22 to 50: 1988
I know I haven't mentioned my weight in a while, but I guaran-damn-ty that it was still an issue, even without Dad there to harp on it. There was that Look I got when I showed interest in a guy---that deer-in-the-headlights look that was followed by "I don't think of you *that* way, I think of you as a really good friend.". Some day, some guy is going to say that to me and I'm gonna snap. (You read it here first.)
I have a memory for weights and dates---270 when Dad died, 295 when I got back from London, and around 318 at the beginning of this time frame. An old friend of S's showed up in early '88---this was sbjb, who was doing OA at the time, and I started going to meetings, although it didn't click for the first few months. After the Steve Riley incident, though, I got religion in a rock and roll way. Got very conscientious about what I ate, exercized constantly, lost weight steadily.
Also early in the year, I got a new job---a good thing, because my funds had run out, and the party was threatening to grind to a halt. This was the answering service job, the one that started me on the career-in-customer-service pathway.
Did I mention there were rock concerts? That spring, I went to one at Watermania, a local water park, in case you couldn't tell from the name. Ted Nugent was the headliner, but I was mostly there for LA Guns---their drummer, Steve Riley, used to be with WASP, who I absolutely adored. I found a way to sneak backstage and met him (and the bass player, Kelly Nickles, who was sooo pretty), and it had a big impact. I have never before or since, been so gung-ho on any diet.
Granted, I was never going to be one of those petite little things who jiggled past with their skirts up to their hoohahs and their tits out to there, but I felt sexy for the first time in my life. By that Christmas, I could actually get into clothes from 'regular' stores---around a size 14/16---and Fashion Bug was getting a lot of my money. It was at this time I learned the difference between "Hey, at least I can get into it" and "It fits.".
That New Year, sbjb and I hung out and had carrots and yogurt-based dip. I was 'good' at work, too: We got lots of edible gifts at the office from our clients, and I noticed something ironic: The doctors sent boxes of candy. The funeral homes sent fruit.
.
I have a memory for weights and dates---270 when Dad died, 295 when I got back from London, and around 318 at the beginning of this time frame. An old friend of S's showed up in early '88---this was sbjb, who was doing OA at the time, and I started going to meetings, although it didn't click for the first few months. After the Steve Riley incident, though, I got religion in a rock and roll way. Got very conscientious about what I ate, exercized constantly, lost weight steadily.
Also early in the year, I got a new job---a good thing, because my funds had run out, and the party was threatening to grind to a halt. This was the answering service job, the one that started me on the career-in-customer-service pathway.
Did I mention there were rock concerts? That spring, I went to one at Watermania, a local water park, in case you couldn't tell from the name. Ted Nugent was the headliner, but I was mostly there for LA Guns---their drummer, Steve Riley, used to be with WASP, who I absolutely adored. I found a way to sneak backstage and met him (and the bass player, Kelly Nickles, who was sooo pretty), and it had a big impact. I have never before or since, been so gung-ho on any diet.
Granted, I was never going to be one of those petite little things who jiggled past with their skirts up to their hoohahs and their tits out to there, but I felt sexy for the first time in my life. By that Christmas, I could actually get into clothes from 'regular' stores---around a size 14/16---and Fashion Bug was getting a lot of my money. It was at this time I learned the difference between "Hey, at least I can get into it" and "It fits.".
That New Year, sbjb and I hung out and had carrots and yogurt-based dip. I was 'good' at work, too: We got lots of edible gifts at the office from our clients, and I noticed something ironic: The doctors sent boxes of candy. The funeral homes sent fruit.
.