Sausage in a Wetsuit - A humorous story about finding myself as I lose half myself training for the Ironman

So I got this brilliant idea to write a book. When I shared this idea and the title, most people loved it, but their next comment was something along the lines of "and in what free time are you going to do this?" Excellent point. So maybe I'll get lucky and a publisher will come to me like Carrie Bradshaw and have me pick 10-15 posts and write a dedication and opening and publish it. And then I'll get a big fat check because they sell it in France and can buy my boyfriend a Prada shirt. I digress. No wonder I won't have time to write a fucking book.

I've decided to write a blogs as I would chapters, or passages. I have to give Kerry V. credit for this as she's maintaining a hysterical site "Chicks are Stupid" because she, too, has also wanted to write a book. I've also decided that what comes out my head goes onto the screen. So if you know me well, you know that one of my flaws is that I curse. A lot. If it's going to be real, it's going to be me, unfiltered.

So here it goes.

Title Inspiration

"Ahhh! You got one, I feel like a sausage in mine." 

"My husband loves a wetsuit swim. No body fat? So gives buoyancy. I'm already buoyant. Feel like a lumpy sausage squeezed into casing." 

"Did you get one with sleeves?"

Me: "Um no, I would have been like the kid in the Christmas Story that couldn't put his arms down."

Early in the morning after a run on a crisp April morning, (let's be honest, fucking freezing - where is the warm spring weather?!) I asked an experienced triathlete friend if he thought I needed a wetsuit for my upcoming olympic tri in two weeks. The answer I was really not wanting to hear came out of his mouth. "Yes." Haven't I learned to stop asking questions I don't REALLY want to know the answers to??!

Fast forward to the end of the day. I slowly make my way into my favorite tri supply store. The moment I had been dreading since I ever thought about doing anything in the Iron distances had arrived. Like getting hit in the face with a brick out of nowhere, I couldn't avoid it. I start thumbing through the wetsuits thinking "christ, I can't even get my thigh in this."

"Hi Chrissy, going to take the plunge?" I gulp and answer some witty and smartass response about how I've been trying to avoid this and I can hide no longer. I'm offered several suits to try on so I can rent one instead of shelling over $250 off the bat for a rubber suit of shame.

I take them into the fitting room and start to slowly shimmy them up. First one, I couldn't even get one leg into it. The second one, couldn't pull the crotch up enough to get my arms in the sleeves. Third, yeah, no way, I knew this just by looking at it. All of the sudden I'm taken back to memories of the swim team in elementary school and getting anxiety wondering if any of the sample suits would fit so I could order my team suit. Who the fuck thought it would be good for a fat kid's self esteem to put them on the summer swim team anyway?! Oh yeah, I remember I wanted to be like all my other friends and begged to be on the team.

I come out of the dressing room with a red face and declare I need to try something else. I'm offered a two piece special order. "Can it be here in time to practice before next weekend's race?" "No." I'll just have to get a men's suit and cut the legs since I'm such an oompaloompa. I cannot leave the store without a suit, plain and simple. The water for my olympic is slated to be low 60s. I'll spend too much energy trying to keep warm and afloat while swimming the .93 miles. I take another suit off the rack and go back into the dressing room with a pit deep in my stomach. 

I slowly shimmy the right leg up. Then the left. Now the fun part, wiggle this bastard up over my hips that could bare a small country with no issues. I get it up. Ha, what I thought was the fun part, was really just an appetizer before the real fun begins. I pull this rubbery saran wrap up more so the crotch isn't hanging at my knees like some Tupac wanna be's pants (I always pour one out for you homie) so I can get my arms in. Now the real test. Will this motherfucker zip? I pull the seams together so I can zip it up. I get it up a bit, then have to take a minute to rest. When did it get so hot in here? Did they turn up the heat? Can you really drip sweat down your legs when they are wrapped that tight?

I get my second wind and get it zipped up further. I'm feeling better at this point and figure it's gotta be almost zipped up all the way. I look back in the mirror, not even close. The anxiety kicks in even more. The more anxiety, the more I sweat. The more I sweat the more anxiety. My hair's a mess and my face is red like a lobster. At this point I'm feeling panicked like when Ross can't get his pants up in the Friends episode. I'm not sure at this point whether to cry or to laugh out of embarrassment. Finally I decide to throw my pride aside and ask for help (gasp! say it ain't so!). I slowly open the door, almost like a father waiting to see his daughter for the first time in her wedding dress (or so I imagine?) the owner is waiting for me to pop out and say it's perfect! Sheepishly, I ask in a low voice for help. 

Luckily he is more than happy to help me zip it up and reassures me that everyone needs help. For race day I'll need to start the process early and don't be afraid to ask for help. I'm expecting him to say it's not going to zip when I realize he's already zipped it. It fits! Thank god and baby jesus. I turn around and look at myself in the mirror.

Holy fuck! I look like a sausage stuffed in this thing. And unlike the texts I would get later after declaring I finally had a suit, I really looked like a big, fat sausage stuffed in. My friends were cocktail wieners in comparison. 

After checking out and thanking the owner for his kindness and patience I left in my car with my new acquisition. I got this total rush of depression. Christ on roller skates. What was wrong with me? I should be well pass this point. What was holding me back from losing this Olsen twin and moving forward? 

I called my mom and shared with her like I know few others would understand. I told her that this feeling of sickness about the entire situation tonight should have meet feeling like I never wanted to eat again. When in all honestly, part of me wanted to go to Taco Bell and eat my feelings.

When I hung up, I realized my fear is what was keeping me here. I need to own what I am. Much like the swim team, I thought I could keep up with my peers and do whatever I wanted. Just like being a triathlete. I can't pretend I'm something I'm not. Yes, I am a triathlete. I am proud of that. But I also need to recognize that I'm not the stereotypical triathlete. People that don't know me, would have NO IDEA that I can finish an Olympic Triathlon.

For the first time in my life, I started to embrace who and what I am. Fuck whatever anyone thinks. I'm not sitting around thinking woah is me and not trying to change my life. I'm out there actively trying to change my life for the better. Pretending that I'm something I'm not though, is what is blocking me to really breaking through all this bullshit weighing me down. (no pun intended) I've got all the pieces, this has just been blocking me from really figuring out how to put the puzzle together.

I went on my first swim with the wetsuit. Yes, I hated every minute of it. I hated that we had to take a group picture and that it was going to go on facebook. I hated knowing that I was going to be tagged. But I finished the swim. I had an amazing and supportive group of teammates that cheered me on every meter of that swim and wouldn't let me stop. They challenged me to push myself further after each time I rested or felt claustrophobic.

I got home and saw the picture. My first thought was "untag that shit," but then I remembered my new mantra "own it" and I left it up. Knowing that everyone of my nearly 1500 friends could see it. For once I was letting people see every angle side of me, no matter how unattractive. I need to stop trying to filter what people get to see of me and let it be there for all to see. My mom said something really powerful to me; "Chrissy, you really don't look any different in that picture than you do your trisuit." Holy shit. Talk about the wake up call I needed. So true, but in my head, I don't look that fat in my trisuit. 

It brings me to an even deeper realization of the twisted fucked up state of mind I have. I have terrible self esteem, yet, I don't always see the same thing that everyone else sees, sometimes I see something better, sometimes something worse. I have a lot of shit to keep cleaning up, but I'm on my way. This week I ran half the mini marathon in a tank sports top. That is HUGE for me. I finally let my head get out of my way and went for comfort, I was sweating like a whore in church and knew I had to take my shirt off in order to finish. (Ha, I also got a "nice boobs" comment at the water station.) I know this week I have turned over a new leaf. I know now that I'm on my way. It's going to be a long journey, no doubt. Some parts of the road smoother than others, but I'm so ready to continue this journey with an open heart and mind. 

I had a conversation with an amazing friend this week. I spoke about knowing how crazy my life has been with Ironman training but how I've changed some and learned some things. He asked me some good questions about why I was doing it and what have I learned. Out of no where, without being able to stop it, tears flowed with my answer. I've learned a lot about myself, I've learned how strong I really am and to stop discounting myself.

I'm not going to lie, it's tough being one of the biggest female competitors out there. Having people cheer you on like it's your first race and you should be proud for just being out there. Sick of completing and being ready to compete. It's fucking hard to really compete when you're carrying around 50-80 pounds more than most competitors. I wonder what people would think if they had to strap Mary Kate to their backs to swim, bike and ride. The easy thing to do would be to not do it. To not put myself out there for criticism and judgement. But I've already found out so much about myself and I can't imagine what else there is to find out about myself as I continue this journey.

I'm so lucky to have amazing family, friends and teammates who support me and love me. Who sometimes believe in me, more than I believe in myself. This new leaf I've turned over has already allowed me to finally be 100% honest with people about who I am, what I struggle with and what I'm going to do bring about change. This has been so freeing. Without even giving it thought, I've lost 7 lbs this week. Every pound I've lost before this point has taken complete effort and concentration. It has been a struggle. I have a long way to go, it's not going to be easy, but in the words of Robert Randolph "I'm moving in the right, dirrrreeeecccccttttion."