I miss my chin

This is an email conversation I had with my friend Jessie this morning.

Me: I am considering a blog entry too -- one of the nice things about Google Chrome is that now it carries over all my bookmarks from home to here. so I have the links I need to write one. The problem is the content I want to write is pretty Debbie Downer so I am not sure I should write it. Or maybe pull one of those no-comment moves, because I don't really want anyone chiming in. Even though I hate when people do that. 
Ugh. 

Jessie: Debbie Downer in the self-esteem department? Everyone gets to have no more than seven (7) of those days per annum. I don't think you've used up your allotment this year. 
Or are you Debbie Downer in just a life-in-general way?

Me: Hahaha, I may just include that HR-benefits joke into the post. 
Self-esteem. I am feeling very fat, I miss my chin and my hands, but I don't know that I am at the tipping point to do anything about it or if I just want to complain about it and magically wish it away. 

Jessie: At least you recognize that Magical Golf Cart Wishing* is a stage that is separate from doing something about it. I think that's a big and pivotal difference between you and other folks.

I really understand, and I think that you really understand the difference between having Debbie Downer feelings and wallowing for far longer than is actually productive. I think the people who enjoy reading your blog also have negative feelings or feel defeated, and even if you don't let them comment (you drama queen, yuk yuk wokka wokka), you'll be surprised by how many folks will understand and/or give you feedback like, "Even if you're feeling super cruddy, the way that you tackle every day with confidence and humor is very inspirational."

For example, I would say that.

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*Magical Golf Cart Thinking came about a few years ago when a group of us went for a brisk walk through a nearby forest preserve. After about a half-hour of walking, a few people started grumbling about wishing for someone to come on by with a golf cart to pick us up and take us the rest of the way. Now it's become short-hand among my friends (okay, mostly Jessie, WINKIE) for the easy shortcut that does the work for us.

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Jessie, by the way, is blogging (or boogerin', as we like to joke) over at We Need Your Help And/Or Pies, where you can read her special blend of wokka-wokka humor and genuine enthusiasm, thoughtfulness, smarts, and all-around awesomeness as she travels on her own weight-loss journey (and very successfully too, I must add). She is also a recent convert to Gwynnie Bee; someday I may convince her to post an outfit photo or two! (OMG, SHE DID!!!!)

She has left the Magical Golf Cart far behind her these days. It's pretty great to see.

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Anyway. Back to the problem at hand: my hands. And my chin, singular. I miss them. I look down at the back of my hand and I don't recognize it anymore. Where are my tendons? I look at my outfit photos and pick the one to post not that has the most flattering outfit presentation but doesn't show the triple-chin explosion as much. 

Some days I don't have any photos that I want to post at all.

I tried reading Fat Acceptance blogs, and most days I am okay with how I look, but in the end...I don't want to be fat forever. I don't know if there's a "skinny" girl busting to get out of me, but I don't want to live the rest of my life like *this* either. 

Which brings me to my next problem: how do I get rid of all this extra weight? There are so many plans and options, and I have tried and failed at many of them. The craziest was Medifast, but of course that was the one that I lost the most. LoseIt, Weight Watchers, just trying eating less, that weight-loss challenge we did at work...even my doctor's come-to-Jesus talk last year didn't spur me into action. (Speaking of which, I have been putting off my annual physical to avoid THAT conversation. Can't do that for much longer!) 

I think I know what I want to do, but I don't want to verbalize yet -- because I don't think I can handle another public failure. And as much I like blogging and I appreciate everyone who reads and leaves helpful, funny, and/or encouraging comments, I am always aware of how public this is, and how embarrassing it is to fail in front of people. All I need to do is look at my tags some days and see all the failed diets and resolutions and dreams. Ugh.

And yet -- all that self-pity and dislike, and I am still not sure I am at the tipping point. Seems amazing, doesn't it? Seriously, I haven't hit rock bottom yet? 

No, I haven't. 

I know that I need to do something, and I am pretty sure I know how I want to do it. I just don't know yet that I WANT to do it. And that's the piece I cannot succeed without. 

So I am kind of hanging out at the edge of the cliff, peering out from time to time, watching my friends strapping into their gear and rapelling down the rocks. I wave to my other friends already at the bottom. I'm happy for all of them, and I cheer them on with genuine enthusiasm. 

But I still want that Magic Golf Cart to get me to the bottom of the cliff. I know it can't; I know that the real success in getting to the bottom of the cliff is in doing it myself, with my own sweat and hard work and commitment. 

Right now, that thought exhausts me. 

But some day soon, I hope it won't. That will be my tipping point day.

Until then, my chins and I will be here.

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Comments on, because I don't want to turn them off and be a drama queen, but truly, I am not looking for a pep talk. I just wanted to write this out, get it off my chest.