New Month, New Start

Ok so the diet went south this weekend. Not so much Saturday, but Sunday I pretty much threw in the towel and called it a free day. You can tell from my food journal that it was headed in that direction. I can’t possibly expect to lose weight eating 1500 calories per day. I’m not in maintenance anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking. Part of me, I suppose, if an excuse is in order, was curious exactly how much I can get away with eating. Part of me wanted to wallow in TOM and the fact that even today, on day 5 I still have cramps that Aleve is not alleviating. I wanted to be lazy on the couch. I wanted to feel upset that I have fibroids and therefore have painful periods. As if now knowing after all these years of painful periods this is why and now I can revel in it (bad excuse, bad, bad). Part of me just wanted to eat and see what it was like. See what it would feel like to eat like normal folk. And I bit off all my fingernails so it was basically just a time of sloth that I will pay for for weeks to come. I think I’m just stressed out. Feeling sorry for myself and all that stuff that doesn’t work. I know it doesn’t work.

And I should probably be upset about it. But really I’m not. I have a new resolve as of today. I feel stronger than ever. To tell you the truth, I’m more pissed about biting my nails. It’ll take longer for my nails to grow than for the final bit of weight to be off. Well at the rate I’m going that’s debatable but really if I truly can get back on track, and I really believe I can, this will be an excellent month. I will be in the 120s at the end of April. That is my long term goal.

And I don’t even get to beguile you with my disgusting delectable food choices because I didn’t even take the opportunity to order a pizza or run by the Chinese restaurant or snag a pint of Dreamery. No no no. I don’t need that stuff to throw away some calories. I did have Hardees and I swear right here right now no more Hardees until goal weight. That’s it, over, done. Then I had some icecream sandwiches. Smart Ones came out with chocolate sandwiches that I thought would be better than their vanilla. Wrong. And I also tried the new Klondite bars, also 130 calories each. Their chocolate wasn’t good either but the vanilla was good prompting eating all 3 during the course of the day. That’s 5 sandwiches in a day. That’s 650 calories in ho-hum icecream (still pretty much ½ a pint of Dreamery). I still recommend Skinny Cows over all the other choices. And I never would have eaten 5. Then I had some pasta, but the diet kind, I just didn’t measure it and ate about 3 cups (broken into 2 servings). And some Caesar salad, when I had a moment of clarity and was going to eat normally. What else? I guess that about covers it. Well over 2000 calories and nothing really to write home about. I mean if you’re going to have a day off, have a day off. I could have gotten a Philly Cheese Sandwich or had some brie and crackers and grapes or something that I don’t usually allow myself. I ate crap I usually eat. Spoiled the whole fun of it. Some chicken fingers or buffalo wings or something. Something to dip into Ranch. Some chips or something. I dunno. Geez.

I didn’t want to write about my little falling out. But it’s better to be honest about it and move forth than dwell on a mistake. I do feel a new resolve. I have good feelings about April. Especially now that I see how I wasted March. April will be different.

I also rejoined the internet dating site with new narratives. I’m much happier with them. I wish I had more current pictures. It still shows a picture from Halloween when I weighed 160 or so (?). I really need to get some current pictures. If I do I’ll post them for you guys too. If nothing else on a temporary basis so the regulars can see who they’ve been reading about all these months.

Later – oh for god’s sake. The guy I was talking to weeks ago already emailed, “so what happened, you disappeared?” I don’t owe him an explanation, right? Why can’t he just leave me alone? If I was interested wouldn’t I have gone, hey totally not my type, I’m blowing this Popsicle stand but I dig your icky goatee, shoot me your email and we’ll keep in touch. I would have totally done that. But his goatee pissed me off and I left. I took off, I scrammed. Big sigh. I’m not writing him back. I don’t care what kind of internet karma it gives me. This is a bad sign. I can’t even write him anyway, I’m not even subscribed. I’m metaphorically hanging on the sidelines drinkin’ my juice box. I don’t even have my cleats on. I didn’t even bring them to the ball park.

Ultra-Sound, Bladder-Perturbed

I think my bladder is traumatized. And I remember while making my appointment the nurse telling me to drink 32 oz of liquids 1 ½ hour before the procedure with a smirk. At the time I was just concerned about TOM. And TOM didn’t matter. To which I replied, “that sounds messy.” (TOM hasn’t come yet FYI) Then I asked what the 32 oz of liquids could be, please say diet coke, please say diet coke.

Water.

Right. Well this is just becoming a barrel of fun.

That ain’t the half of it. It turns out 32 oz equals 2 bottles of Evian, don’t panic I filled with office Culligan water, we bourgeois gotta cheat. I chugged the first bottle in 10 minutes. The second bottle took 20 minutes. I already had to pee and it had only be 30 minutes since I had last gone to the restroom.

I began having vacation flashbacks. Not sand and surf and splashing and fun like you’re probably thinking but my stepfather and a certain ex-boyfriend absolutely forbidding another restroom stop from the highway. Absolute. Fucking. Misery.

So I left ½ hour early to account for paperwork and hope to god I could get in early. I had to hold the bottom part of the seatbelt out so it wouldn’t rest on the delicate bladder area. I was meditating, hallucinating, cursing some fool about to come in my lane and hit me. I couldn’t hold it for an accident write up, I’m telling you, I’d pee in my pants and not even care.

In the waiting room I was hating the airconditioning, hating the chair, trying to sit up as straight as possible, move as little as possible. Just holding on, begging, pleading with myself, DO NOT GO.

Finally I was in the darkened room with a nice cozy bed. Not that I cared. I asked if I could keep one of my legs up. Lying down on my back with a plastic object being rubbed over my lower tummy is the absolute worst position for me to be in. It took forever. I just pleaded with myself. I remember thinking I still had my pink velour pants on and I couldn’t possibly pee because I had nothing else to wear. I had to choice but to take it. Find a spot on the ceiling and concentrate.

I also tried to think of horrible things that would be better than this. The worst I could think of is that amniocentesis test for pregnant women, the giant needle that goes through your tummy. I begged for that rather than this. That would be nothing compared to this.

Forever, movement, clicks on keyboard, movement, more clicks, forever. I would be worried about the number of pictures, equally I’m sure the number of fibroids, her hesitations calculating the grotesque size of my tumors, but I only had one thought: DO NOT GO.

She told me the second part of the test was internal. I told her after I go to the bathroom she could do whatever she wanted to me. I totally meant this.

Finally relief was mine. And mine and mine. Internal had as many pictures. My legs started shaking in the stirrups they were up for so long and my concerns continued to mount. I’m very worried. So worried I didn’t even ask her anything. Am I bicornuate? Is it severe? Will I be able to have a baby one day? I’m afraid of the answer. I’ll just wait for the doctor to break the news to me.

Somehow, the masochist in me wants to return to this torture room one day, to map the size and view the beauty of a baby. Somehow that seems like heaven to me.

Weigh Day Expectations & A Day For Dave

I’m not expecting a loss tomorrow. It would be nice, I won’t kid you, but a maintain would be fine by me. I’ve been doing relatively well though my calories are topping in the 1400s, rather than a more aggressive 1200s. I have been exercising and I’m happy with how this week has gone. The last 2 pounds may be the toughest ones but they will go. I will see 130 pounds on that scale one day.

I won’t be working tomorrow , therefore I doubt I’ll post though I will get my weight chart updated, because I’m preparing to go to a Dave Matthews concert, acoustic yay, a billion hours (okay 3 ½, I’m such a baby) from my house. I’m super excited though I was originally supposed to be going with a certain someone, when I offered to sell my tickets at work on the verge of tears, a coworker said he’d go with me, which was super nice.

Help

I’m getting some emails from some desperate girls looking for help so I thought maybe I’d just do a post about it and try to help as many people as possible. I think I’m in a position to help because I have very slow metabolism, am always hungry, crave foods like you wouldn’t believe, despise exercising, and completely know what you’re feeling right now.

I am a binger, I could binge right now this very second. I know exactly what I would buy and just thinking about it makes my mouth water and perk up. There hasn’t been a day that’s past that I haven’t wanted to binge, that I haven’t craved real icecream or a pizza or Chinese food or substantial amounts of chocolate. There’s only one reason why I haven’t binged and it’s really a simple concept. Are you ready?

What you eat is a choice. You can weigh whatever you want to weigh. It’s all a choice.

You may think you can’t, you may think you can’t control what you eat, but you can. Don’t believe me? I didn’t believe it for myself for many many months, if not longer. If you don’t believe it, if you think I’m full of it and I don’t understand, this is what I want you to do.

Eat. Eat whatever you want. You can’t control it anyway so give in to it. And while you’re eating and your breaks in between this is what I want you to think about:

What did this accomplish?
What am I feeling right now?
Do I feel satisfied?
Do I feel comforted?
Have a quelled my desire?
Have I answered any of life’s questions?
Do I feel full?
Do I feel guilty?
Do I still feel out of control?
Have I resolved anything?
Am I any better off now than I was before I ate?
Do I feel better or do I feel worse?

This is probably what you feel – unsatisfied, not full, empty, sad, lonely, out of control, worried, sick to your stomach, guilty, woeful, shameful, sad.

Think about the questions and your answers and how you feel right now. You probably won’t understand right away but after a few times or more than that it’ll start to click.

It doesn’t work.

Binging and eating out of control does nothing. It resolves nothing. It doesn’t help. It provides no comfort, no epiphany, no love. It gives you NOTHING.

This is what it does do – Makes your stomach upset. Makes you feel guilty. Makes you feel weak and un-empowered. Makes you fat. Makes you want to hide. Makes you lose who you are. Makes you invisible. Makes you feel unimportant, uncared for, undeserving.

Dieting is a lot of things. It pisses me off, it annoys me, it disappoints me regularly because of my impatientness. It’s evil and unfair. Working out sucks. It’s not fun. I don’t like to be sweaty. I’d much prefer to be relaxing on the couch than trying to push myself to my limits. But dieting and exercise does the exact opposite of everything binging does. You will feel strong and full of vitality and stamina (yes swiped that from John Travolta on Oprah yesterday). You will feel empowered. You will be thin, slowly but you will. You will not want to hide. You will find yourself. You will be noticed. You will realize you are important, you care about yourself immensely (more than you ever dreamed) and you deserve every little thing life has to offer.

It’s simple. It’s a choice. What do you choose?

Big Lever on the 100

I think I’m going about this all wrong. I’m trying to group days together and push a goal too far ahead. I need to go back to my original way of dieting - by day. I don’t want to look at a week from now, a month from now, or anything, I only want to be focused on today and how great a day I can have today. That reduces the pressure 10 fold, literally, and I only have to be concerned with the moment. And the moment I can handle. I have total control over the moment.

It’s great to have a goal, and I still have the goal in mind, but my concern is not reaching the goal, my concern is only with the moment. That makes things much easier.

Maddy says I burned 500 – 700 calories cleaning and that’s way more than working out on the treadmill, though I do the total pump your arms pissed at the world thing so I think I burn more than 250 calories that it tells me I burned.

Maybe all this is just some cruel TOM joke and re-losing this weight will just stabilize my weight. It seemed awfully easy to gain three pounds in a day. And I know I didn’t eat over 10,000 calories, I didn’t even break 2000, so I’m pretty disappointed.

Just back from the doctor’s. I have an appointment on Thursday for an ultrasound. It seems my doctor thinks I have fibroids and a bicornuate uterus (it has a dip at the top rather than a smooth bottom of a pear shape. The ultrasound will show exactly what it looks like and about these fibroids too. He told me not to worry but my tiny excursion around the internet of course now has me freaked out. Is that why I have to pee all the time, not because I’m always drinking something because I’m on a diet? Is that why sex was kind of painful, not because it’s been 3 years and of course it would hurt a little? Is that why I have a poochy tummy, not because I’ve lost 60 something pounds and have a residual stubborn pooch? Will I have trouble conceiving? Will I have trouble carrying a pregnancy to term? Does it matter anyway, do I now just have a spinster uterus to match my spinster future? And I don’t want an ugly uterus. I want my uterus to be pretty, not all elephant-manned out. Ugh. I have an ugly uterus.

Later:

Called Mom. Mom has them. Has had them forever (her words). Grandmother had them. No biggie. Obviously runs in the family and does not protrude from tummy like that little creature in Alien. Mom’s thin and you can’t see crap on her tummy.

Note to self: Call Mom first before subjecting self to the horrors of the internet.

BTW – because it’s official and shit despite having can of diet coke and yogurt in system and shoes on feet and heavy jean capris (they ARE heavy!), I weigh 138 at the doctor’s office. My big lever goes on the 100. Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.

Sunday, Sunday, Can't Trust That Day

I had a crappy eating day yesterday. And Saturday was a great eating day so you’d think Sunday would just be more of the same. There’s nothing like a good weekend rhythm to know you are super duper in control dieter.

It all started in bed Sunday morning when I agreed that if the scale said anything less than 132 then I would get a biscuit from Hardees. And I weighed 131.5 (I have to weigh in 3 times in a row now to prove my actual weight because I don’t believe it). So I went to Hardees. Which never fills you up like 550 calories should. So it just went downhill from there. And the thing is I kept messing with my head saying I should get a pizza for the Oscars and I kept like imagining what kind of pizza to get, a healthy kind with whole wheat crust and low fat cheese, and how I could stop myself after 2 pieces, at which point the fantasy disintegrates because then I start trying to eat the third piece or run to Food Lion for some ranch dressing. So I knew pizza was out and then I kept thinking, just take a day off, just take a day off and get the pizza. Or maybe some Chinese food. Yeah, that would be great. Just take it off for the Oscars. It’s a special occasion. And I was good about saying no way but still managed to rack up over 1200 calories by lunch. So I decided to eat some soup (four cups noodle soup [the box kind] my drastic measure to control hunger) for dinner hoping to fill myself up and not have these evil pizza thoughts any longer. So now I was up in the 1400s and I remember having another icecream pop, the third one of the day I believe, how many times do I have to tell myself I can’t purchase Smart Ones Toffee Icecream Pops. They are evil evil snacks with their non-threatening 110 calories each propaganda. It doesn’t say anywhere on the box how it’s absolutely impossible to eat just one. I’ve looked, it doesn’t say it anywhere. And then I went to my mom’s to watch the Oscars and she had just gotten home from being out to eat and brought me some mashed potatoes and some healthy looking crab cakes and some seafood soup (cream based). It wasn’t very much, like less than ¼ cup of each so I picked at it and ended up eating that too and ate about 4 bites of the soup. So I totally blew it and the scale was crazy whacked out today, which is to be expected for eating at Midnight.

I did manage to do a three hour massive cleanup of my house and exterior yesterday and with aching muscles and breaking a sweat I figured the three hours of house cleaning should equal ½ hour of grueling work on the treadmill. And perhaps that aided my food intake because I kept thinking how hard I worked cleaning and how I barely even sat down and I’ll just burn up whatever I eat (because I’m Super Fit Girl now) and it’ll be fine. But, that wasn’t the case. I can gain like any other mere mortal.

And I was thinking well maybe I shouldn’t write today or maybe I should write but not about how I blew it. I don’t want to feel like a failure and let down all my readers. I failed a 10 day plan. Who the fuck can’t get through 10 lousy days. But then I came in to work and read Empress and I knew I had to write and I had to write exactly what happened and anything else I feel about it. Because that’s the whole point of a blog. If it was all perfect, and my diet was perfect, and my exercise was perfect, there really wouldn’t be much to read because I was perfect and everyone should just be like me. But I’m not. And neither is anyone else.

I have bad days, every one of us has bad days. The point is to get up the next day and get it right. Get right back into it. Look forward don’t look backwards. Today is a new day. Today you can get it right. It’s a fight and a struggle even down to the last couple pounds. You have to work for it just as hard. And then you have to work to keep it off. There’s no end to this. There’s no binging in my future. I’ll struggle with it every day. But I struggled every day fat too. I can eat whatever I want and when I’m done eating, the very moment after the last bite, I’m right back where I am now feeling what I feel right now. I can either be here now at my current weight or I can be here at 160 pounds or I can be here at 199 pounds or I can be here at 315 pounds. It’s up to me what I want to weigh when I wake up and face another day of struggling with my food issues. They don’t go away. They’ll never go away. It’s what I do with them that matters.

And I’m a fighter. I can do this.

PS (and totally unrelated) - Have you been reading Philbo? Well you should he's got a really great blog.

You Watch “The Ring” I’ll Just Play With My Fake Rubber Arm

I’ve been having this pain in my right shoulder blade for about a week now. I was going to ask my mom on Thursday to massage it for me but we aren’t really a touchy-feely type family so I felt weird asking her so I’ve just been enduring it. I thought, and maybe think still, that I’m getting this pain from sleeping improperly, though I’ve slept the same my whole life and have woken up with various issues including an arm that felt like a fake rubber arm from being asleep too long. So basically my sleep habits are akin to my eating habits, not necessarily ideal but gets the job done. I’d love to be all proper and sleep on my back, I know it would help my pimples, yes I drool in my sleep and it ends up on my lower cheek/chin area that’s also not so coincidentally the spot I get the most pimples. But I can’t sleep on my back. I must sleep on my tummy with my arms in various nightly spots to avoid rubber arm syndrome that will totally freak me out in a half asleep state. I also wake up usually at least twice a night to Aidan doing god knows what or me having to use the bathroom. Bella also was getting up at 3 am for a while and climbing up on the treadmill making these loud obnoxious scratchy sounds with her paws (Aidan does it too he just doesn’t have a set “hour” but he has other things he likes to do too like last night he decided he wanted to push everything off the kitchen counters so I had to get up and put all that stuff in a drawer). I kept having this mental picture of him knocking the butter dish off the counter and having to clean up an entire stick of butter from the carpet but luckily he left that side of the counter alone.

But back to the pain, after working out last night, I decided to stretch my arms, and realized I have great flexibility. Not like freaky yoga flexibility but I was impressed. I liked touching my arms and elbows because they feel a lot smaller and my elbow’s nice and bony. Nothing like a bony elbow, well my bony ass is cool too unless I'm trying to take a bath (I have to place a towel in the tub now when I take a bath). I spent about 20 minutes stretching out my entire body and it was really cool.

I noticed this morning that I don’t feel any pain in my shoulder blade. So I think I’m adding some serious stretching to my workout. It’s a great way to get in touch with your body and it’s good for you too.

I’m suffering some severe body image issues. I know I’ve lost a lot of weight. I know my clothes are pretty small and a lot of size 8’s even feel too large and I can wear my tiniest underwear and my bras are starting to feel too big again, but when I look at my body in the mirror, it doesn’t look very thin to me. It doesn’t look all that much different from my heaviest weight. I mean I can see things that tell me I’m smaller and my clothes attest to it too but it’s really warped in my head and hard to explain. My body looks the same to me. This is the same warped mentality that allowed me to gain 60+ pounds and think that I don’t look so bad. It’s just the reverse of the mentality. So having to touch my elbows and legs and stuff is good for me because that’s when I can really tell the difference.

It’s just going to take some time to get used to my body and what it can wear and how it looks. And though I’m close to my weight goal, I still have fitness plans. I don’t want to be muscular, and it’s fine if other dieters do, it’s just not me, but I want to be tight and I’d like to increase my endurance, basically I’d like to be able to jog for an extended period of time. And this whole stretching thing really makes me interested in yoga. So we’ll see.

Weight down one pound, which is good, but leaves me with 2 pounds to lose in 10 days. That’s going to be tough. Plus it’s a TOM week. Nothing like a little diet drama.

PS – I just felt the shoulder pain again. I think it’s stress related because I was fine until work started getting nutty.

Just a Little White Lie

Thanks for all the comments guys. It means a lot to me that I might be helping someone out there get to their goals.

Some of you guys, and you know who you are, need to update your blog. If there’s anyone on the planet who doesn’t have a life it would be me, so I don’t want excuses about “lack of a life.” I’m still pissed that they cut off the last 15 minutes of “Where are they now – Bachelor People who aren’t your friends so why do you care so much?” from last night. Who’s Brooke going to marry? Is he cute? Is she wearing that pink dress? Well we aren’t going to tell you instead take a peek (long ass peek) at absolutely nothing going on in Baghdad while we say 500 times that the President will speak in ½ hour. Yeah, that’s more fun, sure. Thanks ABC.

Oh right, the plan. Well the water thing is out. I can’t do it. I’m calling it a white lie rather than a broken promise. It isn’t imperative for the plan and I swear I think I’d rather be dehydrated rather than drink water (and dehydration is bad). Not that I made it very long. Dealing with hunger is very difficult and if a diet coke makes it easier, and obviously has no adverse effect on losing weight, then I have to allow something that cheers me up. But the rest of my plan as outlined is right on.

I’m very curious to see what takes place for tomorrow’s weigh day.

You Made Me Promises, Promises

Ok, today begins the Super Fantabulous March Madness 13 Day Intense Diet Plan. Everyday until the end of the month I promise to astonish you with my dedication and strength of will to reach 130 pounds by weigh day on March 31.

I say this because upon reviewing the first half of March I’m disappointed to say I’ve lost .5 pounds (we’ll use yesterday’s weight rather than today’s so as not to scare little children). This could become my worst month yet and I’m determined to not let this be so. I also upon amending my first goal of reaching goal weight by Christmas and then a lame switch to the end of the year, like that week is going to help, had decided to reach goal by March or April. Well dammit, I’m not moving it to May. I’m reaching goal weight by March 31. I’m putting my foot down (over and over again – a little treadmill humor).

And just so you don’t think, ho-hum, heard this before, you’ll just drop it in an hour or so and grab your first chocolate fix of the day, I just want to reiterate that this is a promise to myself and if you can’t keep a promise to yourself then who can you keep one to (I think that’s an Oprah thing, pardon my lack of originality).

So the plan, for 13 days, is:

1. 1150-1250 calories per day
   
   
2. Workout everyday except March 26 (nice Wednesday mid-plan day)
   
   
3. Drink 2 diet drinks a day and drink water at all other times (yes, I’m really going to do this and have NEVER done this, I’m lucky to get one glass of water down unless I’ve been crying or working out)
   
   
4. No alcohol beverages (not that I have a social life and this is a factor or anything, a girl can dream)
   
   
5. No snack machine purchases under any circumstances (no amount of stress no matter how looming and intense will be cured by a Hershey bar, pack of M&Ms, or Oreos, I’ve tested this theory for a week now and have come to this conclusion)

If I reach my goal weight of 130 pounds on March 31 (or hell April 1 if I need the extra weigh day) then I get to purchase the following item: In lavender because that’s how freaky I am. A certain unmentionable man once told me that blondes should not wear colors. So, I’m rejecting my almost fate of having to wear black and neutral colors everyday (oops, despite what I’m wearing today) until death (or dramatic freak outs) do us part. Long live pink!

I Will Be 130 Pounds

Feeling much better today. Food consumption yesterday still not so hot but feeling better today and watching my weight carefully for some consequence and not seeing anything as of yet, though I will not expect a weight loss as long as I'm feeling weak and like a Bad Choice Maker. But I am feeling in control, and I haven’t been for a few days so that’s a good thing and I should get a hold of this in no time. Who thought three little measly pounds would become so far fetched. It feels like an impossibility. Being 199 pounds I was certain I could overcome and with three little pounds left I’m all, oh I don’t know, that looks pretty tough. I will be 130 pounds. I’ll just repeat that mantra until English Muffins no longer seem like the answer to All Life’s Greatest Riddles.

Insatiable

I am in the worst mood today. I have to shake this negative mood.

This weekend went alright emotionally (meaning no emotional breakdowns or hiding in the bed, I even changed the sheets, go me) and in others ways not so great. I’ve been on this hunger kick for a good week now and I’m having trouble shaking it. I’ve also been giving into it more than I should. I’ve been craving somethings thinking that I’m so close to goal that I deserve an indulgence. But I know it’s not a good idea so I’ve been telling myself no way. But I’ve compromised this weekend and let myself consume too many calories. I haven’t broken the 2000 calorie barrier (I think I was in the 1500s on Saturday and the low 1900s on Sunday) but it’s still nothing to be excited about. So I’m determined to go back to eating 1200 –1300 calories per day. I want to see 130 on the scale. I’m not ready for maintenance. I have exercised so not all is not lost. It’s just hard to be hard on yourself when you see 132.5 or 133.5 on the scale. And when you’re ravenous on top of that, well, it’s difficult to say the least. But I am not deterred. I will persevere. I didn’t binge, I didn’t stop exercising. It’s a minor setback that I can correct right now. I’m just making bad choices. It is kind of weird though because I did want to order a pizza or get some Chinese takeout. Thank god for that part of me that still tells me it won’t fix anything. That girl better not go anywhere. She also tells me to get on the treadmill even when I don’t want to and doesn’t accept excuses. I like that girl. If I could get her to convince me that 1200 calories is not starvation and 1500 calories only makes the process slower and doesn’t fill me up any more then I’d be a-okay. I sometimes forget that my hunger is never satiated. I will be hungry no matter how much I eat.

I think I have spring fever, like wanting to go somewhere and chill on a beach, or hang out by a pool. I’m wishing I was going on a goal weight trip now, I could really use it. I’ll have to rethink giving that up and maybe have the reward and push back the car purchase. I’ll talk to my mom about it. I feel like I need a reward and I need a vacation so badly. A celebration. Because lately it doesn’t feel all that great to have lost this weight. I feel kind of sad and disappointed really. And I know that has a lot to do with the hunger.

A Contemplative Weigh Day

At the risk of turning this into an N’Sync fansite the song is “Blowin Me Up (With Her Love)” by JC Chasez.

It must only be available on single. Hmm. Feeling very teeny-bopperish right now. What’s funny is last week when the song was on the radio I asked my friend’s daughter who is 9 on the off chance that she might know who it was. I didn’t expect her to know but she knew right away, “Yeah that’s JC from N’Sync!” Nine year olds are very useful for such information. Of course I guess I was all about New Edition back in the day.

I had dinner out with my mom and her boyfriend last night and fell victim to some wayward crackers sitting out in her kitchen after Survivor. So my weigh-in, I think, was affected. I was hoping for 132.5 but who can bitch about the scale being .5 pounds from where you wanted it to be.

I’ve been thinking a lot about maintenance lately. It still won’t be for a while because I think I’m going to go for 125 pounds (the lowest I’ve ever been is 128 and my periods stopped so if that happens again I’ll just be happy at 130). But maintenance has been on my mind. Mainly when I’m working out because I hate to workout and would really like to give it up. But I know the statistics and most people who have lost a considerable amount of weight continue to exercise upon reaching their goal weight. I’m pretty terrified about gaining weight. I know how easy it would be. I know my level of hunger is pretty high lately and I know what a life of hunger will be like. I went into this weight loss knowing it wouldn’t change some of the fundamental things about myself, namely my problems with men and relationships, and now that my body is acceptable for dating and my cover and excuses are blown out of the water, it’s more scary than ever. I don’t like feeling like there is something wrong with me. I don’t like this feeling that I’m never going to get love right. I don’t like that I can’t picture myself in a wedding dress or my body with a pregnant stomach. I can only see me alone and it bothers me. And I am trying to do something about it. I’m willing and able to stand outside my box whenever possible. But it’s frightening just the same and there is some comfort in being overweight and having that as a security blanket. It’s extremely comforting. I know because I’ve been in both places. I’ve been here before, I know when I feel at my weakest, and I know what it is to be holed up in a clean orderly house scarfing pizza for the sole purpose of making myself sick to my stomach. I have to fight through this. I have to show strength that I never believed in before. I know being overweight and comforted (if nausea from ¾ of a pizza is comforting) is not the answer. I know I have come a long way. This past summer I released a considerable amount of pain from my past. For the first time in my life I know true forgiveness and the release of that burden. And I really thought I was ready for a relationship. And maybe I was. Maybe things occurred outside of my control and my reactions, bad as they were, were the result of something that wasn’t going to happen anyway. And I’m frustrated and insecure about nothing. Anyway, this is what I’m working on. I’m trying to push myself to be more social and step outside of my comfort zone. I’m willing to do this whenever possible. This is my new goal in addition to completing the two I already have. Just because the weight is gone doesn’t mean my struggles are over. If anything, the real test has just begun.

Laundry Day

It’s finally getting warm so I’m wearing my beloved Laundry sleeveless boatneck top that I got last fall, I think there’s actually an entry about it somewhere because I bought it at a boutique and was so excited I could wear boutique clothes. And I got it for half off so it was like a double bonus shopping day.

Well the tag is scratching me and I have this thing about tags and seams rubbing my skin (I actually wear my socks inside out so the seam doesn’t rub my foot). I went to grab the tag to cut it off when I noticed it says Laundry and if I cut it off no one will ever know it’s Laundry. The only Laundry piece of clothing I own and I’m just going to cut the tag? So I decided to leave it but it’s still scratching me. And who’s going to even know? Who goes around looking at tags?

And have you ever noticed that the larger the size on the tag the less it scratches. All my new size 8 and size 6 clothing tags have been itching me and it’s been a real bummer to have to cut the size out of the clothes. I really don’t recall ever having to cut a size 14 tag.

I ran to “Your Body is a Wonderland” last night. I tried for a second song later in the workout but couldn’t do it. I really think it’s all in the music. If you get a good song or group of songs I think you can work out much harder. I have switched to working out during Jeopardy. The questions distract me from my hamster imitation so the time passes faster and then I listen to my headphones during the commercials and hope there’s a good song on. There rarely is.

I’m really liking that JC song, is that his name, the N’Sync guy? Why doesn’t the radio ever play that song when I’m trying to run? That is a really good song.

I woke up again last night at 4 am and couldn’t fall back sleep. It was work related but not the same issue as before. I’m also noticing I’m getting dizzy sometimes lately when I stand up quickly, even at work. I’ve been eating the same calorie range since about June so I don’t see how it could be lack of calories and my diet (as far as choice of food) has never been commendable but it has been consistently uncommendable so I don’t see how it could be that. Maybe it’s just stress and dealing with too many issues in my head.

PS – I cut the tag.

Oh I remember what I wanted to comment about. Someone’s journal, I can’t remember who, bad Diet Chick, commented about the new McDonald’s salads and how high in calories they are and commented about Wendy’s salad dressings high fat content. I totally agree that fast food salads are NOT low calories but I do still believe they are a good part of my diet. I find if I get a sandwich I can eat it really fast but if I get a salad for the same calories it’ll take me longer to eat it and I’ll feel fuller and more satisfied. That’s why I eat a lot of salads. I don’t consider them low calorie or low fat, I have to budget for them like anything else, but because they do take longer to eat I enjoy them as I would any food indulgence.

And if you do like Caesar salads get those pre-made Caesar salad bags from the grocery store. You can eat the whole bag, it’s a huge salad, for only 300 calories. They are definitely a stable of my diet. I usually buy three bags a week.

Just met PB Guy’s girlfriend, the one he knew he was destined to be with forever after less than 2 weeks, at least knew if he was moving here she was too. It was the first time since he got here that I thought loudly inside my head, “CAN’T DO THIS.” Can’t I get some breaks between *dramatic* episodes in my life?

And it further sucks because as big a need as I have for girlfriends in my life she’s the first person in well over a year that I thought, “wow, she looks like she’d be fun to do stuff with.” But can’t talk to her, CAN’T DO THIS. Please leave my place of employment before I start shaking uncontrollably and sob or send another unread/unresponded to email or something.

I better have a good weigh in tomorrow, that’s all I’m saying. I deserve some balance for chrissakes.

Ca-Ca-Ca-Curly

So I bought the wrong season of Sex and the City on DVD. I was needing an Aidan fix and bought season 2 but there’s no Aidan in season 2. And Mr. Big just isn’t quite doing it for me. No, I need Sincere Aidan, Chubby Aidan, Loving Aidan.

Though I did catch some random episodes including the last one where they compared Carrie and Big to Katie and Hubble. And how complicated Carrie is and Big just wanted something simple and easy, which makes the word and intonation of “drama” rattle around in my head in very dramatic fashion. Am I not like Katie and Carrie too? Even down to the unruly curly-ass hair that’s driving me insane and refuses to go completely straight but will compromise with embarrassing frizzies with one large curl, a curve really, that tries to stab me in the eye. The point is, I had (had I tell you, had) to go back to half.com to get season 3. I’m in recovery, it’s purely a medical expense. So we can scratch not buying anything off my list. I couldn’t even make it one day.

I did run for an entire song, which reminds me I wanted to look it up to see how long the song was, I can’t find it, it was Jennifer Lopez “All I Have.” If anyone owns it and knows how long the song is I’m extremely curious. I am so not a runner so this is a big thing for me.

And my scale is really pissing me off, especially considering it’s relatively new. It feels cheap wonky and piece of shit inaccurate and is giving me strange numbers that change every time I get on the blasted thing. I actually saw 131 the other day and then it went up to 134 when I got on it again. Today is read 132.5, then 133 twice. I weighed Bella and myself to jar it a bit (One forty what?) and got back on and it was still 133. I just don’t trust it and if you can’t trust your scale, who can you trust I tell you, who?

Because if it IS really 131 or 132.5 or heck even 133 then I’m completely fine breaking another one of my goals and keeping my calories up in the 1400s. I’m just so hungry lately and it really does give me more energy. I can even tell during my workout how I don’t tire as easily, hence the running. I’m just trying to convince myself. Maybe this hunger thing will pass and it will be easier to go back to 1200. I’m just playing it by ear, hour by hour, day by day, like I always do.

Setting Some Goals, Talking Some Trash

Goals for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday:

Work out everyday. Try to run twice per workout for as long as I can (I made it through a whole song the other day but I think it was a very short song).

No Oreos or M&Ms from snack machine at work no matter how stressed you get during course of day or how many calories you’re willing to waste in the process touting “entitlement”.

Try to drink some water, especially when those chocolate cravings kick in between 2 and 4 pm.

Keep calories at 1200 calories. No more excuses about “jarring my metabolism” with a few 1400 calorie days, ok 1500 calorie days. This will STOP.

Do not stress out at work and get attitude or deepen vertical lines in forehead. Take deep breaths and smile.

Do not fuss any boy out no matter how stupid and immature they act and whether they ball up their new direct deposit form with *dramatic* effect or not. Even when you know they are within ear shot and you tell Lunch Buddy they can complicate their life all they want but they don’t have to take it out on you. And they come back and say they’ll have it in three days and call you sweetie. Though they will have to ask for another form and you’ll make them ask.

Do not fuss when someone wants you to do something in the old system and you are frustrated that you are locked out and can’t fix it or change it. You are locked out, get over it.

Do not stress over Account Z and wake up at 4 am and not be able to go back to sleep all because you know you can’t access old system and therefore can not research and resolve situation and feel totally helpless and frustrated. Hmm, sensing a pattern.

Get up when alarm goes off at 6:30 am and do not hit snooze. You cannot get ready in 45 minutes I don’t care what the devil on your shoulder thinks so early in the morning. “Hot in Heere” is supposed to wake you up Dollface.

Do not suck down yogurt in 3 large bites and try to lick inside of cup. Even though you know you want to do it and no one’s looking. It IS very hard to locate Strawberry Banana Custard Yogurt and we know you had to climb up into the back of the cooler at the grocery store to grab them all and yes it DOES taste like a smoothie. You can have another one tomorrow.

Try to dress nice because you’ve worked hard for it (and have the debt to show for it) whether you feel like wearing sweats and un-matching baggy clothes or not. And fix your hair even if you are just going to put it up once the humidity gets a hold of it.

Appreciate spring. Your hydrangeas are coming back (though everything else I do believe is quite dead including your beloved Gardenia tree).

Appreciate that you are not on the show “Married By America” because it just seems so wrong. But nevertheless you can’t look away much like last year’s obsession with Fear Factor.

Try not to buy anything. This is so you can buy a car come fall or winter. It’s a good thing not to buy stuff. You’ll get a car for chrissakes, show some restraint.

***

Thank god, a diet story to share. We were just sitting around discussing our diets, Boss Lady’s on week 6 of Atkins and has lost 20 something pounds I believe, and was sharing her lunch carb calculation, she had 2 eggs, 2 pork chops and 2 cups of fresh strawberries for lunch, I was all about the strawberries too though I didn’t realize you could get them in a big bowl (live and learn). She said she could never do the diet I was doing, calling it low fat (ha-ha) and I said it wasn’t low fat it’s low calories and I can eat whatever I want. PB Guy says, “you can’t eat whatever you want,” I said, “yes I can”. He said, “no you can’t”. I said, “yes I can” (love our childish banter?) “no you can’t” “yes I can, I just can’t eat very much”. Then he’s like, “how much have you lost?” If it were anyone else I’d never tell but PB Guy has a weight problem too so it’s not as big a deal so I calculated on my adding machine (I don’t carry the number around in my head), “65 pounds” “that’s good” pretty freaking nonchalant like it was 10 pounds or something. “I could tell the difference but I wasn’t sure how much.” Tell the difference from what? You haven’t seen me in 3 years you dodo bird and I was 138 pounds (and I probably shouldn’t know that) when I last saw you. WTF. He must have thought I said 6.5 pounds. His reaction doesn’t make any sense. I just gave him this confused look and went back to trash talking Atkins, my favorite diet pastime. Though really if you added her calories she probably ate less than I did for lunch. She’s low calorie and she doesn’t even know it. 200 for the eggs, 300 for the pork chops (they were grilled and plain), strawberries were 100 calories, she had whipped cream on hers but it was low fat probably another 50 calories, she had 650 calories, which is what I average for lunch most days. I had grilled salmon (150), mashed potatoes (140), coleslaw (150), strawberries (50) and a roll (130) with butter (50). So I had 670 calories, more than her and my calculations or more likely to be wrong, my roll was very buttery.

Hey so far so good. I can actually eat dinner tonight. Cool.

My Last Mention of AMD

Was it Friday that I cried? After Felicity’s speech to Ben calling him a coward because he knew she was emotional and deep and yet he pursued her anyway and faked not ready for this when she was only being herself and he knew she was that way. I was bawling. And that was just the start of the weekend. I haven’t cried since I spoke to my mom after seeing him on the internet dating site. That was 2 weeks ago, right? Sad sure but I only cried once. Even after he told me he couldn’t forgive me complete with *dramatic* pauses and said “good luck” the equivalent to the dreaded “have a nice life” and spilled out “I’ll talk to you” that was certainly accidental because we’ve done anything but. And another email sent earlier on Friday right before I left work, this one short, going for his sense of humor (also didn’t work) and my continued plotting of other schemes. Plotting plotting always plotting. It’s so easy to become psycho girl. I can’t tell you how easy it would be to just wait outside his door like a lunatic. Bush my hair out and smear mascara under my eyes. But no, dammit no. Get a hold of yourself. It took all weekend. And by that I mean Sunday at 6 pm. After being a wreck and watching Matthew McConaughey’s face while he was comforting Jennifer Lopez in The Wedding Planner and picturing AMD’s perfect little face, his little familiar face that I so adored and crying again, tears and more tears. Sad little pathetic sobs. When did I ever cry like this, like an exhausted baby who’s cried for too long. I don’t cry like this. Take a bath and read your book. Put your mind on something else. Anything but him. But I can’t read I can only deconstruct it and rebuild it in my brain. All six weeks, every single second. Every feeling, every thought, totally broken down and rationalized. Trying to justify it. Over and over. Scheme. I could call him to get my CD. I NEED my CD. Or I can wait another week and send another email. I can email him every week, just tell him how I am. I can totally be psycho girl. This shit is easy. Scheme. Scheme. Deconstruct. Rebuild. Cry. Bathe. Nap. Nap. Take another nap. Fucking workout, like it matters. Eat some more chocolate. Just one more piece. Scheme.

Until finally.

What am I doing? Am I going to spiral? It’s starting to feel like a spiral. I could totally lose myself in this. I could wake up three years from now and try to pick up the pieces of my life again. I could totally tear myself apart. I’m going to do it. I’m going to destroy myself. I’m headed that way.

Do not do this.

You have to let it go. You have to stop thinking about it and trying to fix it and figure it out. You have to stop. It can’t be rationalized. It can’t be fixed.

Tell myself this about 500 times. Decide to get out of bed and leave the house. Work out first, like it matters. Weight is my enemy. After myself, of course. Watch the SAGs at my moms. Keep telling myself not to do this. Do not do this. You can be loved. There’s nothing inherently wrong with you. Start to feel it, really feel it.

Breakups happen. People say goodbye. People never see each other again. People once so close never speak again. You can’t stop it, you can’t fix it, there’s nothing you can do. So let it go. Let it go. Feel it, really feel it leaving you and feel good about it. Burden lifted. Psycho spell has past. No more emails. No thoughts of calling. Say goodbye to the CD, say goodbye to this man I barely even know. Sleep soundly. Wake up ready to wear pink.

And fine until Boss Lady decides to ask me repeatedly, “What’s the matter with you?”

Because I am fine. I will NOT destroy myself. Nothing is the matter. I’m past this, I’m cured. There’s no spiral. No black cloud. There’s me and pink and another bad hair day.

There’s working out for the hell of it and constantly telling myself no. No chocolate, no AMD, no icecream, no new car, no string bikini, no goal weight vacation. Get out of debt, lose 4 pounds, stop thinking of him, stick to the plan, stay on the yellow brick road.

I hate this post but it’s time to leave work and I’m not writing another one at home, I’m sick of thinking about him, sick of him in my head, so I’m going with this one. Starting tomorrow this will be a normal diet journal like the rest of them.

Something Gained, Something Lost

By reading my own archives it becomes apparently obvious AMD wasn’t right for me from the get-go. I always wanted more, even before we meet when he was just calling me, and it stripped my already fragile self-confidence that he didn’t reciprocate. That he wasn’t equally excited.

There’s one last thing I did that I haven’t told anyone. I sent a final email this past weekend. It was a great email. I was proud and happy about it and sent it with no remorse. And days have past and I’ve heard nothing. Nothing bad, nothing good, just nothingness. And nothingness comes only from not caring. This I do know in my 31 years of life. Nothingness is the end. Nothingness is the one thing you can’t fix or make right.

And I am hurt about it. It wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. And my recovery is slower than it probably should be and I apologize but people are different. What’s important and intense for me may not be for everyone else. I don’t expect it to be. But it is to me. I do care, I did care, I will care for a great deal of time to come.

I’m totally aware of what transpired in a short period of six weeks, plus the extra month of phone calls and emails we’re forgetting about before we met. It doesn’t lessen my sadness because the short miniscule moments of unbelievable possibility and happiness still occurred and I value them. I’m getting over it. I’m recovering. I picked up, vacuumed, and cleaned my bathroom Wednesday night. I stayed up until after 10 pm last night and the night before (as opposed to the 7:30 pm sleep schedule I’ve been keeping since last Tuesday). I’m trying to convince myself that I’m still okay. I’m not broken, my heart isn’t ripped from my chest, there’s no glass menagerie shattered on the floor. I lost a CD and part of my pride (that I’m not inherently likeable and missable) and realized I haven’t changed very much (I'm still insecure, needy, and impulsive). I want to stop doing stupid shit but I also don’t want my heart to harden. I want love and relationships to matter to me, even if I do risk doing stupid shit. It’s all out of passion, out of caring, out of intensity and I don’t want to let that go. Because if you lose that you lose passion, caring and intensity from other parts of your life, the sexual parts, the lover of life parts, the part that’s ready and excited to face the next harsh day everyday. Otherwise you let people walk in and out of your life without a second thought. Time (of all meaningless things) becomes the basis for what’s real and what’s not. You don’t forgive because you don’t really care. Nothing concerns you. Nothing matters. Nothingness.

My life is about anything but nothingness.

I can’t justify the weight gain. I have no freaking idea what occurred. I ate very well, there wasn’t one day that I overate. I exercised five days, and that’s very good for me, though I desperately wanted to skip last night, but I didn’t. The only thing I can think of is it’s some sort of TOM water weight, since I lost last week when TOM should have punished me. There’s nothing I can do about it, I’m doing everything the same. I’ll just have to wait for next week and see what happens. It is frustrating but whatever sort of retribution I could do, stop exercising, eat a pizza, wouldn’t help so I’ll just keep moving forward.

If anyone else watches Felicity on WE I had a finger pointing at the TV moment last night when she told Sally something to the effect: “He wants to take me out, I think he wants to break up with me.” So I wasn’t completely out of line in my thoughts if it was in a television script it must be a pretty normal reaction (no, I did not just say that). She even told him, “If you’re going to break up with me do it fast.” Only he didn’t get all silent and pissy he kissed her and said he was glad they were “doing this.”

Three Years to Six Weeks

There are many reasons to get over AMD. The last of those reasons would be the fact that it lasted only six weeks. Way way ahead of that would be that he doesn’t like me. He doesn’t care for me, I meant nothing to him, these are reasons to get over someone. Something is only as real as both parties let it be. Obviously I thought it was something that it wasn’t.

Six weeks? Six weeks has absolutely nothing to do with it. AMD was the first guy I liked in three years. The first guy I kissed in two years. The first guy I made out with, etc. in three years. Six weeks is bullshit. It’s the three years and what it’s like to find someone after that length of time that matters.

But it doesn’t really matter. None of it matters.

So show a little sensitivity. What does it matter to you anyway? Read it or don’t read it. No reason to be an ass about it. Try building someone up rather than tearing them down. What good is there in being mean?

And I am getting over it so thanks for your big help. If it weren’t for that comment I don’t know what I’d do. How would I even know to wake up in the morning? But thanks to you I know what to do and the value of the relationship whatever it was.

Fuck, this blog pisses me off sometimes.

Weight day tomorrow and it won't be good. I don't know why but that's how it goes sometimes.

Shopping Therapy

No post yesterday, though it would have been more whimpering anyway, I was in R@leigh with my mom on a shopping field trip. Shopping sucks here. We have everything on a small mini-level. Mini Gap, Mini Belks, Mini Abercrombie. And then missing a whole array of stores like the coveted Jcrew and Banana Republic. So once in a while, especially after dropping 6 dress sizes, one must make the jaunt to R@leigh to try on some clothes. Exhaust yourself, show me what you’re working with.

I bought two skirts, both size 6, yeah rock on, and the cutest pair of Gap jean capris you’ve ever seen. I’m marrying these jeans, I’m telling you. He’s at Sears picking out a lovely dull Cubic Zirconium as we speak. I also bought two t-shirts, a belt (yes, that’s right a belt baby), and some socks (you heard me socks! Ok so that one’s not so cool). And some flip flops and barrettes. Total damage a little over $300. I managed to escape Banana without anything though a found a cute tee-shirt for the mere insanity of $44.

My mom was trying to talk me into buying a STRING BIKINI but the stretch marks on my boobs were freaking me out even though she told me I was crazy. It was $60 so I just decided to hold off.

Despite new clothes (and debt) I’m still pretty sad. My apartment’s starting to take on that divorced dad look with mounds of dust and shit on the floor. No pizza boxes however so that’s good.

I’m determined to at least “plant my own garden” and get my house in order. February was a good month on the diet front and I should give out the stats. And I will. I promise. I’m going to be all caught up and normalized by this weekend. No more feeling sorry for myself. If I was once happy by myself I can certainly regain that happiness again. Heck if I could just even out my emotions to a low dull hum that would be terrific. It’s this up (pretend I’m okay), down (hidding under the covers) that’s driving me insane. I just want to think about what I feel and feel it and move forth.

I will emerge stronger and with loads of lessons under my belt (yeah, a belt baby!) to put to better use next time.

And I've got to increase my calories. I think I am putting myself back into starvation.

Why Disney and His Princesses Suck

I’ve never been so thin and full of vitality and had such a fucked up life at the same time. It’s driving me crazy. Why for once can’t I just lead a normal life with a normal boyfriend and have a normal job. Sleep normal hours, watch normal television, write normal emails, eat normal food. Everything nice and normal. But no. It is my life and by definition it must be fucked up.

The internet dating site is so over. I’m so done with that damn thing. I can’t even tell you. I haven’t got a freaking clue how to meet someone that’s what I’m looking for but at least for the time being I haven’t the strength of character to continue on there and weed through that swamp.

It’s just going to be me for a while. I was jumping back in too fast thinking the best way to get over AMD was to rush into another guy. And I just don’t see it working. Charlotte (Sex and the City, hello) says to take half the length of the relationship so I’m taking three weeks. Just me, no other pressures. I’ll re-evaluate what I want to do after that time, probably some sort of class (though I want somebody older) or just hang at the Art Museum and hope for the best. I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m taking a breather.

For some god awful reason I show a pound gained. I find this amusing because a) I’ve worked out hard, and by hard I mean sweaty nasty hard, everyday and b) I haven’t been eating much because I can’t decipher hunger feelings from binge feelings so when I feel hungry I just don’t eat. I’ve been under 1000 calories a day for almost a week now. So you can understand why GAINING is so amusing. Really fucking funny. Ha Ha and all that.

I feel much better now that I’m not forcing myself to try to date. I’m just going to chill and work on that POUND and the rest. Get reacquainted with my television set. Oh joy.