I Can Haz Ring?
Written on 13 May 2009 by Sherri W.Pikture!
The engagement ring
The center stone is a sapphire—my birthstone. The emerald is Matt’s birthstone. The diamond is an unavoidable symbol of the American marriage industry. 
The band is yellow gold with a white gold crown that holds the aforementioned stones. And I cannot believe myself to be speaking in such depth about a piece of jewelry.
(In other news, I got interviewed for one of the local papers. More on that another day.)
Going to the Chapel
Written on 12 May 2009 by Sherri W.I started thinking about re-engaging with this blog a few days ago, but held off because I was waiting for some deeply profound “re-entry topic.”
In (brief) retrospect, that demand for profundity strikes me as silly. Makes more sense just to dive back in with what’s happening these days.
Besides, as I looked at my most recent post—the one where I was worried about being “attractive enough” for Matt—I realized that I actually have news of a significant nature.
In the time between December 21st, 2008, and now, Matt and I got engaged. So I guess maybe I’m attractive enough after all.
Not that that’s the point.* The point is I am surprised at how giddy this all is making me. I’d always assumed I was somewhat indifferent to the whole wedding ringmarole. I knew we were together, I said, and that we were committed to one another. That was all I needed. If Matt ever wanted to get married, I’d be happy to go along with it, as just another symbol of our commitment to each other. But it wasn’t something I needed—or even something I particularly wanted.
And yet here I am. Completely thrilled to be officially engaged. Eager to pick up the engagement ring (tomorrow after work!). Happily plotting our elopement to Vegas (July!). I’m a little bit embarrassed to be so fully in the throes of cliched femininity.
And I’m terrifically happy to be engaged. So there.
* At least, not now. I feel a post on that topic somewhere down the line.
In medias res: Learning Fat Acceptance, Learning about My Relationship
Written on 21 December 2008 by Sherri W.Yes, I have been away from blogging for more than a year. Will maybe recap on another day. For the moment, let’s just establish that I am at my highest weight ever: somewhere around 200 pounds. I don’t know the exact weight because I’ve been taking the advice of Shapely Prose and other fat acceptance (FA) blogs and not weighing myself. I’ll leave the rest of the official catching up for some other day and just post something here I posted on an FA forum earlier today.
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Hi, I’m Sherri, I’m new to the forum and fairly new to FA — been reading Shapely Prose for a few months, and have been adding additional blogs from the fatosphere to my aggregator as I try to learn new habits of thinking about my body. I’m no longer trying to diet, and I’m VERY SLOWLY trying to wrap my brain around bringing exercise into my life and stemming my emotional eating in a way that fosters health but doesn’t trip me into all those old “must get thin” patterns.
I also have a longterm boyfriend, and we’ve been talking about whether we want to get married. Lots of family-of-origin stuff on both sides, so we’ve been working through some stuff before making that leap — not with the expectations that al our stuff needs to be worked out before we can marry, but perhaps with the hope of building a solid confidence that we know we’ll be ABLE to work through our stuff in partnership.
And so one of the things on the table is physical intimacy. In part because I have enough internalized fatophobia that I haven’t been comfortable being very sexual since my weight crept back up again during this year. I also have lots of fear that “Guy” doesn’t find me attractive now that I’m at my top range.
I’d been beating myself up about being so untrusting and projecting all my fatophobia out onto Guy, and then yesterday afternoon he admitted to me that when he’d seen me getting dressed yesterday morning, his first thought was “Man, she’s big.” And then he went on about how cute he thinks I am and how he thinks that reaction is just his own internalization of cultural messages about proper appearance and proper fitness.
Which makes sense. We both grew up in a white middle-class America that proscribes this insanely narrow range of appropriate female attractiveness — I’m wrestling with all the internalized programming from that telling me what I “should” look like, and it makes total sense that he has internalized his share of messages as well about the kind of woman he “should” want.
That makes sense in my head.
In my heart, I’m just kind of reeling, because this is (of COURSE) ammunition for the internal fat/self-hating voice to go “Aha, you see? You ARE a big disgusting unattractive blob of a thing…”
So here’s what I’m wondering — are there any good tools or resources that are helpful for someone learning fat acceptance in/as a couple? I’ve seen books mentioned that I could use to help address my own internalized self-hatred and fatophobia, but what’s out there for guys who want to un-brainwash the ways they look at/think about female beauty? And when I ask “what’s out there,” shared wisdom and experience is as valuable (perhaps MORE valuable) than a link to something on amazon.com.
Thanks for any wisdom folks have to share.
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Stepping back into this evening: I’m not necessarily reposting the thing here as a way of asking for more advice. More just putting it out there as initial practice in finding my own voice and telling my stories again….
Closing the Door
Written on 30 November 2007 by Sherri W.So I am officially done with NaBloPoMo for the year. 28 out of 30, which isn’t perfect but is better than I might have expected, especially with the crapfest the month turned out to be.
No great shocker: I’ll be doing some work this weekend. I’m almost always working on the weekend. Add that to the holiday shopping (and maybe decorating) on the goal-list, and I expect I won’t be feeling any kind of rested at all come Monday.
Oh well. Wish I could end the project on a happier note, but that’s not the way life is these days.
Running Out Of Steam
Written on 29 November 2007 by Sherri W.I am so over this NaBloPoMo thing. Luckily enough it’s Nov. 29th, so I’m almost at the end of the month anyways.
But I am seriously tired of having to check in every freaking day. I’m fat, pathetic, depressed, my life sucks and I still miss my damn dog, okay? I got nothing else to say, and 30 days of that just gets OLD.
I’ll probably still touch base tomorrow—too much of that lingering good girl complex for me to shake. And once the calendar turns to December, I hope I’ll springboard from the daily discipline to write regularly and not to neglect this creature for months at a time.
But I have z-e-r-o desire to carry forward with posting every single day. Those that do, I don’t know how you manage it. Y’all are better bloggers than I….
The Smallest Steps Ever
Written on 28 November 2007 by Sherri W.Well, I got out the workout tape again, which gives me two workouts so far this week–if you count the week as starting on Sunday. Even if my week starts on Monday, I’ve still worked out more in this seven-day period than in any other recent week.
Of course, the workouts themselves are ridiculously abbreviated. Today’s accomplishment: 18 minutes instead of Sunday’s 15.
I’d feel guiltier about that if everything weren’t feeling so sore and achy (as I reported last night). To be doing anything is better than the nothing I’ve been doing for months. And to be doing something in the midst of all the physical and emotional offshoots of depression? Go me.
I’ll try adding on a little bit more each time till I can get through the whole thing. Even if it takes me till New Year’s to get there…..
The Other Side of the Coin
Written on 27 November 2007 by Sherri W.I’m wondering what it’s like for Matt, living with someone (me!) who’s been in a bit of a depressive freefall of late. I’m currently too brain-fogged (or perhaps chickenshit) to ask him right now.
For all that it’s a marketing line (and for all that I don’t entirley agree with the marketing of prescription drugs), I gotta admit that the Cymbalta people are right. Depression fucking hurts. Everything aches and feels sore right about now.
Including my splitting mondo-sized headache, which is why I’m on the bedtime train. I may want Mel B. to take the trophy, but I don’t have it in me to watch the rest of the show. I’ll get the results online when I’m up at 4 AM with insomnia….
Better Living Through Chemistry
Written on 26 November 2007 by Sherri W.Well, the sleep deprivation chronicles continue, so tonight I’m going to try a dose of Tylenol PM on hopes it gets me past the 2 AM crisis point.
I’ve also spoken to my doctor today about re-starting Prozac. The fall has been all sorts of disappointing, and I just need a little extra help these days.
We’ll see how long it take to go through the procedural steps and for the meds to take effect. Til then, I guess it’s the same “gritting my teeth” approach to life that’s been getting me through the recent days.
Sisyphean Effort
Written on 25 November 2007 by Sherri W.Well, I’ve just about regained every single pound I lost during 2006. So it’s time to yet again start climbing the mountain and try the big depressing deprivation-filled weight loss project.
What with my current depressed mood and the onset of holiday treats, I’m not even gonna try to worry about my food choices right now. My first steps are simple ones:
1. No food for the last two hours before I go to bed. Supposedly this helps your metabolism.
2. I’m going to try and limit alcohol consumption. Again, what with the holidays, it’d be setting myself up for failure to ask myself never to have a glass of wine or champagne. But I’m going to limit the number of times I say yes—whether that means saying no at some event, or just having a single glass at an event and no more. (Perhaps both those approaches.)
3. By gum, I am going to find the time to exercise. I’m not even predicting how many days per week I’ll manage it. But I did it today. For all of 20 minutes before I ran out of gas. (I am so frustratingly out of shape.) But it’s a start. Maybe next time I’ll manage 22.
Here’s hoping the first steps do some good. ‘Cos I am unspeakable unhappy and disgusted with myself and my body. So disgusted, in fact, that it hardly seems worth trying. And I’m going to have to work really hard not to give in to that sense of fatalism.
Hurtling into the Holidays
Written on 24 November 2007 by Sherri W.I am somewhat embarrassed to admit how out-of-sorts I am this holiday weekend without the four-legged child. As my sadness continues to resurface, I’m ever-afeared that someone’s going to scoff at me for over-reacting ‘cos this is “just about a dog.”
However.
I’ve been out-of-sorts.
Nonetheless, I’ve been periodically throwing myself into holiday stuff. We spent Thanksgiving itself with some of Matt’s family, but I did our own “Thanksgiving the sequal” dinner tonight. Meanwhile, the houses in the Christmas village are set up, the main living room tree is up and I’ve started putting ornaments on it. Matt went out today and bought new colored lights so I can do the ficus downstairs (our old strings of lights went dead).
I also asked him to buy another tree for the second floor. We’ll have to tuck one of the end tables in a closet for the season to make room for it*, but I think I want the extra cheerfulness of having a tree and ornaments up in the room where we spend so much time.
And in the midst of all the cooking and decorating, I’ve also started very slowly throwing out the doggie meds and treats that we don’t have any use for anymore. More sorting and disposing — some to trash, some to charity, if we can find a charitable use, and some into storage ‘cos we’re not ready to entirely let go — will follow bit by bit.
It’s a surreal mixture of trying to distract myself and facing reality. At one moment this afternoon, Matt and his brother were peeling potatoes in the kitchen while I stood in the next room, holding a tree ornament and trying to keep my tears silent ‘cos I’d suddenly been flooded with sadness and I didn’t want to be a bother or a nuisance.
Oh well. Nothing to do but take it day by day. And I’m gonna keep throwing myself into holiday-ness. I love this time of year, and even though I know things are gonna be tinged with some sad and some bittersweet this year, I still want to have all the traditions and the decorations I love so much. Especially this year.
* I’ve already done so, earlier today.
