The weight, it is a-changin' ... FINALLY.

"So, KJ, what was the key to your successful weight loss?"

"Well, to be honest, it was threatening my scale within an inch of its electronic life."

Hey, it was only 0.6 lbs., but at this point, I'll take what I can get! :)

I was watching a show on the Life Network last night called "Taking It Off", which is a show that follows people in their struggles against their weight. It was the first time I'd seen it, but I was riveted. First of all, I was pleased to see that they covered the whole spectrum of being overweight, from the 21-year-old who has about 20 pounds to lose to the 400+-pound man who simply wants to get up the stairs without it just about killing him. The show is also Canadian, and the two groups are from Calgary and Halifax. There was one girl in the Halifax group about whom I kept thinking, "Do I know her? She looks familiar." Chances are, I don't, but just the fact that this show is centred on Canadians made me identify with them more, somehow.

It was very enlightening, in a lot of ways. I could see these people, real people like me, going through the struggles that I've gone through. Most revealing, though, was that I could see myself in these people. Alyson (the one I was talking about from Halifax) didn't seem to be eating one healthy thing last night. Now, I know it was week ten and that she had lost a fair bit, but the things she was saying ("I'm not going to give up these things for the rest of my life ... Oh, just this once won't hurt me ... I'll eat whatever I want") made me cringe. What she was saying is true. You don't have to give things up totally forever. And just once won't hurt. But she's saying all the things I said right when I was sick and tired of trying to lose weight, still had 100+ to go, and was about to start gaining it all back. It was really, really eerie seeing someone with whom I'd already identified setting herself up to fail the same way I had, over and over again.

The other person who hit home was David, the 400+-pound man. Normally I would feel very guilty referring to someone by their weight as their defining characteristic, but in this case, it's very appropriate, as it's clear that's how he defines himself. On last night's show, he sought advice from Canada's foremost expert on obesity. At least, that's what he said he was doing. In fact, he spent most of the time forcefully telling the doctor that "your science is bunk" for "people like me". That was a refrain he said over and over, "people like me", while basically walking out on the good doctor, and later while working out. The more he talked, the more it seemed as if his weight had taken over his life to the point that he felt it was his one and only way to be special. What is it they say about negative attention being better than no attention at all? It was like he was desperately trying to hold onto the fact that he's different, that his body is different, from everybody else's, and that the experts had no clue what they were talking about because they had never met someone like him before. It was very sad, and it made me think.

In grade 5, I got christened "Hippo Hips". It was the latest insult my classmates could think of to hurl at me. (I had transferred in from another province at the beginning of the year, and to say that I was not adjusting well would be quite the understatement.) Truth be told, I was a little pudgy, but not that bad. It was the kind of thing that would normally have gone away as I got taller and stretched out. But that was the first time I can remember someone defining me by my weight.

As I grew up, I sought solace in food, for everything from the classmates who kept getting nastier to the summers with a non-custodial father who would greet me with "We're putting you on a diet tomorrow morning". For 25 years of my life, this has been who I am, whether I've wanted it to be or not. David, on the show last night, was probably a bit older than me. How long has he been heavy? If he is afraid, on some level, of losing himself in the process of losing weight, what am I facing? I've never liked uncertainty, and would always avoid the unknown at any cost. How much of my previous failures had to do with being tired, and how much of them had to do with fear of success? Fear of losing part of my identity? Points to ponder ...

In the meantime, I'm going to relish in the fact that Frank is finally moving. :)