Tag Archives: weight

Not Obsessed: Part 2


I realized this morning, as I was logging my weight into my phone, that I keep track of my weight in 3 different apps, and my exercise in 2 of them. But I swear, I am not obsessed.

I just had the most stupid conversation


I don’t know why I get into arguments on Facebook.

Someone I know posts: Muscle does not weigh more than fat!!! 1 pound of muscle weighs the same as 1 pound of fat. 1 pound muscle just takes up less space than 1 pound of fat!!!!

I respond: …That’s like saying steel doesn’t weigh more than feathers

Her: 1 pound of steel weighs more than 1 POUND of feathers? Nope!!!! 1 pound is 1 pound lol

Me: Right. But steel is still heavier than feather. Yes, ONE POUND of steel obviously weighs the same as ONE POUND of feathers, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ll need A LOT MORE feathers to weigh the same amount, because steel is heavier. Same with muscle and fat. Yes, ONE POUND of fat and ONE POUND of muscle weigh the same. Obviously. But you need more fat to make up a pound than you do muscle, because muscle weighs more.

Her: That’s what I said…muscle doesn’t weigh more than fat.

Me: You can’t just take one pound of a light object and one pound of a heavy object and go, “Look! This isn’t heavier than that!!”
If you need more of one than the other to weigh the same amount, one is heavier than the other.

Her friend: Sorry but <name of person> is correct … 1 lb of feathers = 1 lb of steel…..



So, I didn’t think I’d need to clarify, but based on the comments section, I do.

I have never heard ANYONE say “one pound of muscle is heavier than one pound of fat”. That would be ridiculous, stupid, and wrong. The only thing I’ve ever heard is “muscle is heavier than fat” and is ALWAYS referring to equal VOLUME of each.

If you have the same VOLUME of fat and muscle, muscle IS heavier. Period.

You were probably right


When I got up this morning, those six pounds were gone. Plus two more. I feel more relieved than I can express.

I also…*drum roll*…slept last night! I even slept pretty well. I feel the most refreshed I’ve felt in quite a while.

I also remembered to call my doctor this morning, so I have an appointment set up on Thursday, so the mental health guy can’t yell at me for that.

I have about an hour now before I have to leave to see him. I’m worried he’s going to insist on sending me to the hospital this time, and I’m not sure if I can (or should) talk my way out of it again. So, to prepare, I’m making a bag of stuff to keep me occupied at the ER and hospital like a couple books, some coloring books and colored pencils, my Bible, a journal, and some paper to finally write those letters I keep promising.

I’m hoping I won’t need it, but I’d rather be prepared.

I hate the birds


I’m lying here in my bed…still. It’s officially morning. I can’t lie still. I shake my legs to diminish, slightly, the pain. They ache. It’s not muscle soreness from the bike, just a deep, painful ache. Usually, this is a sign that my potassium or magnesium is low.

I do feel the muscle soreness, however. Every shake and every movement is a reminder of the hours spent on my bike yesterday. I stayed on it until 2am. Four hours ago. Yet, each tender reminder hurts less than the ache, so it’s worth aggravating the soreness.

The birds are singing outside my window. I wish they would stop. They are so chipper and I am so tired.

I want to get up and weigh myself. I want to get up and use my bike. I want to get up an weigh, then exercise, then weigh again. Instead, I lie here, legs twitching and shaking, begging for sleep.

I fear it will never come.

Pretty much this


You’re not skinny, you’re beautiful!


I hope I’m not alone in recognizing the ridiculousness of that statement. “You’re not skinny, you’re beautiful!” I would certainly hope no one would say that. And yet, fat women get, “You’re not fat, you’re beautiful!” ALL. THE. TIME.


I have a female friend who is fat. That’s not an insult, it just is. She knows she is, we’ve talked about weight before and her dissatisfaction with her weight. She’s not under any delusions that she is actually a thin person.

Last night, she sent me a message asking me to help her come up with a name for a new blog she wants to start. She has decided to lose weight and wants to chronicle the journey. I was excited for her. Not because she wants to lose weight, but because she has decided to do something for herself, for the right reasons, and in a healthy way. And she wants to invite others along for that journey.

I do not believe that fat/overweight/obese people are culturally or socially obligated to lose weight. I have come across the notion that they are, however, many a time. I do not believe that anyone is obligated to lose weight for anyone other than themself. If they want to lose weight (in a healthy way for healthy reasons), more power to them! If they are content at their weight and with their lifestyle, again, awesome! We don’t actually get to choose who has the right to be happy with who they are, contrary to what so many seem to think.

So, in the past, while my friend would express body dissatisfaction, she also was not motivated to make the changes to alter that (whether by adopting self-acceptance or by attempting to lose weight). (Please note, I’m not trying to imply that either option is easy or simple.) Again, unlike many think, you cannot cause someone to be motivated when they aren’t. You can encourage, you can inform, you can teach, but you cannot make another become motivated. Shaming won’t do it. Threatening won’t do it. One can only find motivation within oneself.

Now that my friend has found that motivation for herself, I was keen to encourage her in any way that I can. However, I’m terrible with naming things. I offered a few feeble suggestions, but we both acknowledged my shortcoming in this area, with a giggle.

Today, I asked her if she had decided on a name yet. She hadn’t. We had this conversation:

Her: No… What about Chasing Freedom…? Or Fat Girl No More? Haha
Me: I like the first better. The second might get you more followers. It’s much clearer what the point of the blog is.
Her: Haha true. But whenever I call myself “Fat girl”, even though it is NOT an insult to myself, my friends get mad. Haha So maybe not.
Me: I hate when people respond with things like, “You’re not fat, you’re gorgeous!” First of all, why can one not be both? And second, if I’m legitimately fat, why is it an insult to call myself fat, unless I’m doing so in a disparaging way?
Her: Exactly!

Seriously, why can’t you be both beautiful AND fat? Why do people act like they are mutually exclusive? You can be thin and beautiful, but apparently you can only be fat OR beautiful. And if you are actually, legitimately fat, it’s SO FRUSTRATING to have someone tell you you’re not fat. I’ve been there. It would be like me telling a woman, “You’re not a woman, you’re beautiful!” You don’t need to deny one fact about an individual in order to tell someone they are beautiful.

So please, stop telling people, “You’re not fat, you’re beautiful!”

You’re not helping.

Back to bed


I woke up still exhausted. I went through my morning routine of using the toilet, undressing, and weighing. Overnight my weight went up 6 pounds.

Despite the hours of exercise yesterday, the laxatives, the purging, I still managed to gain 6 pounds. I cried.

Then I went back to bed. I’m probably going to take some sleep meds and try to sleep for a couple days. If I’m sleeping, I’m not eating.

I do not like green eggs and ham


So, I had some success with eating today. I had an iced coffee with my friend this morning (I know, I know, not food, but it was still hard) and then those 9 pieces of candy.

Then, this afternoon, I thought I really should eat something real, so I went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and stared. Then opened the freezer and stared. Then opened each individual cupboard and stared. Then left the kitchen.

I did this about 5 times over a couple hours.

Finally, my mom suggested I order a pizza. I did.

Normally, I could eat a whole pizza myself before purging it. Today, I ate a piece and a half, very slowly, freaked out, ran to the bathroom, purged, downed a bunch of laxatives, took more diet pills, exercised until I collapsed, and then lay crying.

I haven’t tried to eat since then.

Also, my scale seems to be lying to me. I might need to get a new one, I really think mine’s broken.

All week it said I wasn’t losing, then this morning when I weighed, it said I lost 10 pounds overnight. That clearly doesn’t make any sense.

I always weigh in the same spot in my room, making sure my scale is on an even section of the floor, first thing in the morning after using the bathroom, naked. (Yeah, I have a weighing ritual.)

There’s no way I could not lose all week then jump down 10 pounds. I want to believe it, but I can’t.

It also occurred to me a short time ago that if I end up doing PHP or inpatient, I have to stop using the laxatives and diet pills, stop abusing my thyroid meds, won’t be able to weigh or purge in any fashion, it kind of freaked me out.

It doesn’t change my decision to do it, but it does make me very apprehensive.

Also, I’m really nauseous. I’m not sure if it’s from lack of food or the excessive amount of laxatives I took earlier. It could be both, I suppose.

I was going to go to a support group for women 30 and older who have eating disorders (I know I’m not technically 30, but I only have a month to go and don’t want to switch in a month) but I realized I don’t actually have cash to ride the bus in the morning.

I am, however, going out in the afternoon with a friend. I have no idea what we’re doing. She suggested getting lunch, but that’s not happening. Also, while I’m looking forward to spending time with her, I’m also sort of dreading it because my head’s in a bad place right now and she’s anorexic (in recovery, but still very much underweight) and is much thinner than I. But I’m determined not to isolate.

So, hopefully to bed at a reasonable time tonight, up at a reasonable time in the morning, workout, meds, maybe food, shower, maybe study, then social time.

Muffin Top


I hate my stomach. I have a muffin top. I always have a muffin top. It’s not because of pants that are too tight, it’s just how my body holds onto fat. Unless I am drastically underweight, I have one.

I look down and I see it, and I hate my body for storing it there. I hate my genetics for deciding this is how I look. I hate myself for not being able to get rid of it.

Even when I would do 1,000 crunches every day, when I did planks and situps and dozens of ab and core workouts obsessively, it didn’t help.

I find myself at night grabbing at the fat on my stomach and squeezing it and wishing I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.