Fat or Fit

When the pandemic first began, there were so many memes to laugh at, but one that stuck in my mind was an image of a person leaning into her refrigerator that was captioned  with a saying that we will all get through quarantine fat, fit, or drunk. The comic relief was necessary at the time, but the reality of that statement has officially hit home. I remember folks talking about instances of domestic violence going up, kids at home without food, depression and loneliness spiking with adults, yet I was laughing about a meme that, in a dark way, gave me comfort that I was not alone in my early day binging on Totino's Pizza Rolls and Cara Cara oranges. No seriously, that was all I ate in March, April, May, June, and July... I don't remember when my diet changed to fewer Cara Cara oranges to more Totino's Pizza Rolls, and cake, and bread, and ice cream, and more cake, and pastries, and more homemade cake, but it did. 

Fast forward to December 2021 and I became that meme I referenced above. A choice was made whether conscious or not. I chose fat. I'm definitely not blind to the impact chronic depression played in my choices, but I've watched enough My 600 Pound Life to grasp the fact that every time I said to myself, my diet isn't that bad I was simply lying to myself. 

I'm very fortunate to have been raised how I was. I was blessed with self awareness and ownership. I'll never forget the day I took my dad's last cigarette from his pack when I was a freshman in high school. I never imagined it was his last, surely he had another pack hiding away in a drawer somewhere, but he didn't. I woke up in the morning and I heard him talking to my cousin who lived with us at the time very loudly about stealing and taking his last cigarette. It was natural for him to assume she was the culprit because it wasn't unheard of to find stolen items of friends and family in her bedroom, in fact she stole every souvenir I bought in Hawaii for my siblings and did God knows what with them. It would have been SO easy to just let her take the fall for the cigarette but my parents taught me so much better. Take responsibility when you do something wrong, I mean what was the worst thing they were going to do to me? 

This is where I insert I was a very fortunate child, so much so my mom would tell my dad to spank me (I've only been slapped by a parent once in my life and I deserved it BIG TIME) and he would take us in the bedroom and smack his own leg loudly and tell me to cry. You see my mom couldn't do it, so she thought maybe my dad would? This is almost laughable.

But back to the cigarette story, I knew the worst thing that would happen was my dad would be silent for a few minutes; This was always torture for me, I just wanted him to yell at me and get it over with because he knew how to bark, but never figured out how to bite. I walked down the stairs from our bedrooms that entered right into the kitchen and told my dad I took the cigarette very nonchalantly, it wasn't my cousin. My dad was dumbfounded; I'm not sure if it was because I took the cigarette, he automatically blamed my cousin, or he was embarrassed by the latter but it was clear he was not expecting that admission. I don't remember what happened after I told him, but my memory takes me to a place of him thanking me for telling the truth and then handing me five bucks to go and get him another pack (back then they would sell cigarettes to anyone). I honestly don't remember if that is exactly what happened, but hey, these are my memories and if they are totally wrong I'm sure my family will school me on my incorrect recollections!

Sometimes reality has to slap you in the face before you take action. Kind of like my reference to My 600 Lb Life earlier. Some of the folks on the show need the doctor to smack them in the face with reality and sometimes that doesn't even work. I have watched the weight on the scale tick up during the pandemic to the tune of 50-80 pounds depending on when I want to click the start button. As if that wasn't enough of a smack in the face to me, I run a family 5k on Thanksgiving Morning every year and this year I accomplished it, but it was so hard! I had two great friends by my side which made it easier but I remember being tearful later in the day about my progress. And then the MRI results. For new readers, the big non-secret is I have Multiple Sclerosis. I say non-secret because when I told one of my colleagues, several years ago, about having MS she simply said it was the worst kept secret at my agency. I went in for my annual MRI and was expecting much of the same: No significant changes, keep up what you are doing, if you have any significant symptoms, let us know. I got exactly what I wasn't expecting: Lesion doubled in size in one year (WHAT!?), we see something on your spine and want you to come back for another MRI (DOUBLE WHAT!?), and most recently the medication that has kept me stable for many years sent me to the ER last weekend for an injection site reaction (TRIPLE WHAT!?). 

In the midst of all this internal turmoil, it is like both of my sisters saw an internal cry for help that I didn't know I was emulating and both responded beautifully. Janell texted me on December 9, 2021 and acknowledged what she was about to propose sounded insane and probably felt impossible at that moment in time. When I saw that message I knew something big was coming. I wasn't wrong. She said, let's do the Chicago Marathon next year. I gulped hard, paced, cried a little because of the loss of my physical strength through COVID, and responded with a "yep, why the hell not", followed by "i might hate myself for saying that... but...".

Most recently, Christina texted me and said let's support each other on Weight Watchers. Since my sister texted me I've seen plenty of photos of her awesome food choices, made decisions to eat a Cara Cara orange instead of a cookie, gotten back to my hard boiled egg breakfast and have lost 6 lbs., but let's not talk about what I ate last night... I think my sister would be appalled at the number of points my dinner consumed, but equally supportive of the fact that we are relearning how to eat, not overhauling our entire diet. I even think she might say something like 'wow, that sounds delicious'. 

So, I just spent the last hour meandering about the pandemic, where I am with weight gain, disease progression, seemingly impossible goals that I know are achievable one step at a time, and basic unveiling of the struggle that is in my brain at the moment. You know what? While I may have not made any points about anything, I feel like this exercise has served as the first step in healing from some of the, dare I say, trauma I have put myself or experienced since the onset of the pandemic.

I chose fat... I get to change my mind now and choose fit!