I've Got Two Ticket's To Doughnut-ville...

Oh I am the mayor of Donutville proper. Did I mention this before? I forgot to tell you, but its the sad truth. I was elected by a landslide after the 6th consecutive week of buying at least two doughnuts a week. I am in full carb retreat, trying to rally my election team and execute them all. Why oh why am I still here?
Haven't gained any weight, but I haven't lost any either. It seems I'm working to keep from losing. Anyone else feel me on the self-sabotage thing?

No Witty Title Available at This Time

It's been a while, friends.

I've been writing so much on other projects that I can't seem to muster the energy to write it down, right here, that I am feeling so friggin despondent about weight loss. I've been maintaining for damn near a year now, and I'm tired of it. I work so hard, I do so good, and I haven't seen results, so then I think, "Fuck it, I want cheesecake," and then I eat cheesecake and the self-loathing totally messes up the delicious creaminess and the flaky graham cracker crust.

I have not given up. I will not give up.

I'm back on my daily smoothies, tryin' to take it back to the days immediately following my surgery, or at least the days when I drank a smoothie for breakfast, skipped the coffee and had a small lunch and dinner (if I don't eat something early in the day, I simply CAN'T eat much in the evening). I'm frustrated, but I'm still pushing on.

Something must be working...I had two people whom I regularly see tell me today that I look like I've lost weight. So maybe I have. Maybe my scale is stuck. Maybe I'm adding muscle and subtracting fat, and the muscle is taking up the same amount of weight.

Whatever the case may be, it's hard, but if Ruby can lose 400 lbs., I can certainly kick this last 100. I will. I will, I will, I will.

Not a crack but a crev-ass

Last night I fell into a deep dark crevice, and it was lined with homemade apple pie. For three months I have toed the line. I've attended all the meetings, stayed within my daily allotment of points, counted said points religiously and exercised on a fairly regular basis. I made it through several heinously stressful situations without buying a non-stop ticket to a calorie fest. And I finally succumbed. I laid all my willpower on the alter of apple pie.

And damn it was good.

The crust was absolutely perfect, with a little bit of sugar sprinkled delicately on top it's crispy, crumbly goodness. The apples were slightly gooey but still intact enough to hold onto each other and the cinnamonbuttersugar combination that is so rarely done right. In short, that shit was amazing. The reason why I describe the pie chiefly in the past tense is because by and large it is GONE. And we're not talking a mini pie or tartlet. This was a fully grown mature pie, and I ate over half of it. What's more, I didn't even have the couth to slice it into pieces and put it on a plate like I was an adult with dignity and self respect. Hell to the nah. I stood over that pie with a spoon and just had my way with it. I didn't even take it out of its cute little window box.

This morning I have a tinge of a stomach ache, and I am still trying to decide how I feel about the carnage I left behind. If I'm being totally honest, I kinda don't care.

I know I've been preaching that we aren't dead and we can't live in a box where all powerful, great and wonderfully fattening foods don't exist. But I'm wondering if I'll ever get to the point where I don't just go ape shit when I see something like a beautiful golden brown hill of fresh apple pie or any large quantity of something delicious and totally contrary to losing weight.

I have always struggled with compulsive eating. It was the worst when I was in college. I'd buy a box of cookies or a big bag of chips to celebrate something, and then I'd start eating. The more I ate, the guiltier I felt, and then I'd have to eat the rest of the bag/box I'd bought just to get it out of my room. Then I'd beat myself up for being such an incredible failure, and eventually the cycle would repeat itself. Fortunately for me, at that time I had the metabolism to support that kind of destructive behavior. Not so much anymore, yet it appears that awful habit still has the ability to rear its vile, ugly head.

I don't want to do all this work and then just backslide right back to square one. I've lost over 50 pounds before and it didn't stick. I realize I may be overreacting a tad, but I'm trying to decide if I'm going about this all wrong. Should I try to allow myself a slice of pie/pumpkin chocolate chip muffin (the latest food fantasy I've been having - I really miss those) here and there instead of just attempting to abstain for the most part? I have been able to find lighter options to satisfy my monster of a sweet tooth - but man once that pie crossed the threshold of my front door - I was a goner.

If I go to my meeting on Monday and I've gained weight, well I just don't know. I've gained a little and come back from that, but that was barely two weeks ago. And the more I think about it, the more irritable I become, I'm close to irate about it all in fact.

I'm tired of constantly thinking about food all the time. I'm tired of having to work so hard when there are people in the world that don't have to. I'm tired of still looking in the mirror and being disappointed. And I'm REALLY tired of taking a minor mistake and turning it into an excuse to be pissed off at the world, short tempered with my family, and your garden variety nasty bitch. I'm tired of being so hard on myself. And I just don't know how to stop. I've have spent my entire life putting insane amounts of pressure on myself to be perfect. Countless people have told me I need to stop beating myself up. And that's it. It stops there with the recommendation to let go of that behavior. Nobody has offered a suggestion as to how to stop that habit, and I haven't a clue as to how to do it on my own. Maybe some people can just stop, but I can't.

I know it is all tied into some seriously deep-seated anger that I have decided to direct at myself, but again, no idea as to how to empty that barrel of monkeys. I'm truly at a loss.

At least I didn't eat the entire damn pie.

Thereby hangs a keychain

It's official, I'm a sucker.

Weight Watchers is promoting exercise with a walk a 5k in six weeks program, and if you walk or run a 5k on June 6 you get a charm for your WW key chain. I got the key chain when I hit 10% of my weight lost and got a charm (that seriously looks like a washer for a tub drain) when I hit the 25 pound mark.

I slid that cheesy ass key chain with the washer on it right on my regular key chain with the thought that the more I see it the more motivated I'll stay. Seems to be working. Although I don't really find myself staring at my key chain any more than I did prior to being awarded this faux copper little beauty. And I'm not rubbing it like Uri Gellar attempting to bend a spoon on my bad days. Nevertheless, there it hangs.

The charm for the 5k is a big silver '5k' - it's actually kinda cool, and I want one. BAD. Who knew that some star shaped stickers and key fobs could actually help to keep a fat chick on the road to Wellville.

And then there's the fact that Jennifer Hudson is now the new spokesperson for WW - who needs Duchess Fergie when you can have Effie from Dreamgirls cheering you on?

When did this happen?!? How did I become Little Miss Yay Rah Go Establishment??? Now I'm certainly not broadcasting the fact that I've joined WW to anyone other than you fine folk here, so it's not like I'm gunning to dethrone JHud. I'm just not sure if I'm entirely comfortable being so involved with something so corporate.

But it IS working. Hmmmmm.

Not My Best Idea Ever

Work has been slow these last couple weeks. And by slow, I mean, the entire office clocked 2 hours of on-the-clock hours yesterday.

Our solution for that freedom? Go out and day drink. For hours. Before playing kickball. That was the fun part. Lotsa laughs, good times bonding with the people I spend most of my time not-talking to, since we all wear headphones at work; they're a funny group of folks.

Yeah, not such a great idea, the five pitchers before kickball. In addition to the ridiculous caloric intake from allllllll the beer I drank, I totally gnarled up my ankle when it was my turn to kick. I can hardly walk today. I'm not sure if I can stay in the league, which is heartbreaking to me, because I was really looking forward to this.

Why does beer have to taste so good? Why is drinking such fun?

The banana and the dog

Well I know it's been a long time since I chimed in, but I gotta say I have a pretty good excuse. It's called March Madness, and I don't mean that basketball shit.

The Reader's Digest version bullet point list goes something like this:

Week One: Second child's first birthday - fun celebration chez Puckett. Crappy ass party at my parents house where I discover I rank lower than the dog (LITERALLY - more on that later) Parent/Teacher conference where I start to cry because...

Week Two: Ultrasound on three year old to look for pancreatic tumors. None found. Thank Jeebus. One year old has uncontrollable vomiting episode. One year old has bronchialitis. I get a pap smear because the last one came back bad.

Week Three: One year old to hospital for chest x-ray - no pneumonia AGAIN thank Jeebus, next day three year old to hospital for stitches next to his eye - 10 hours of waiting for less than 30 minutes of service. Thankfully I only had one tube of Ritz with me to power down - I'm pretty sure the stress could have driven me to chew through the drywall. One year old gets put on albuterol (yeah that's a steroid) breathing treatments for suspicion of early onset asthma. Riding a fat sow is easier than trying to get a one year old to inhale cool steroidal mist. Full on toilet reverse action. Colossal Meltdown.

Week Four: Supposed 'friend' outs some deeply personal information about me at a random party (the last in a long list of crap she's put me through) bu-bye friend. Prescription numero dos of mood stabilizer on board - which was good because then we come to the ACTUAL shitstorm. Every Puckett man Small, Medium AND Large comes down with uncontrollable vomit/diarrhea virus, for FOUR DAYS.

Last Hurrah Half Week: Three year old has multiple blood draws to try and determine why his pancreatic enzyme lipase is through the roof - no explanation. It is determined that three year old has astigmatism in both eyes but they can't give him corrective lenses until he is old enough to tell them which lens makes him see better.

Annnnd scene.

But I'm back in black, finally under the two bill mark - though of course I hit 197, then the next week promptly went back to 200 and now I'm back down to 195. The swing back up came after the two trips to the hospital week - talk about kicking a gal while she's down - and it was the first week I'd gained weight since joining WW, and it really threw me for a loop. It's such a slippery slope for me. I felt like if I gained, I failed and maybe I should just hang it up. Screw this weight loss thing. Seriously. Over a measly 2.4 pounds. But that's where I was. And the whole next week (that would have been Vomitgate if you're keeping track) I pinned my hopes on losing weight and knew if I hadn't I was a complete and utter worthless failure.

Even making good dietary decisions came at a price. Remember that comment about being lower than the dog?

The story you are about to read is true. Wish it could have been an actor in my place, but alas, no.

The setting: My parents house.

The time: Not important.

The characters: My Momster and Yours Truly.

Me: Hey Mom, can I have a banana? (the fact that I know I have to ask for a banana in my parents house is a whole other chapter in my great American novel right there)

Mom: Welllll...how many are there? (My parents live in a 3000 sq. ft house and they don't pay a mortgage - one banana isn't exactly sending them to the government cheese line)

Me: I dunno - looks like five.

Mom: Wellll, let's see...

Me: Nevermind, just forget it.

Mom: Well your father has a nightly ritual where he shares a banana with the (wait for it) DOG. And we don't go to the grocery again until Saturday, so I guess it's ok.

Me: Gee thanks, it's good to know where I rank.

And I sometimes wonder why I have occasional bouts of low self esteem.

Despite all that, I have learned a few things over the last month that have come in kinda handy in the self-worth department.

For instance, I can leave food on my plate and not die. I've done it three times now and have yet to keel over like Wallace Shaun in The Princess Bride. A regular at my WW meetings can buy a bag of Lindor truffles and only eat two a day. This is a skill she ACQUIRED. She was formerly of the Wholebaginonesitting tribe, which means escape from that clan is POSSIBLE. Hell, I have NEVER left food on my plate unless I was severely ill. I mean something has to taste pretty fucking awful for me not to eat it, so when I managed to eat only half my caprese panini this weekend, I fully expected the clouds to part and the hand of God to reach down and give me an atta girl pat on the back.

And the other thing I learned? That one day at a time shit really does work. Ben and I usually hang out on Sunday nights and talk about the upcoming week and what's happening and I would start to think about every last little thing that I had to accomplish and before the night was over I'd be counting the pills in the Xanax bottle. I would start thinking of the epic laundry list of tasks and then think "I have to do ALL of that AND lose weight?" No fucking way. And then I'd muddle through it all rather ungracefully and would keep a death grip on my weight loss like a flag I had to plant atop Mount Skinny. I just sucked the ever loving fun out of everything. So yesterday I decided I'd just stick to making it through Monday without considering anything else coming down the pike, and wouldn't you know it, like one of those annoying motivational seascape posters at work, I had a great day.

All hail today!

Um, ow.

Mistress Dina, perpetrator of fitness brutality and strengthening/toning torture had at me again today. My lands, babies, it was intense. The front desk staff came into the small, sweltering back room to watch me toil, and tell me how good I was doing, along with a peppering of how glad they were that they weren't me. It's nice to feel so supported in my doctor's (chiropractor's) office. Truly. Even as I was sweating and shaking and making funny noises and contorting into all kinds of unladylike positions, I was feeling good about it, all because I know that they really want to help me feel better and be healthier, and that no one is judging me because I have boob sweat stains or jacked-up hair.

Today is my first day symptom-free from the carpal tunnel in a month. I love my chiropractor. It is incredible how much I took for granted the fact that I lived my entire life free from chronic pain, before this little hiccup. Feeling good is a blessing.

Now I'm going to go sit in a tub full of hot water and epson salts and pray that when I stand up out of bed tomorrow morning, I don't want to throw up on the floor because my thighs burn so bad.

Big love. xoxo

Wall Squats, I Hate Thee

So, my chiropractor is rocking my carpal tunnel right out of my body. Progress is slow, but undeniable. Now that I am past the "relief" phase of my treatment, we are working on strenghtening my core so that I can hold my adjustment. This means that a tiny, beautiful Iraqi woman makes me do hateful, hateful exercises in a hot back room, for 45 minutes every day.

Awesome.

She 'bout killed me today. But in a good way. In the best way, I guess. We did a circuit of maybe 30 different exercises, some of which involved exercise balls, some of which involved exercise bands, some of which involved tilting my pelvis while doing crunches while holding an 8 lb. medicine ball between my raised knees. Um, ow. I'm working muscles I didn't know I had.

We go full tilt with the personal training aspect in two weeks, and I am very much afraid, and very much looking forward to it. Numb hand. Big love, all.

Oh, and my diet has been straight shit lately. I GOTTA get that in check. Actually, today was really good, but it's the first really good day in a few weeks. Hellooooooo stress eating. Pass the white cheddar popcorn, thanks.

Another First

I've had what I think is the last indicator I need that the time to change my life is now.

I had my very first panic/anxiety attack yesterday. Yes, it was triggered with imbibing a bit of my favorite intoxicant, and then going on a vigorous walk in 82 degree weather, but I seriously thought I was having a stroke or something, and that compounded into four hours of straight trippin', boo. I've never had a problem with anxiety in my life, but I guess no one does, until they do.

It scared me, and I'm going to call Wake Med about getting into therapy tomorrow.

These last three weeks or so have been somewhat brutal, and have included two types of stress I have never had to deal with before; suicide attempt of a friend, and a work-related injury that has severly disrupted my life.

Side note: I always thought people with carpal tunnel were pansies, and were kinda being babies about the whole thing. What's the big deal with a little tingling? The big deal is that that is the most MINOR of all symptoms. I can sleep again, thank God above, and I feel much improved for all the chiropractic care, but this battle is just beginning.

Annnnnnnnnnnd cue the need for a dramatic life change...now.

My chiro is doing research on my personal nutritonal/supplemental needs, and I begin personal training there in three weeks. The trainer has promised me she is going to kick my ass and I am officially terrified, and hopeful.

Here's hoping that I can get in to see a therapist and start mending the mental injuries that I can't really ignore anymore. I don't want to live with anxiety. Come to find out, it really sucks.

All is not doom and gloom. I had a lovely brunch today at my house with an old friend I haven't seen in a few months, and the sun is shining. I love my friends and family, and I really, really like the house where I live. My job is interesting and challenging, and Raleigh is a dynamic city full of things to do. I have an awesome dog and an awesome car.

I want to feel as awesome as the rest of my life. Now is the time.

OOOHHHH AYYYYYY!

I went to an OA meeting a week ago. Been thinking about it for a while now, but just got the opportunity to try it out. I've been struggling lately with the urge to eat and eat and eat, diabetes be damned. I understand that I need real support to deal with my friend the coping mechanism of eating. Funny, but every time I try to face my food issues head on things fall apart.

I've been going through lots of transition lately, and facing old fears and failures. As a result, my eating has flared up...(hellooo coping). Of course I always try to tackle everything at once and then am mystified when I can't seem to drag myself out of bed. One step at a time, Mollye. One step at a time.
So, I am declaring right now, that I am aware of my coping mechanisms. I know that they will not go away overnight, and that I have been under new stress lately, so they are flaring. This is not the end of the world. My weight loss is not over, I will not relapse completely. I will breath in and out and start again fresh each day. I WILL use my coping as an indicator telling me that I need to pay better attention to my inner life, and take better care of myself. I am worth that.

Thanks fellow gut busters for letting me process! Much love

Oh, The Ides

So this carpal tunnel thing got real nasty, real quick. I've slept a grand total of about seven hours over the last five or six days, and I'm starting to feel a lil' unstable, if ya feel me. My eating has been decent to good; I think I've had three cookies in as many days. The sheer amount of edamame and celery and citrus and spinach I eat offsets that enough, I want to think. Sugar is sugar, though, and I felt better when I was off it.

I think the carpal tunnel might be a blessing in disguise. It is the final call that I need to alter my lifestyle permanently and for the better. I went to the chiro today, had my first adjustment and then some electropulse muscle stimulation thing and I feel good. Real good. Saw my spine x-rays; doc says I just need a tune-up, not a new engine--nothing shocking or horridly alarming. HOWever, it became apparent, real live in film, that the weight I carry pulls on me, literally drags me down. Undeniable, right there on the lightboard.

And the thing is, I've felt so crappy and worn out these last two weeks that I feel like I'll do anything to make it all feel better. I think this means, right now, treatment by a physician to facilitate better health, including weight loss, spinal realignment to allow me to exercise more with lessened pain, proper nutrition and a personal trainer, and I have finally found them, all under one roof, with an affordable staff of very kind, very knowledgable physicians and therapists...and they'll let me be on a payment plan for a $120 a month, on into the future. Um, done and done. I have to see them 4 times a week for a minute, but if that's what it takes to sleep again, and potentially stimulate my slumbering thyroid, so be it. 4 times a week it is.

It's been so long since I've had access to health care, I almost feel dizzy with joy and wonder that someone finally seems willing to help me at a price that I can actually pay.

Fingers are done.

xoxoxoxox big love.

What a Wicked Week

Oh man, it's been a doozy.

I have managed to shed another pound, which is a frickin miracle given what I've been eating. It's amazing how stress can burn calories if you're doing it hard enough. If only all the rest of the side effects of extreme stress were as welcome as weight loss...

In a nutshell: bi-polar, attention-starved (used-to-be-my-)friend got suicidal on Sunday night, and I got to deal with the ramifications on Monday. She is alive, which is a relief, but for every one of the five minutes I pounded on her door thinking the worst, I think I consumed five Oreos. With peanut butter on top. I wish I was kidding. Literally, most incredible taste sensation. Don't even try it. Some things it's best not to know. Then, my shoulder/neck crinked up even more, leading me to believe that it might be a pinched nerve as opposed to carpal tunnel--I can't decide which I want it to be. Neither excite me. My dog almost killed a feral cat when we were on a walk in the woods, and I had to get bloody scratched up to prevent the slaughter--once a dog kills one cat, you can guarantee they'll kill another, and since I'm CAT-sitting for five more months, that just won't do. He gets confused when furry things run from him in the woods; he wants to shake it, whatever it is.

I feel really put-upon currently, just by the universe at large, and while I don't mean that to sound all victim-y, I am starting to wonder about cosmic endurance tests.

The problem with all this is that I have realized that under extreme duress, I am still relying on my old crutches. I eat very small amounts of mostly junk, I drink alcohol (only two glasses of wine this week, so I feel all right there), I smoke a lot of cigarettes, and I exercise less. Bad, meh, terrible, and wrong.

I ate salad and fish for dinner tonight, so I feel like the stress fog is starting to break enough that I can remember that there are better coping mechanisms than cheddar herb kettle chips and that disgusting, amazing combo cookie combo I mentioned earlier. On a positive note where junk food is concerned, I don't eat it all in one sitting anymore. This is a new realization. Used to be, I'd buy a bag of chips--gone in one night, if not one sitting. A bag of cookies--24 hours or less. I couldn't stop myself. Now, there are five to seven servings. Almost like what they recommend on the bag. Don't forget to love ourselves for the small victories.

Fingers going numb. Big love!

The Doughnut Not Taken

I've had a breakthrough. In my therapy I have been doing breath work. Its a kind of hyperventilation that puts you into a relaxed state and allows you to access your unconscious. So hard to describe in words. I have been trying to access parts of myself for years to no success. So, I tried something different, a little scary, and totally outside my "control."

During my last session, I uncovered something that totally blew me away. I've always framed my understanding of the weight I carry in terms of protection. I get that aspect of it. During this session, I was dealing with the fact that I have been carb crazy lately, especially doughnuts. I just want to eat anything that is in sight. I've recently had to get rid of clothes because they hang off of me and get new clothes (thrift store here we come), and I've started subbing at local schools as a way to make money. The clothes I got are all cute, and a little too close for comfort. I feel exposed. I was comfortable with having clothes that were too big for me. Plus there has been this rising feeling that I was about to start gaining weight back. I was going to relapse. I almost wanted to relapse. And now I had thrown away my safety net.

I realized through my breath work that I have been starving myself. Starving myself of love. Some parts of me I deeply hate, and I want everyone else to hate. I have been trying to starve those parts of myself to death. As a result, I have been compensating by filling that starvation with something I have control of: food. I am still trying to unpack the full implications of that, but am hoping it will maybe relate to some of y'all out there.

All Quiet on the Eastern Blog

Thank goodness it's March. February is a hard month to maintain a happy face, and that makes me feel like eating bread and pasta and potatoes and cookies, so...a warm welcome to the (almost) Ides.

I have been having a crap two weeks, y'all. Dentist, stomach upsets, my very first flare up of carpal tunnel, doggy destruction, more cat puke than you can shake a damp sponge at, and dry face skin, to boot. Trying times like these lead me down unfortunate paths with my food choices, because food makes me feel good. I try real hard most of the year to remind myself that I can feel even better by exercising and eating right and trying to keep it real with myself and being engaged and involved in the world around me. But February...eff me if I can stick to it.

It's awesome, too, that I have had some no-good nausea for a handful of days now. I won't eat because I'm not hungry with nausea, and then I'll go for too long and get ravenous and eat too much of something I can eat quick, instead of preparing something healthy that takes 20 minutes. It's a cycle I need to break.

I'm totally off the no-sugar wagon. Just like a dam, a tiny chink led to a crack, which led to a gaping hole that let that sugar on in. I'm keeping myself in check, somewhat. I've been eating only dark chocolate, the higher that cacao content the better, and I have been making one candy bar last two or three days. I'm trying to feel okay about that. Sometimes, there are dark chocolate raisins involved (Bets, I totally get it now). I have always been an all or nothing girl. What I need to learn now is moderation. I'm tryin'.

Because I am not feeling great in my stomach, and have been getting sick more than I regularly do, I have been getting this little red flag in the back of my head. I am not, I repeat, AM NOT a bulimic, but I think I've mentioned before that I get nervous that I could slide into that pattern of behavior, b/c throwing up has become a somewhat regular enough part of my life that it doesn't seem like a big deal. I'm very cool and collected about the whole ordeal...and that concerns me. So here's what I'm noticing about myself that has the red flags up: I'm not paying as much attention to portion size b/c my unconscious says, I mean, whatevs, if it doesn't fit, it doesn't fit, and then there will be room for three more bites, anyway. I know how effed that sounds, lords knows I do, and I'm pretty sure that a therapist is on my list of things to get on for the next week or two, but I guess I'm hoping that by calling that shit out now before it becomes a habitual pattern of behavior, I can head it off at the pass.

Before I had lap-band, I remember reading accounts of people that had had one of the surgeries, and then got eating disorders. I remember thinking that there were so many testimonials, and that I couldn't even understand how they could let that happen. Starving or vomiting--how gross, right? But now I see how even a subtle shift in normal routine can sink in until it becomes normal, too, when it's not normal, not normal, at all, and deserves some analysis and attention. I.e. I can't eat two servings of anything and expect it not to come up; therefore, I can't eat two servings. It seems real simple, not like something I would forget, but sometimes I do, because, man, food tastes good.

More Weekend, Please...

I am feeling kinda crabby and blue today. I don't know why, because I've had a perfectly nice weekend of Friday night crafts/bonfire, and a Saturday night show of Hurry for the Riff Raff, a folksy-blues duo out of New Orleans. I really can't hone in on what it is that made me eat an entire bag of Oreos between yesterday and today, when I have a rich and fun social life and a stable job and nice place to live and lots of fun collaborations going on in different directions. It looks good on paper. So why is it that I feel sad enough to stuff cookies into my gut? Or eat three portions of (relatively healthy, homemade) chili? I shouldn't even be able to hold that much.

I was asking myself that question--why am I sad?--and what I kept coming back to was the earthquakes in Chile and Haiti, and the temporary tsunami warning for my friends in Hawaii, and the the giant icebergs colliding in the Arctic (because they're melting, and junk?) and the multi-layered stories of fuckery, from all sides, in the Middle East, and the next rounds of banks slated to go under on our current financial roller coaster.

It's almost too much to handle, being aware of the world and capable of drawing the most likely conclusions to the whole, dire mess.

Plus, I'm pretty sure I have carpal tunnel in my left hand.

Oreo's taste better than exercise. Anybody got a cure for that?

My Pa.-Pointment

My friends little girl used to say appointment like that. She also said pa-partment...cute.
I went for my three month check up yesterday. Since I was diagnosed with Diabetes I've been to the doctor more times than I probably have been all the years of my life before. Well, the blood test was A-MAZE-ING! Everything is within a normal range, my A1C levels are completely level and within normal range, my cholesterol has come down and my good cholesterol has gone up. I've lost weight and my hair is growing back. Could it get any better? Well, yes.

I went home immediately energized out of weeks of carb funk and inertia, slapped my body onto the Wii fit board and completed a yoga workout. Felt GOOD! Some stuff I did worse, some I actually got better at. Also, I've noticed a big change in my body shape, and realized it was largely a result of the yoga. Funny because when you're doing yoga you don't really think about it actually changing your body; it doesn't seem like a strenuous enough activity.

I'm here to say, YAY! Hope everyone else is doing well as none of us have posted in a while. Here's to February being almost OVER! I'm so ready for spring, its not even funny!

V-Day Surprise

Although no one came out of the woodwork and confessed their undying love me for, and I didn't get a single Valentine for the first year I can remember (normally, I at least get a Mom-card...), I did somehow lose two pounds this weekend. It's a Hallmark holiday miracle!

It's funny--I was kind of beating myself up because I drank some beer on Thursday night, and I had a cookie on Saturday, but I think that my choices really are finally morphing into a lifestyle instead of a diet or an exercise fad, and that makes me feel good.

Plus, I was feeling all sorry for myself on Friday night, and I had a good, old fashioned cry. It had been a long, long time since I'd done that, I realized; years, it had been, and I think maybe the metaphorical cleansing and purging manifested itself in actual weight loss. Maybe.

I don't know how the hell else I managed to lose any weight with four alcoholic drinks, most of a box of low carb fudge bars, and generous portions of cheese for the past four days.

I did manage to have an amazing Valentine's Day weekend as a single lady (hey, Beyonce, hey). I went out to the movies with Eli on Friday, I saw the world championship of bull riding on Saturday (my first rodeo!), and tonight, I saw an early performance from the legendary Wanda Jackson; she toured with, and dated, Elvis back before he was E l v i s, and she's the most recent inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. She's tiny and 70+ and she wore lots of bling and fringe, and she absolutely rocked. It was a great way to spend Valentine's Day, I won't lie.

I have to go scoop cat litter. G'nite.

Official Love Yourself Day

I know that all of us on this blog have been talking about giving ourselves a break, so I am declaring this day LOVE YOURSELF day. I have exited the carb load caboose YAY!

We had a Valentine's breakfast this morning. I decorated and we made eggs and banana muffins and whole wheat waffles and bacon and sausage. I did really well! One muffin, 1/6 of a waffle 1 sausage link, 1 bacon strip, and eggs. MMMM And I was surrounded by people I love and who love me. Couldn't get better...unless I woke up with some hunky guy hovering over me coming in for a kiss :) Then I woke up.

Carb Spiral

Hoo boy. Its been a doozy of a week. I have been inhaling carbs in the form of baked goods like they're going out of style. My philosophy, at this point, is just that. I need renewed motivation. Anybody?

Slack...How Fantastic!

So I managed to stick to the positive thoughts from last weeks yoga class of fakin' it til you make it. I lost a little over 3 pounds, which brings my total to 15 pounds since the first week in January. I got a goofy star sticker and everyone clapped for me at the meeting. I'll admit it was kinda cool, and really, who doesn't love a sticker?

It's amazing how Adrienne, the yoga instructor, always brings a lesson or thought to class that is so pertinent to my current experience.

All day yesterday, I was suffering from the "I just can't do it all, and therefore, I'm a loser" blues. Somehow I managed to get the idea in my head that I am supposed to keep the house clean, the marriage nurtured, the children happy and healthy, cook nutritious shit, the dogs looked after, some money coming in, stay on the diet, exercise three times a week, write a script, begin a book or two, blog, go to the 'isits' and take my meds so I can stay sane, and report it all on Facebook in some pithy and comical manner. Seriously.

I end up putting so much pressure on myself, I become practically immobile. I know I need to cut myself some slack, but I honestly don't know how. I really don't. I can say out loud that that is what I'm doing, but I'm lying every time. I need to read 'Cutting Yourself Some Slack for Dummies', or at least the cliff notes version.

Meanwhile, back on the yoga mat...Adrienne read her interpretation of what she gleaned from the book 'The Art of Possibility' by Benjamin Zander, the conductor for the Boston Philharmonic. According to Zander, we should celebrate our mistakes, and he encourages his orchestra to do the same. You fall behind the beat, "How Fantastic!" You play the wrong note, "Stupendous!" By celebrating your mistakes it gives you a world of options. By closing all the doors and windows to error you end up frozen in a place where there is no air, no creativity, no grace, no life. That, in a nutshell, is where my brain gets stuck when I try to cut myself some slack, or relieve some of the pressure, in that airless room. Sometimes I get locked so tightly in there I literally have to remind myself to breathe.

Adrienne encouraged us to celebrate the mistakes we made in class. Fall out of a posture - 'How Fantastic!' An opportunity to try again in a different way with a different mind set has just presented itself to you. After all, it took Edison 1000 tries to invent the light bulb. So he learned a thousand ways to not make a light bulb. Stupendous.

So this week, I will give it a go, but I gotta say I'm a little skeptical right out of the gate (How fantastic?). It would appear I'm even scared of celebrating my mistakes incorrectly. What the fuck brain?!?!

So here we go...adding another layer to the process. You don't have motivation to exercise? Get

It Girl! Burned the new recipe for brussel sprouts, Wah-hoo! I guess where we go from there is rife with possibilities.

I'll report back with my findings to this attempt. But if I don't, it's probably because I'm celebrating that mistake of a forgotten promise by chillin' with my new friend, Slack.

Speaking of Brussel Sprouts

I mentioned then at the end of my last blog, and it may have sounded like punishment I had in mind (what am I Yoda?), but I LOVE brussel sprouts. They just have to be prepared correctly. So, you want my recipe for delicious? You GOT it (won't say Toyota because...clearly they HAVEN'T got it anymore).
Yummy Brussel Sprouts

1 pile of brussel sprouts
2 tbsp butter (no substitutes)
splash of lemon juice

Take said pile of brussel sprouts and prepare them for cooking by cutting off the stem end and then cutting them in half. this will cause the outer leaves (some are tough, some are dirty...this is beginning to sound sexual) to fall away leaving the tender, fresh and turgid brussel that you want to eat (OK its getting worse!)
You can either steam then in a steamer pan, or just place them all cut side down in a saute pan large enough to allow them all to lay flat and add some water and a lid. Only add like a 1/4 to 1/2 cup of water. Turn on heat and steam till bright green. If you prefer your veggies tres al dente steam less, if you like them deed, more. Once they are looking almost done. Take the lid off and allow the water to steam off. Crack some fresh pepper over their little heads and sprinkle with a little salt too. Now's the time to throw the butter in. Allow it to melt and swish it around the pan being careful not to move the brussels. The key to amazing brussel sprouts is carmelization, so DON'T move them. Keep the heat med hi to hi and allow some nice browning to occur. After a few minutes (don't allow the pan to get TOO hot, if you see too much smoke, just turn it down) check a brussel sprouts bottom half; if it is sufficiently brown you're ready for the lemon juice. Now, sprinkle that lemon juice over the sprouts, just a few glugs, or if you want to use fresh (always better), one lemon's worth. Let that cook down (make sure its not so hot as to burn the sugars on the lemon juice), for like a minute and serve.

I personally eat a whole pan by myself. I kind of love that no one in my house likes brussels (except my brother) so I don't have to share. Seriously, its a scratch I just can't stop itching. See if you like them...go ahead, it won't kill you.

Exercise Deficit

It's really hard to get motivated to go outside and exercise when the weather is as crappy as it is. I haven't found any good indoor exercises, that are free, and that I will actually engage in on a regular basis. I just this second remembered Netflix has exercise videos, streaming, so I'll try that and report back.

I would totally pay the $2 to go the Pullen Center to go swimming but--how sad is this?--I can't spare the $2 right now. Lean times til payday on Friday. Being poor is kind of a good diet, in that I'm really craving some labneh, eggplant mousaka and cabbage salad from Neomonde, but what I get to eat for a snack is half a grapefruit. Mind you, I hate being too poor right this second to eat out, but moving was expensive, like it always is, even though it was a simple move, and I've been working extra this last week so my next paycheck will be purdy. Hauling boxes and unpacking was my exercise for the last few days. I need a massage.

Holding steady at 260.

The Hooch Thorn

Aside from my one evening with Ben & Jerry's, I've had a relatively easy time giving up sugar in the food. Alcohol is really proving to be a lot more difficult, which is surprising me because, hand over my heart, I'm not a big drinker. Or maybe what I'm realizing is that while I don't drink often, when I do drink, I drink. If I have one margarita, I will likely have three. Drinking is so much fun in social settings, and while I'm never the girl making as ass of herself by crying or throwing up on the street, I will catch a buzz.

Take last night, for instance. I got off of a long day's work of painting, and went straight to the only regularly scheduled family event I attend every month; my 12-year old brother's Boys Book Club. At the end of the night, the kids hadn't really talked about their book (Chris Farley movie on in the media room) and most of the women that stayed past 9 left with a swing in their steps. It took me a few times to catch onto the fact that these Book Club meetings were a way to get the boys engaged in reading, while giving the adults a chance to socialize (12 to 20 adults, depending). The adults are great, the kids are great, the food is always great, and there's always wine. Or margaritas. No one ever gets sloppy, but people have fun. But really, Suzy, a light breakfast/lunch/2 margaritas before dinner/margarita dessert/tequila night cap? That wasn't really necessary.

I feel it today, in not so much that I'm hungover, because I'm not, but in that I took in a lot of sugar and not enough water. Why is everything sugary the tastiest, most fun to eat, while being the worst and most addicting and damaging ingredient? Grrrrr. Seriously, where's my anti-sugar addiciton pill? Get it on, science.

Flowin' Free Ain't So Easy

Well, the day after my birthday, my boss "let me go" because of money issues in the company. What a birthday gift. I've been readjusting to the new schedule, trying to reshape how the day/week/life will go...again. I wonder if it will be my lot in life to adapt to constant change. Seems that way at this point. After a flurry of applying to schools to substitute teach, I have been catching up on housework, writing letters, and watching Modern Family, Cougar Town, and The Good Wife.
I am realizing that I had gotten used to squeezing in exercise between running from one job to another, and had pretty much absented myself from helping out in the kitchen. Before I had this job, I had the luxury of focusing totally on exercise and contemplation. Now, with the lack of schedule, I am having to relearn the discipline of moving every day in some significant way. Its so cold, I don't want to go outside, or get the wii fit out with everybody lounging in the living room.
Excuses.
I need a reboot.
Too much sugar.
Too many doughnut holes, blueberry crunch sugar cookies (my sister in law is a master and a demon at baking amazing things I don't even want to resist)

and now?
Chocolate lasagna.

Must....make....some brussel sprouts.

I Hear What You're Spittin'

Yesterday, I was feeling all sad-bastard because I haven't lived alone in five years, and I'm all period-y, and I was feeling kinda lonely, so I ate some sugar-food (as opposed to sugar-alcohol) for the first time in 32 calendar days. It was a heavenly single-serving tub of Ben and Jerry's Brownie Batter, a little four-bite deal. I loved every second of it, and you had better believe I licked every ounce of chocolate ice cream juice out of that little hand-held cardboard wonder, but then 30 minutes later, I didn't feel so good.

My stomach was upset until about noon today. I don't think this is a coincidence.

I threw up three times today, trying to eat my homemade chili, and it wasn't because I was nauseous, but because the ice cream had made me lose my appetite for a full 12 hours, I hadn't eaten breakfast, and the tighter-than-normal band wasn't having the super-chunky hearty chili.

It's weird about the throwing up...(sorry if this grosses you out) I have to chew my food so much before I swallow it that I generate more digestive spit than I need to swallow the small bite. This spit then gets in the way of the food passing, and usually I can take a sip of water and kind of clear it through. But--that's a gamble, because a solid 30% of the time, the water can't get through, either, and then I throw up; I don't lose much food at all, that's the crazy bit. Once it's down there, it's down there. I hear having a stomach bug can be particularly brutal, because the Lap-band kind of creates a Point of No Return; that's something they don't tell you pre-op.

The moral of this story: ice cream made me feel nasty after 5 minutes of ecstasy, and if I don't eat breakfast, it's hard to eat lunch. I had a delicious dinner of spicy fish soup at my favorite Vietnamese restaurant, I drank a lot of water all day long, I took a luscious hot shower, and ten minutes ago, I caught myself thinking, "I feel really great." I was standing only 18 inches away from Klondike's sugar-free ice cream bars, and they never even crossed my mind. I think that I am starting to hear my body when she talks to me, and this makes me realize that I have ignored her for a long, long time--water, vegetables, fish, banana...these things make me feel good. Too many roasted-garlic Triscuits, refined sugar, heavy whipping cream, chocolate brownie hunks...these things make me feel (a spasm of delight) a little sluggish and gross.

I know those are very elementary statements, but for me, it was an epiphany of sorts. For the first time, I am paying attention to nutrition instead of just weight loss, and one short month in, I can feel the benefits as well as see them.

Fake it 'til you make it.

I took a yoga class tonight, this is the second time I've taken this class, and I really should just make it a priority every Wednesday night. The instructor is awesome and always has a nice thought to stick in our brains before we begin. Think Jack Handy's Deep Thoughts - same amount of humor minus the oddity. Although tonight's thought began with a little oddness. Adrienne began by saying she, for a brief moment, actually considered botox. Not exactly what you expect to come tumbling out a yogi's mouth before an ohm.

She went on to say that you typically act the way you feel, but the converse is also true. You can act a certain way and eventually, with perseverance, it can become how you feel (this was from some PBS special she saw so I s'pose that gives it a measure of credibility). She continued by saying that people who've had botox tend to be happier as it is more difficult for them to frown post botulism shot. Thus, her fleeting thought.

Essentially, the idea is there is truth to faking it until you make it. At least according to the PBS eggheads - and I gotta say I'm willing to give credence to the creators of Antiques Roadshow, 'cause I dig junk from an old trunk.

That idea did get me thinking that this could be an important piece to the losing weight puzzle. As I was moving through some of the yoga positions I noticed there was a lot more of me in the way, impeding what I deemed as a successful pose. I tried thinking that I was the right shape and size for that pose and poof - I relaxed and was able at the very least to sink deeper into whatever pose I was trying to achieve.

So I say it's experiment time. Let's try for a week to say/think to ourselves that we are getting thinner/losing weight all the time. We are doing it...Right. This. Second. I wonder if we'll lose more weight, or at least have an easier time with some of the daily challenges.

I'm going to give it a try.

No...more....chicken...chili.

To celebrate moving into a new place with an excellent kitchen, I cooked. A lot. I was snowed in, aside from the ridiculous 4 mile hike in the snow, and the rest of my time was spent cooking, and watching 30 Rock on Netflix instant viewing (LOVE Tina Fey.) Today, I ate chicken chili for the 4th day in a row, and I'm only halfway through it. It's so delicious, and I never want to see it again.

I'm all poor, and tryin' to be health conscious, and really wanting to reduce my carbon footprint and whatnot, so I'm against trashing the leftovers...but man, do I ever want to eat a frozen pizza instead.

I had a glass and a half of white wine tonight, to bid a fond farewell to Emily and Ernie, and I'm kinda tipsy; they depart for Hawaii tomorrow morning, early, and they came to hug their dog (and maybe me, too) before they left town for the longest working vacation man has ever known. I'm actually (secretly) fairly bummed about this, and I find myself wanting to eat my feelings. That pimento cheese in my refrigerator isn't safe right now. Emily is my best friend in Raleigh, and I feel kinda twisty, like I have to go out there and make more new friends, when it took me long enough to find just the one really excellent new friend here in my hometown that I can just chill with, and have similar interests and temperments and shit. It gets harder to make new friends the older I get; I think I must be more discriminating or something. Regardless, I feel tired just thinking about the process of making more new friends. Maybe I'll just hole up in my temporary delight of a house and paint and write and craft.

So Emily and Ernie, in honor of your soon-to-be gaping absence in my life here in Raleigh, I'm going to go stuff my face...with grapefruit. Bon voyage, dearests! I'll hold down the crib for ya.

Lovin' me some Booker T.

This sits on my desk. It's been on every desk I've had since college. I think it's pretty apropos to our, well at least my goal(s).

Goes like this:

Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying to succeed. -Booker T. Washington

One more pound down this week despite all my pissing, moaning and cabin fever angst. That brings my total to 12lbs thus far.

Gonna keep rollin' with Booker T. til the wheels fall off.

Venting from the Bitch Box

I am in desperate need of some coping skills. Like on the double. Exercise seems to help a bit, but the snow has put a brief halt to that. I have gone for walks, and I do have some DVD's I could do, but man when my motivation takes a nose dive it plummets like a boulder off a cliff.

At the moment this blog is at the top of the list of things I can do to help me cope with stress and simultaneously keep me away from the pantry.

The current batch of 'what the fuck is this mess' surrounds my job.

I started working at a hair salon several weeks ago. The owner is a friend of mine - probably mistake number one on my part. I was hired to implement a new computer system (they've got an archaic paper and pencil system that's pretty labor intensive) and to help pick up the manager's slack. All fine and dandy until I realized the manager's slack was considerable, in fact I can't remember the last time I met an individual that was more disorganized. That didn't really bother me a ton, but I was starting to get pressure from the owner to get the computer system up and functional, which was getting tougher by the day since I was running my ass of doing things the manager had requested.

I told the owner that I was having trouble getting anything done on the computer and that I was getting conflicting messages from her and the manager about what my duties were. The owner cleared this up and merrily we rolled along.

Then I had a tough day dealing with my PPD/new meds etc, (which Rebecca, the owner, knew about before she hired me) and I took a 15 minute break to pull myself together, which I did. Later I got a text message from Rebecca saying that if the job was too tough for me it wouldn't hurt her feelings if I didn't want to work there anymore. I guess in today's economy it's not okay to have a bad day, probably mistake number two on my part. I apologized for my misstep and said I was definitely interested in continuing to work there.

Meanwhile, the manager, Esh, is filling my ear with information about Rebecca and how her personal bank account is the same as the business account and that she and her partner have basically bled the business dry with their out of control spending habits. What's more, Rebecca told Esh she wanted to cut back on the front desk, and that she could get plenty of people to do Esh's job for less money. Dunno what this had to do with me, so I just nodded and smiled and tried to mind my business. The next thing I know Rebecca hires a temp to implement the computer system, and conveniently doesn't tell me. And last night I get a text message saying one of the stylists who owes her money is going to work at the desk on Tuesdays and Thursdays (my regularly scheduled days) and I can just work on Saturdays for a while.

That will make me about 40 bucks a week, BEFORE taxes.

I had set up a few new things we could afford based upon the income I'd be getting from the salon. I joined weight watchers and the YWCA but namely the money was to go toward paying for Zeke's pre-school. A place where he has already made friends and it is a very real possibility we may have to pull him out of there if I can't find some other part-time position, fast.

Ben is, of course, taking it all in stride. I, however, want to smack the shit out of Rebecca, tell her to shove her forty bucks up her ass and eat an entire carrot cake in one sitting. I mean who runs a business via text message? Am I just out of the loop since I haven't been a part of the work force in over three years, or is this really how things are done these days? Whatever happened to good old conversation? Or how about a fucking phone call?

Perhaps I am getting worked up over nothing, I don't know. It's just one of those situations where you know you're probably better off having it go the way it's going but it's still seriously annoying. That and I really get my back up when I feel like someone is potentially threatening my kids happiness.

So there. Time to put the bitch box away, I got it out of my system and I didn't have to chew my way through it. I know this isn't really weight loss or food related, but it does make me feel better to know that when I don't feel like chatting with a psychiatrist or psychologist or any other kind of ist, and all my friends are busy, there is a place where I can vent without detriment to myself. I can see that eating my way through every stress, be it large or small was getting me nowhere fast, except for maybe a one way ticket to diabetesville.

Thus bringeth me to yet another small victory.

Snowshoe and Poo

I had the best snow day ever today. Started the morning off with 3 cups of coffee...I don't know what posessed me. I played in the backyard with the dogs for a while (hi-larious, by the way) and contemplated doing more unpacking, since I didn't have anywhere to be. The caffeine got the better of me, however, and at 2:30, I decided to go on an adventure. My proximity-closest friends live 2.5 miles away from me, and between here and there, not one stretch of flat ground exists. I'd never noticed that until I hiked it all in the crunchy, icy snow. It took me one hour, fifteen minutes to go that distance, and twice, I had to straight up sit down in the snow for a two-minute breather. None of you have ever seen the road I live off of, but it's just one, long stretch of brutal, dramatic ups and downs. Reminds me of Asheville, a bit. I hit a point in the walk, maybe 15 minutes before I got to my destination, where I thought to myself, "you've made a wrong decision here, because you still have to get home." My hips, knees and ankles will be telling me all about it tomorrow morning, but I did it, 260 lbs. be damned. I feel victorious tonight, as I sit in my new digs, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket and listening to two dogs snore, that I walked to Mordecai from Enloe (and only 1/4 of the way back, thanks to the CAT buses running their newly discovered, regularly scheduled route in adverse weather conditions. And I didn't hate it, not for a single second; I actually enjoyed myself, moving along to some Scissor Sisters in the snow. I feel great now, and so, so tired in that good way where you know you just got a workout, and I couldn't be happier that it's snowy and I don't have to feel any shame for laying on the couch on a Saturday night and watching Netflix (bless Netflix' little hort).

Topic 2: After 31 years of making movements like a champ, all of a sudden, I'm irregular. I'm sure it's the change in diet, because I'm not terribly stressed, but I have to say, it sucks. Now I know why Lifetime and TLC run all those Activia ads...because not pooing is really uncomfortable. Frankly, I don't understand it...I drink so much water its almost ridiculous. Any prune eaters out there? Metamucil takers? Activia fans? Do they work in a way that doesn't make you think you're going to shit your pants while you're at work?

PS-I just watched SciFi channels modernized adaptation of the Wizard of Oz, called Tin Man, starring Zooey Deschanel and Alan Cummings. I think I recommend it, although the Wicked Withc character is a fairly poor actress, and the flying monkeys look as fake as Goldie Hawn's lips. I mean, there's a dark, sci-fi tilt to it, so maybe not to everyone's taste, but I'd say it's a decent, interesting adaptation. Now, I'm 'bout to stage my very own Law and Order: SVU marathon. Stay warm, everyone, and enjoy the last scraps of weekend.

Post, post-script-I just ran my sparkpeople numbers for today and I burned 1700 calories. yes!!

Big Snow, Bigger Meltdown

It's snowing like gangbusters, and I know we won't be going anywhere for at least the rest of the weekend, unless we get some freaky ass midnight heat wave. Add to that, the fact that I have been cooped up in this house for the last three days with a croupy three-year old on steroids, and a sick infant.

Then there are the groceries. Ben went to the store because we honestly needed some things for the baby, and the Chicken Little fever may have gotten to him a bit.

Okay, so I asked for the popcorn and the hot cocoa -but it is snowing and we do have a a little man to consider here. You can't play in the snow without having hot cocoa afterwards right? I mean that's just cruel, inhumane and probably illegal in most states. And popcorn is like 1 point for a shit ton, so I figure I'm good.

What I didn't bargain for was the deluxe mixed nuts and beer and red wine. And the pudding and chocolate frosted pop tarts and chocolate covered sweet and salty granola bars. Not a ton of my go to foods, but I have been stuck in this house since Tuesday night and everything that's not a part of the plan is starting to look pret-ty good right about now.

I feel a meltdown coming on. My willpower is wavering and I've already made a decent sized hole in the mixed nuts. I have logged all my points like the dutiful joiner that I am, and I have 18 leeway points left to last me the weekend. I hope I make it...but I gotta say it doesn't look good.

I am seriously afraid that I'll roll up to my Weight Watchers meeting on Monday and discover I have gained all 11 pounds back in one weekend...that's not possible is it?

The Ups and the Downers

My running partner, Kelly, and I decided to take the night off from running last night. We usually go Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. We attempted a run on Tuesday, but after the big race on Saturday and discovering that both of us had worn out our first pair of running shoes, we ended up walking, ok hobbling, through the run.

This was really not that big a deal to either of us, so we were pretty dang sore, so what. We were actually kind of proud, in a rite of passage sort of way, about our first pair of worn out running shoes. It was like a nod from the running Gods that we had some serious stick-to-itiveness. Now, if only the Powers That Be would pony up the cash for the new Zips by Z. But whatever, while walking the rest of the run we both vowed to

a. get some new shoes at a specialty running store without an ounce of shame, and

b. set a new goal

Again, a nice feather in my cap that while I was struggling to finish a piddly three mile walk, we were making plans to try a 15k in May.

And then we bumped into one of the coaches of our running group. His name is Dick. We told Dick about our idea to shoot for the 15k in May, and Dick was a big ole downer. He told us we were biting off more than we could chew and that we needed to get our speed up and try some more 5k's before tackling the 15k. He went on to say once we got some more weight off and got faster then maybe we could try another 10k later in the year. Then Dick took off running down the street and left us hobbling in his skinny ass, old geezer Dick dust. After, dissing Dick, his skinny chicken legs and crappy coaching attitude, Kelly decided that if we were living in a Seinfeld episode, Dick would be our Newman. Hello, DICK.

That definitely helped to assuage any leftover downer dips from Dick. Kelly thought we should contact our beginning runner's program coach Tom, (all we need now is a Harry to complete the set) and ask him if our goal was too lofty, because we don't want to hurt ourselves but we realized that we are more likely to stick with it if we have a goal, AND if we could go from running a 5k in November to a 10k in January SURELY a 15k in May wouldn't be that big of a stretch - right? Tom agreed. He thought we could totally go for it but that we needed to start working on more hills - which if we want to keep running in Asheville we'd better get our hill on anyway. He also pointed out that EVERYONE wants to get faster. I suppose that'll be true for me at some point. At this juncture, however, I'm just a big fan of crossing the finish line before they take it down. So far so good. Furthermore, we went from running a 15 minute mile in November's race to running a 13 minute mile in January. So me thinks if we keep at it we'll get there regardless. And there we have it, new goal in place.

Now I told you all of that so I could tell you all of this...

Last night I opted to go to the YW instead of running because I think it's good to shake it up a bit and I figured a different kind of cardio and maybe some light weight training would only help. I picked a boot camp class. I have many of the Billy Blanks Boot Camp DVD's, and I like them because they are effective, Billy is always encouraging, he gives you high or low impact options, and he blesses you, the viewer, at the end of each workout. Color me cheesy, but sometimes looking forward to the "Billy Bless You" at the end helps get me through it.

ANYWAY. I walk in to the class and this young bebopping 20 something of an instructor starts us off with side to side jumping squats - RIGHT AWAY. This is how she opens the class, and tells us we have to keep it up for two minutes without stopping. Mind you this class, as are most of the classes, is designated for ALL fitness levels. So I'm thinking, "Surely she'll offer a low impact option" because for the first time in a while, I am not the biggest gal in the room and I sure as shit ain't the youngest. Nope. Little Miss Jumping Bean proceeded throughout the hour of torture without offering one iota of encouragement or option to her over the top exercises. At one point she started jumping from side to side OVER a block on the floor - two feet to two feet - something NOBODY in the class could do from the get go much less for two minutes straight.

I have enough knowledge in my noggin from my days as a former Pilates instructor, dancer and student of Anatomy to know this is a recipe for disaster and potential serious injury. So I checked my disgust and ego and started doing low impact versions of what Ping Pong Girl had to offer, there were even a couple of the ladies that followed my lead after that, which made me feel not only welcome but that I was potentially helping to save their knees as well as my own.

Then another wave of disgust hit me, I caught my exercising reflection in the mirror. Whoa. The first uncontrolled thought that leaped into my head was, "Wow, where'd I go?" Because the last time I took a good hard look in the mirror to make sure I was doing things correctly for my body was about 10 -12 plus years ago, when I was still dancing hard core and scrutinizing every last cell of every move I made in class. It occurred to me later that evening that I don't miss those days, and this is probably why the only full length mirror in my house is conveniently tucked behind a door that hides said mirror 99% of the time. Perhaps it isn't all together healthy to avoid looking at all of myself, but I swear when I do it pokes a big hole in my motivation. So for now, the full length mirror will stay in exile.

It was also at this point that I realized I really like running. I like it a lot. There are no mirrors. I have a buddy that goes as fast as I do and the stuff we talk about runs the gamut from silly to serious, and sometimes we just run and enjoy listening to the pace and rhythm our feet make together as we pound the pavement. Then there's the whole fresh air element, and the endorphins don't suck either. It's really the gift that keeps on giving. I can drive the 6.2 miles I ran last weekend and think to myself "Damn girl, you ran this summumabiznitch, and that shit is awesome!"

Going to class like Be-bopping Boot Camp in a room that smells like Lady feet and stale sweat while bouncing up and down to some obscure Grateful Dead wannabes just can't compare.

Liberties with Cheese

I'm taking a break from unpacking, in what feels like a more comfortable version of my last two and a half years of packing, unpacking, packing, unpacking. At least I have six months to camp out in this darling, thoughtful house with the giant backyard. I live alone again, for the first time in five years. It's quiet and nice, and there was no one to judge me when I celebrated the move-in with a half a bag of Hint O Lime Tostitos and that plastic, mucky, delicious queso in a jar. I had a craving I couldn't stop, and I figured since I had resisted the ice cream cone lurking inside of McDonalds, 30 feet away from my office door, for the last three days, that I deserved a chip with queso. Mmmmmm so good.

The celery and sushi at lunch today reminded me that fresh really does taste better, no matter what I might think in the moment. I'm craving the bananas instead of the Reese's, and the radishes instead of the Cool Ranch Doritos. We'll call that progress.

And I sure am getting a work out with the moving. Phew. My back hurts.

In brief...

Must be brief today as my 3 year old has a nasty case of the croup and I am desperately trying not to eat my way through the stress of my little guy feeling like poo and my inability to really do anything about it except monitor his temp, give the prescribed meds, hug him a lot and wait. The waiting just sucks.

I am also realizing exactly how often I used to just eat my way through all kinds of stressful situations...as a matter of fact I can't actually think of a situation where I WASN'T prompted to eat.

Crappy day = piece of cheesecake or two

Good day = more cookies than I can admit to

Sick kid = peanut butter crackers ad nauseum

You get the picture.

I am finally starting to get used to all the pangs though - which ones are ACTUAL hunger and which are stress responses - don't get me wrong on the super rough days I still covet every last little bite I can scrape out of my Smart Ones chocolate chip cookie dough sundae - but at least now I have a better grasp on what really constitutes ONE SERVING. Which was honestly a bit of a shocker.

I consider myself a pretty smart gal, but I was straight up kidding myself that I was eating normal sized portions.

So I am learning that lesson, one meal at a time.

Current stats are:

11 pounds lost, which was my first goal - 5% of my body weight. Woot Woot.

Minor Set Backs

So I got D-RUNK on Friday night, and believe it or not, I am feeling guilty about all that sugar that I drank. Well, that, and the fact that I spent $60 on punishing mine and my friend's livers. God, it was fun. I was holding steady, my drink one to everyone else's drink three, and then all of a sudden, someone said champagne, and the next thing I know, it's 3:30 in the morning, and I'm hiking through a public park in downtown Asheville with four other people, singing songs from the Little Mermaid. Champagne has always been my favorite. It's like bacon to my wanna-be vegetarianism. The proverbial thorn in my side. And man, it's hard to turn down when there's an attractive woman holding a flute and batting her eyes at me. (sigh) Especially when it's her birthday, I haven't seen her in four years, and she's been jogging six days a week since I saw her last. If I was a man, someone would have already accused me of thinking with my dick.

But that was Friday, and now it's almost Tuesday, and I haven't had sugar since Saturday night, when I drank a mojito with my friends at dinner. I'm kind of hooked on this no sugar thing. It makes me feel great, my mood is noticeably more chipper, I have more energy when I'm supposed to, and I'm more tired at night when I lay down in bed. This is good for me. I'm enjoying it.

There is a strange sense of newfound power, when I walk through the grocery store, obsessively reading labels, and discarding 99% of all that I touch. The American diet really is based around refined sugar. It's no wonder we all went and got fat. I'm not a slave to the junk food anymore, no sir, no how. I walk past the shiny cookie bags, and the demure ice cream tubs and I think to myself, I don't need you. Kind of like that lady in that weird Weight Watchers commercial when she tells off the teddy bear cake. It feels good that my palms don't sweat, and I don't have to struggle with the guilt of knowing I'm going to buy something and eat it all to get rid of the evidence. I just walk by, smiling, en route to the produce section. Step off, sugar...you ain't the boss of me. Not anymore.

Wii fit...I love you!

I started out the morning by going for an epic walk, listening to my podcasts, and admiring the day. When I got home, I jumped on the wii fit for a power yoga session. Not to brag or anything, but I have unlocked ALL the poses (yes I have the old wii fit that requires unlocking the poses). I was so thrilled to see that last pose...I mean its unlocked, so I should be able to do it right? That's what that means. The balance board told me that I could do it; it follows then. I am doing that pose. Ok which one am I talking about? Its the one that starts out easily enough with lifting your legs into the dead bird position. Then you are supposed to drop your feet ever so gently over top of your head and then jack knife your legs skyward. I mean...not that hard, right?

Then I tried it.

So, I have something to work for, that's the positive.

To recap:
hours walked: 1
minutes doing wii fit yoga: 50
lbs lost since the last time I weighed myself: 5...FIVE PEOPLE!!!!
I am now 257 lbs! That is 110 lbs below my highest weight ever!
Just saying.

Slow and Steady

Dang it...I did it. I ran a 10k today. And me and my running buddy finished before they took the finish line down. So there. Take that big butt, saggy gut and all the parts in between.

Next stop, 15k in May.

All hail endorphins!

Zen and the Art of Losing Weight

I have been taking the Zen approach, and haven't weighed myself in days. Yuck, but too much other fun stuff is going on to worry about my weight right now. Plus my upper arms have significantly shrunk. I used to see a 3 to 1 ratio from upper to lower arms. Now its like 1 1/2 to 1 YES! Plus, I am fitting into one size smaller jeans, and feeling sexy. Now if only I had a make-out buddy. Really, no strings attached, just using each others bodies :)

I can't wait for this season/month to be over. All of the major family birthdays are almost over, and I can settle down to no cake/sweets for a long stretch. It is hard to resist when the shit is in the house. Although I have noticed that it isn't as hard to resist as it was at christmas time. Now, I'll have one piece and not need to have a second the next day and the next until its gone.

Meanwhile, my birthday is coming up and I am planning on eating an entire sugar-free angel food cake by myself, (unless of course that make-out buddy shows up, then my mouth will be busy with other things). Is that wrong? I don't care.

FIIIIIIIIIIIINALLY!

i've finally started to see some progress. i've def toned down the drinking (think 4-7 drinks a week of beer or wine instead of many more) and no outright sugar treats (and severly limiting things with sugar like granola bars, etc). i've bulked up on veggies and fruits and water.

on the exercise tip, I GOT A TREADMILL that since friday night has been staring me in the face and defying me to not get on it. so, i got on it. saturday morning, monday night, and yesterday i did 2 running/walking sessions yesterday, each of 45 minutes. hell yeah. still need to work in more kathy smith to keep me sane and some yoga to stretch my muscles for that long and lean look.

so, i have one of those old skool dial scales so i can't really tell how much i've lost but it's LOOKS like its in the range of 2-3 lbs. in the last 3 weeks. which is a bit less thank i had hoped but hey, it's progress.

For Rizzle?

Today, I ate 922 calories. This is wild, because I am STILL full from dinner. I have to figure out how to squeeze in a few more calories and carbs, according to sparkpeople.com. I seem to have the fat and protein figured out just fine (meeting my goals, rarely exceeding them), but I can't ever seem to get the caloric intake or the carbs quite right. I either go over or under, hardly ever 'meeting my goals' that I've set up at the website. Not eating sugar, and mostly eating veggies, it's been a bit tricksy to get the right balance.

Proper nutrition ain't easy, babies. This is what I have learned. It really does take careful attention, plenty of planning, and almost zero eating out to keep nutrition on lock down. It's certainly not as exciting as throwing caution to the win and going out for lunch.

I suppose this low-cal week means that I can relax justtttt a little when I visit the mountains this weekend. I feel sure that I will likely have a wine or four, and probably some greasy eggs and grits to sop all that up the next day. C'est la vie.

PS-I am so excited for my psuedo-blind psuedo-date. I'm feelin' sassy and confident! And she drives a scooter, has good hair and makes me laugh. Ohhhhhh yeahhhhhhh.

Ruminations

Reading Betsy's post got me to thinking about something I reflect on from time to time, and still, obviously, haven't entirely come to grips with. That is, once I lose the rest of this weight, then people will judge me just for me, and that makes me feel naked.

It's such a convenient excuse to be comfortable inside failure. This is not to say that I am unaware of the lovely accomplishments I've achieved in my life. I have quite a rich existence, which I cherish every single day. However, I am not the person I want to be, and I am not doing what I feel like I was born to do, because those things are challenging and daunting; grande, even. It's awfully easy to say, oh, well, I haven't made that movie yet because people don't take me seriously because I'm fat. I'm single when I wish I was in a committed relationship; oh, it's because I'm fat. I've never made 30K in a single year; clearly that's because other people are prejudiced against me and my fat shell.

While there may be some truth inside these statements, mostly it's just me, sabotaging myself, because when I stop using my weight as an excuse for what I don't like in my life, it's just me and my talent and my intelligence and my capabilities and my motivation and my charisma on the table. It's awfully easy to relinquish my control and say it's the fat that's keeping me down, when really, all I'm saying is that it's me stopping me. If I can recognize this so clearly, why oh why can't I put that shit to rest, for good?

261. Only two pounds away from my lowest weight, post-op.

Reporting for Duty

Hello again fellow gut busters...

Been missing you all, I have. For the record I do post mental blogs every day in my head as I'm prattling about trying to keep my head above the self imposed stress.

Here's the latest: I'm swimming in a sea of panic and self doubt.

I have lost a total of 6.2 pounds in my first two weeks participating in Whale Watchers. And I'm diving in whole hog,figured it couldn't hurt so I got the monthly pass, am tracking every last calorie on line, and am going to the weekly meetings - in just two weeks and three short meetings I already feel compassion and camaraderie to/with my fellow fat sistahs and flaming queens that whale watch right along with me. I've have dropped out of the 220's and now reside at 219.2. And that's good right?

But, oddly,I still feel like a shaky mess ALL of the time. I'm a little paralyzed by the thought that I will either get exactly what I want or I will stick my neck out, try, and then pull up stakes and head for the hills because I can't take it anymore and I discover that I really am a giant pile of shit. This is what's been floating around in my head for the last week or so. Not exactly the reaction I expected from heading in the direction I've envisioned for myself for so long.

What I want to do this year is:

-find a nice part-time job working for someone who is not crazy: check

-get Zeke into a healthy school environment two days a week: check

-find a supportive group to help me on the journey of saying goodbye and good riddance to all the extra weight I've been hauling around for the last ten years: check

-write more and find some good outlets for my creative interests: check and double check.

So what the hell is my problem? If you were to hug me too tight these days, I might just crumble into a puddle of tears. Nope, not menstral pre or post even. And the dog situation may have a resolution. (we are going to try and come up with a cat/dog rotating outdoor schedule) So the big stresses of late are abating. Things are actually WORKING OUT. How utterly disasterous! (I wish they'd invent a font that denoted sarcasm - don't you?)

I'm still, after all these years, waiting for the other shoe to drop...what am I going to do if it never does? I'm wondering what I can do to make this uneasy pit in my stomach GO AWAY. Or is this just a phase you go through before you get used to realizing personal goals? And it's not like I haven't ever realized personal goals - I have a fanfuckingtastic husband and a seriously awesome family that I played a large role (no pun intended) in creating.

But this piece, the losing the weight and finally being conscious of the fact that when I get to where I want to be I won't be fat, and what's more,I never was when I was there in the first place - despite what my family told me.

And there it is. The ah-ha moment.

(I swear every time I contribute to this blog, I not only feel like I must look like a mess of a walking open wound - but I also end up having MAJOR epiphanies and therefore, crying - like now.)

I am actively bucking nearly forty years of a familial opinion of myself that I just adopted readily because I didn't know any different, and the people responsible for guiding me to a positive self image did a pretty crappy job, and it is time to let it all go. Right. With. The. Weight.

Guess that would make anybody a little uneasy. There is comfort in the uncomfortable because it is a known quantity. Easy to say, tough to live - at least for me at the moment, but I'm holding out hope.

Hope that this will pass. Hope that the old adopted opinions of myself won't win, again. Hope that we will ALL get there a little more each day. Hope that one day we can all break bread around my kitchen table while slurping some of my homemade lentil soup - just finished up a fresh batch from the Moosewood cookbook with a few of my own tweaks added in, and damn that shit is good.

Bueller? Buuuuuuuuuueller?

So my stepmother was telling me how she saw an Oprah or something the other day that basically stated that science has proven the only reliable method for long-term weight loss and maintenance is the support group set-up. Now, I'm not sure if it's my renewed resolve, or if this blog is really doing what I hoped, but I've lost eight pounds since starting here.

It's getting kinda lonely 'round here, folks.

I know that not everyone will post as often as I will (because I'm a blog whore) but if this is gonna work, we've got to be in it to win it. I know all of youse are on the internet every day, and that you have a couple minutes to spare to check in here, maybe post, maybe leave a comment or two...I have faith that this can--and is working, so this the official friendly reminder that none of us can do it alone.

Let me tell you why you're doing awesome. Just tell me.

xoxo

First Goal Accomplished!

I'm back down to my pre-holiday weight. This was my goal for the entire month of January, and it didn't even take two weeks! Yahoo! No sugar is apparently the way to roll for me, much as it pains me. I've lost seven pounds in 10 days. You can't beat that with a stick. And I assure you I am doing healthily, eating full meals, and exercising regularly. My faith in myself and my ability to overcome this hurdle has officially been restored. Skinny jeans and tube tops, here I come! Heh.

Side note: my band mates and I decided on a name tonight. [THE DARLINGZ]. All caps, always in brackets, because two of us are transcriptionists and we wanted to include a nod to all the dutiful scribes out there. We have our first practice on Saturday, and we have set the goal of performing a three-song set at an open mic night in one month. Another distraction from eating is always a good thing. Bless thee, concertina accordion. Any good suggestions for songs we should cover? So far, we've decided on Life Is A Highway, Heartbreaker, Thriller, Somebody, Rebel Girl and a not yet decided Paul Simon tune. We're aiming for nine covers in our repetoire by the time it's warm again. I know y'all got some good ideas.

Skinny Cow

Okay, so I've found my new sugar-free addiction. Skinny Cow sugar-free ice cream sandwiches are the most delicious, low-cal, no sugar treats I've ever tasted. Maybe it's just because I haven't had sweet treats in nine days now, but I'm sold. I'm a fan. I can't recommend them highly enough. Sure, there's probably some chemicals in there that, in a perfect world, I would want to avoid entirely. But right now, I'm more concerned with not breaking my Sugar Ban.

In regards to alcohol, I think I have decided that once a week, I am allowed one glass of wine. That seems fair. That seems moderate...enough. Because I'm not gonna lie; I like getting tipsy. I don't find that fact problematic; I simply choose to believe that I'm a moderate hedonist. Healthy, balanced living can't always feel like deprivation.

Good Practice

Whether or not you believe in psychics, here's a lil anecdote from my visit with the most bona fide seer I've ever met. (She called people by their names, we'd never met before, she didn't know anything about me, and she just knew things)

We talked about my (lack of) career, my dreams, my aspirations, my struggles, and finally, about my weight and my self-esteem/body issues. She gave me a really helpful pointer that I have been employing for about eight months now, and I have found it to be immensely helpful.

Every time the Negative Nancy in my brain wants to tell me how a shirt looks like shit because my boobs are so big, or that my face is looking fat because I'm retaining water, or my hair is just plain busted, or that my upper arms resemble sides of ham, I stop the self-hating, and I repeat in my mind, over and over again, I'm beautiful. I'm beautiful. I'm beautiful.

I didn't immediately see any results; the mean voice in my brain still had plenty to say about everything. But eventually, over time (and I just realized this today), the voice got much quieter, and much less critical. I look in the mirror now, and I don't always like what I see, but instead of thinking, sweet Jeebus, why can't I have a waistline? I think, wow, my lips are perfect. The negative commentary has slowly but surely turned into a positive commentary, focused not so much on all the things I'd like to change, but the pieces and parts that I find beautiful and lovely about myself.

Try it for a week; it's nice to reaffirm yourself when you really want to beat yourself down. The more that positive thinking is employed consciously, the sooner the unconscious hops on that band wagon, too. And the sooner we love ourselves unconsciously, the sooner that good decision making becomes a part of healthy lives, and not just a quest for a quick fix.

Big love.

I Cracked

I totally had two glasses of white wine tonight, fireside, with my friend Emily who is preparing to move to Hawaii and leave me in charge of her darling home, her two funny little kitties, and her GIANT St. Bernard.

I did, however, pass over the ice cream and homemade apple pie earlier in the day.

I'm trying not to feel too guilty about the wine, but part of me feels like I caved too soon. The other part of me says, you're a friggin adult. So have a glass of wine every now and then...just not every day.

Hmph. Tomorrow is another day.

6 Days Down, All of Them to Go

Day six, sugar free. I almost caved today, 17 times, but I didn't, and I feel pretty proud of myself.

I went over to my parent's house to walk the dogs and hang out with my kid brother--it is fair to say that he is obsessed with me, which is totally endearing, and inspiring, because I fully feel like it's my responsibility to live a long, healthy life so I can be there for him when our parents are gone (...morbid...). That's a heckuva good motivator to lose this weight, though.

So I get over there, and in a moment of rare pre-teen kindness, he went in the kitchen to get himself a snack, and brought me one, as well, without me even asking. He delivered to me a giant pretzel, coated in white chocolate, with a swirly red and green icing pattern. Chocolate-covered pretzels are literally only my favorite snack in existence, a perfect marriage of sweet and savory. The synapses in my brain were firing so hard in the presence of chocolate that I put my hand out for it for a split second before I pulled my hand back like that pretzel was red-hot, and could only shake my head 'no'; I literally couldn't make the words, 'no thanks' come out of my mouth at that moment. He actually looked surprised. I certainly was. All I know is that if I had held it, I would have eaten it. And then licked the remaining sugar crumbs off of my sweaty palm. Sugar addiction is some serious shit, y'all.

Later, when I had to run out to get some packing tape (another exciting Saturday night for me!), the Xmas candy on sale at Walgreens was literally singing to me. I had to just avert my eyes and make fists in my jacket pockets. Again, if I had so much as touched the shiny, red packaging, I would have purchased it, and sat in my car in the parking lot, scarfing down those bizarre red Peeps, hardly breathing as I did so. I walked out of Walgreens with only my intended purchase, and so feeling victorious, I thought I should reward myself with a sugar-free treat.

I headed down the street to Lowes Foods, where I remembered there were diabetic cookies hiding amongst the Pecan Sandies and the E.L. Fudge Factory offerings. The peanut butter cremes sounded good to me, until I read the ingredients and saw the bold print at the bottom of the list that said: Excess consumption may have a laxative effect. Not only do I not like the notion of getting the shits from eating some cookies, I realized then that, even in light of that warning in bold, I would likely take that box of peanut butter cremes home, and engage in excess consumption. It was a harsh realization to have in the grocery store, at 10:30 on a Saturday night, that I can't trust myself to eat a single serving.

I don't know why I can't just eat a single serving of cookies. It's truly a mystery to me. And so I have to avoid them, entirely. Probably forever.

I put the cookies back on the shelf, and I left, instead, with a sleeve of Skinny Cow sugar-free ice cream sandwiches. The packaging is clear, and I figured that, if nothing else, knowing that my mom would see that I had eaten three instead of one (in a sitting) would be a good deterrent. It was. I ate one, she ate one, they were surprisingly good, and I won't even look at them until three days from now, when I simply have to taste something sweet or rip my fingernails out. Ice cream never has been the monkey on my back.

Stress in the City

So I did it - I joined Weight Watchers. Which oddly has the same initials as Whale Watchers. Coincidence? I think not.

I joined with a work buddy which is good - so I have some live, in person accountability for diet, exercise and Ben (my hubster) is almost as good at counting points (the ww system of tallying food daily) as the online tracker. My weight loss will probably be slower but I'm hoping it'll be steady and because there are weekly meetings and weekly weigh-ins I will be able to post those here.

This week I weighed in at 225. Which is grand for two reasons: 1. I didn't gain any weight over the holidays and b. I lost a pound from Saturday to Monday. Hoo-Yah Massuh Chief.

And then came the stress by the truckloads...

I am enrolling my older son in 3 yr old pre-school. A good stress, but a stress nonetheless as he has a compromised immune system and this will be our first real foray into the big wide world o' germs and funk.

Normally, that would have been AT LEAST a half a bag of dark chocolate raisinettes worth of celebration/eating my feelings, which are the size and shape of a small hillock of worry. But I didn't.

Then there was the motherload of all shit storms...

My neighbor's cat got into my backyard and my dog killed it. And then my neighbor threatened to kill my dog. Literally. He's a hunter and owns guns.

Here's where the story gets more complicated: This summer, due to all the rain, the hill our fenced in backyard is built on began to erode and the dogs kept getting out despite all of our efforts to the contrary(these included lots of additional chain link and rebar - my dogs are crafty). Unfortunately, they did get out and Winnie killed the same neighbors 21 yr old dying cat. The fact that the cat was slowly dying isn't to excuse what happened but merely a fact of the situation. Ben had to get between my neighbor and my dog to keep him from killing her right then and there.

My dog is a cat killer. I have known this for a while. This is why she has a backyard that is surrounded by a six foot chain link fence and she's never allowed out of the yard without being on a leash and I have forewarned all my neighbors with cats not to let them come near our yard. I honestly felt I had done everything I could, but now the situation has escalated to the morosely ridiculous. And I think it is time I find her a new home, which is truly breaking my heart. And all I want to do is eat and cry, but since I'm trying really hard to learn how to NOT eat my feelings I am making up for it in the crying department like gangbusters.

I just don't trust my neighbors ability to control his anger. He has two more cats. And what if he lets them out in this weather and they go looking for warmth like I suspect the last one did? (we have a shed in our back yard and it is very easy to crawl under if your cat sized) What if it happens when I'm not home and I have to explain to my three year old why our dog has been shot in our own backyard? That I won't do.

So it seems the only answer is to find a new home for my first baby. My dear friend of almost 12 years, the one who never left my side when I was so sick I barely knew my own middle name. I have no idea what to do with all the guilt, sadness and stress I am experiencing. Normally, I'd just stuff it away with a mountain of sugar and salt - I ain't too picky when it comes to stress eating, and I just don't have any other coping skills other than crying until my eyelids look like ball park franks.

It would appear my resolve is being tested. Heavily. All I want to do is tell the powers that be to fuck off, win the lottery and move my family to the country, and eat in quiet peace. The only reality I have, however, involves a lot of swearing and kleenex.

OK Wii fit, I heart you.

Even though it tells me I am obese and says "oh!" every time I step on to be weighed, Wii fit is my new friend. Even though I wrenched my back while playing, Wii fit is my friend. Why you ask? Because, that's why. I am now officially down to pre-holiday weight. It was looking a little bleak there for a while, not gonna lie. The siren call of the sugar cookie and the sad event of snowstorms for over a week (so no outside walking) was taking its toll. Two days on the Wii fit, and eating well again and Voi-oh-lay! I'm back in business. Thank the dear sweet baby Jebus for that.
Today:
Breakfast: 3/4 cup Kashi Go Lean, 1 Activia light Raspberry yogurt with probiotics
Snack: 2 carrots, 1 small apple
Lunch: 6 inch roast beef sub
Snack protein bar
Dinner: Cheeseburger sub
Snack: 1/2 cup cereal, 6 pretzels, 2 sugarfree dove chocolates.

Bmi; 42
weight:263

Who knew?

The celery I ate today had more calories than the popcorn I ate! Bizarro. I'm officially sold on sparkpeople.com...I learn something new about nutrition every time I log in! I'm somewhat enthusiastic about this free service...in case you couldn't tell.

So I hit all my calorie/fat/carb/protein goals today, for the first time since I joined sparkpeople. That makes me feel good, because I wasn't hungry not the once, and now I have a good idea of a rough diet to follow to meet my goals. Granted, I'm sick and don't have much of an appetite today, but still.

Day three of no sugar is nearly complete, and I only had a few moments of extreme desire for caramel/cheddar popcorn. I lost a half-pound yesterday. This no sugar shit works...for rizzle. To add to my sick/no-sugar fun, I got my period early today, so I am excited to step on the scales in five or six days, when the water bloat is gone, to check my progress.

My sinuses seem to be full of cement, and I think I swallowed some razor wire in my sleep last night. Big fun, big fun.

Be well, lovely people!