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Protected: So I realized I’ve been waiting to die

March 5, 2012

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To satisfy the creepers (you know who you are)

July 31, 2011

Hey, it's me and my husband. I exist. I look like this. Without the man attached, obviously.

Fun fact! I’m an administrator over at my husband’s blog, Duct Tape Wedding Ring, and I can see what you guys search that gets you there. I’ve noticed a weird trend since he was all CNN-ified the other day — mostly that people are getting to his blog trying to figure out what the hell I look like. Or how much I weigh. Or just information about our marriage/wedding in general.

I mean, come on. Someone (four someones, actually) found his blog by searching “will nevin” weight wife -“brotha”. Why that in particular? Well, searching “will nevin wife” actually takes you to a lot of Stephen’s blog entries…they call each other “brotha wives” after a 13-mile-induced hysteria that went into Mormonism and polygamy and I have no idea what else. It’s a running joke. So they’re trying to figure out how much I weigh. Other people have searched for my name. Or “will nevin wife.”

Is this hella creepy to anyone else? I hope it is. I figure there’s a genuine curiosity as to what I look like for anyone who isn’t patient enough to read through Will’s blog…it’s not like you can’t see me on the home page or anything. Well, the picture here’s taken care of that, I’d think. I also hope they’ve stumbled across the other stuff I’ve done online. Like where I went undercover for what basically amounts to sex work — and had customers. Maybe they’ll even make it here. And since people usually aren’t too into reading, I guess some things need repeating.

Since the world wonders how much I weigh — yeah, it’s more than Will. Duh. I stopped the dieting madness. (Yeah, it’s madness — and a multi-billion dollar industry that basically profits off human insecurity.) I still use food to make myself happy sometimes. But I can cook with whole vegetables. I get better food in me than he does, I think. Granted — I’m still gonna have a slice of pie, or a bowl of popcorn if I feel like it.

1st Grade: Oh, those early growth spurts.

After losing about 50 pounds at the outset of the whole diet thing (remember, we started at pretty much the same time), I’ve gained some back. Why? Because I’m not subscribing to the Nutrisystem crap anymore. I feel better now than I ever did then, and it’s because I’m not subsisting off what basically amounts to MREs. Those things are pumped full of so much shit that it’s practically impossible to think that they’re doing you any good.

I now hover somewhere between 280-290 (depends on the week, how much water I’ve had, or any number of other variables…that’s how the body works). Am I ashamed? Nah. Do I hate myself? Only when people are assholes on the Internet, and even then it’s only temporary and I really only hate myself for listening to those people for one second.

The search for that damn white rabbit continues.

Even when I was a “normal” weight — or at least appeared to be — I was bigger than everyone else. Taller, meatier. It’s genetics at play, people. (See my 1st grade photo above, with Kelly and Caleb and a dose of 90s fashion as well as glasses where I got to choose a slightly “rosy” glass. Why did my mom let me do that? I don’t know.) My dad’s 6’7″. There was pretty much no way I was getting out of life without some of that attached. Granted, after a couple of injuries in my earlier days, I put on a bit more, but it happens. Those injuries still come back to haunt me sometimes (and if you’re worried about it, your tax money’s never been involved because I’ve had to just “walk them off” — our healthcare system’s so broken that I probably couldn’t get an appropriate diagnosis without spending thousands that we just don’t have). I also have another disorder that causes weight gain — again, can’t do a thing about it.

Anyway. Now you know how much I weigh, what I look like, and…well, probably more than I wanted to say in the first place. Meh. If you’re concern trolling (saying that you only care about my wellbeing), leave that mess at the door. If you’re here to tell me that if I just did the same thing as Will that I’d totally be perfect, I might laugh in your virtual face. You weren’t there to see it like I was. No way I’m putting myself through that.

As it is now, I can get my body to do anything it needs to. It has yet to stop me from doing anything. I love horseback riding, even though I haven’t gotten to do that in the past few years, I want to eventually start running (assuming those injuries don’t come back to slap me in the face), I fit in airline seats. I can find fashionable clothing, though it’s so much harder to find high-quality items. (Nordstrom helps.) I wear short skirts (and long jackets), dresses, shorts, or anything else I want to. It’s a lot easier to be this fat at 5’11”, I’m sure. But anything I do — it’s to make me happy, not you. So now that you know what you came for…well, I hope your curiosity’s sated.

This is how my husband lost weight so quickly

April 10, 2011

Very unhealthily.

I know, it’s subject-bait. But I also know that people are constantly amazed by what he did. I mean, I am, too. But only because I know I’m not willing to put myself into starvation mode for nine months while also trying to literally work myself out to the bone. Also, I like food too much to eat cardboard.

I’ve seen people asking for specifics on what he did, and since I’m the one who watched it all happen…I have to say something.

He posted about his old diet here. Note that he put a great big disclaimer on that post. The man did it for a reason. When someone who has graduated from law school puts a disclaimer on something, he means it. The amount of calories he ate in a day was way, way, way below what any adult ought to be eating. Not only that, but pretty much everything came from some sort of frozen food. (Granted, when I was making myself miserable, I was doing the frozen/prepared food thing myself.)

If you can manage it, learn to cook. Use fresh vegetables or at least as close as you can get. You’ll at least avoid preservative messes. (Of course, saying stuff like this is a sobering reminder of why weight is a classist issue, but that’s another thing entirely.)

Not only that, but…well, it’s unhealthy to lose weight that quickly. This Livestrong article only details four things, but a couple of them are pretty major — losing muscle mass and the ability to properly regulate body temperature would be fairly worrying.

He’s admitted himself that he did it backwards…only seeing a nutritionist after he pretty much got where he needed to be, for instance. I’d say that not really doing any weight training until after he hit where he wanted to be was also problematic. (But hey, not doing it helped lead to some big losses…but those big losses included muscle mass, which you should want to keep.)

So, I implore you — do it right. See a nutritionist, do some weight training…if you’re going to set that goal for yourself, please don’t hurt yourself in the process. Your losses will be smaller, and the entire process will take longer, but you’ll be better (and stronger) for it.

His motto has been that you can conquer anything a little bit at a time. I just beg that you make your little bits a lot smaller than his.

You know what’s weird?

February 4, 2011

Yeah, so last weekend, I was on a panel (okay, two of them) at PixelCon. Which is this teeny-tiny gaming convention here (that is totally growing, and that is awesome) that you should go to if you’re in town on the right day. (So leave your January Saturdays open from now on and come on down to Alabama, just saying.)

In any case, it was the first day of my life where I felt like I knew what I was talking about. I guess being put in a position of at least some mild authority does that to you. And it’s weird.

Also, I liked it. (I also liked that people clapped for me after I introduced myself. Like, if that only happened in real life, I would probably dig real life a lot more than I do already.)

I guess what I’m saying is that implied power is awesome. Also, please put me on more panels. And podcasts or whatever. I want to talk about games all day every day or something like that.

I don’t know.

Go back to ignoring me. Yeah, that.

What I want to say

January 9, 2011

I notice that my husband is getting inundated with attention. I mean, it’s to be expected. His little blogariffic thing is picking up steam, naturally. I go look at who’s leaving comments, and a majority of them are women who are trying to lose weight, too. (Aside: When I tell people that my husband’s lost 175 pounds this year, the most common question I get is, “How?” When I say, “Diet and exercise,” their faces usually fall kind of flat. Look, I’m sorry he did it the hard way.)

Anyway,  I go look at their blogs, their thoughts – and on most of them, I see goals listed. Things that they’re gonna do when they lose weight. Like there’s some awesome, skinny person just caged inside, waiting to be freed from the bonds of a fat body.

This makes me incredibly sad. Be yourself now. Be awesome now. Love yourself now. Stop thinking that everything’s magically going to be better when you lose weight.

You have to start now with the body you’ve got.

An introduction

November 29, 2010

So, if you want the mini-story, check out the description on the right. To summarize the summary, I need a place to write more about me and less about my hobbies. I’ll just go ahead and get started.

I am not a thin girl. I am not even an average-size girl by any stretch of the imagination. I am instead what you would call fat. And I say that without attaching any stigma or connotation to the word. I mean, as far as women and girls go, I’ve always been on the big side, even when I was younger (and thinner). I mean, I’m 5’11”-ish with a large frame anyway. Put me in pictures with other girls and my head has always been larger, my shoulders broader, my feet approaching Bigfoot status. (As a side note, many thanks to Barefoot Tess for existing.)

So, I ended up doing the whole “bad fatty” thing and eating horribly. Mickey D’s, Hardee’s, anything with a drive-thru window was fair game on a nightly basis. I really only knew how to make horribly fatty foods (spaghetti loaded with sausage, pasta in cream sauces, you know the drill). So I really did myself no favors there.

My mother bugged me for years about my weight (look, I’m sorry I wasn’t a cheerleader and an athlete like she was), so I eventually just said “screw it,” and gave the whole diet thing a shot.

Now, the diet industry (yeah, I said industry) as a whole disgusts me. They profit off women (because it is mostly women) who hate their bodies and, for the most part, don’t do a damn thing to create a change that lasts past the day you stop using their products. They can claim that they do all day, and they can put on the whole “helpful” façade, but really. Stop kidding yourselves.

But I needed my mom off my back, so I went in on it. Or really, she did. Like I would pay for that. (Would? More like could. I am quite the jobless woman, unless you want to hire me.) I used what I hated. And I got results. Notice the past tense there.

I have tastebuds. They crave deliciousness. This was not the path to delicious food. Add that to the fact that grad school is making me lazy beyond all belief, and that’s really just a recipe for failure. And I wouldn’t call myself a complete failure. But I have given up in favor of just plain not being miserable. One of these days, I’ll just be able to concentrate fully on this and actually exercise, but I feel like that day won’t be back for a while.

Meanwhile, my husband goes off and does all of this. And while his level of willpower (heh) is amazing, I just find myself worrying about him. Is he literally working himself to the bone? I mean, I used to have this man I could actually cuddle up to at night, and now…well, it’s like a sack of bones. I mean, is losing like, seven pounds in a week even that healthy? And he’s at the gym so much. I get lonely sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time.

Not to mention that my self-esteem has kinda plummeted. I mean, look at him, and look at me. (Well, you can’t look at me here, but you get what I mean.) Can someone who looks like him, someone who is bound to be attracting more female attention than usual, can he still be interested in me when a veritable meat market is probably willing to make itself available? I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll know for quite a while. I’m hoping that the answer is yes, but whether it is or not – the anxiety’s still there.

I could probably go on. But I probably need to concentrate on figuring out how to feel like myself again, because I’m so tired that I don’t. It’s not like I work like a madwoman. It’s not just that school is exhausting (I am taking more credits than the usual graduate student due to lack of gainful employment, after all). It might not even be that I’m not back to eating things that didn’t come out of a Diet Company cardboard box. Actually, I just don’t know what it is. That’s what scares me.

But for tonight, I can hazard a guess – it’s 4 a.m. I think it’s time to join my bag of bones and hit the sack.