I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
If a brain cell dies and there's no one there to hear it...
Friday afternoon. Some days I really wonder what I'm doing here. I don't just mean here at VLSCI (stands for "Very Large Software Company Inc." for those not familiar with my nickname for my place of employment), but here as in on Earth. I don't have much ambition unless you count my insatiable need to claim the title of Queen of Having Too Many Expensive Purses or Girl Most Likely to Buy Another Pair of Black Shoes Even Though I Already Have Five Pairs Too Many. Marla has her artwork, slp has her writing and her acting, Mystie's a world renowned chef, and Meta takes some of the most amazing photos I've ever seen, but I have nothing of the kind. I remember when Dr Karen (my therapist) asked me what I was passionate about and I was silent for what felt like an hour while I scoured my mind for anything and came up with not a single thing. Perhaps that's part of why I have such a struggle with my self esteem? If I had something outside myself that I loved and could focus on, perhaps I wouldn't be so focused on every little defect of character? It's a thought.
I did my walk last night. I've been eating according to plan since Tuesday night's Ice Cream Incident. You know, it's tough to find stuff to write about when it's going well. You won't all leave if I get this figured out and don't have any more angst-riddled entries, will you? (Written as though I've got simply scads of people hanging on my every word!) I love each of you dearly but I think that staying fat just to keep my journal interesting would sort of defeat the purpose. I'm just going to have to start doing new things until I find an interesting hobby to write about. Perhaps I could start with fencing? Um, on second thought, something with less potential to put an eye out would probably be a better idea.
Thursday evening. Thanks to Marla for the inspiration for today's title. (I had totally forgotten about Chumbawumba until you commented!) You know, I think I should start charting these little funks that I get into because I'm willing to bet that they're fairly predictable and fall around a week before TTOM. In any case, thanks in large part to the collective butt kicking/motivational words of wisdom I got from all of you, I was right back at it yesterday. I did my entire 39 minutes of energetic walking (plus w/u and c/d) and it wasn't even hard. (Incidentally, I think that's what really gets me mad: it's not that hard - no part of it - and yet I manage to psych myself out of it. How does that happen?)
I also have a little milestone to share with you all, one which I only realized I'd passed this afternoon while talking to someone in the office. I started the Ten Percent Challenge at 262.2 pounds and said that my first and only (at that point!) goal was to lose 10% of my body weight, or 26.2 pounds. Guess what? I weighed in at 234.4 this morning, which is 1.6 pounds below my 10% goal! (Release the balloons from the ceiling and cue up "Happy Days are Here Again".) Yes, I really did it. Of course, it took me about two seconds to decide that I'm not done and that it's time to launch the Ten Percent Challenge, Part Deux. For anyone keeping track (gosh, I hope none of you are), that would make my next goal 212.4 pounds. It would be nice to reach that goal round about Halloween, although my birthday (mid October) would be even better. We shall see. The important part isn't how fast I lose weight, it's how tightly controlled my blood sugar is and how much easier it is for me to get out and be active. I really want to be running 60 minutes a day (yes, you read that correctly - not walking 60 minutes but running) by New Year's Eve and the key to that is remaining focused and motivated.
You want to know what's kind of a bummer, though? I've lost all of this weight - 28 pounds, nearly - and that's fabulous and everyone's so happy for me and yet, I'm still fat! It's like I want to say, "don't be happy, don't congratulate me...I'm still fat, can't you see that???" I know friends and family are genuinely happy for me and, don't get me wrong, it's really nice to hear the good wishes, it's just that I sometimes let myself be happy, too, right up until I get a sideways glance at myself in the mirror. After the sense of shock that the sight of The Stomach always provokes comes outrage that I've done all of this, lost weight, got my butt up on my freakin' vacation to walk on a treadmill, and I've still got this huge thing stuck to the middle of my body. I just want to scream with the frustration and loathing I feel toward It. Stupid, stupid, stupid, ugly fat blobby thing, why won't you go away? Why do you insist on hanging on to every one of your disgusting inches as though your life depended on it (ironic, since my life depends on losing those same inches)? I know, it's not positive to think or speak of a body part that way and yes, I remember that part of the Ten Percent Challenge was to be more positive about myself and the journey, but I'm being honest here, folks, and this is how I really do feel, deep down where all of the pain, fear, insecurity, and years of abuse live. This thing has brought me nothing but pain and ridicule for years - as long as I can remember, to be honest - and I know that I need to make peace with it, I'm just not sure how that happens. Slowly, would be my guess.
Wednesday morning. It's not a particularly good morning, I warn you in advance, in case you'd like to skip to your next read right now. (I'll wait.) OK, if you're still reading, you're a brave soul and I applaud and appreciate your willingness to brave what is probably going to be a whiny rant.
I am so unhappy with myself right now. I was going to say "angry", but then I decided that connoted negativity which, while true, is something I'm trying to avoid. You know what, though? It's how I feel, so I'm going to say it: I'm so angry with myself right now. Yes, I am! I know I shouldn't beat myself up for being human but it's how I feel and that's what this journal is supposed to be about - my feelings - so there it is. I'm angry and frustrated and scared and fed up and confused and tired, all at once.
What's going on to make me feel this way?
1. I haven't gone for one of my walks since Saturday night. Sunday night I made the excuse that I was waiting for a call from a friend, but I could have gone and just talked to him when I got home. Monday night I left work so late that I didn't get to eat until nearly 7pm and I had to pick up my meals for this week before 9pm, and since my walk with warm up and cooldown is nearly an hour now, I didn't have time to fit it in at 8pm (an hour after eating). Last night? There wasn't any excuse last night, I just simply didn't want to do it because it's such a big commitment. And there, at the heart of things, is why I didn't walk Sunday or Monday nights, either. Fifty minutes (including warm up and cooldown) is, especially for a fat girl like me, such a long time to be exercising that it's got me spooked and running (not literally - don't I wish?) for the hills. I wondered how long it would take for my "flight or flight" reflex to kick in and I think I have my answer now.
2. Both Monday night (while picking up my meals from the yogurt shop) and last night, I've not only not taken my walk, I've compounded the sin by substituting a cup of ice cream in its place. Not nonfat, no sugar ice cream, mind you, just the regular, old fashioned, pack-more-fat-on-your-already-huge-belly kind. Why? Why, why, why, why, WHY???
3. I haven't taken my blood sugar since Sunday morning when, not surprisingly, it was very close to perfect. Heck, I'd been eating right on plan and exercising for the previous four nights, so of course it was good. Since then? Yeah, you can see why I'm not even bothering to find out how bad it is.
On the positive side? I did weigh myself yesterday in hopes of seeing a higher number and snapping myself out of the stupid funk I'm in, only to find that I'd lost a little bit and am at 235 (or was yesterday morning before my second ice cream meltdown). That means that I've lost 27 pounds from my high weight in March and 21 pounds from my starting point two years ago, which is all that I'm giving myself credit for on my Charm Bracelet Challenge. (I got a gold charm bracelet for the first 10 pounds and one charm for every 10 pounds after that.) So, as of yesterday, I've earned the right to wear the charm bracelet I've had since 2002 and been unable to wear for nearly two years now.
I must snap myself out of this funk, like now. This cannot go on, I will not allow it to go on. If I have to fall back a week and walk for 35 minutes, 24 seconds for another week, so be it. If I have to hold at that level indefinitely, so be it. What will not happen is that I stop my exercising because I'm freaking out about the time commitment - that is just not acceptable. The Ten Percent Challenge wasn't about my weight or fitting into cuter clothes or even feeling better about myself, it was - and is - about my health, plain and simple, and I'm right on the cusp of having my blood sugar under tight control. Nothing - nothing - can be allowed to derail that effort. Nothing.
Monday morning. I know it's been over three days since I last wrote but, I'm afraid, the song is the same and I haven't written any new lyrics, either. The way I was explaining it (not well) to a friend last night is that it's like I'm not unhappy, it's more that I'm anxious and antsy and just not happy. In the old days, I would have eaten my way through feelings like these - it wouldn't have helped, but it would have at least given me something to do. As it is, I just feel like I need to shed my skin because it's chafing and, of course, I can't do that, so I just pace and fret and whine and feel sorry for myself because I'm totally unable to be happy or, at the very least, properly distracted.
The Ten Percent Challenge is still coming along nicely. I did skip my walk last night because I was waiting for a phone call, but I won't do that again. I am a little paranoid that I'm going to see a gain or no loss this week because last night's skipped walk means I only did four days of cardio last week, even though I'm going to make up for it by doing six days this week. Just to be on the safe side, I think I'll wait until Sunday to weigh in (it'll give things time to even back out with the extra exercise plus it will be a month since my last published weight and measurements). I did increase my walking time to 39 minutes plus warm up and cool down on Saturday, right on schedule, without any pain and without freaking out about how much of a commitment that is. I'm trying to keep focused on my goals: tight control of my blood sugar, less weight for my skeleton to carry around (specifically, my ankles, knees, hips, and lower back), and more energy for the active lifestyle I want to create. Hopefully, by keeping my eyes on what's really important here, I won't get too freaked out when the number on the scale or on the tags in my clothing aren't as low as I'd like. As long as my blood sugar is under control, it doesn't matter how fat I am because I'll be on my way to a lifetime of good health.
Oh yes, and on a completely unrelated and superficial note, I bought my very first Kate Spade bag on Saturday at Nordie's! WooHoo. Can you say "Anniversary Priced"? It was less than half of the original price and I love it so very much. It's one of her really awesome awning stripe patterns in a bucket style bag and the colors are really rich and bold, so it should be good for all seasons, not just summer. I'll try to get a picture and post it so that I can stare at it throughout the day.
