Three bags of sugar…

Three bags of sugar weighs 15 lbs, and so do the objects below. 

I went off the medication Humira towards the end of March and immediately felt better. Not only because I was finally getting over pneumonia but other things I couldn’t explain. 

I had more energy than before I was sick and started sleeping better. I didn’t count the minutes to take a nap every day. I had a bounce back in my step.

My gastrointestinal put me on something else for my ulcerative colitis for the time being until I see a pulmonary specialist at Dartmouth at the end of July. 

I’ve been to the doctor a lot over the last few years for anxiety, depression, colonoscopies, colitis issues, headaches, insomnia, and pneumonia.

They weighed me at all the doctor’s appointments. I never look at the scale, but the nurses tell me I was the same as last time, for years.

Two years ago, I tried to lose weight; I committed to trying my hardest for six months. I felt like I needed to give it one last college try. I knew I had to be very strict about everything I ate or drank, and I was.

I went back to working out in our home gym. I did cardio and weightlifting six days a week. I worked so hard that I almost puked every day. 

I didn’t weigh myself for six months, but I could tell from the mirror that nothing was happening. At the end of six months, I weighed myself; I didn’t lose one fucking ounce or look any different. I felt utterly defeated and mad.

I resolved that if I were going to look this bad, I’d have to try to talk myself into acceptance. Yeah, it didn’t work. While trying to convince myself about acceptance, I wrote the post “This is me.”

As much as I needed to work hard on acceptance, I was grieving that this was the body I had, like it or lump it. So, I bought some cute dresses I wore and still wear, so there’s that. Marty still found me as attractive as the day we met, but it didn’t help how I felt.

The weight gain wasn’t from menopause; that ship pulled out of port long before this. It was upsetting, annoying, and made me depressed.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care what I looked like to myself or other people; it did bother me. I was humiliated when I saw someone I hadn’t seen for years. I was ashamed.

As much as I tried to convince myself this was the new me, I hated the new me in every way, shape, and form. I’d say awful things to myself in the mirror. I was messed up.

I still acted confident, but inside I cringed and felt sick whenever I looked at myself in a mirror or reflection. I didn’t post photos of myself because I hated how I looked in them. Before this, I was the selfie queen.

I hated how fat my face looked in these photos with Sam and Marty last November and December. I was too embarrassed to post them. I can see how uncomfortable I looked in these photos with a phony smile.

My weight gain was physically hard on my body. I couldn’t move as fast, had trouble climbing two staircases at dance, shaving my legs, and giving myself a pedicure was difficult. The weight gain was even more challenging for me emotionally.

I was the biggest hypocrite in dance class, telling women about self-love and acceptance. I was a fucking liar; I was the exact opposite of what I was telling my belly dance students.

Thank goodness I am good with aging and my wrinkles. I believe it’s a privilege to grow old more than ever, so many people don’t get to,, sadly enough. I can accept aging 100%, but I was terrified of it ten years ago.

The end of April, I wanted to see how much Nelly weighed and if she was growing since she’s such a little peanut. I held my breath and had to look at the scale to know what to subtract when holding Nelly.

To my utter shock, I lost five pounds! Wow! How the hell did that happen? I ran down the stairs to tell Marty my surprisingly good news. He was happy for me. I skipped around the house for the rest of the day. Literally. Lol.

I weighed myself a week later and lost another five pounds! I knew I was still losing weight by how my clothes fit, and my big stomach was shrinking; so was my ass! Yippee! It felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from.

Besides introducing more fruits and vegetables and vegetarian meals to our diets, and drinking a ton of water over the last year, I didn’t change a thing. 

No exercise, no dieting, no anything. Then we realized the weight I had gained and couldn’t lose for so many years was from the Humira. It was also why I didn’t respond to five different types of antibiotics when I had pneumonia since it was an autoimmune suppressant.

I didn’t realize how much damage the Humira was doing to my body, even though it helped brilliantly with my ulcerative colitis. I never put two and two together, I was just happy I was “healthy.”

The Humira caused significant scarring in my lungs, which I wouldn’t have known if I didn’t have pneumonia. What I thought was such a terrible thing being sick for two months, turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

I still have to go to Dartmouth Hitchcock at the end of July to see a lung specialist to rule out pulmonary fibrosis. I feel so great it’s hard to imagine I have anything more severe than scarring.

I’ve lost another six pounds in the last 10 days or so and can see a huge difference. I can wear clothing that hasn’t fit in years! I can’t express how good I feel inside and out. Yes, this was a case about vanity, but more than that, it was about my sanity.

I feel fantastic since I am no longer carrying around 16 pounds! When you look at the photos at the top of the blog post, these are a visualization of what it would be like for me to carry around all the time. It’s bonkers! 

My energy level is through the roof, and my breathing is better than it has been for years. I didn’t realize how bad I felt for so long. I also realized why I had a dry cough all the time.

This is tough to admit, but I have to be honest, it was pretty fucking disappointing that no one noticed my weight loss, not even my friends. It’s a night and day difference.

I am an extremely detail oriented person. For instance, I can tell when someone gets their hair cut or colored. I always compliment good things I see on people even strangers; maybe that’s why I can’t understand it.

The few people I told said they could see it after I mentioned it. Kathleen never notices anything and still couldn’t see a difference, but said, “Holy shit! That’s three bags of sugar!”

A retired nurse who now works at Battenkill Valley Creamery came over to welcome me back to the Troy Farmers Market a couple of weeks ago. The first thing she said was, “Wow, Julz! You lost a lot of weight! You look fantastic!”

She was the first person to say anything without prompting. I was grinning ear to ear. I gave her a big hug and thanked her telling her how she made my day!

No more big belly!

Why was it so important to me that someone finally noticed? Because it’s a big fucking deal to me, that’s why. It proved it was not just an illusion or all in my head. Someone finally noticed! Yay!

If I ate tons of junk food and fast food, drank lots of soda, had second helpings, and snacked all day, that would be one thing. However, it was the complete opposite in my case.

I can’t count how many times I said after pushing my plate away before I was done with my small portion, “I should be a lot thinner with the amount of food I eat.” I felt depressed every time I said it.

Eating small portions, putting my fork down the instant I felt full, drinking no soft drinks or juice, and cutting down on my drinking by more than a half didn’t matter one fucking iota.

Am I vain about how I look? My true authentic self says, you bet your ass I am. I didn’t know how depressed I was with my weight gain. It’s like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders in my head and literally from my belly to my ass. Lol.

Yes, I am cursing a lot in this piece, but it’s a painful and emotional piece for me to write baring my soul and deep dark feelings. I know I am not the only woman who feels this way.

I have the sparkle back in my eye. I started wearing all kinds of jewelry and earrings again with different outfits that made me look and feel great.

I finally felt like me again. The real “this is me,” not the one I was forcing myself to not hate, but did. I just couldn’t get over it. I felt like I lost the battle; the battle of the bulge so they say.

I felt great at the belly dance class last Wednesday and took a selfie with my friend Maria. I told her how beautiful she looked when I saw her, so I captured it. We both look over the moon happy…

Now, it’s not important to me whether or not people notice my weight loss. My friend Arthur said after I shared my good news with him and David he thought I did but never says anything about people’s weight. Fair enough.

I guess some people think that by complimenting someone’s weight loss, it sounds like, “Wow, you look great now that you don’t look like a fat piece of shit anymore.” 😂

I won’t lie to my belly dance students about self-acceptance ever again. Instead, I will share my struggle with self-acceptance, self-body shaming, and self hate talk.

Let me tell you, it’s hard af to share skrewed up shit about yourself with the world, but I know other people appreciate my saying how they are feeling and don’t feel alone.

As always, I appreciate you guys for reading and sticking with me on ups and downs on my life journey.

Cheers!