The Wait Loss Effort

Hey y’all! I'm assuming there's still a y'all out there. Anywho. How’s it going today? Ok, so apparently (after checking the archives) I’ve tackled this weight issue thing twice – two freakin’ years ago!!!! I distinctly remember writing this post in May of 2008 because I was being all healthy and going to boot camp on a regular basis. I fell off sometime in the Fall. Got back on track around Winter 2008. Was doing the damn thing until about summer 2009.

And then for a whole year I can honestly say that I have not moved nothing but the fork from the plate to my mouth. And pass me those rolls please! And let me go ahead and reach up high to get that $1 box of Betty Crocker brownies off the grocery store shelf.

Yeah. It’s been bad. Real bad, Janet Jackson when she's not on tour. It’s not like I don't know that I should work out. (And eat better). But let’s focus on the working out because like so many Americans (people?) I pretty much live a sedentary lifestyle. I mean there’s the occasional longish walk somewhere - you know like if I have to park on 9th and U and the bar is at 14th and U – but it’s pretty much home, work, church, happy hour, you know - the usual.

Please believe that it is a frustrating existence when you know you need to do something, but don’t. When your clothes are fighting a little tighter. And you step into the next size up pants at the store and they fit. And you’re like what the fuss? Yes, I know it takes commitment. And carving the time out of your day. And being disciplined. And doing it when you don’t feel like it. Cause I have worked out for long periods of time. Just not for long enough periods of time.

So after some start and stops earlier this summer, I was over on facebook and I saw a friend mention that she had her first Zumba class. Someone then proceeds to tell her about a free class in DC – just minutes away from where I live. I was like sayyy whaaaat? I’m totally gonna go!

And then I stuck to my word. Found a buddy – which is oh so helpful – and had my first class on Monday! Now, the fact that I totally loved every.single.thing. about Zumba aside, I have to tell y’all that the class was packed with Black women doing the damn thing! They were all ages, shapes, sizes, and shades. Some even brought their daughters.

I have done a lot of working out in my lifetime, but never in a room full of other Black women (well if you don’t count that step aerobics class in college). Anywho. I just loved the energy of everyone (the teacher w/ the purple tennis skirt and the sparkly tee with Zumba written on it included) who was there. I loved that we were an urban area the city and was in a class of people who looked like me. I loved that the women were positive and encouraging and funny. And there was a collective oh hell no when the teacher said she would make us do the arm workout again. And most importantly I loved that it was freeeeeeee!!!!

I know that in the past when I got on my workout grind I have set goals and expectations. And been on the scale everyday hoping it's going down. But now, I don't know. I think I'm just going to try. Make a concerted effort to get myself moving. And then move. Let some things occupying up my time go, so I can make some more time for me. And get it right and tight! Or at least rightish and tightish. Cause let me tell y'all my co-worker is 50 years old and she walks with a limp, breathes all heavy, has serious health issues, and I've never seen her put a vegetable near her lips - just PureD (that doesn't look right typed out - ha!) out of shape And I think she's mad at the world cause she can't walk 10 steps without huffing puffing.

Lord knows I'm too vain to ever let that be me. And so the effort begins again. Can't wait any longer.

That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

In The Eyes of the Beholder

Now it’s my turn to weigh in (excuse the pun) on the Gabourey Sidibe controversy (Cue Prince).

When I initially thought about writing about this post I was going to take this whole approach of Black is Beautiful and mainstream American doesn’t understand that beauty comes in all forms. Especially after my friend told me that Acai Berry offered Gabby a good workout plan using their product. Of course a lucrative deal to be their spokes person would come after. Can you imagine how many gastric bypass contemplating, send me to boot camp please, subway sandwich eating, help me do it Oprah folks would be clamoring to use Acai Berry? Kiss the intern who brainstormed that idea, we’ve all seen Gabby’s before shot, and thought wow!

And Howard Stern’s comments got me to thinking about the well meaning-ness of several white folk. Well meaning-along the lines of enslaving people around the world to bring Christianity to the heathen. That turned out great didn’t it? It’s not like Christianity should be introduced to others and it’s not like we don’t know that Gabby is a big girl. I think most of us who saw her outside of her role in Precious thought “wow” that wasn’t a suit. I know I had these thoughts, as a chick who orders $5 footlongs sans the mayo and thought about enlisting in the service to shed some pounds.

But the rub has got me two ways. The first is the assumption that Gabby isn’t happy. Who can say that other than her? And the second is the assumption that Gabby’s self confidence and esteem somehow overrides everything the medical world has told us about health. I guess I don’t like how all of this has gotten tangled and twisted together to equal that Gabby is fat and therefore she is unhappy and unhealthy. I think the latter is definitely true…but the first remains to be seen in Ms. Sidibe’s autobiography. I am sick of mainstream American spectulating on Gabby’s outlook on life and then justifying their often cruel and rude statements on the fact that they are concerned for her health. Pish posh-and the civil war was about freeing the slaves right?

Maybe I am going out on this limb alone, but in the formative years it’s pretty hard for a little Black girl to feel beautiful in America. I know that it bothered me when the white girls in my class would comment on how cute the little braids and animal barrettes in my hair where. And even though their statements where complimentary, it was how they said it, or the fact that they even needed to say it that bothered me. And so I wonder how these uncomplimentary comments will affect Gabby.

I want her to feel good about herself, think she’s beautiful, be excited about her success. But I also want her to be healthy too. Now if only mainstream America could learn how to express the same concern without killing her esteem in the process.


See You In Seven

Musings Of A Thick Chick (Trying to Lose Weight)

Hello World! Yeah, so it’s going on five months since I wrote this. And since then I’ve been trying to lose weight or at least become healthier by consistently working out and eating right. And um here are some things I’ve learned along the way:

• Squats are evil. I mean seriously evil. And in boot camp we do something called The Matrix: 24 squats, 24 lunges, 24 jump lunges and 24 jump squats. My legs and thighs will be on fiyah! And not for good reasons! There was no pleasure involved. No pushing my legs, back, forward, sideways all in the name of a good grinding session so that when I'm like, "Damn my legs hurt," I can at least smile about the reason...


• I hate to run. I mean that trot, trot, trot, run. But let me tell y’all what I can do apparently, sprint. Man, we had a relay race in boot camp the other day and I took off like Flo Jo! And with my long and silky weave flying in the wind, I was looking just like her! All I needed was some long, acrylic nails! Hmmm and maybe a one legged pants/shorts outfit... Now the boot camp trainers are talking about how I’ve been holding back all this time and now they see what they can do. I’m ascared. Especially since they were saying something about how I should do some sprint training. I looked at them like, what the hell? Something about sprinting 200 yards and then walking 200 yards. I don’t know, I saw their mouths moving but after they said, “you just go to the track” it’s really all a blur after that… And speaking of boot camp…


• Why is there always one skinny, athletic, fit chick in boot camp? Does this heffa not know that boot camp is for fat or slightly chunky out of shape people who have to take drastic measures, like waking up at the freakin’ crack of dawn to lose weight? No, this skinny chick is there to change up her workout routine. I swear y’all there is this one girl, she’s Russian or Bosnian or Serbian, one of those ians (yes, I know that was oh so politically incorrect), she’s like an Olympic trained athlete. Ok, not the Olympics, but Olympics lite. Like a junior body builder or something. This chick was practically doing one handed push-ups. Everyone was looking at her like, really Natasha? Really? I think some woman just stopped her push-ups all together and laid down on her mat. Like, why bother? I suppose she could serve as an inspiration. But from where I’m squatting, she's just pissing me off.


• Why can’t I lose weight as fast as I put it on? I mean it didn’t take nothing to put it on, just an extra 1 or 2 rolls here, a late night after work Jr. Bacon cheeseburger, some wings and fries, a few steak tacos, some vodka and cranberries to wash it all down.


• Jesus be a carbohydrate. A bad starch. A white sugar, flour enriched product. A buttery roll. A bowl of pasta. A loaded baked potato. Some homemade mac and cheese. An ice cold Pepsi.



• If loving these is wrong then I don't wanna be right! It’s probably bad to be eating something called fat boy, right? I mean it kinda says it all doesn’t it? Every bite I take, the sandwich is like, “Hey there! I don't wanna be a lonely fat boy. I need a fat girl to keep me company. Here pretty fat, girl..." I know that eating one just cancels out my hard morning workout, but they’re sooo good y’all!


• Getting discipline is a mothafucka.


• Why is the tummy the last thing to go? Why is everything else sliming down? Hips. Thighs. Arms. Face. But that tummy is like, "I ain't goin' nowhere..." Jiggle, jiggle...


• I have realized that losing weight is like growing out a bad haircut. Meaning it’s a process. And as you lose weight, you’re gonna start to feel worse because when you look in the mirror, you ask yourself, “Am I still big? Shit! How big was I before I lost that 10 pounds?” Or is that just me...


• Dance classes are fun though!


• I sho’ll do appreciate Black men loving me either way, through thick or thin. LOL! No, seriously I like when I tell y’all I’m trying to lose weight, y’all raise your eyebrows and be like, “oh you don’ t need to lose weight girl…” Yes! But no. I do. For me. For my health. For my love of certain clothes and fashion (that I wouldn't dare wear right now). It's all about blazers and things that float away from the body right now.

So basically, these five months have been joy and pain. Pump it up, pump it up. Sunshine and rain.* Keep it going, keep it going...

That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

*Literally. We were doing boot camp in the rain yesterday. Sigh.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

Looking for a post on politics, the New Hampshire primaries, what Obama has to do next to be the first Black President!? Well this ain’t it...I'll let Bellini handle that breaking news! And here we go…

So as I mentioned in a previous blog entry, I used to waitress at a gentleman’s club…Said club was mostly frequented by white people, therefore most of the staff (dancers and waitresses were white)…Well as can be expected when you put a bunch of women together, day in day out, night in night out, and menstrual cycles start to collide and such, sometimes a spat or two would occur. Rarely violent, it was usually just cussing, screaming and name calling. So inevitably if two girls were going at it and one girl was oh say a size 2 and the other girl was oh say a size 6, at the height of the argument, size 2 would say, “shut up you fat ass bitch!!” Size 6 would be pissed! Those were fightin words! Aaaaah a white woman’s worse fear, Achilles heel and sore spot: not being called a bitch but being called fat.

Now as a size 14 girl myself, size 12 if there the material is stretchy and there are no zippers or buttons (you know what I’m saying), I often wondered if a size 6 was a fat ass, then what the hell was I to these white girls, Shamoo the whale? Of course none of them ever went there with me. They knew better. But they would always be on some, “oh you look good for your size” or “you don’t have to lose weight…” Oh ok. So a size 14 looks good on me but not you? Yeah right. But as a Black woman with that ‘fuck it I know I look good’ gene, I could care less about what they thought.

It seems that both mainstream society and the Black community just expect us Black women to be large and in charge. I remember when I was first starting to gain weight in high school, my pediatrician while expressing “concern” about the situation said in the same breath, “but a lot of women in your family are big, right?” Um yeah. But that doesn’t mean that I'm trying to get on their level. Truth be told, I wasn't trying to literally tip the scales from thick, to fat, to whoa!

Oh but the scale kept going up anyway. And so on many an occasion I have played the: 'I don't care what size I am' card. This is mainly because of the response that us plus size girls get from Black men. They love us nonetheless. Sure there are some who like those skinny minnies but there are so many others who like to have more cushion for the pushin. Plus, we are often told by our community that there's nothing wrong with having a little meat on our bones. And if we can look flyyy while having a little extra, well then it’s all good.

Oh but sometimes we take it a little too far, don't we? Our waistlines grow but our clothes don’t as we show a little too much skin. We get larger and our health gets worse. You know the holy trinity: high cholesterol, high blood pressure and the suga. We don’t want to exercise because we don’t want to sweat our hair out. We eat the wrong things a lot: a two piece and a biscuit, chicken fried rice from the carryout, a number 2 supersized, washing it down with a 32 oz. soda or that good sweet tea… And somehow we continue to release that I am plus size Black woman hear me roar for the world to hear. Walking around like: I don’t care what you say, my mirror says I look good.

It’s a blessing and a curse ain’t it? There is something beautiful about us Black women loving our curves, refusing to conform to the mainstream's standards of beauty and feeling good in our own skin. And still there is something telling about our refusal to realize that what we think is beautiful can also lead to serious consequences. No time to go into the psychology of it all but I often wonder if we really do love all of us, if our men really do want all of that cushion or have they just accepted that we’ll always have a little extra and do we wish deep down that we had the time, energy and know how to drop a few pounds? Hmm...those were some Carrie Bradshawesque, Sex and the City type questions right there...

As I get older and my weight remains thankfully stagnant (but is not necessarily healthy), my mother is constantly on me about losing weight because diabetes runs in our family. And I know that she’s right. I know that I need to go the gym and lose a few pounds. But I also know that I still look good when I wear proper fitting clothes like a slimming blazer or an A line dress or anything that floats away from the body (c) Stacey & Clinton from TLC's What Not To Wear, all which have people asking me how I lost weight. And thank God for the body shaper.

But truth be told I have not always been this size and while I know I can pull it off, it's not where I want to stay. So with a new year and resolutions, blah, blah, blah it's time to get serious! I know, I know, losing weight is everyone's goal. And it's not the losing weight that's the hardest part, (I've done it) it's not even the keeping it off, it's the changing the lifestyle. It's about making exercise a normal part of my routine, eating right (and not getting a slice of pizza or some tacos for dinner after I ate a salad for lunch). It's about admitting that maybe my love for eating is about other things. And it's about continuing to love the skin I'm in as I get ready for this struggle journey, cause I know it won't be easy!

That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday! Happy New Year to everyone! And if anyone else has lose weight as a New Year's "resolution", I wish you much success and discipline on your endeavor.