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.
Saturday morning. I just had to pop in to mention that I'm getting ready to hit the treadmill for 20 minutes this morning before heading up to pick up TCB and then meet my folks for lunch. This will be my third straight day of working out - can you imagine??? Wow, and I actually resisted the very strong urges to binge that came along last night and went to bed instead. (Well, I sorted through the approximately nine loads of laundry I need to do that had been sitting on my bedroom floor first, but then I went to bed.)
Friday afternoon. The holidays are not a fun time of year when you're dead busy at work.
OK, I suppose I can't really make a post consisting entirely of that statement, but that really does summarize how I feel. Today - this whole week, really - is just running me ragged. Ten employees, 19 products between Christmas Day and the Feast of Epiphany (Three Kings Day), and one really large ball of stress located right between my shoulder blades. When you go home, come back, and still don't feel that you've gotten any rest, that's not a happy feeling. Still, I walked for 20 minutes yesterday and again today and I haven't binged (yet*), so it's better than it could be. Of course, TCB threw me into a panic when he called this afternoon to find out what time I would be to his house tonight. Tonight? I'm going home, collapsing into a heap, and perhaps - perhaps - doing some laundry tonight. Tomorrow night, yes, New Year's Eve...that's when we're going out (or staying in) with friends. Not Friday after one of the toughest weeks yet with the new job. Tomorrow. Apparently he now needs to call said friends to tell them it's tomorrow. Boo on Denise the party pooper.
I know that you call someone who's not in the mood for Christmas a "Scrooge", but what do they call someone who's boycotting New Year's Eve???
* I'm throwing in the yet because: a. I don't want to jinx myself, b. I've certainly had the urges to do so, and c. I can't think about never bingeing again because I've lived this way for so long and I've said it before only to go right back. This time, we'll just take it minute by minute or day by day (once I get stronger).
Thursday night. This is pure insanity. How could you not know that your kid was on a plane to Kuwait? Oh my gosh, if I'd ever have even thought of such a thing my behind would have been surgically bonded with the counterpane on my bed because I'd never leave there again. I'm sure the boy in question had good intentions but I swear that I'd have gone over there myself if Alcott had done it. My boy in a war zone? Heck, yes, I'd be there with TCB's flak jacket and as many sailors and Marines as I could get my hands on. Sheesh, such a scary thought!
Moving on to more important things like a recap of my Christmas experiences. The eating started on Friday when my former team had a potluck in conjunction with the Secret Santa gift exchange (of which I was a part). One of their seasonal employees made this awesome broccoli casserole with a layer of Cream of Mushroom and a crispy topping of breadcrumbs and Durkee onions. Omigosh, just to die for! I've never voluntarily eaten that much broccoli in my life. In any case, lots of eating followed by sandwiches with my current team (we're bringing in lunch every Friday between last week and February just because everyone's so busy). Stuffed to the gills, I waddled home.
Saturday was my day with Alcott, his siblings, Genevieve (the other CASA on their case, and the foster family of one of his siblings. As a matter of fact, that foster family ordered an entire Christmas dinner for 15 from the supermarket, paid for it themselves, got gifts for each of the kids, and then went with us when we left to visit two of the kids who weren't allowed to come out with us at their group home. Let me tell you, it's not easy cramming 17 people into a 5'x5' room but we did it.
Sunday morning dawned bright and clear and I knew that I'd better wear a twinset because I'd be taking the cardigan off once I got to TCB's - I loathe being warm and it was in the high 70s. We had sausage, cheese, and crackers out before dinner as well as some wonderful hand-made olives and various chocolate treats. TCB cooked the ham, his mom made stuffed shells in Marinara sauce, and we had broccoli on the side. Oh, and let us not forget the garlic bread! No dessert other than the chocolate goodies, but who needed it? So full and then I got leftovers to take home, too. Gifts included a cashmere sweater (in bright blue heather), a cute, little fleecy hat, and Neil Diamond's latest CD. Yes, I did very well for myself.
Eating everything in sight continued throughout the week because, well, why not? Yes, Denise, why shouldn't you eat anything you feel like? Diabetic? Nah, I'll pass on that, thanks. Yeah, right. [Note to any men or squeamish people reading: Stop right here and skip down to the next set of brackets.]
So, I've been fighting a yeast infection for a while now. I've tried the over the counter stuff (single dose, three pack, AND seven day) and then finally gave up and called the doctor to get Diflucan last Thursday. Great. Relief for about four days and then - welcome back! - the itchiness started right back up yesterday. Miserably so. Disheartened and near desperation, I headed to WebMD to see what might be up and discovered something called recurrent or chronic vaginal yeast infections. Whoopee!!! And what might, pray tell, cause such a thing? Gosh, right up there on the list of possibilities is diabetes. Gosh, when was the last time I checked my blood sugar? Hmmmm, I have a bad feeling about this. There are various suggestions as to how to rid yourself of this problem, several of which involve changing your eating habits, which started me thinking about...yes, you guessed it, eating properly and getting regular exercise! *Sound of heads slapping as readers yell, "DUH, DENISE," simultaneously*
[OK, you can start reading again.]
So, I'm all fired up now. I took a 20 minute walk this morning, drank a Glucerna shake for breakfast, ate reasonably well for lunch, and am planning to go home for another 20 minute walk tonight. I won't break any land-speed records but it's going to put me on the road back to better health and that's the important thing. I've got my healthy, prepared meals ordered and they'll arrive on Sunday, so I'm feeling pretty darned good. Which is good.
For the immediate future (a few weeks), my only goals will be to get at least 20 minutes of walking in every day and to eat reasonable amounts of food while trying to avoid eating junk. Seems simple enough, right? The eating disorder will, no doubt, challenge me, but I've got a recurring, weekly appointment with my therapist anyway, so let's bring it on.
