MsCezanne's Odyssey

Perhaps my lack of creativity is simply a lack of seeds of creativity.

Give me something to write about, and I'll do what I can.

I'll look at something mundane and make it exciting. I just can't think of anything mundane I'd like to make exciting.

Lesson #1: life with a baby is a life of routine.

Class dismissed.

In other news, because my life has become so routine, it is tough to write things in my blog. I don't want to write about Paul here, it's not something I want to share that way, and since he takes up my day, that doesn't leave much to write about!

Also, routine does kind of kill creative impulses, which is one of the reasons I write: to flex my creative impulse. There's only so many times I can write Ian lost weight and I gained weight. That's all that changes.

I suppose this is my way of saying I need a change myself. Obviously. And yet it takes me actually writing this to realise the obvious.

Time for a change.

What?

Um.

I don't know. I'll talk it over with Ian this weekend, we'll figure something out, or else I'll just drive him insane.

At least that would give me something to write about.

As my weight hits 425 pounds this week, I've taken a moment to pause, to take stock, to think about my life.

Straight up, I'm very happy. I'm happier now than just about any other time in my life. I can't even imagine being happier.

With that said, there are certainly things I'm not happy about.

First of all, I'm not pregnant! I loved the whole experience so much with Paul, I miss it dearly, and would love nothing more than to be pregnant with another baby right now. There are a few reasons why this hasn't happened yet, mostly: I'm too big. I'm not saying that women my size shouldn't get pregnant but (skip this if you don't want too much info) my body isn't yet prepared to engage in the reproductive cycle. We don't know definitively if it has to do with my weight, my breastfeeding, or something else. Since my weight is the only factor I can control, I have to lose weight.

Second of all, my food addiction continues. It's something I'm not happy about, at the same time, it's not something I'm all that upset about either. I love to eat. The problem is, I can't really stop eating. I want to lose weight, because of the aforementioned problem as much as anything else. I know that I have to cut back what I'm eating to do so, but I just can't find the will power. It scares me a little, since this is really the only time I haven't had the willpower I wished I had. Somewhere in the back of my mind I KNOW I can do this. I've overcome it before, so I should be able to do it again. I just wonder how I'll get to that point again.

Third up is my weight. Like the food addiction, I don't really hate my body. In many ways, I'm quite happy with what I've got. There are times that it just seems to work against me. Paul's getting around a lot more now, and I find myself exactly where I didn't want to be: I can't interact with him the way I want to. I can't really just flop down on the floor with him, and then get up to get back into whatever I was doing. My weight is distributed much higher than before, so getting up from the floor is really tough for me now. I'm always winded after playing with Paul, and I'm worried that if I don't turn it around, he's going to leave me behind, in some figurative manner (or even literally!).

Ian's changes, again, there's more good than bad to be had. He's very happy with the way he's feeling these days, and I'm very happy for him. I miss what we had before, and wish we could have that again. I know we can't, so it's simple matter that we can't have our cake and eat it too. I guess we'd rather have than eat it, so to speak. Part of what bothers me is that Ian is so excited about it, he'll talk about it endlessly when we're alone. It's partly my fault for indulging his excitement, but far be it for me to douse his enthusiasm. I suppose part of my concern is that he's changing, and I'm not. I don't seriously believe that's going to be a problem in his eyes, but there is a dark part of my mind that fears that as he sheds his fat, he might find he doesn't like a fat wife. (Please, these are my own thoughts, don't accuse Ian of my paranoid delusions!)

Next up, we've got Sherry. She's become my best friend. We have babies the same age, we're going through a lot of the same things. We spend time together when our husbands are at work, we look after each other's kids when someone needs a break. We have a lot in common personality wise. We've taken very different paths in our lives though, and given how much Sherry and I see eye to eye, it sort of pains me to know that she doesn't understand my outlook on food/fat. It's so tough to explain, especially to someone who works as hard on keeping herself in shape as Sherry does. I know what she thinks about my fat though, because that's what I used to think about fat. I never got it until I gained the weight myself. I know that Ian appreciated fat, but never for a second thought he'd enjoy being fat until he got fat himself. Without that experience, Sherry just can't understand that one part of my life that I need a friend in.

I know... there's Amy. Since Paul's been born, since Ian started losing weight, and since Thomas moved to Calgary, I've been seeing less of her. I still love her, and I know she's there if I ever need her, but she's at a different place when it comes to food/fat than I am too. She's crossed a threshold that I never could, and I wish her the best of luck, simultaneously wishing it was me, and being thankful it's not.

So, that's what's on my mind these days.

I hope that makes sense.

I write what's on my mind. Ian's fat is on my mind far more than my own. My fat is constant, it's there, but, I'm more interested in Ian's changes. So that's what I write about.

But, I also like to have an audience, and sometimes that means giving them what they want. You want to hear about my fat? I'm certainly not disinterested in it, just more interested in Ian's. I'll write about it, but be warned, I'm of 2 (probably more) minds; this entry might seem a little disjointed, a little contradictory and downright crazy. That's fine. That means I've captured my thoughts on my body, my weight and my own changes.

As of yesterday, I'm 424 pounds. We still keep up with our Wednesday weigh-ins. I don't always participate, but I did yesterday. As much as my life changed when I met Ian, my life changed 10 times as much when Paul was born. I don't talk about him much on here, I've stated why. But having a baby is by far the best thing that I could ever wish for. I'm dying to do it again!

I loved being pregnant, I've loved the whole process of watching Paul grow, and I just can't wait, I want to do it all again. And again. And again. I could have babies forever. At least, that's how I feel now. The problem is, neither Ian nor myself are in great physical shape to keep up with active kids. I know there are great parents our size, or bigger, and I certainly don't mean any disrespect. We're probably just missing something. The point is, before I get pregnant again, I've got to lose weight.

I think 280 pounds is a great size for me, and I'm looking forward to getting to 280 again so I can get pregnant. Now, obviously 424 pounds is a far cry from 280, and 424 is MORE than I weighed last month, so I'm not heading in the right direction. Why, oh why am I gaining weight when I want to be losing weight?

Is it a lack of willpower? Sort of, I guess.

The fact is, I love to cook, I love to eat, and I love the changes that overindulgence brings in the form of weight gain. It's almost narcotic, waking up and not knowing quite what your body has in store for you. Will your clothes fit? Will the doorway be too narrow? Will there be a new roll, fold or jiggle? There are changes when losing weight and they ARE nice, but, they're not really surprises.

Getting into a groove losing weight can be very pleasurable too: realising you have more energy one day, discovering you can reach something, you can turn around in a store without worrying about knocking anything over, and, yes, fitting into that itty bitty dress that's so cute but just doesn't look good on fatsos.

The question, what changes have I had? Well, this time around, my weight is distributing differently. My belly got all stretched out when I was preggo, so that's where the fat has decided to hang out. I could easily pass for 9 months preggo: but I know better. When preggo you get awesome mood swings. Not now.

My tits are gigantic. Like fake stripper gigantic. When I was younger, I dreamed of having breasts like this, now, well, they're a bit of a pain really! It's tough to get a decent bra that fits, is comfortable, supportive and looks nice. Even though I complain, I still love them. I can't keep my hands off 'em, and will spend as much time enjoying myself in the mirror as I can. They really are huge! I catch people checking them out in public. Always brings a smile to my face.

While my ass hips and legs aren't as considerable as they were in the past, they're not exactly skinny. They've got a sort of flabby quality about them, like they're not packed as much with fat, just a little looser I guess. I liked them better before, but at the same time, that extra jiggle does feel nice when I stop to think about it.

Compared to the last time I was this big, I'm more active, I've spent a long time dealing with being a fat chick, so it's not as alien, not as difficult to deal with as before. So, whether or not I truly have more energy, I feel like I can do more. It could be perception. It could be truth. I can't say, and it doesn't really matter, does it?

The best part about getting fat again is: interacting with Ian's fat. So few people get it. So few people have truly experienced supersized sex. It's too bad, and it makes me feel pretty special. Yes, tiny fit bodies can do more, but I think big soft bodies can enjoy it more. There's more of you to enjoy sex, and, with a partner who understands this, who is willing to let the fat do the work, there is a lot of pleasure to be had.

More than once as Ian approached 600 pounds there were times I wanted to be his equal, to be truly massive, and have our bellies pushed together in a mass of sensation. We'll never be 600 pounds together, and as Ian keeps losing weight, and as I approach 280 myself, our chances of being supersized together diminish. I want to get the most out of life that I can, if I can meet Ian halfway, I have a feeling that's what I'm going to do.

I don't know how fat I'm going to get 460, 500, it's impossible to say. I might stop tomorrow, I might never stop.

I want everything out of life, and I'll do my best to get as much in as I can. It's all an adventure. It's all an experience. I wouldn't give it up for anything, except another adventure, or another experience.

I was out with Sherry yesterday and we were talking about Ian's progress. She's quite surprised that he's taken to exercising as well as he had. A lot of people who think they want to exercise don't, and they resist it every way they can. She's pretty sure that his history of working out helped out a lot. She also figures that carrying all the extra weight had him in better shape than she'd have thought a 600 pound man would be.

She told me about the water exercises he does, and I told her about his activity level at home and his new eating habits. Another key to this whole thing is that while he's eating better, he isn't going without. He's still eating a lot of food, but not QUITE as much, and it's been chosen to meet his nutritional needs as much as satisfying his hungers.

She gave me a rough estimate of his BMI. We all know that's not a perfect indicator of, well, anything, but it can be helpful to know. He's around a 72, which is still off most charts. (For the record, I'm around a 60)

The changes in Ian have been nice to see, he's got more energy, he's on his feet more, and for longer stretches of time. He does plenty around the apartment now, he runs errands, he even did a pretty good job moving through Sunfest on the weekend.

He still cuts an imposing figure, with his weight and height. His still wiggles and jiggles. In fact, now that he's got more energy and is moving around more, even though there's noticeably less to wiggle and jiggle, it actually wiggles and jiggles more. I'm enjoying it very much.

Also, his muscles really are bulking up under all that fat, I can feel them, if I feel hard enough for them. Muscles and fat, what more could a girl want?