Proof that Weight DOES NOT Matter As a Runner

And by that, I mean whether you are fat, average or skinny, you can finish a marathon.

Check out this story of a SUMO WRESTLER who completed a marathon, setting a Guinness World Record.

Wish this had happened in time for that jerk who called me Fatty Saturday.

A New Low

My struggle to get healthy is well-documented in this blog- pictures included. My workouts, my failings, my binges, my healthy meals...my successes. You would think being back to the weight I was at when I started this blog (correction struggling mightily to maintain the comfy 4 lb cushion I have before I hit that weight) would be my lowest point. To date anyway.

However, even with the fat rolls appearing in my midsection and the complete lack of motivation, I have never truly felt bad about myself. Want to lose weight and fit in my clothing? Sure. But truly feel bad about myself? Never.

I've added strength training to my workouts and have started back on the long journey to cardio fitness and running. All in all, I was starting to feel much better about where I am going in 2011.

Until today's run.

I got up this morning with a renewed sense of purpose. I was going for a morning run. No letting the day get away from me. I had a plan. I put on my UGA Nike Tempo shorts, a black drifit t-shirt and laced up my shoes. The Garmin, which has been charging for a month now during my sloth-like inactivity, was ready to go. The iPod, also unused in the past few weeks, was fully charged. My running playlist, which just a mere three weeks ago seemed stale, was amping me up.

I WAS GOING RUNNING.

The first mile and half felt good. I hit the mile mark and rather than turning around, I kept going. I decided I would run 2 miles out and then walk 2 miles home. And I was feeling good. I wasn't going my fastest but the day was gorgeous and I was running some hills.

And then it happened.

"HEY FATTY!!!! HOW FAST YOU GOING?"

In all of my life, I have never been called fat to my face. Okay, once by this girl my college boyfriend cheated on me with and later dated. But I didn't really let that bother me as she weighed more than me so who was she to talk (ironically, I was 20 lbs lighter then than I am now).

I was mortified.

And more than a little hurt.

Here I was, doing the best I can to better myself and this attractive (on the outside anyway) guy in a jeep is yelling at me. Doesn't it count for something that I am out there slugging up that fucking hill? What did I do to deserve that remark (except eat way too much food in the past 27 years of my life)? And to make matters worse, he laughed and repeated it to his buddy in the driver's seat so he could have a nice chuckle too.

Never one to let people know they've hurt me, I looked him dead in the face and said FUCK OFF. I never slackened my 10 minute mile pace. I just kept trucking that last half a mile.

All feelings of pride that I was out there and I was doing the damn thing had fled. Replacing those feelings were thoughts of failure. Of wondering why I didn't just enjoy the fuck out of my food and give up being healthy. If I'm going to get called fat running, I might as well get fatter and enjoy doing it. I felt inadequate. I felt ugly.

I was humiliated.

Every car that passed by, I imagined the driver and passengers wondering to themselves what that fat slob thought she was doing. By the time I hit mile 2 I felt completely depressed.

I spent the next 2 mile walk home alternately crying and getting pissed. I imagined marching out into Peachtree Street and giving that asshole a piece of my mind. I imagined decking him (which probably would have resulted in me being the one who was hurt with a broken hand instead). I imagined the whole thing never happened. That I was 5'8" and lanky like my sister.

Instead, I am me. I am 5'6" and weigh in at 172 lbs today. I eat too much but try to watch that it is healthy. I run when I can and ride the exercise bike. I try to add weight training. And I am trying my best to be happy with who I am RIGHT NOW. I wouldn't say I'm oblivious to the fact that I could be healthier and happier but most of the time I am pretty confident with who I am.

I'm just not sure how long it will take to get back to feeling good about myself after today's incident which has left me completely shaken. It may sound stupid but it really hurt and it makes me never want to leave the apartment in order to avoid it happening again.

An Open Letter to Myself

Dear Fatter than Normal Self,

We have got to work together to put a STOP to this blowing up you seem to want to do. I know you're working out. I know you're TRYING (and I might add failing miserably) to eat healthy. What the fuck is it going to take for you to get back on the healthy living (and therefore slimmer, sexier self) train?

Is it the fact that the FAT surrounding your middle make it painful to do side crunches? Cause seriously that should help our cause.

Is it the back fat you can now feel weighing you down as it meets your ass fat? Cause that should help our cause.

How bout the stretch marks making themselves known? That is seriously unsexy.

Or the nauseous feeling you get after overeating? You like that cause we don't.

Mmmmm those lines you sport from your clothes digging into your fat rolls are sexy too. Not to mention uncomfortable the minute you remove them.

I think I could go on for hours but seriously let's just get our shit together and work on this. Eat healthy, exercise and be positive. I think we could turn this out of control downhill slide into a slow and steady climb to the top.

I propose we start by taking advantage of your religion. It's there for a reason and that reason is to provide you with LENT. So, NO SODA for 40 days. I guarantee that bloated feeling you have will go away. And your distended tummy might shrink down before it looks like you're 6 months preggers.

Besides, don't you want to look good naked?

XOXO,
Berryfine

Monday Musings

• Today's Groupon was for a subscription to eHarmony. Like is the whole world on this fucking dating train? Am I officially becoming an old maid? Is my shelf life expiring? What the fuck is with everyone and their fucking mother (including my matronly coworker and a discount website) encouraging me to just put myself out there? If I wanted to be out there, I'd fucking be out there. Assholes.
• If you're in Atlanta, go to Shamrock Fest. Or don't. I don't give a fuck one way or another. 
• If I have to cab it, pay for parking or anything else that requires massive amounts of effort, it ain't gonna happen. 
• Charlie Sheen is like the gift that keeps fucking giving. And giving. And giving. My favorite gem to date is his response to Good Morning America when they told him people think he is Bipolar. "What is Bipolar? Try BIWINNING." And then he cackles. He does have a point though when he says if he was bipolar wouldn't he have massive swings between being up and being down? All this motherfucker does is go. I like to imagine his theme song is All I Do Is Win. If he was writing the script for Three and a Half Men, I'd totally fucking watch that shit. My second favorite conversation? Same interview. He talks about how Nike's slogan isn't just try it, it's just do it. And like them he's just doing sobriety. Boom.
• Why is baby fat cute on little kids but then fucking disgusting on us grownups? If I were a kid, I'd be fucking attractive with all this flab.
• Sometimes I wonder why God didn't give me a talent that might be useful to me. Like one I could use to make money with. And why he didn't maybe give me a lick of common sense so that I wouldn't be $8000 in debt right now. But he didn't. So that's where we're at right now.
• Dear Pirate's Booty, I love you. What I don't love is paying all that money for your delicious bounty only to end up eating a majority of it in one sitting. Also, what the fuck is with all the SPACE/AIR in your bags of booty? What a fucking gip. You make me think I'm getting a crap ton and once I open the bag, I realize, NO NO NO. There is not shit in there.
• I'm in a funk right now. The kind of funk where I'm just snapping at someone who definitely does not deserve it. But then part of me wonders if I'm not really in a funk but rather pushing and prodding to see just what my boundaries are with this person. I have a feeling this cannot end well. And by not end well, I mean I'm very easily going to ruin a relationship via text. How 2011 of me.
• Why can't I just sit on a patio all day and drink? Why can't I?
• People share the most ridiculous shit on facebook. I don't give a fuck what your political thoughts are, my Jesus and your Jesus are clearly not the same, your baby is not any cuter or more specialer than anyone elses, Fox News is not the authority on life or anything else really for that matter, and you're single/married/complicated/divorced whatever because you keep posting desperate status about it. Grow the fuck up bros and bras. Tell me you're slamming booze or patio drinking or stripping or kicking as in kickball or watching your team win. Don't tell me stupid shit no one cares about. And the bra color, stripper name whatever the newest Spam to hit my messages is not any better. You're not 12 anymore.
• This is going to sound incredibly stupid (omg I AM a fucking girl), but I really just want to curl into a ball and cry today. I have no idea why. Nothing bad happened (how could it, my boss is out of town). But nothing great happened either. And I'm lonely I think. I'm not even sure anymore.

Are Your Co-workers Making You FAT?

Okay, so I generally work in my office by myself or at home (which is a separate minefield) but this week we are training a new girl. Suffice to say, she is entertaining me but she is also making me hunger for things I am trying to avoid. In the past two days her lunches have consisted of Wendy's and Taco Bell. Today she brought in mint chocolate M&Ms. I am dying. I want to go hit her over the head and steal the M&Ms from her and then hide in a corner and devour me. It is driving me crazy listening to her hand reach into the bag. And the more nervous she gets, the more often she pops the damn bag out. This morning, the girl training her, brought in Burger King for breakfast. The smell alone, I would swear, has made me gain 10 lbs. Just the thought of a croissanwhich and cheesy tots made my mouth water and my brain send out a BK signal screaming I must be hungry (despite having just finished off some oatmeal).

At my old job, we would make promos with candy, cookies and brownies. I would manage to avoid eating them unless I was the only one in the office. Sorry to our clients who didn't get promos due to me inhaling the food. And there was always something to celebrate with cupcakes- good days, bad days, new clients, direct hires, birthdays, boss's days...etc. You catch my drift. I was never a cupcake person but now...I crave them constantly. Thanks guys!

I googled this premise and actually found another blog discussing the same question: click here to read. Actually, its about your friends but I think we have already established that I feel and eat fatter around my friends so we can ignore that topic. Also, I tried reading this but this guy is obviously WAY smarter than me and lost me with the word: economics. Here is another great site discussing your JOB making you fat. So basically, if I had a different job with different people in my life I could be skinny. Food for thought...

I Hate Myself Naked

I am FAT.

I know you probably weren't expecting me to admit that on my second post but I was thinking about it on my drive home yesterday. Now if anyone out there who actually knows me is reading this post do not send me a comment telling me I am not fat. Trust me I have seen myself naked- it's fat and not in a phat kind of way.

I'm lucky that I don't always look as fat as I am but the fact is I am what is considered overweight, teetering on the thin line and in danger of crossing over to obese. I'm 5'6" and lucky in that I carry my weight well but the fact remains I'm fat. (I wonder how many times I will use Fat in this blog. Now it seems like a challenge to use it in every sentence but I will stop myself.) At 5'6", I should weigh between 117 and 154 ideally. For the sake of honesty I am going to go ahead and tell you what I weigh. The purpose is twofold: 1. It will conclusively prove I am fat and 2. It might force me to take action if people know how much I weigh.

160 POUNDS. SIX LITTLE LBS TO MY IDEAL WEIGHT. Except in my mind 154 is huge as well. I mean if a guy I date weighs 190 I am still way to close to weighing as much as he does. And the only way I am okay with that is if I weigh 154 lbs of water, bone and muscle.

I was also thinking on my way into work today what I would do if I was skinny. So here it is my list of things to do if I were skinny:

1. I would find a really hot guy with a zippy little car. He would be hot and have a great job. Like a lawyer or a doctor or...something great. And he would obviously have loads of money and great friends and take me to fantastic places. (Applications are welcome during my fat phase, too.) Not going to lie, it probably wouldn't work out but I should be allowed a shallow month to see where this goes...
2. I would audition for a movie or tv show. Just cause I could. I would be skinny and quite possibly passably attractive. Maybe I could be a skinny extra. Dream role: A bitch obviously.
3. I'd go streaking dammit. In the quad. Maybe I would write a message right across my skinny ass too.
4. I would go on a cruise and wear beautiful bikini's from Victoria's Secret and have a passionate affair with a college student. Maybe. Probably not. Maybe just the cruise and bikini part.
5. I would eat disgustingly fattening foods in front of the general public so normal sized people could wonder what I did to maintain my figure when I eat like...well, a pig. Cause when I go out with a skinny bitch and order a salad and she gets the burger with cheese and bacon and mayo and a double order of fries with a milkshake I know I am pea green with envy and secretly wondering if she is going to vomit this all up after dinner.

Okay the list of things I would do if I was skinny is short because it was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I guess I would just do the same things I do now except maybe not binge on food as much and I'd be skinny instead of fat.

So you are probably wondering about the get skinny plan. Well it's simple, I'm going to add the dreaded veggies into the equation. I already don't eat a lot of sugar (damn you type II diabetes), drink a lot of soda or eat a lot of junk so I can't really do much there. I'll add some protein- especially shakes with fruit. Stay on top of those vitamins (god they are DISGUSTING. I'm forced to take them with juice just to swallow them). Continue to work out. I am going to add running back into the regime too. I hear its bad for the knees but great on calories. Any other suggestions short of lipo, tummy tucks and weird cleansing rituals are welcome.

I suppose I will have to keep you posted on how all this goes. And I definitely don't want to hear that I am not really fat because there are women out there over 200 lbs. Trust me I know. In fact, I almost got pretty close there a while back but I threw out all the ice cream which is why I am down to 160. The point is I'm making a change because, well, if I don't like me naked who else will?