My butt hurts.
OK, I know that’s kind of funny, because, you know, what 4-year old doesn’t like a good butt joke? But it’s also annoying, because it’s my butt, and pain isn’t fun. Also, it’s exasperating, because my butt wouldn’t hurt if I wasn’t overweight. You see, I’ve worn out the seat in my office chair with my heavier-than-necessary behind. I asked the manager about getting a new desk chair (or at least a cushion for the existing chair), and I’ll be getting something soon, but it doesn’t help me today. Today my butt hurts.
On my walk to work this morning, I was idly considering the changes my body has undergone with age. Some changes are inevitable – fine lines, a few gray hairs – but others are purely a result of my relationship with food and physical activity. I think/hope/wish/plan to turn some of these things around in the coming months. This blog isn’t a place for me to be opaque, to obfuscate, to generalize. This is a place for me to be truthful with myself in a way that matters. So I’m going to talk about some of the things that have changed, even though it’s going to be TMI for some of you. The rest of you might find this refreshing. I’m hoping that I do, too.
Along with having a big ol’ butt, my thighs have always touched. Like, always. Since I was a child. I’ve got pictures to prove it, but I’m not posting any here. This all goes to say that the thought of the “thigh gap” has always been alien to me, even when I was young and skinny. It’s awesome that some bodies have that feature, but this particular body just isn’t made that way. That being said, 40 lbs. ago, I could wear skirts without stockings and suffer no major issues. Now if I do that, my thighs rub so much that I get the equivalent of rug burn within minutes. Once, at a fancy party, I actually got such a terrible friction burn on my thighs from wearing Spanx, that by an hour in, my thighs were bleeding. I was also wearing high heels that gave me blisters, and it was a work affair where I had to mingle and make small talk (Have I mentioned how much I hate small talk? Let’s just say way more than bleeding thighs.) so the entire night was pure torture. Of course, I never even thought of mentioning any of this until now. That’s just how things go when you dress up. Women are taught from a young age to grin and bear it, and unfortunately this ends up coloring our lives in ways that some of us end up finding untenable. (I believe I hit my “this is complete bullshit!” limit about two years back). But you know the motto: beauty is pain. Sigh.
Sometimes, if I want to dress up and know that I don’t have to walk much, I’ll chance applying a friction stick like runners use. But in summer here, that stuff sweats off in no time. And I don’t know about you, but my fat thighs sweat a lot more than my thinner thighs used to. Everything sweats more, and there are more places for sweat to accumulate. So now I don’t wear skirts without leggings or stockings, or sometimes biker shorts, which I dislike even more. It’s a drag on hot days, but that’s what you’ve got to do when you’ve got big thighs.
There’s also that my stomach is bigger, which I generally try to hide by wearing fit-and-flare dresses, and blouses that don’t make me look too pregnant. I put zero additional effort into that venture, though. First off, I don’t have any clothing budget, so the things that are in my closet are what I have to wear until they wear completely out (maybe longer, at this rate). Also, I’m not wearing Spanx. Aside from my last bloody experience with the Spanx shorts, I also generally dislike any piece of clothing that I have to roll out of like a scuba diver. There’s also the fact that the crotch opens up slightly so you can kinda push the pieces out of the way when you need to pee, but the opening is definitely not big enough to prevent contact with some sort of drippage, so then you’re just walking around in pee pants for the day. So gross. (Don’t believe me? That link above is by another Anna with a hilarious/terrible story about accidentally peeing in her Spanx.)
Speaking of big thighs, my calves are bigger now, too. I was a runner in high school, and now with walking everywhere and hiking/backpacking when I can, I’m lucky to still have a lot of muscle beneath the fat layer. My calves are well-defined still (though I used to have stunning legs, and now my legs look awkward – tiny ankles tapering out, out, out into big ol’ thighs) but they’re just a teeny, tiny bit too big. Now I suddenly have to wear wide-calf boots. WTF.
I used to wear heels and wedges all the time, but when I gained weight, my center of balance shifted. Now I can barely walk in heels, and when I do wear them, they’re very painful (which is probably just an “I’m getting old” thing, but still). I now only buy comfortable shoes, even if that means they sometimes look schoolmarm-ish. Nothing higher than a 2.5-inch heel, nothing without substantial padding.
Talking about padding, that leads me what is easily the most disappointing part of getting fat: my boobs. I was 155 lbs and a 34B bra size for years and years, until suddenly I wasn’t. Once I started gaining weight, I went up to a 36B and hung there for a while, and then a few years ago I went in for a bra sizing and found out that I was actually a 38D. It was like suddenly getting tits overnight. At first I was overjoyed, because if I had to be fat, at least I could have tatas for the first time ever. Except that it doesn’t really work like that. First off, they get sweaty. Then you’ve got to be so careful about exfoliating at the bra band line to avoid breaking out (tit zits????? Ugh!) And in my case, I might be wearing a larger bra size, but they’re still just as wide-set, so I still don’t have cleavage. In the end, they still look just as awkward and unimpressive as before, just bigger and more obvious at it.
Once you get to be this size, your bra choices start going down, and everyone tries to sell you these ridiculous full-coverage bras that cover WAY more area than I actually have. On top of that, they’re finally making beautiful, sexy little lace bralettes with no underwire, and it’s really tough to find them when you’ve got D knockers. In other words, I am going to be glad to trade these fuckers in for a smaller cup size. I might even have a party to celebrate.
It’s interesting to see all of these things in one place, where I can mull them over. In the moment, I just tend to carry around this irritation, pain, and disgust internally. I never talk about any of these bits and bobs with anyone, even my closest girlfriends. It’s time to air these things out, see how it feels to be open and honest with myself and others about the things that I’ve been clutching so tightly to my chest for way too long. I think that is going to be the only way I can truly free myself of the real things that have been weighing me down. But now it’s time to put this blog away and go eat shrimp for dinner – yay!
Today’s Weight: 191.4 Lbs.
Today’s Exercise: 5 minute TRX workout, 10 minute tabata routine via 8Fit, foam rolling & stretching, and a little over 13k steps.
Today’s Interactions: Lovely time with Theo at the gym, plus a short conversation with two tourists who were looking for cajun food. One of them had the most beautiful smile. I hope they enjoyed their dinner.