need to deal with.

Step two: untangling reality from crazy.

The thing is, the whole wanting to lose weight thing is also bound up a bit in my rebellion against my relatives. I keep feeling like if I give in to wanting to lose weight, I’m giving into their crazy against me. It feels a bit like a self-betrayal, like admitting that they were always right about me.

My dad called me “fat lass” for years. My mom would pick at what I would eat, constantly saying “are you really going to eat that?” whenever she ate with me, no matter if we were in public or not. One of my uncles once told me that he was using me as an object lesson so his daughter would know what to fear becoming. My aunt told me it was better if I didn’t laugh because it made the fat on my cheeks bunch up to look really unattractive. My other aunt told me that my boyfriend at the time looked “out of my league”. My brother’s been mostly okay, but he’s let a couple of things slip where I’m pretty sure I don’t fit his aesthetic standards. Which, no, I’m not a perv. I’m just saying. No one in my family likes the way I look and it’s kind of …super depressing. Yeah, I know, the kind of and the super don’t really go together, but whatever.

But you know what? I need to stop fucking punishing myself for their crazy. The fact is that I am overweight right now and I do want to lose fat for my own sake and I really shouldn’t cut off my nose to spite their face.

Step three: identifying the actual problems.

I feel fat. I can’t really walk for decent distances without the small bones in my feet complaining. I cannot sprint. I despise the rolls of flesh around my tummy that make it harder for me to bend over. I hate that when I do shoulder stands in yoga, I have this big huge flump of flesh that hangs in my face.

Step four: number your goals.

I would like to be able to sprint to leave behind zombies when the apocalypse happens. Barring that, it would be nice to be able to run down someone who snatches my purse or to run away from normal danger. I want to be able to hike the Inca trail without wanting to die. I want to be able to haul myself up flights of stairs and do DDR without killing my knees. I want to be able to haul around my own luggage. I want to be able to clamber up a 5.11 wall with ease. I want to be able to swim twenty laps in the pool without becoming winded. I also can’t easily buy cute clothing in Asia, but really, that’s a hardcore first world problem. Well, so’s being so fat that your bones hate you, but hey. I want to feel sexy and comfortable in my own skin.

No, that is not a bid for any of my friends who read this blog, all like one of them, to tell me that I’m sexy in my own right.

It doesn’t matter. I haven’t felt sexy in years. Maybe ever, because the last time I was at peace with how I looked, I was twelve. So that was pretty hardcore in the “nope, nope nope not sexy” age.

Also? Kinda crazy admission? I love being picked up and cuddled. I want to be a light enough weight that that is possible. My ex could do it, but my ex also had weird muscular capabilities and was about a foot taller than me. It would be really nice if whoever I dated next was able to pick me up for a cuddle and I’m going to try and facilitate that.

Step five: list what you’re gonna pay.

I’m currently on 1176 calories per day on Loseit. Theoretically my base metabolic rate is 1410 calories per day and with light exercise about 1-3 times a week, it’s about 1824 per day. So math-wise, this should work. And 1176 should be high enough that my metabolism won’t decide to crash and burn. Theoretically.

One of the doctors I was seeing put me on a draconian diet of no rice, no noodles, no nothing that involves starchy things. I think even legumes and stuff like potatoes was out. Yeah, think Atkins.

You know what? Fuck that shit.

When I’m not on my period, I aim to do water aerobics/swim for at least 30 min a day. I’m going to make an effort to do 15 min of walking after lunch and dinner. I’m also going to try to keep doing my sun salutations first thing in the morning, if my damn body can just stop with the crazy sleep problems. When my energy levels pick up and/or when my weight drops enough, I’m going to go back to doing at least 10k steps a day and work myself up.

With that amount of activity, it’s insane to consider going completely starchless. So I’m not. Besides, I’m in Asia. Land of noodles, rice bowls, and where stuff like fried rice as an entree originated. It’s just not really possible to eat out here without giving in to some form of the hated starches. I could just not go out, but I really don’t want to be the crazy dieting recluse. The other thing is, I’m really not going to go for a diet that I cannot keep to. I believe in creating good exercise and eating habits and going starch free just isn’t in the cards. No way.

So yeah.

That’s the plan. Let’s see how hard the gods laugh at this plan. I still remember how they harshed my plan for writing, so we’ll see.

But you know? I’m done fighting myself. I really am. I do think I’m overweight and I do want to lose weight, but fuck everyone who wants to rain on my parade. I’m gonna do this steadily and I’m gonna do this in a safe and healthy fashion and everyone who wants to tell me that a 600 calorie a day diet is the way to go can sit on a morning star and twirl.