I took off my jeans today without undoing the button, or unzipping the zip.
I did it really without thinking. Those jeans were, if not too tight, then certainly tight enough to be a little uncomfortable three and a half weeks ago. Bits of me that should not be exposed to the naked eye were squeezed over the top of these jeans. I couldn’t bend down in them or climb stairs in them as they were busy holding my thighs in. The “fashionable” tears were becoming less fashion-statement and more gaping holes.
Andrew has spent the last couple of days boasting about how far he can pull his belt in. He has lost more weight than I have, but he’s a man not a perimenopausal woman. I forgive myself for not being able to keep up with him. His body is designed to lose fat. My hormones like me fat. They conspire against me losing fat. Even so, I’ve done it and it feels great.
The Statistics:
Last year I weighed in at 85.7 kgs the day I left for our (life distracting) holiday.
The first day back, I weighed in at 75.3 kgs. I reduced that by another kilogram over the Xmas holiday period and went back to work at 74.3 kgs.
This year I weighed in at 80.5 kgs the day I left.
The extra weight loss occurred because I returned to my exercise regime and continued to eat the way we had while we were away. The weight crept back on because (a) I use food as a coping mechanism for stress (b) I was stressed (c) my favourite coping foods were readily available.
Tim Tams don’t exist in Italy. Stress goes away and with it all the coping mechanisms regarding eating sugar for comfort.
More Statistics:
I did some research today on the most obese western countries in the world. According to Wikipedia, for 2016, in a ranking of 200, (with 1 being the most obese and 200 being the least), the western countries rank as follows:
At No. 12 – The United States of America
At No. 22 – New Zealand
At No. 26 – Canada
At No. 28 – Australia
At No. 106 – Italy
I realized that there are more than just the obvious reasons for our weight loss. This probably doesn’t apply to Andrew as much since being a man, he doesn’t constantly compare himself to other men. As a woman, I like to beat myself up by constantly comparing myself to other women. I know that all women do this to some degree. We are our own worst critics.
When I am at home, I am constantly surrounded by other women who are overweight to obese. It is the average. Overweight is normal. I see women everywhere who are both younger and older than I am, who have created a serious problem for their long term health by eating too much, too often and not being active enough.
I unconsciously compare myself to these women. Now, I’m not silently judging them or making snide internal remarks about their weight. I am simply automatically noticing their body shape and automatically comparing myself. They are my status quo. They are my normal. In many cases, my internal dialogue decides that I’m not too bad, given the comparisons I’ve made.
In Italy, it is difficult to see any woman on the street under about 70 years of age, who are not lean and lithe. (Even then there are some fit and healthy looking older ladies who would put me to shame). Mothers with young children. Women with teenagers. Women working in shops and eating at street cafes. Women in all demographics, in all places, at all times seem to be naturally healthy and lean. Very rarely do I see a woman who is overweight let alone obese.
It could be the laid-back lifestyle, or genetics that make the difference. It could be the higher quality of food available. It could be that there are no takeaway food outlets, that all meals are eaten sitting down (and generally with cutlery – even pizza). It could be that they don’t eat at their desks or in the car. It could be that they manage to do more exercise than we do, even though as mothers and working women they have the same time pressures that we all do.
Whatever the reasons, when I am here in Italy, my normal becomes abnormal. The status quo changes and my internal comparison of myself to other women also changes. Where my internal dialogue was looking at the overweight average and letting me off by comparison, here it can’t do that. Here, my comparisons of myself to other women are not so flattering. Here, I am the abnormal. I am the fat one in a sea of lean, healthy Italian women. I feel chunky and awkward.
As a result, I want to eat less because I unconsciously strive to be like them. The longer I am here, the more imbedded the new normal is, the more I want to be that normal. None of us are really aware of our internal dialogues and comparisons. It would be beneficial to our mental health and well being if we didn’t constantly but unconsciously compare ourselves to others. The fact is, I do it and I know that others do also. In this case, it actually works to my benefit by encouraging me to be better than I am.
