It is a journey that has taken me a quarter of a year, which seems a bit pathetic, but here we are just the same. As I write this morning, I am 19 lbs. lighter at 275, Still a disturbing number, but one that is headed in the right direction.
Today is also, officially 12 weeks without cigarettes...who would have ever thought? Not me...if I knew me...I'd have talked about me to my friends...isn't that horrible? I am guilty of my biggest complaint.
I have also let the public part of my journey falter a little bit this month. That whole co-worker issue turned out to be bigger than I would have thought and to be honest kind of left me annoyingly drained, but I was able to say most of what I felt was necessary and what I didn't get to say was my decision. It is obvious that she is not going to get it, so I am fine to move on and well...she will do what she does I suppose and our worlds will go on simulanteously mostly unaware of each other.
I have recognized in all this that there are more things in my life that I am unhappy with then I care to admit, but I feel powerless to change them...have I exchanged one set of excuses for another? We'll see...I may just have to overcome them ;).
I have another excuse...the building of our new home has commenced and there are sooo many decisions, I sometimes decide not to decide anything.
A quick update I know, butI will do my best to improve.
The goal is to be better than I am today.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Christie...Please Go To The Diary Room
2 more lbs..people,... 2 more lbs!
I could congratulate myself, but I know that it is mostly the medication, so kudos to whoever invented Phenteramine...your goal is to start the process and mine is to finish....hmm, can we switch roles?
Well...another day another dollar.
Short work week, no real energy, but tons of medically fabricated energy. At work that can sometimes be a problem, because it makes me antsy and tends to set me off on mini anger tirades. I get so involved in being aggravated that after I have gotten all worked up about something and I am just about to go "Spider Monkey" I realize that I am stupid to be that angry and usually end up laughing at myself.
This week has been especially hard for me at work. A female co-worker, who used to be a good friend returned back from maternity leave. Before she had her baby she showed me her true bitchy ass, self centered, overrated colors and while I am fine and have been able to progress past a point of caring about any of it. She seems truly surprised that I am angry with her and has continued a campaign of annoying people to death about why I am so angry with her.
Melodrama.
If you want to ride the horse...ask the horse! Don't quack at the duck...QUACK!
The real problem between us is that she has excellent self-esteem. Fantasy self-esteem, if you will! You probably know her, she does everything better than everyone. She is better than everyone.
Hey you!! reading my blog right now! Melodrama can read my blog better and should be paid twice as much for it!
I just want to scream about it sometimes, but you know what, I agreed to pretend that nothing was going on. Trying to protect her pregnant hormonal feelings. She just kept hurting mine. Better than me...should have chosen better friends...doesn't understand the struggles. If she isn't experiencing it, it doesn't exist or you are exaggerating it. I got a free pass to heaven just for sitting next to her...the only woman who ever had a baby.
It wasn't so much that she thought she was better than me, it was that she quantified it. She put a dollar figure on it, a percentage, a ranking. Like this job is soo important that you have to actually waste your time to level me?
To hear her tell it, she was having a rough pregnancy. Pregnancy is tough, I know. I was concerned as it seemed that she was having pre-partum depression if possible, but general consensus was not to broach the subject because NO ONE and I mean NO ONE wanted to feel that wrath. I suppose this is why I was sent OVER the edge when I found out that she had been making comments about physical ability vs. laziness during my pregnancy with my youngest.
She questioned my physical ability to walk vs. just being a lazy fat ass.
I was a 7 months pregnant, sciatic nerve suffering, Insulin shot taking, every bone aching heifer, and at 317lbs, just in case you are reading....NO I could not walk to the cafeteria, nor could I walk a flight of steps without issues. I feel like justice was kind of served if she truly felt her pregnancy difficult.
Here's where it gets hairy. I do not wish to speak with her other than in the course of my job. I do not want to exchange pleasantries, I do not want to know how she is doing and I do not want to respond when she asks me. I have written a trial letter to her and I have shown it to others. Some say send it...some say it's too harsh. I am posting it on my notes on Facebook, so if you get a chance to read it...drop a line give me your opinion...maybe I'll write a nasty note for you one day. : )
I have suffered pain at her hands for long enough and she is aware.
She made a decision not to try to make it better. It's better to play the martyr than be the hero.
There is no hero for me to be and I refuse to be the martyr.
I said I was calling my counselor...can somebody remind me what I did with her number?
I could congratulate myself, but I know that it is mostly the medication, so kudos to whoever invented Phenteramine...your goal is to start the process and mine is to finish....hmm, can we switch roles?
Well...another day another dollar.
Short work week, no real energy, but tons of medically fabricated energy. At work that can sometimes be a problem, because it makes me antsy and tends to set me off on mini anger tirades. I get so involved in being aggravated that after I have gotten all worked up about something and I am just about to go "Spider Monkey" I realize that I am stupid to be that angry and usually end up laughing at myself.
This week has been especially hard for me at work. A female co-worker, who used to be a good friend returned back from maternity leave. Before she had her baby she showed me her true bitchy ass, self centered, overrated colors and while I am fine and have been able to progress past a point of caring about any of it. She seems truly surprised that I am angry with her and has continued a campaign of annoying people to death about why I am so angry with her.
Melodrama.
If you want to ride the horse...ask the horse! Don't quack at the duck...QUACK!
The real problem between us is that she has excellent self-esteem. Fantasy self-esteem, if you will! You probably know her, she does everything better than everyone. She is better than everyone.
Hey you!! reading my blog right now! Melodrama can read my blog better and should be paid twice as much for it!
I just want to scream about it sometimes, but you know what, I agreed to pretend that nothing was going on. Trying to protect her pregnant hormonal feelings. She just kept hurting mine. Better than me...should have chosen better friends...doesn't understand the struggles. If she isn't experiencing it, it doesn't exist or you are exaggerating it. I got a free pass to heaven just for sitting next to her...the only woman who ever had a baby.
It wasn't so much that she thought she was better than me, it was that she quantified it. She put a dollar figure on it, a percentage, a ranking. Like this job is soo important that you have to actually waste your time to level me?
To hear her tell it, she was having a rough pregnancy. Pregnancy is tough, I know. I was concerned as it seemed that she was having pre-partum depression if possible, but general consensus was not to broach the subject because NO ONE and I mean NO ONE wanted to feel that wrath. I suppose this is why I was sent OVER the edge when I found out that she had been making comments about physical ability vs. laziness during my pregnancy with my youngest.
She questioned my physical ability to walk vs. just being a lazy fat ass.
I was a 7 months pregnant, sciatic nerve suffering, Insulin shot taking, every bone aching heifer, and at 317lbs, just in case you are reading....NO I could not walk to the cafeteria, nor could I walk a flight of steps without issues. I feel like justice was kind of served if she truly felt her pregnancy difficult.
Here's where it gets hairy. I do not wish to speak with her other than in the course of my job. I do not want to exchange pleasantries, I do not want to know how she is doing and I do not want to respond when she asks me. I have written a trial letter to her and I have shown it to others. Some say send it...some say it's too harsh. I am posting it on my notes on Facebook, so if you get a chance to read it...drop a line give me your opinion...maybe I'll write a nasty note for you one day. : )
I have suffered pain at her hands for long enough and she is aware.
She made a decision not to try to make it better. It's better to play the martyr than be the hero.
There is no hero for me to be and I refuse to be the martyr.
I said I was calling my counselor...can somebody remind me what I did with her number?
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Breakdown!!!
I'll begin with the good news...12 lbs and 1 pant size!! I got to wear jeans today that I have not worn since I had Erica....which also means that they are completely outdated, but nice to wear something different.
I went on vacation with my family and some friends this week in Branson. Our highly anticipated get away...my friend and I spent tons of time plotting and planning what would happen and what we would do. Every meal, every day, we were guaranteed to have a blast!
So what happened? Starting with the week leading up to the trip, things already started going sour. The tenants in our rental did not pay the rent on time for the 4th month in a row, requiring us to pay the mortgage on that property out of our pocket. My husband did not listen to warnings about saving money so that we have money to spend on this trip, instead he bought some junk from his gypsy friend and a motor off of Craig's list. All the while making disparaging comments about me to his friends. He said that I keep telling him that we are broke . We are not broke and I never told him that. He asked me for $600.00 to buy a boat and I told him that he could do what he wants, but he needed to keep in mind that we have a family vacation, he has an expensive weekend with the boys, fall clothes for the kids, Autumn's birthday party, and payments on the construction all here within the next 60 days. I suppose it's easier for him to talk crap and say that I am keeping him from his money, but why does he have to take my trying to be responsible as an affront to his masculinity?
So...he spent too much money, the renters didn't pay, and despite the fact that I broke into my "free upgrade" jar, ( I keep change in one of those huge office size water bottles, saving money to upgrade appliances in my new house) we had very limited money to spend on our 5 day trip. Which meant no Dixie Stampede, no shows, limited shopping, and a lot of disappointment.
I was feeling so let down by the whole thing to begin with and on Friday, the ladies attempted a trip to the Outlet Mall with the kids...My kids were horrible. The oldest wouldn't listen and her sister did not want to stay in the stroller. I became frustrated and had one of those, "Why did I have kids?" moments. We left after one store.
We went to eat lunch, which was enjoyable. "Mel's Hard Luck Diner". The servers take turns singing while they take care of you. My kids were angels, it was fun, we were all laughing and having a good time.
My dad was passing through town and he stopped, joined us for lunch, and then came back to the rental house for a while. Whenever I am around my dad, I become 8 years old again. I want to know why? Why were we not good enough for him to come home? Why he had to lie about us? Why a story that he makes up is always better than who we are and how much we would love him if he let us? Sometimes, I think this is the reason that I never feel good enough for anyone. I am always afraid of the thing that I did or will do that will make someone walk away forever. I overcompensate as a result. I do too much, I act too needy. People and things let me down because I need for them to make me feel like I want to feel and they don't. They can't.
Back to vacation...right in the middle of drowning in my abandonment issues, I find out that the vacation is taking a turn in a completely different direction and in my mind, it has no way of redeeming itself. I am trying to talk to my dad and that's when I feel the hot tears building up behind my eyes. I feel the burning sensation from my stomach to my throat. I am nearing utter meltdown and I truly don't know why.
I excuse myself and walk into the house. I see my friend, not wanting to be rude, I stop to ask her a question, but I could feel it as it was leaving my mouth...it sounded like the Spanish Inquisition and behind it was Noah...in his ark, animals two by two, riding the great flood of emotion that I was too embarrassed to let out. I hid in the bathroom, completely panicked. They are going to be able to tell that I was crying. I want to hide in here forever....but my dad is outside and he will think I am being rude. I dutifully pull it together and walk outside, careful not to talk to anyone. I sit out with my dad until he admits that it's time for him to leave and I drive him back to town.
Upset the entire night and still not knowing completely why. The next day, my friend and I spend the day together and talk, and talk, and talk ...OH and cry! Now it's everything, everything is upsetting me. Not angering me...I can handle anger. It's hurting me. Deeply.
But, why?
The discussion was good though. I am glad to have such a good friend. It's so easy to be friends when everything is great and you are laughing your ass off, but it is another thing entirely to be a good friend when things are down...Thank you for being a friend! We both agreed that we felt a little let down by the vacation. I guess it didn't live up to our expectations, this should be okay, right? I don't know what happened.
I cried about a lot of things that day. I cried about my crushed expectations. I cried about my kids and the struggles that you go through as a parent. I cried about how miserable I am at this weight. I cried about how I am letting my family down. They need me to be so much more for them and I physically can't.
We had this discussion while walking through an outdoor mall. Funny...I remember not even being embarrassed as I talked about hating how I feel, crying, and totally loving these pictures that would be great in my new bathroom all in the same sentence.
The truth...people, I am horribly flawed. I am human. I want so much to be different, but I am afraid of change...you've read all of this before...Is the breakdown the beginning or the end?
You decide.
I am too tired to think about it anymore today. My goal is to wake up in the morning.
I went on vacation with my family and some friends this week in Branson. Our highly anticipated get away...my friend and I spent tons of time plotting and planning what would happen and what we would do. Every meal, every day, we were guaranteed to have a blast!
So what happened? Starting with the week leading up to the trip, things already started going sour. The tenants in our rental did not pay the rent on time for the 4th month in a row, requiring us to pay the mortgage on that property out of our pocket. My husband did not listen to warnings about saving money so that we have money to spend on this trip, instead he bought some junk from his gypsy friend and a motor off of Craig's list. All the while making disparaging comments about me to his friends. He said that I keep telling him that we are broke . We are not broke and I never told him that. He asked me for $600.00 to buy a boat and I told him that he could do what he wants, but he needed to keep in mind that we have a family vacation, he has an expensive weekend with the boys, fall clothes for the kids, Autumn's birthday party, and payments on the construction all here within the next 60 days. I suppose it's easier for him to talk crap and say that I am keeping him from his money, but why does he have to take my trying to be responsible as an affront to his masculinity?
So...he spent too much money, the renters didn't pay, and despite the fact that I broke into my "free upgrade" jar, ( I keep change in one of those huge office size water bottles, saving money to upgrade appliances in my new house) we had very limited money to spend on our 5 day trip. Which meant no Dixie Stampede, no shows, limited shopping, and a lot of disappointment.
I was feeling so let down by the whole thing to begin with and on Friday, the ladies attempted a trip to the Outlet Mall with the kids...My kids were horrible. The oldest wouldn't listen and her sister did not want to stay in the stroller. I became frustrated and had one of those, "Why did I have kids?" moments. We left after one store.
We went to eat lunch, which was enjoyable. "Mel's Hard Luck Diner". The servers take turns singing while they take care of you. My kids were angels, it was fun, we were all laughing and having a good time.
My dad was passing through town and he stopped, joined us for lunch, and then came back to the rental house for a while. Whenever I am around my dad, I become 8 years old again. I want to know why? Why were we not good enough for him to come home? Why he had to lie about us? Why a story that he makes up is always better than who we are and how much we would love him if he let us? Sometimes, I think this is the reason that I never feel good enough for anyone. I am always afraid of the thing that I did or will do that will make someone walk away forever. I overcompensate as a result. I do too much, I act too needy. People and things let me down because I need for them to make me feel like I want to feel and they don't. They can't.
Back to vacation...right in the middle of drowning in my abandonment issues, I find out that the vacation is taking a turn in a completely different direction and in my mind, it has no way of redeeming itself. I am trying to talk to my dad and that's when I feel the hot tears building up behind my eyes. I feel the burning sensation from my stomach to my throat. I am nearing utter meltdown and I truly don't know why.
I excuse myself and walk into the house. I see my friend, not wanting to be rude, I stop to ask her a question, but I could feel it as it was leaving my mouth...it sounded like the Spanish Inquisition and behind it was Noah...in his ark, animals two by two, riding the great flood of emotion that I was too embarrassed to let out. I hid in the bathroom, completely panicked. They are going to be able to tell that I was crying. I want to hide in here forever....but my dad is outside and he will think I am being rude. I dutifully pull it together and walk outside, careful not to talk to anyone. I sit out with my dad until he admits that it's time for him to leave and I drive him back to town.
Upset the entire night and still not knowing completely why. The next day, my friend and I spend the day together and talk, and talk, and talk ...OH and cry! Now it's everything, everything is upsetting me. Not angering me...I can handle anger. It's hurting me. Deeply.
But, why?
The discussion was good though. I am glad to have such a good friend. It's so easy to be friends when everything is great and you are laughing your ass off, but it is another thing entirely to be a good friend when things are down...Thank you for being a friend! We both agreed that we felt a little let down by the vacation. I guess it didn't live up to our expectations, this should be okay, right? I don't know what happened.
I cried about a lot of things that day. I cried about my crushed expectations. I cried about my kids and the struggles that you go through as a parent. I cried about how miserable I am at this weight. I cried about how I am letting my family down. They need me to be so much more for them and I physically can't.
We had this discussion while walking through an outdoor mall. Funny...I remember not even being embarrassed as I talked about hating how I feel, crying, and totally loving these pictures that would be great in my new bathroom all in the same sentence.
The truth...people, I am horribly flawed. I am human. I want so much to be different, but I am afraid of change...you've read all of this before...Is the breakdown the beginning or the end?
You decide.
I am too tired to think about it anymore today. My goal is to wake up in the morning.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Refocusing
After two days of thinking it over, I have decided that fear is healthy! I have decided that I am saddened watching things like the Biggest Loser and Ruby because I am afraid. I am afraid that it will never be me. I will never be the one, who is successful at this. I am wrong and I am looking at this whole thing the wrong way...it's ok to be afraid and it is ok to be sad, it's my response to it that is most important.
I am the one who gives up.
Not anymore.
It came to me after talking to some friends this weekend and after watching I am Sam.
When I first had my daughter, Autumn, I felt totally alone. I felt like it was me...all me. Sure, I was married and my husband tried to be hands on, but when you are new parents...there is a HUGE learning curve. I quickly discovered that no matter how much people think they are doing to help you...it is never enough. People, including those you are married to, are not in your skin and their experiences while shared with you..are completely different from yours. My husband will tell you that he was always more than willing to give me a break. I am sure that this is true, but to me it felt like the equivalent to a smoke break at work.
"I let you go to the store by yourself," He would say. That would drive me crazy. I would think, "yeah, because going to the store is not for you at all...because that's not work." I realized that his idea of being a hands on father was not only different from mine, it was also very different from what I was required to do. Funny how if a guy is involved in the day to day of his children's lives he is called a "hands on dad", but no matter how tirelessly a woman works, she is still only called a mother. Like mother means...despite the fact that two people were involved...it's your job...because no one else will do it.
I was scared. I had started so many things in my life that I never finished...violin lessons, singing lessons, creative writing classes, and the list goes on...how was I going to do this...all of this...and everything it required? I can't even bother to put on make-up anymore!
While watching I am Sam, I kept thinking..."Sam was scared". He had to be. At the mental capacity of a 7 year old, he raised a child. I would argue, anyway, that I am in charge of my full faculties and I have that same fear. Sam did not let that fear stop him from loving his daughter and doing everything he could to get her back. He couldn't do it on his own though, he needed help! Maybe I need help? Perhaps I should start seeing my counselor again?
Autumn will be five in one month, she is smart, beautiful, and well loved. We added Erica to the mix two years ago. While I would never agree that the duties involved with raising my children are split equally, my husband did become more involved with them as they became able to communicate with smiles, laughter, and words. Men and women both need to feel validated, but from my experiences and observations a woman is willing to take A LOT more before cracking.
The point is...I was scared. I had no choice but to devote my time to take care of my kids. I am still scared as there are NEVER enough hours in the day (and believe me, I take FULL advantage of as many as possible). I do it, though. Everyday. Despite the fear that still creeps up from time to time.
I am afraid now of failing. I am afraid of not knowing who I will become. I am afraid of becoming someone who is selfish and not loving. I do not want to go through this journey and find out that losing the thing I hate about myself now, reveals something else to hate. How do I let go of the anger?
Reflecting...anger is my thing. Anger is bred from fear. Where is that counselor's number?
The goal is to be more active and call my counselor!
I am the one who gives up.
Not anymore.
It came to me after talking to some friends this weekend and after watching I am Sam.
When I first had my daughter, Autumn, I felt totally alone. I felt like it was me...all me. Sure, I was married and my husband tried to be hands on, but when you are new parents...there is a HUGE learning curve. I quickly discovered that no matter how much people think they are doing to help you...it is never enough. People, including those you are married to, are not in your skin and their experiences while shared with you..are completely different from yours. My husband will tell you that he was always more than willing to give me a break. I am sure that this is true, but to me it felt like the equivalent to a smoke break at work.
"I let you go to the store by yourself," He would say. That would drive me crazy. I would think, "yeah, because going to the store is not for you at all...because that's not work." I realized that his idea of being a hands on father was not only different from mine, it was also very different from what I was required to do. Funny how if a guy is involved in the day to day of his children's lives he is called a "hands on dad", but no matter how tirelessly a woman works, she is still only called a mother. Like mother means...despite the fact that two people were involved...it's your job...because no one else will do it.
I was scared. I had started so many things in my life that I never finished...violin lessons, singing lessons, creative writing classes, and the list goes on...how was I going to do this...all of this...and everything it required? I can't even bother to put on make-up anymore!
While watching I am Sam, I kept thinking..."Sam was scared". He had to be. At the mental capacity of a 7 year old, he raised a child. I would argue, anyway, that I am in charge of my full faculties and I have that same fear. Sam did not let that fear stop him from loving his daughter and doing everything he could to get her back. He couldn't do it on his own though, he needed help! Maybe I need help? Perhaps I should start seeing my counselor again?
Autumn will be five in one month, she is smart, beautiful, and well loved. We added Erica to the mix two years ago. While I would never agree that the duties involved with raising my children are split equally, my husband did become more involved with them as they became able to communicate with smiles, laughter, and words. Men and women both need to feel validated, but from my experiences and observations a woman is willing to take A LOT more before cracking.
The point is...I was scared. I had no choice but to devote my time to take care of my kids. I am still scared as there are NEVER enough hours in the day (and believe me, I take FULL advantage of as many as possible). I do it, though. Everyday. Despite the fear that still creeps up from time to time.
I am afraid now of failing. I am afraid of not knowing who I will become. I am afraid of becoming someone who is selfish and not loving. I do not want to go through this journey and find out that losing the thing I hate about myself now, reveals something else to hate. How do I let go of the anger?
Reflecting...anger is my thing. Anger is bred from fear. Where is that counselor's number?
The goal is to be more active and call my counselor!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Fear and Self Loathing in House Springs
I have been trying really hard to keep a positive attitude. This week has been hard. The ups and downs of the medication have really put me through the ringer. It's really easy to revert back to past behavior, but I have been able to keep myself in check. IT HAS BEEN A STRUGGLE THIS WEEK!
I received a call earlier in the week from the surgeons office telling me that despite all my many phone calls to my husband's insurance company and their assurances to me that they will cover the remaining 10% after my insurance pays, they will not pay them a dime. This of course forces me to make another call to the union hall and demand that they explain why they are telling me one thing and the office another. Call escalations abound and I finally got someone to call the doctors office and advise them that they will cover it, but sheesh, do I really have to do everything myself? This is a pain in the butt, especially since I am not even sure if I want to go through with the surgery. Maybe I can just lose enough weight on my own, ya know?
My friend Sari told me to watch Ruby. I told her in no uncertain terms that despite the fact that I do, I hate watching stuff like that. I watch the biggest loser every season and get inspired. I watch it and get inspired until they start looking good and changing and I start feeling really bad about myself. Then I am inspired to sit my fat butt on the couch and watch them lose weight. She told me it was different and kind of gave me Ruby's back story.
See Ruby was 700lbs, and after her friends had an intervention of sorts she began a journey of weight loss. Ruby is now under 350lbs. Yes, Sari...I caved. (It is reality television after all!)
I was right though, it's the same for me. Watching her lose weight and talk about her struggles makes me sad. Listening to her friends say that she hears things that people say about her and it makes them sad makes me sad. I totally project my emotions onto others and take on their emotions. Why? I strive so hard to be an individual, but I worry sometimes that I would be completely inert if it were not for others. I don't just mean physically, I mean mentally and emotionally.
I hate to think that I am being down on myself, but I long for the day when I don't have to feel bad about myself. I am not sure that I know how to exist without feeling bad about myself. Have I kept myself miserable because it's familiar? I am scared to death to find out that is exactly what I have done. I am scared to think that will hold me back.
I don't want to be sad, I don't want to spend another second of my life this way. There is no magic pill and the "easy button" does not work at my house. I know it's a struggle. I know it will take time...I need a positive. I am praying for a positive.
The goal is to get over this rough patch while being more active.
I received a call earlier in the week from the surgeons office telling me that despite all my many phone calls to my husband's insurance company and their assurances to me that they will cover the remaining 10% after my insurance pays, they will not pay them a dime. This of course forces me to make another call to the union hall and demand that they explain why they are telling me one thing and the office another. Call escalations abound and I finally got someone to call the doctors office and advise them that they will cover it, but sheesh, do I really have to do everything myself? This is a pain in the butt, especially since I am not even sure if I want to go through with the surgery. Maybe I can just lose enough weight on my own, ya know?
My friend Sari told me to watch Ruby. I told her in no uncertain terms that despite the fact that I do, I hate watching stuff like that. I watch the biggest loser every season and get inspired. I watch it and get inspired until they start looking good and changing and I start feeling really bad about myself. Then I am inspired to sit my fat butt on the couch and watch them lose weight. She told me it was different and kind of gave me Ruby's back story.
See Ruby was 700lbs, and after her friends had an intervention of sorts she began a journey of weight loss. Ruby is now under 350lbs. Yes, Sari...I caved. (It is reality television after all!)
I was right though, it's the same for me. Watching her lose weight and talk about her struggles makes me sad. Listening to her friends say that she hears things that people say about her and it makes them sad makes me sad. I totally project my emotions onto others and take on their emotions. Why? I strive so hard to be an individual, but I worry sometimes that I would be completely inert if it were not for others. I don't just mean physically, I mean mentally and emotionally.
I hate to think that I am being down on myself, but I long for the day when I don't have to feel bad about myself. I am not sure that I know how to exist without feeling bad about myself. Have I kept myself miserable because it's familiar? I am scared to death to find out that is exactly what I have done. I am scared to think that will hold me back.
I don't want to be sad, I don't want to spend another second of my life this way. There is no magic pill and the "easy button" does not work at my house. I know it's a struggle. I know it will take time...I need a positive. I am praying for a positive.
The goal is to get over this rough patch while being more active.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Can I Take Back My Last Post?
The Phentermine is driving me crazy...
Day 1 --bouncing off the walls
Day 2 --no jittery feeling at all, just a slow anger rising from within like bile...pure evil
Day 3 -- jittery, alarming paranoia, and a building anger
Ummm...is this worth it?
I am not sure, but I am going to hang because it completely eliminates my hunger. Today, I didn't eat at all until dinner. I realize that's not good either, but 1 or 2 days sans food will not do any harm, right?
I forgot to mention the "cotton mouth". My mouth gets so dry I remind myself of Charlie Baileygates from Me, Myself, and Irene. I have been drinking non-stop and well, then I have to go to the bathroom every 5 minutes. I tried chewing gum, but nothing works...it's kind of funny though.
Like today I was in a meeting with my boss and he was trying to act all serious and I was like bouncing off the walls telling him that I disagree with him and like moving my lips around and my toungue was searching my mouth for any drop of moisture. i told him that I was on medication that makes me crazy, but I don't think he expected that. I actually told him to keep it in check or I would double dose it tomorrow...just kidding.
Being more active is going great, thanks to my little capsulated friend. I can not sit still. I am listening to the doctor though and am not doing any purposeful cardio, I have been spending 30 minutes a day with my portable pilates gym and my magic circle doing the resistance excercises as she suggested. I am pleased to announce that MY SCALE is now boasting a 282, which is 12 lbs less than it screamed at me back around my first post. As far as I can get from that 300 the better.
The goal is to be more active, less loopy, and to love myself enough to not let others interfere.
Day 1 --bouncing off the walls
Day 2 --no jittery feeling at all, just a slow anger rising from within like bile...pure evil
Day 3 -- jittery, alarming paranoia, and a building anger
Ummm...is this worth it?
I am not sure, but I am going to hang because it completely eliminates my hunger. Today, I didn't eat at all until dinner. I realize that's not good either, but 1 or 2 days sans food will not do any harm, right?
I forgot to mention the "cotton mouth". My mouth gets so dry I remind myself of Charlie Baileygates from Me, Myself, and Irene. I have been drinking non-stop and well, then I have to go to the bathroom every 5 minutes. I tried chewing gum, but nothing works...it's kind of funny though.
Like today I was in a meeting with my boss and he was trying to act all serious and I was like bouncing off the walls telling him that I disagree with him and like moving my lips around and my toungue was searching my mouth for any drop of moisture. i told him that I was on medication that makes me crazy, but I don't think he expected that. I actually told him to keep it in check or I would double dose it tomorrow...just kidding.
Being more active is going great, thanks to my little capsulated friend. I can not sit still. I am listening to the doctor though and am not doing any purposeful cardio, I have been spending 30 minutes a day with my portable pilates gym and my magic circle doing the resistance excercises as she suggested. I am pleased to announce that MY SCALE is now boasting a 282, which is 12 lbs less than it screamed at me back around my first post. As far as I can get from that 300 the better.
The goal is to be more active, less loopy, and to love myself enough to not let others interfere.
Monday, August 24, 2009
With a name like Phentermine...it has to be good!
Good afternoon.
I have got to tell you straight off the bat that I am...well not unlike my first week or so without cigarettes. I feel like everything is going a mile a minute. My heart is racing, my fingers are flying, my walk is like triple time. I am not going to lie...I love it!!! I feel like I could just keep going and going and going. On the flip side---it did not even take a day for my irritability to jump up from within. I know a certain manager who just about got the biz nitch from me today.
Oh, the things that we are willing to put ourselves through to lose weight.
How did I come upon this lovely little pocket of energy in capsule form? My CRAZY new doctor. As if having a doctor that was "assisting" you in losing weight, but never wrote down your weight was not bad enough...somehow at random (and a shout out to St. Luke's Physician referral service), I got hooked up with this pirate of the padded cell.
From an earlier debriefing I advised that I was pleased with my new doctor. On my first visit, she was just the right amount of personable, compassionate, and showed a willingness to help. She gave me big props for quitting smoking on my own and restored my faith in the medical profession. She did all of those things and more..that was until the phone call.
To set the tone, you should know that I had some blood work done...a litany of tubes and labels. The doctor let me know that I should call her in a week, if I did not hear back from them before then. My original appointment was on Wednesday, I waited until Thursday the following week to call...they were busy, but if I leave my number, she will call me back later on in the afternoon. I carefully recite my cell phone number to her and advise that I am at home for the rest of the day. She asks "Is this your home phone?" I advise very succinctly that I only have a cell, we do not have a home phone (by choice).
The waiting game begins.........
No call, all day, nothing. It's creeping closer to 5 and I tell myself that she is a new doctor for me and I don't want to jump right in and become "that" patient. I have convinced myself that her office hours are later, or she has a lot of paperwork. By 7 o'clock, I resign to myself that I have been overlooked.
I will call her in the morning. Little did I know that I was in for the most curious conversation I have ever had in my life. I get to work and prep myself to call her. Damn...her office doesn't open until 8:30. Well, I will have to call her later, but for now I will listen to my work voicemail...8 new messages.....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (people I work with understand)
1st message---customer
2nd message---atty
3rd message---Dr. Renfert "Christie, please give me a call when you get this"
4th message---insured
5th message---Dr. Renfert "Christie, I guess we are playing phone tag, give me a call, please"
***this is just me, but doesn't phone tag require two parties to play
6th message---Dr. Renfert "It's me again, I have your blood work"
7th message---hang up
8/th message---Dr. Renfert "Christie, I guess we could keep playing this way all day, but for the most part your blood work looks fine, but (and this is where time stopped for me) there was thing that was of GREAT concern to me, so give me a call in the morning"
Hmm...great concern.
15 minutes til 8:30.
I call her office as the clock changes from 8:29 to 8:30. I am connected to her directly. Very cheery voice, the conversation continues below.
"Your blood work looks really good" she says with a smile. "Cholesterol is fine, but there is one thing that is VERY CONCERNING to me"
"What's that?" I ask sheepishly.
"Are you somewhere that you can discuss this?" she questions.
"Yes, I can discuss whatever?" I reply with increasing nervousness.
" Your blood work" she begins, "reveals to me that you are....B O R D E R L I N E diabetic."
I laugh out loud...I laugh hysterically.
Dr. Renfert, obviously annoyed indicates very distinctly that diabetes is not a laughing matter.
I shared with her that I was very well aware of this, I explained that I meant her no disrespect and relayed to her in no uncertain terms that I would have hoped that she would have remembered our conversation from a week ago where I advised her that I am a Type II diabetic and was diagnosed 6 years ago.
She continued that my fasting blood sugar which in a non-diabetic is 120 or less and mine was 117...dumbfounded, I let her continue to tell me that I was only borderline diabetic or I was doing a really good job of keeping my sugars under control. She told me that I might have to get this thing called a "Glucometer" to check my blood sugars. I stop her again and I tell her I already have one. I get a new one every year and have for the last SIX years.
At this point, she is trying to get off the phone with me, but I ask her well, what about my A1C ( a test that can tell a physician what you average blood sugars have been over the past 3 months)
She recites "In someone without diabetes, we like the A1C to be under 5.9, yours is a 7 (not good, but not bad)" I question her on whether that wouldn't say to her that I am diabetic rather than borderline to which she responded..."that is something to think about"
I can not fathom that this is a REAL conversation I am having with a REAL physician, she then advises that "along that same line, we did find protein in your urine which is a definite indication that your diabetes is affecting your kidneys and they are showing signs of kidney damage.
Hmmmm...Everything EXCEPT for my fasting blood sugars shows I am diabetic, but we are going to err on the side of stupid and say that I am not.
Great choice in Dr.'s!
Tomorrow's goal is to be more active and less LOOPY!
I have got to tell you straight off the bat that I am...well not unlike my first week or so without cigarettes. I feel like everything is going a mile a minute. My heart is racing, my fingers are flying, my walk is like triple time. I am not going to lie...I love it!!! I feel like I could just keep going and going and going. On the flip side---it did not even take a day for my irritability to jump up from within. I know a certain manager who just about got the biz nitch from me today.
Oh, the things that we are willing to put ourselves through to lose weight.
How did I come upon this lovely little pocket of energy in capsule form? My CRAZY new doctor. As if having a doctor that was "assisting" you in losing weight, but never wrote down your weight was not bad enough...somehow at random (and a shout out to St. Luke's Physician referral service), I got hooked up with this pirate of the padded cell.
From an earlier debriefing I advised that I was pleased with my new doctor. On my first visit, she was just the right amount of personable, compassionate, and showed a willingness to help. She gave me big props for quitting smoking on my own and restored my faith in the medical profession. She did all of those things and more..that was until the phone call.
To set the tone, you should know that I had some blood work done...a litany of tubes and labels. The doctor let me know that I should call her in a week, if I did not hear back from them before then. My original appointment was on Wednesday, I waited until Thursday the following week to call...they were busy, but if I leave my number, she will call me back later on in the afternoon. I carefully recite my cell phone number to her and advise that I am at home for the rest of the day. She asks "Is this your home phone?" I advise very succinctly that I only have a cell, we do not have a home phone (by choice).
The waiting game begins.........
No call, all day, nothing. It's creeping closer to 5 and I tell myself that she is a new doctor for me and I don't want to jump right in and become "that" patient. I have convinced myself that her office hours are later, or she has a lot of paperwork. By 7 o'clock, I resign to myself that I have been overlooked.
I will call her in the morning. Little did I know that I was in for the most curious conversation I have ever had in my life. I get to work and prep myself to call her. Damn...her office doesn't open until 8:30. Well, I will have to call her later, but for now I will listen to my work voicemail...8 new messages.....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (people I work with understand)
1st message---customer
2nd message---atty
3rd message---Dr. Renfert "Christie, please give me a call when you get this"
4th message---insured
5th message---Dr. Renfert "Christie, I guess we are playing phone tag, give me a call, please"
***this is just me, but doesn't phone tag require two parties to play
6th message---Dr. Renfert "It's me again, I have your blood work"
7th message---hang up
8/th message---Dr. Renfert "Christie, I guess we could keep playing this way all day, but for the most part your blood work looks fine, but (and this is where time stopped for me) there was thing that was of GREAT concern to me, so give me a call in the morning"
Hmm...great concern.
15 minutes til 8:30.
I call her office as the clock changes from 8:29 to 8:30. I am connected to her directly. Very cheery voice, the conversation continues below.
"Your blood work looks really good" she says with a smile. "Cholesterol is fine, but there is one thing that is VERY CONCERNING to me"
"What's that?" I ask sheepishly.
"Are you somewhere that you can discuss this?" she questions.
"Yes, I can discuss whatever?" I reply with increasing nervousness.
" Your blood work" she begins, "reveals to me that you are....B O R D E R L I N E diabetic."
I laugh out loud...I laugh hysterically.
Dr. Renfert, obviously annoyed indicates very distinctly that diabetes is not a laughing matter.
I shared with her that I was very well aware of this, I explained that I meant her no disrespect and relayed to her in no uncertain terms that I would have hoped that she would have remembered our conversation from a week ago where I advised her that I am a Type II diabetic and was diagnosed 6 years ago.
She continued that my fasting blood sugar which in a non-diabetic is 120 or less and mine was 117...dumbfounded, I let her continue to tell me that I was only borderline diabetic or I was doing a really good job of keeping my sugars under control. She told me that I might have to get this thing called a "Glucometer" to check my blood sugars. I stop her again and I tell her I already have one. I get a new one every year and have for the last SIX years.
At this point, she is trying to get off the phone with me, but I ask her well, what about my A1C ( a test that can tell a physician what you average blood sugars have been over the past 3 months)
She recites "In someone without diabetes, we like the A1C to be under 5.9, yours is a 7 (not good, but not bad)" I question her on whether that wouldn't say to her that I am diabetic rather than borderline to which she responded..."that is something to think about"
I can not fathom that this is a REAL conversation I am having with a REAL physician, she then advises that "along that same line, we did find protein in your urine which is a definite indication that your diabetes is affecting your kidneys and they are showing signs of kidney damage.
Hmmmm...Everything EXCEPT for my fasting blood sugars shows I am diabetic, but we are going to err on the side of stupid and say that I am not.
Great choice in Dr.'s!
Tomorrow's goal is to be more active and less LOOPY!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
A Mixed Bag
This week has been a rough one. It has been hard for me to type this week due to almost slicing my finger tip clean off. All appears to be healing well and there really doesn't seem to be too much trouble from it going forward so I am ready to get right back to it.
First things first...It may have taken a while to get going, but keeping in mind that I am beginning the medically supervised phase of my journey, I am pleased to announce that I have lost 9 lbs. on my own. This is a definite good.
More good news...I am working towards my goal of being more active...my Dr. has ordered me to cease and desist all cardio excercise for two weeks to spend time focusing on strength and resistance training. It is her advice that more muscle helps you burn fat and therefore I need to focus on that to assist me in moving forward. In two weeks, I move into alternate cardio/resistance schedules 5 times a week 30 minutes at a time. No big whoop! Well, I am trying to figure out where I am going to get 30 minutes that are helpful to me. I am up at 3:45 am everyday to get myself and the kids ready, but who knows...I guess I will try to do it in the morning and if not than I will have to push it out at night, right? We'll see! I am determined to be successful.
Tuesday marks my sixth non-smoking week! Things are unbelievably better for me. More energy, sleeping better, no coughing, people are commenting on how much healthier I look. My shower/car singing has improved. I can sing MUCH louder and hold a note MUCH longer...(this is not necessarily a positive) I am not thinking about it much at all. I really only think about it to check another day down off my mental chart. I am proud of myself.
While I wait for Tuesday, I am warning everyone that Monday is going to be a little hairy for me. My Dr. has put me back on the Phentermine to assist in losing weight. From being on it before, it works like a freaking charm, but then I gain all the weight back. However, the goal is to be more active, remember? So, I am hoping that this will make a difference this time. In my first round of meds the last time, I lost 14lbs in 1 month. I am hoping that this is a possibility again. My personal plans are to stay on it for 3 months. I may be able to be down to around 250 by Christmas, so we will see! Anyone who can remember knows that the Phentermine makes me CRAZY. It boosts my energy and curbs my appetite, but it also makes me extremely irritable.
There is so much more to tell and I am EXTREMELY TIRED!!! I will fill you in on the rest later!
The goal is to be more active!
First things first...It may have taken a while to get going, but keeping in mind that I am beginning the medically supervised phase of my journey, I am pleased to announce that I have lost 9 lbs. on my own. This is a definite good.
More good news...I am working towards my goal of being more active...my Dr. has ordered me to cease and desist all cardio excercise for two weeks to spend time focusing on strength and resistance training. It is her advice that more muscle helps you burn fat and therefore I need to focus on that to assist me in moving forward. In two weeks, I move into alternate cardio/resistance schedules 5 times a week 30 minutes at a time. No big whoop! Well, I am trying to figure out where I am going to get 30 minutes that are helpful to me. I am up at 3:45 am everyday to get myself and the kids ready, but who knows...I guess I will try to do it in the morning and if not than I will have to push it out at night, right? We'll see! I am determined to be successful.
Tuesday marks my sixth non-smoking week! Things are unbelievably better for me. More energy, sleeping better, no coughing, people are commenting on how much healthier I look. My shower/car singing has improved. I can sing MUCH louder and hold a note MUCH longer...(this is not necessarily a positive) I am not thinking about it much at all. I really only think about it to check another day down off my mental chart. I am proud of myself.
While I wait for Tuesday, I am warning everyone that Monday is going to be a little hairy for me. My Dr. has put me back on the Phentermine to assist in losing weight. From being on it before, it works like a freaking charm, but then I gain all the weight back. However, the goal is to be more active, remember? So, I am hoping that this will make a difference this time. In my first round of meds the last time, I lost 14lbs in 1 month. I am hoping that this is a possibility again. My personal plans are to stay on it for 3 months. I may be able to be down to around 250 by Christmas, so we will see! Anyone who can remember knows that the Phentermine makes me CRAZY. It boosts my energy and curbs my appetite, but it also makes me extremely irritable.
There is so much more to tell and I am EXTREMELY TIRED!!! I will fill you in on the rest later!
The goal is to be more active!
Monday, August 17, 2009
This Is Why You're Fat.
The title sounds rude and I apologize in advance.
I am feeling a tad rude today. I have gotten to a point in my journey where I have determined that a great deal of people speak before they think. Not just speak, some type before they think...some send internet links before they think and so on.
You want an example? I have one for you. My mother in law...I am sure that there was no ill will intended, but on one of the WORST days of my life she send me an email at work. Concerned as always that there may have been something that Jim or I (more likely I) had inadvertantly done (or in Jim's case...on purpose) to cause drama, I opened it. There it was...sitting there staring at me in bright blue, "click me" letters, a hyperlink stating boldly "thisiswhyyourefat.com". Hmmm....I thought to myself....this is why I'm fat or this is why she's fat? Do I dare click on the link? Of course. Luckily for me...my workplace blocks this link. However...Frances Romero wrote an article about it in Time Magazine stating:
"At its subtlest, the food featured on the site — gathered from various submissions or happened-upon sickening recipes — can be as gentle a dietary poke as a two-foot tower of oreo creams in between two pieces of oreo cookie. It's like a chocolatey metaphor for America being way-beyond double-stuffed. But before you're even ready to take in the atrocities of 7 lb. breakfast burritos and the jawdropping Turbaconucken (yes, a chicken inside a duck inside a turkey, all wrapped in bacon), you're exposed. And it will haunt you. As will the deep-fried candy bars, the over-representation of bacon and a ship made entirely of meat that might actually be all the world's heart attacks collected in a bowl. If you're inspired, post your own "nasty goodness," otherwise, drop the cheesecake on a stick and have some broccoli."
SO...my next thought is Do I hit reply???? Do I? Do I drive my little mouse pointer to the reply button...click it...and type in the body of the email..."This is why you're a bitch." I was angry and I was close...real close, but then I thought about it.
Did you catch that? I THOUGHT about it. I realized that it probably was not something she was directing at me, despite how it came across with no additional words or explanation. Oh I talked crap about it at work ALL DAY LONG...I was mad, but to this date...unless she sees this blog...she has no idea, because I THOUGHT about it before I acted. The trouble is that the whole situation could have been avoided had she thought before she acted. Had she stopped, thought about what she was sending, thought about if she "knew" me in a way that would deem this appropriate.
There is a real good chance that I am being sensitive, but remember this is just one example amoung many...my mom's lifelong friend who decided to tell parents at my new school that we came from a family of "domestic violence", a co-worker who decides to speak as loudly as possible as she advises she can't stand "west coast Orientals" because they are "uppity" and self-righteous (orientals....lol..ahahahaha where is she from?), even me...speaking secret "ong" language with a friend in the bathroom ( Spell everything out...consonants add ong and state the vowels separately....friend becomes :fong rong i e nong dong) and walk out only to face an Asian manager with whom I work.
All I am saying is : think!
I tend to overthink. I also tend to give people a pass. This is detrimental to me and must stop. I hold myself accountable for my own actions, why do I let other people slide? I let other people slide because as an overweight person I have a lot of fear. Fear that if I don't just take what people delve out, that there may be no more people to take it from. I have blanket inesecurities. A lot of people have told me that this actually has nothing to do with my weight and everything to do with my confidence level. I do not agree with this assessment, anyone who knows me, knows that I project confidence in most arenas, it's the personal arena where I falter.
The weight is more than just on my abdomen, my thighs, my rear, and my arms....the weight is on my soul. It literally weighs me downs, it interrogates me, and forces me to question every person and their intentions. I can figure out a way to lose pounds, but figuring out a way to free my soul will be the hardest part of this journey and I fear...the most painful.
By the way...The goal is to be more active.
I am feeling a tad rude today. I have gotten to a point in my journey where I have determined that a great deal of people speak before they think. Not just speak, some type before they think...some send internet links before they think and so on.
You want an example? I have one for you. My mother in law...I am sure that there was no ill will intended, but on one of the WORST days of my life she send me an email at work. Concerned as always that there may have been something that Jim or I (more likely I) had inadvertantly done (or in Jim's case...on purpose) to cause drama, I opened it. There it was...sitting there staring at me in bright blue, "click me" letters, a hyperlink stating boldly "thisiswhyyourefat.com". Hmmm....I thought to myself....this is why I'm fat or this is why she's fat? Do I dare click on the link? Of course. Luckily for me...my workplace blocks this link. However...Frances Romero wrote an article about it in Time Magazine stating:
"At its subtlest, the food featured on the site — gathered from various submissions or happened-upon sickening recipes — can be as gentle a dietary poke as a two-foot tower of oreo creams in between two pieces of oreo cookie. It's like a chocolatey metaphor for America being way-beyond double-stuffed. But before you're even ready to take in the atrocities of 7 lb. breakfast burritos and the jawdropping Turbaconucken (yes, a chicken inside a duck inside a turkey, all wrapped in bacon), you're exposed. And it will haunt you. As will the deep-fried candy bars, the over-representation of bacon and a ship made entirely of meat that might actually be all the world's heart attacks collected in a bowl. If you're inspired, post your own "nasty goodness," otherwise, drop the cheesecake on a stick and have some broccoli."
SO...my next thought is Do I hit reply???? Do I? Do I drive my little mouse pointer to the reply button...click it...and type in the body of the email..."This is why you're a bitch." I was angry and I was close...real close, but then I thought about it.
Did you catch that? I THOUGHT about it. I realized that it probably was not something she was directing at me, despite how it came across with no additional words or explanation. Oh I talked crap about it at work ALL DAY LONG...I was mad, but to this date...unless she sees this blog...she has no idea, because I THOUGHT about it before I acted. The trouble is that the whole situation could have been avoided had she thought before she acted. Had she stopped, thought about what she was sending, thought about if she "knew" me in a way that would deem this appropriate.
There is a real good chance that I am being sensitive, but remember this is just one example amoung many...my mom's lifelong friend who decided to tell parents at my new school that we came from a family of "domestic violence", a co-worker who decides to speak as loudly as possible as she advises she can't stand "west coast Orientals" because they are "uppity" and self-righteous (orientals....lol..ahahahaha where is she from?), even me...speaking secret "ong" language with a friend in the bathroom ( Spell everything out...consonants add ong and state the vowels separately....friend becomes :fong rong i e nong dong) and walk out only to face an Asian manager with whom I work.
All I am saying is : think!
I tend to overthink. I also tend to give people a pass. This is detrimental to me and must stop. I hold myself accountable for my own actions, why do I let other people slide? I let other people slide because as an overweight person I have a lot of fear. Fear that if I don't just take what people delve out, that there may be no more people to take it from. I have blanket inesecurities. A lot of people have told me that this actually has nothing to do with my weight and everything to do with my confidence level. I do not agree with this assessment, anyone who knows me, knows that I project confidence in most arenas, it's the personal arena where I falter.
The weight is more than just on my abdomen, my thighs, my rear, and my arms....the weight is on my soul. It literally weighs me downs, it interrogates me, and forces me to question every person and their intentions. I can figure out a way to lose pounds, but figuring out a way to free my soul will be the hardest part of this journey and I fear...the most painful.
By the way...The goal is to be more active.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Enoch's Knob
not for everyone's taste but a ballad that I wrote about one of Washington, Missouri's most infamous roadways:
Mary Ellen was a farm girl
with hair as soft as silk.
All the farm hands wished to court her
for her skin was white as milk.
Her heart could not be captured
to another she was sworn.
Her lover sparked a fire within
that burned bright as the morn.
While morning chores were heavy still,
to her love she stole away;
and met him there upon the bridge,
to many a man’s dismay.
She greeted her lover with a kiss
and he replied in kind.
They walked and talke of marriage;
a pledge their hearts had signed.
With a joyful heart she left him.
To her chores she must return,
for tonight they would be married
and for that, our farm girl yearned.
Beneath the bridge at Enoch’s Knob
a farm hand overheard
their promise to be married;
his heart dreading every word.
The farm hand’s mind was angered.
He’d longed for Mary’s touch.
He knew she’d never love him and
His blood began to rush.
The farm hand stalked the muddy banks;
And when Mary’s lover showed,
He struck him about the head and neck
With several angry blows.
Now Mary’s love lay lifeless,
“What is this that you’ve done?”
Asked a traveler crossing wooden planks,
As the farm hand turned to run.
Poor Mary’s heart was soaring still,
As she waltzed through fields of green.
Then on Enoch’s Knob, she saw it there
Her true love’s murder scene.
In the farm fields of Missouri,
Near a windy Bouef Creek bend,
Lies a bridge well known as Enoch’s Knob,
Where in death this fable ends.
No carriage traffic travels now,
Across it’s wooden planks.
Now lies a rotting Enoch’s Knob
On muddy, thick, creek banks.
Where true love once a union made
In this small and quiet hollow,
Now haunted by a farm girl’s ghost
Still swinging from it’s gallows.
All Rights Reserved
Mary Ellen was a farm girl
with hair as soft as silk.
All the farm hands wished to court her
for her skin was white as milk.
Her heart could not be captured
to another she was sworn.
Her lover sparked a fire within
that burned bright as the morn.
While morning chores were heavy still,
to her love she stole away;
and met him there upon the bridge,
to many a man’s dismay.
She greeted her lover with a kiss
and he replied in kind.
They walked and talke of marriage;
a pledge their hearts had signed.
With a joyful heart she left him.
To her chores she must return,
for tonight they would be married
and for that, our farm girl yearned.
Beneath the bridge at Enoch’s Knob
a farm hand overheard
their promise to be married;
his heart dreading every word.
The farm hand’s mind was angered.
He’d longed for Mary’s touch.
He knew she’d never love him and
His blood began to rush.
The farm hand stalked the muddy banks;
And when Mary’s lover showed,
He struck him about the head and neck
With several angry blows.
Now Mary’s love lay lifeless,
“What is this that you’ve done?”
Asked a traveler crossing wooden planks,
As the farm hand turned to run.
Poor Mary’s heart was soaring still,
As she waltzed through fields of green.
Then on Enoch’s Knob, she saw it there
Her true love’s murder scene.
In the farm fields of Missouri,
Near a windy Bouef Creek bend,
Lies a bridge well known as Enoch’s Knob,
Where in death this fable ends.
No carriage traffic travels now,
Across it’s wooden planks.
Now lies a rotting Enoch’s Knob
On muddy, thick, creek banks.
Where true love once a union made
In this small and quiet hollow,
Now haunted by a farm girl’s ghost
Still swinging from it’s gallows.
All Rights Reserved
Dream a Little Dream
Here's a poem I wrote a few months ago:
In the quiet of the morning, I finally awake.
A smile on my face, but you know it’s fake.
I feed the kids, then off to work.
I hate my boss he’s such a jerk.
Get to my job. Guess what? I’m late.
I’m way too tired to concentrate.
My boss doesn’t see where I’m coming from.
Will 3:30 ever come?
Time has come, I’m out the door.
Trip over my feet and smack the floor.
“How much of this can one girl take”?
I think as my head begins to ache.
I pick up the kids and head on home.
Husband’s late and I’m alone.
I clean all night, put kids to bed
And take two Tylenol for my head.
This life sucks and that’s a fact.
I’ll take a minute, just to relax.
“ At any moment I could just scream”
I think as I begin to dream.
I dream I have a different life
And in it I’m a rich man’s wife.
He’s successful and he’s handsome too
And buys me lots of expensive shoes.
He’s very well known throughout the world
And we also have a little girl
Of course, you know that I’m no fool,
Right now she’s off in boarding school.
I shop all day and go out for brunch.
I’ve lots of friends with which I munch.
At the end of th day, I go back home
Funny thing, I’m still alone.
Husband’s gone, we do not talk
I go outside to take a walk.
I come back in, I hear the phone.
My husband, he’s not coming home.
He’s sorry, but he missed his flight.
I feel that something’s just not right.
So angry that I pace the floor
Until there’s knocking at the door.
I answer it, who could it be?
Someone I thought I’d never see,
My husband’s mistress with a knife.
Damn it, Now I hate this life!
“I’m dying now, because of greed”
I’m thinking as I start to bleed.
I remember that it’s just a dream
As my husband tries to waken me.
He kisses me and then I’m led
To kiss my babies on their heads.
He tells me “Honey, I love you
And appreciate all that you do.”
I walk away and thank the Lord
For all the things I CAN afford
And all the things he’s given me
Like my very precious family.
Tomorrow when I’m feeling stressed.
I’ll know that I ‘ve been truly blessed.
In the quiet of the morning, I finally awake.
A smile on my face, but you know it’s fake.
I feed the kids, then off to work.
I hate my boss he’s such a jerk.
Get to my job. Guess what? I’m late.
I’m way too tired to concentrate.
My boss doesn’t see where I’m coming from.
Will 3:30 ever come?
Time has come, I’m out the door.
Trip over my feet and smack the floor.
“How much of this can one girl take”?
I think as my head begins to ache.
I pick up the kids and head on home.
Husband’s late and I’m alone.
I clean all night, put kids to bed
And take two Tylenol for my head.
This life sucks and that’s a fact.
I’ll take a minute, just to relax.
“ At any moment I could just scream”
I think as I begin to dream.
I dream I have a different life
And in it I’m a rich man’s wife.
He’s successful and he’s handsome too
And buys me lots of expensive shoes.
He’s very well known throughout the world
And we also have a little girl
Of course, you know that I’m no fool,
Right now she’s off in boarding school.
I shop all day and go out for brunch.
I’ve lots of friends with which I munch.
At the end of th day, I go back home
Funny thing, I’m still alone.
Husband’s gone, we do not talk
I go outside to take a walk.
I come back in, I hear the phone.
My husband, he’s not coming home.
He’s sorry, but he missed his flight.
I feel that something’s just not right.
So angry that I pace the floor
Until there’s knocking at the door.
I answer it, who could it be?
Someone I thought I’d never see,
My husband’s mistress with a knife.
Damn it, Now I hate this life!
“I’m dying now, because of greed”
I’m thinking as I start to bleed.
I remember that it’s just a dream
As my husband tries to waken me.
He kisses me and then I’m led
To kiss my babies on their heads.
He tells me “Honey, I love you
And appreciate all that you do.”
I walk away and thank the Lord
For all the things I CAN afford
And all the things he’s given me
Like my very precious family.
Tomorrow when I’m feeling stressed.
I’ll know that I ‘ve been truly blessed.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Road to Ruin (pt4)
After the demise of the "StepFather", I was angry (who am I kidding, I am still angry). I was the same, but people treated me different. It was like I was walking out into this world I had never seen before...I guess a more apt description is that it had never seen me before. I was accepted now...kids didn't call me fat. Boys I liked didn't make fun of me openly. I was SCREWED UP. I openly made a decision that I was never ever gonna let someone tell me what I could and could not eat. I was craving control. I really didn't know how to relate to people. That had little to do with the weight and more to do with the crazy life my family was living.
In my 13 short years I had gone from moving around for my dad's army career to divorce to in and out of my grandmother's house to remarriage to divorce to in and out of my grandma's house.
Ahhh...my grandma. Well, both my grandparents...they are my constant (shout out to all you other Losties). Where I would be today without them...I don't even want to think about it. I have parents and I love them, but I learned generosity and unconditional love from my grandmother. I was her first born grandchild. We have a very close bond. I can remember as a child standing on her feet as she "waltzed" across the kitchen floor. I would watch her feet move across the kitchen floor staring at the 1970's dark red linoleum. She was safety to me. She was comfort.
My grandma is silly. She likes to laugh, she appreciates my humor, even when she is sometimes feigning disapproval. I know she is faking it, because I am always careful not to say anything too off-color. She knows me, she knows that I like a heated debate. She knows that I will argue even though I know I am wrong. She knows I don't take anything too seriously. She wants me to be thin. I hate that she wants me to be thin. I love her, but she and I have had those moments where she has told me "but you have such a pretty face."
At 75 lbs., I felt like she didn't need to say those things to me, but I didn't feel like I deserved her not to say it anymore.
Change occurs as it does for everyone, suddenly and without warning. My mom had found a job in Washington, MO. I had lived in Cahokia, Il, practically my whole life and she was ripping me from my constant. She was ripping me from one of the best friends I have ever had in my life.
My mom had jealousy issues with my friend Rachel and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Rachel and it wasn't fair to me. Life is not fair. I loved Rachel and her family. Everything wasn't perfect, but they were together. I was noticed there. I was encouraged there. I felt love there. I felt love there during the time my mom was with the "StepFather", a time when I felt no love at all anywhere else. See...during the StepFather times, even my grandmother wouldn't intefere. I know now that she was afraid that it would make things worse, but back then...it felt like abandonment.
When I was with Rachel and her family, I was one of them. They allowed me to be myself. They made me laugh. I was encouraged to be creative. Rachel's mom especially was a protector to me. She encouraged me to stand up for myself and be a strong woman ( oh boy have I let her down in sooo many ways....lol). I was honest with them, they knew what I was going through, and they let me talk about it a lot.
I have been a writer for a long long long time. I come from a family of certain religious values, I guess that is why I am 34 years old and have never had "the talk" (two kids later...I must've figured it out). When I was 12/13...I wrote a lot. Most of it was trashy enough to make a porn star blush. Makes me laugh to think about it now. I didn't stop for a second...it was in my head...I wrote it down (oh to feel that free with words again). My biggest problem...where to store these masterpieces of the sexual underground? So, in all of my brilliance, I decided to store them in a folder at my desk at the Christian School I was attending. I still don't know for sure how they were "discovered", but someone was going to hell in a hand basket. I was gonna fry. Then I was gonna get it from the "StepFather", but God intervened in a strange way. Never let anyone say that he is not merciful. Rachel took the blame. Her mother knew it was me and she let her take the blame. Folks...that is real, true kindness. I have never forgotten that. They didn't care about what the hypocritical freaks running that school thought. It was selfless.
There are those who would say that it was wrong, that my mom should have been made aware, but they are wrong. While I was being shown incredible kindness by people who didn't have to care...6 months since the divorce and no one noticed I had already gained 15-20lbs.
In my 13 short years I had gone from moving around for my dad's army career to divorce to in and out of my grandmother's house to remarriage to divorce to in and out of my grandma's house.
Ahhh...my grandma. Well, both my grandparents...they are my constant (shout out to all you other Losties). Where I would be today without them...I don't even want to think about it. I have parents and I love them, but I learned generosity and unconditional love from my grandmother. I was her first born grandchild. We have a very close bond. I can remember as a child standing on her feet as she "waltzed" across the kitchen floor. I would watch her feet move across the kitchen floor staring at the 1970's dark red linoleum. She was safety to me. She was comfort.
My grandma is silly. She likes to laugh, she appreciates my humor, even when she is sometimes feigning disapproval. I know she is faking it, because I am always careful not to say anything too off-color. She knows me, she knows that I like a heated debate. She knows that I will argue even though I know I am wrong. She knows I don't take anything too seriously. She wants me to be thin. I hate that she wants me to be thin. I love her, but she and I have had those moments where she has told me "but you have such a pretty face."
At 75 lbs., I felt like she didn't need to say those things to me, but I didn't feel like I deserved her not to say it anymore.
Change occurs as it does for everyone, suddenly and without warning. My mom had found a job in Washington, MO. I had lived in Cahokia, Il, practically my whole life and she was ripping me from my constant. She was ripping me from one of the best friends I have ever had in my life.
My mom had jealousy issues with my friend Rachel and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Rachel and it wasn't fair to me. Life is not fair. I loved Rachel and her family. Everything wasn't perfect, but they were together. I was noticed there. I was encouraged there. I felt love there. I felt love there during the time my mom was with the "StepFather", a time when I felt no love at all anywhere else. See...during the StepFather times, even my grandmother wouldn't intefere. I know now that she was afraid that it would make things worse, but back then...it felt like abandonment.
When I was with Rachel and her family, I was one of them. They allowed me to be myself. They made me laugh. I was encouraged to be creative. Rachel's mom especially was a protector to me. She encouraged me to stand up for myself and be a strong woman ( oh boy have I let her down in sooo many ways....lol). I was honest with them, they knew what I was going through, and they let me talk about it a lot.
I have been a writer for a long long long time. I come from a family of certain religious values, I guess that is why I am 34 years old and have never had "the talk" (two kids later...I must've figured it out). When I was 12/13...I wrote a lot. Most of it was trashy enough to make a porn star blush. Makes me laugh to think about it now. I didn't stop for a second...it was in my head...I wrote it down (oh to feel that free with words again). My biggest problem...where to store these masterpieces of the sexual underground? So, in all of my brilliance, I decided to store them in a folder at my desk at the Christian School I was attending. I still don't know for sure how they were "discovered", but someone was going to hell in a hand basket. I was gonna fry. Then I was gonna get it from the "StepFather", but God intervened in a strange way. Never let anyone say that he is not merciful. Rachel took the blame. Her mother knew it was me and she let her take the blame. Folks...that is real, true kindness. I have never forgotten that. They didn't care about what the hypocritical freaks running that school thought. It was selfless.
There are those who would say that it was wrong, that my mom should have been made aware, but they are wrong. While I was being shown incredible kindness by people who didn't have to care...6 months since the divorce and no one noticed I had already gained 15-20lbs.
The Broken Scale
Something in your house breaks and you fix it, right? I guess you could let it go...I know a lot of people who do this, but the best thing for all involved is to fix it, right?
Apparently...my scale is broken. I wish I could sit here and tell you that I found out that it was registering me heavier than I am, but a trip to the doctor yesterday revealed that my scale is trying to build my confidence. You see, according to my black and chrome, digital Health Meter scale I had lost 4 lbs. I was so excited this blog (or blarg as I am now fond of referring to it) was going to be about determination and stick-to-it-iveness, but alas...it is not. It is instead about the fact that the words "AH SHIT" actually expelled from my body when I stood on the scale at my new doctors office and the medical assistant advised me that I weigh 302.2. She tried to be nice and tell me to take off two lbs for clothes. "Thanks" I said, holding back what I really wanted to say..."I appreciate it, but it really doesn't help me that beside the fact that without clothes I am still over 300lbs, you have just shot down my joy."
I was sure that I had lost weight. I have been so good. My weight has fluctuated sooo much over the last few weeks that I was positive that this time it was right because it was the same three days in a row. Every morning I stood there and every morning I was excited that 290 kept shining back at me..."I am on my way" I thought to myself.
I am on my way.
This was soul crushing. I was already planning my trip to Pizza Hut..what I needed now was a big squeezy pepperoni hug. I had gone to the doctor to move forward, make myself accountable, sign a new lease on life. I was honest with her. I told her my diabetes is getting out of control and I need to do something about my weight. We discussed my life and illnesses and she was very positive. She told me that she was excited to start this journey with me and was encouraged by my 30 days of non-smoking without any aids. She was "encouraged by my strength and determination." Really? Me?
I have been hearing that a lot lately. It still floors me. A lot of it is coming from you. People who read my blog. Strength, determination, courage...these things are foreign to me. Your words are encouraging, they keep me going, They allow me to stop beating myself up for a few moments and remind myself of how far I have come in such a short time.
I am now a non-smoker.
I am doing something about my weight.
I am writing again. This means more to me than anything. The writer is who I am above all. The writing is the key to my sanity. Pen to paper, fingertip to keyboard, it's my driver. It makes me wonder if I could have begun or continued on this journey without it. It keeps me accountable. I know YOU are out there, curious, wondering, and supporting. Thank you for supporting. I know more people are reading than comment. I hear from people all the time that so and so is reading and I am floored, but I am honored. A writer is nothing without their reader.
I don't think I am going to fix the scale. After all the number, doesn't really matter.
Apparently...my scale is broken. I wish I could sit here and tell you that I found out that it was registering me heavier than I am, but a trip to the doctor yesterday revealed that my scale is trying to build my confidence. You see, according to my black and chrome, digital Health Meter scale I had lost 4 lbs. I was so excited this blog (or blarg as I am now fond of referring to it) was going to be about determination and stick-to-it-iveness, but alas...it is not. It is instead about the fact that the words "AH SHIT" actually expelled from my body when I stood on the scale at my new doctors office and the medical assistant advised me that I weigh 302.2. She tried to be nice and tell me to take off two lbs for clothes. "Thanks" I said, holding back what I really wanted to say..."I appreciate it, but it really doesn't help me that beside the fact that without clothes I am still over 300lbs, you have just shot down my joy."
I was sure that I had lost weight. I have been so good. My weight has fluctuated sooo much over the last few weeks that I was positive that this time it was right because it was the same three days in a row. Every morning I stood there and every morning I was excited that 290 kept shining back at me..."I am on my way" I thought to myself.
I am on my way.
This was soul crushing. I was already planning my trip to Pizza Hut..what I needed now was a big squeezy pepperoni hug. I had gone to the doctor to move forward, make myself accountable, sign a new lease on life. I was honest with her. I told her my diabetes is getting out of control and I need to do something about my weight. We discussed my life and illnesses and she was very positive. She told me that she was excited to start this journey with me and was encouraged by my 30 days of non-smoking without any aids. She was "encouraged by my strength and determination." Really? Me?
I have been hearing that a lot lately. It still floors me. A lot of it is coming from you. People who read my blog. Strength, determination, courage...these things are foreign to me. Your words are encouraging, they keep me going, They allow me to stop beating myself up for a few moments and remind myself of how far I have come in such a short time.
I am now a non-smoker.
I am doing something about my weight.
I am writing again. This means more to me than anything. The writer is who I am above all. The writing is the key to my sanity. Pen to paper, fingertip to keyboard, it's my driver. It makes me wonder if I could have begun or continued on this journey without it. It keeps me accountable. I know YOU are out there, curious, wondering, and supporting. Thank you for supporting. I know more people are reading than comment. I hear from people all the time that so and so is reading and I am floored, but I am honored. A writer is nothing without their reader.
I don't think I am going to fix the scale. After all the number, doesn't really matter.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Death of a Smoker; Birth of Someone Who Really Wants to Smoke
To commemorate my 30 days of not smoking, I thought I would take a moment to tell you why I quit.
I don't know.
No truer words have ever been uttered...except maybe "I have no flipping idea"
I have never followed through with anything. I kind of dared myself, it's like a test. I test myself all the time.
"Don't eat the cookies, Don't eat the cookies, You don't need the cookies, You don't even like the cookies" always ends with "Mmmmm....COOKIES!" I fail everytime.
I just decided not to do it. I decided not to smoke, then after about 3 days I thought about smoking and said "I'm gonna buy cigarettes" then the voice in my head (which speaks with a southern accent) "Well , you can't even make a week without smoking"
True.
I like smoking. It's fun. It's social. It helps time pass. It helps time pass...did I mention that it helps time pass. Why am I wanting so much time to pass? Wait...didn't I say that there aren't enough hours in the day? Then I'm thinking, where did I get all this time to smoke? What could I be doing when I am not smoking...well, recently I have found time to blog 11 times.
What? The writer who never writes because she doesn't have time, found time to write by using the time she used to spend smoking? Amazing.
So, I made it a week. Then...it was like a dare. I bet you can't do two weeks and so on. For those of you who see me on a regular basis, you know there have been days when it has been hard. Days when tears are necessary. Days that I have been feining like a heroin addict. Days that I have been so crabby I have blatantly been rude and admitted that I knew I was being rude, but didn't care...(that was rude and I do care).
Now I am here, standing on the precipice of 30 days. I don't think about it as often...I am a more productive employee...SOMEBODY HAS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT THAT!!! I realized that I have been eating/drinking things that I don't like. I have been drinking Diet Pepsi for 5 years...I just recently discovered that it is nasty. I don't know how anyone can consume it, but mixed with cigarette smoke and ashy lung...MMMMMM..nectar of the gods.
I eat more vegetables...they are flavorful, not anything like the ones I ate 30 days ago slathered in butter and covered in salt and pepper. I eat them plain and they are fantastic.
Does this confirm Death of the smoker?
Heck No.
I want to smoke right now thinking about it. I would leave my husband for Joe Camel right this very minute. Smoking is good...Smoking is fun....it passes the time.
I don't know.
No truer words have ever been uttered...except maybe "I have no flipping idea"
I have never followed through with anything. I kind of dared myself, it's like a test. I test myself all the time.
"Don't eat the cookies, Don't eat the cookies, You don't need the cookies, You don't even like the cookies" always ends with "Mmmmm....COOKIES!" I fail everytime.
I just decided not to do it. I decided not to smoke, then after about 3 days I thought about smoking and said "I'm gonna buy cigarettes" then the voice in my head (which speaks with a southern accent) "Well , you can't even make a week without smoking"
True.
I like smoking. It's fun. It's social. It helps time pass. It helps time pass...did I mention that it helps time pass. Why am I wanting so much time to pass? Wait...didn't I say that there aren't enough hours in the day? Then I'm thinking, where did I get all this time to smoke? What could I be doing when I am not smoking...well, recently I have found time to blog 11 times.
What? The writer who never writes because she doesn't have time, found time to write by using the time she used to spend smoking? Amazing.
So, I made it a week. Then...it was like a dare. I bet you can't do two weeks and so on. For those of you who see me on a regular basis, you know there have been days when it has been hard. Days when tears are necessary. Days that I have been feining like a heroin addict. Days that I have been so crabby I have blatantly been rude and admitted that I knew I was being rude, but didn't care...(that was rude and I do care).
Now I am here, standing on the precipice of 30 days. I don't think about it as often...I am a more productive employee...SOMEBODY HAS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT THAT!!! I realized that I have been eating/drinking things that I don't like. I have been drinking Diet Pepsi for 5 years...I just recently discovered that it is nasty. I don't know how anyone can consume it, but mixed with cigarette smoke and ashy lung...MMMMMM..nectar of the gods.
I eat more vegetables...they are flavorful, not anything like the ones I ate 30 days ago slathered in butter and covered in salt and pepper. I eat them plain and they are fantastic.
Does this confirm Death of the smoker?
Heck No.
I want to smoke right now thinking about it. I would leave my husband for Joe Camel right this very minute. Smoking is good...Smoking is fun....it passes the time.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
The Status of My Bariatric Surgery Option
On hold.
I haven't had the guts to talk about it yet, but it was decided...I was having surgery.....then a GIANT PIGEON took a HUGE CRAP on the whole plan. It can be wiped away, but there are now massive delays.
Insuarance company will pay 90%...yeah
Jim's Insurance which originally agreed to pay the other 10%--now refuses under exclusion since my insurance pays so much.
Aetna requires 6 months of medically supervised weight loss program with at least 3 of the 6 months consecutive within the last 2 years. (no problem I have done this, right?)
Anyone who can remember the medically supervised Gym membership and the 3 month Super High Energy, Super Irritable Phentermine fiasco knows that this has been done.
So why doesn't it count????
My doctor never wrote down my weight.
No beginning weight, no check up weights, no nothing.
I am also required to see a nutrionist out of my own pocket.
The surgeon requires a 375.00 program fee...my free surgery just went up. It will now cost me 4500.00 out of my own pocket to undergo the procedure.
Since this has occurred, people have said 4500.00 isn't it worth it?...hmm sure! I will take it in small bills...contact me for my email address, should you chose to give it to me for surgery and not feed your kids.
People...come on.
Hurdles...I hate them, but apparently I have learned to jump them, but the hoops...I didn't see them. They were hiding when I planned my path. I feel like everything I try to do is an episode of Bloopers and Practical Jokes with Ed McMahon and Dick Clark. I am just walking through life and they are narrating the whole thing: "Meet Christie, she wants to lose weight, she's made an appointment with a Bariatric Surgeon. What Christie doesn't know is, we outfitted the doctors office with hidden cameras and no matter what...Christie will not have this surgery...let's see what happens."
I don't know what to do now...
What I am willing to do is jump through their hoops and see how I feel about it in 6 months.
I haven't had the guts to talk about it yet, but it was decided...I was having surgery.....then a GIANT PIGEON took a HUGE CRAP on the whole plan. It can be wiped away, but there are now massive delays.
Insuarance company will pay 90%...yeah
Jim's Insurance which originally agreed to pay the other 10%--now refuses under exclusion since my insurance pays so much.
Aetna requires 6 months of medically supervised weight loss program with at least 3 of the 6 months consecutive within the last 2 years. (no problem I have done this, right?)
Anyone who can remember the medically supervised Gym membership and the 3 month Super High Energy, Super Irritable Phentermine fiasco knows that this has been done.
So why doesn't it count????
My doctor never wrote down my weight.
No beginning weight, no check up weights, no nothing.
I am also required to see a nutrionist out of my own pocket.
The surgeon requires a 375.00 program fee...my free surgery just went up. It will now cost me 4500.00 out of my own pocket to undergo the procedure.
Since this has occurred, people have said 4500.00 isn't it worth it?...hmm sure! I will take it in small bills...contact me for my email address, should you chose to give it to me for surgery and not feed your kids.
People...come on.
Hurdles...I hate them, but apparently I have learned to jump them, but the hoops...I didn't see them. They were hiding when I planned my path. I feel like everything I try to do is an episode of Bloopers and Practical Jokes with Ed McMahon and Dick Clark. I am just walking through life and they are narrating the whole thing: "Meet Christie, she wants to lose weight, she's made an appointment with a Bariatric Surgeon. What Christie doesn't know is, we outfitted the doctors office with hidden cameras and no matter what...Christie will not have this surgery...let's see what happens."
I don't know what to do now...
What I am willing to do is jump through their hoops and see how I feel about it in 6 months.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Road to Ruin (pt3)
Ok...where did I leave off? Oh yeah! The "StepFather". I refer to him as this often....sometimes I call him "the one who shall remain nameless". My mom began dating him when I was 12...Ok I can already hear the laughter from people who know me well. (the running joke is that everything happened to me when I was 12.) It was a pivotal year, SUE ME! I won't speak for my sisters, but I never liked him.
He tried to be nice when they were dating, but nobody really understands the betrayal that you feel when your parents divorce and move on. Everybody loses something at first, then slowly your parents gain new relationships and in my case I rarely saw my dad so I lost everything. I lost both parents. I could talk to them, but I was never their joint priority like it's supposed to be.
I don't believe for a second that my mom thought that is what she was doing. I don't believe that she was being intentionally cruel. I think she wanted a companionship with someone. I think she was by herself, doing everything by herself, and she needed someone, but in her search for inclusion...she excluded us. We were not a part of this new endeavor...not that we made it easy either...we FOUGHT her...I FOUGHT HER. I don't think I even knew that I felt excluded...I just felt like "You can't just keep changing things on us. You don't even ask or prepare, you just do and we have no choice, but to follow along." My mom wanted to marry him. I guess you know where my vote lied. I have never been an activist in my life, but the closest I have ever been is the "You can't marry that asshole" campaign.
Needless to say my attempts were futile.
The heart wants what it wants and my mom's heart wanted it soooo bad that she sent us to stay with a friend of hers on "vacation" for a week. When we came back, we went to my grandma's house...I will never forget this day as long as I live. It was dark and stormy and the power went out. My grandma had been acting weird all day. Fidgety, too many hugs. (yes, there is such a thing) and then it slipped out...my mom was getting married....TOMORROW!
Have you ever been sad? Have you ever been so sad that you felt crazy? Like you were not you. You were outside of you, laughing at how pathetic you were, which just made you more sad? How about the emptiness? Did you feel it? Starts in your throat and is so oppressive it eats it's way down until you're a shell? You're a shell with weighted arms and legs.? You cry so hard and so loud that the sound can't escape your cavernous self? When the sound finally comes, the built up force of it steals your breath as it breaks free and you hyperventilate? I have. This was the day.
Of course, things evened out and despite the fact that I was angry and even more alone than ever there became a day to day routine and you just get used to the pain...that is until the "StepFather" rears his ugly head. Despite the fact that he had married a woman with extra pounds and her three fat kids, this was not longer acceptable to him. He was going to fix his problem and his problem was us. This is when the diet started.
The diet consisted of unwavering boredom. Fish with lemon and season salt, salad with no dressing. Cheerios 1/2% milk, no sugar...on Saturdays we could have 1 tsp. of sugar, tuna no mayo, on crackers, fruit plain. PLAIN. No snacks ever....no exception. This did not apply to him as he did not have weight issues and felt no need to curb his consumption of sugary treats in front of us. To make things worse, he was our gym teacher at school. He worked us out, then he worked us over. I have never forgotten the day he came into the lunch room and caught my 10 year old sister's best friend sharing a cupcake with her. The sound of his humiliation blared through that lunch room and echos in my heart for her still. I could do nothing, but what I was told.
I don't remember when there wasn't mental abuse, so it's hard for me to clarify exactly when the physical abuse started. It was directed mostly at my mom, but I had my brush with it as well. It lead me to write him the following, just last month, when I found his snarky ass lurking on Facebook:
"I am a 34 year old married woman with kids of my own. I have been happily married for 10 years. I work a full time job, own my own home, but I am angry, I have always been angry and it stems from you. I can still remember your fingers around my throat and the feeling of my legs dangling below me."
They were married just about a year. I weighed 75 lbs, when we left...I lost 75lbs. that year. I also lost myself...officially!
He tried to be nice when they were dating, but nobody really understands the betrayal that you feel when your parents divorce and move on. Everybody loses something at first, then slowly your parents gain new relationships and in my case I rarely saw my dad so I lost everything. I lost both parents. I could talk to them, but I was never their joint priority like it's supposed to be.
I don't believe for a second that my mom thought that is what she was doing. I don't believe that she was being intentionally cruel. I think she wanted a companionship with someone. I think she was by herself, doing everything by herself, and she needed someone, but in her search for inclusion...she excluded us. We were not a part of this new endeavor...not that we made it easy either...we FOUGHT her...I FOUGHT HER. I don't think I even knew that I felt excluded...I just felt like "You can't just keep changing things on us. You don't even ask or prepare, you just do and we have no choice, but to follow along." My mom wanted to marry him. I guess you know where my vote lied. I have never been an activist in my life, but the closest I have ever been is the "You can't marry that asshole" campaign.
Needless to say my attempts were futile.
The heart wants what it wants and my mom's heart wanted it soooo bad that she sent us to stay with a friend of hers on "vacation" for a week. When we came back, we went to my grandma's house...I will never forget this day as long as I live. It was dark and stormy and the power went out. My grandma had been acting weird all day. Fidgety, too many hugs. (yes, there is such a thing) and then it slipped out...my mom was getting married....TOMORROW!
Have you ever been sad? Have you ever been so sad that you felt crazy? Like you were not you. You were outside of you, laughing at how pathetic you were, which just made you more sad? How about the emptiness? Did you feel it? Starts in your throat and is so oppressive it eats it's way down until you're a shell? You're a shell with weighted arms and legs.? You cry so hard and so loud that the sound can't escape your cavernous self? When the sound finally comes, the built up force of it steals your breath as it breaks free and you hyperventilate? I have. This was the day.
Of course, things evened out and despite the fact that I was angry and even more alone than ever there became a day to day routine and you just get used to the pain...that is until the "StepFather" rears his ugly head. Despite the fact that he had married a woman with extra pounds and her three fat kids, this was not longer acceptable to him. He was going to fix his problem and his problem was us. This is when the diet started.
The diet consisted of unwavering boredom. Fish with lemon and season salt, salad with no dressing. Cheerios 1/2% milk, no sugar...on Saturdays we could have 1 tsp. of sugar, tuna no mayo, on crackers, fruit plain. PLAIN. No snacks ever....no exception. This did not apply to him as he did not have weight issues and felt no need to curb his consumption of sugary treats in front of us. To make things worse, he was our gym teacher at school. He worked us out, then he worked us over. I have never forgotten the day he came into the lunch room and caught my 10 year old sister's best friend sharing a cupcake with her. The sound of his humiliation blared through that lunch room and echos in my heart for her still. I could do nothing, but what I was told.
I don't remember when there wasn't mental abuse, so it's hard for me to clarify exactly when the physical abuse started. It was directed mostly at my mom, but I had my brush with it as well. It lead me to write him the following, just last month, when I found his snarky ass lurking on Facebook:
"I am a 34 year old married woman with kids of my own. I have been happily married for 10 years. I work a full time job, own my own home, but I am angry, I have always been angry and it stems from you. I can still remember your fingers around my throat and the feeling of my legs dangling below me."
They were married just about a year. I weighed 75 lbs, when we left...I lost 75lbs. that year. I also lost myself...officially!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Everything I Learned, I Learned from Dr. Leo Marvin.
It's difficult to keep the motivation to move forward. To do what needs to be done everyday to take off the weight. It is especially difficult when you carry the label "morbidly obese". How do you move forward when you are killing you? One step at a time.
I have often said that food is not my problem; "I eat "normal" sized meals 3 times a day, my real struggle is with the activity portion." This, I have found, is not true. I make poor food choices...all day, everyday.
So, What to do? How to change? The answer: A huge leap of faith and then baby steps. It sounds contrived, but it's true. Baby Steps are exactly that..small changes that amount to a lifetime of growth.
My leap of faith occurred when I decided to do something about being overweight. Sounds simple, but I went a step further...I decided to quit smoking at the same time, COLD TURKEY!
I thought for two days about my eating habits and the things in my life that make it easy to just grab something. For instance, my two small children have to be ready for the babysitter in the morning and I have to be at work by 7am. "There is no time for me to eat breakfast at home."
Baby Step #1: English Muffin, Ham, and Cheese.I get it out of the fridge when I am making sippy cups in the morning and pop it into the microwave as I put the milk away. I can eat it as I am getting ready or grab it as I am out the door. With a banana it is the perfect breakfast for on the go. This may not be the healthiest option open to me, but it's change and it is definitely less calories than the Steak and Egg Burrito that I was eating from "the box" most mornings. The healthier part can be my next "step"
The important thing with baby steps is to remember that a baby can take more than one step in a day and they keep trying to walk no matter how many times they fall. Babies never achieve the step, analyze how well they did it, decide that they don't measure up or could have done better, berate themselves, and wait two weeks before they muster up the courage to start again.
I have often said that food is not my problem; "I eat "normal" sized meals 3 times a day, my real struggle is with the activity portion." This, I have found, is not true. I make poor food choices...all day, everyday.
So, What to do? How to change? The answer: A huge leap of faith and then baby steps. It sounds contrived, but it's true. Baby Steps are exactly that..small changes that amount to a lifetime of growth.
My leap of faith occurred when I decided to do something about being overweight. Sounds simple, but I went a step further...I decided to quit smoking at the same time, COLD TURKEY!
I thought for two days about my eating habits and the things in my life that make it easy to just grab something. For instance, my two small children have to be ready for the babysitter in the morning and I have to be at work by 7am. "There is no time for me to eat breakfast at home."
Baby Step #1: English Muffin, Ham, and Cheese.I get it out of the fridge when I am making sippy cups in the morning and pop it into the microwave as I put the milk away. I can eat it as I am getting ready or grab it as I am out the door. With a banana it is the perfect breakfast for on the go. This may not be the healthiest option open to me, but it's change and it is definitely less calories than the Steak and Egg Burrito that I was eating from "the box" most mornings. The healthier part can be my next "step"
The important thing with baby steps is to remember that a baby can take more than one step in a day and they keep trying to walk no matter how many times they fall. Babies never achieve the step, analyze how well they did it, decide that they don't measure up or could have done better, berate themselves, and wait two weeks before they muster up the courage to start again.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Road to Ruin (pt 2)
Wow---150lbs. I would kill for that now...Well, I don't know about kill, but mame anyway.
Back to the story, we were living in flux, sometuime with my grandparents and sometimes on our own with my mom. My mom tried, but she was not match for her kids. I think she was overwhelmed alot and didn't really fight all that hard against us. We knew how to work her.
She had been divorced for a few years and my mom was young. By the time I was 12, my mom was turning 30. She didn't want her life to be over. She was on the prowl. That sounds bad, but by that I really just mean that she was on the lookout for a man. There was Jim the tall redhead that bought her the Rabbit Fur coat...what a douchebag! Give a woman with 3 young girls a Rabbit Fur Coat? It's was 1986, not 1976, they were not going to the Disco, they were picking up Happy Meals at the McDonald's.
My mom was in the church singles scene, one of the singles "support" groups was called "Broken Rainbow" the kids could go too. We could talk about divorce and why it's bad and how we can move on and make a hat or some other stupid ineffective shit and then we got to go home with our mom, who struggled, was tired, and wanted to feel love. Around this time is when she met "The StepFather". (I will have to get back to this later...something blogworthy just occurred and I need a moment to process) To be continued Sundayish!
Back to the story, we were living in flux, sometuime with my grandparents and sometimes on our own with my mom. My mom tried, but she was not match for her kids. I think she was overwhelmed alot and didn't really fight all that hard against us. We knew how to work her.
She had been divorced for a few years and my mom was young. By the time I was 12, my mom was turning 30. She didn't want her life to be over. She was on the prowl. That sounds bad, but by that I really just mean that she was on the lookout for a man. There was Jim the tall redhead that bought her the Rabbit Fur coat...what a douchebag! Give a woman with 3 young girls a Rabbit Fur Coat? It's was 1986, not 1976, they were not going to the Disco, they were picking up Happy Meals at the McDonald's.
My mom was in the church singles scene, one of the singles "support" groups was called "Broken Rainbow" the kids could go too. We could talk about divorce and why it's bad and how we can move on and make a hat or some other stupid ineffective shit and then we got to go home with our mom, who struggled, was tired, and wanted to feel love. Around this time is when she met "The StepFather". (I will have to get back to this later...something blogworthy just occurred and I need a moment to process) To be continued Sundayish!
The Business of Knowing and The Power of Doing
The title felt powerful...so I went with it. Truth is after last nights Bariatric Surgery Seminar, I know about the same as I knew going in and I feel not as powerful as before. The decision seems harder today. I thought I decided that I was going to go with a Gastric Laproscopy Band, but the surgeon seems "gung ho" Gastric Bypass. This is all very complicated to laymen...I understand, so I am posting links to both at the bottom so that you too, may be as educated as I. The surgery center is supposed to call me today to discuss the options...so we will see.
Decisions have to be made.
So, since this is just really an update of what happened last night, which is nothing really. I wanted to take some time to discuss the title of my blog "Life Inside the Blubber Sarcophagus" .
For those of you who do not know...a sarcophagus is defined by Dictionary.com as :
1. a stone coffin, esp. one bearing sculpture, inscriptions, etc., often displayed as a monument.
2. Greek Antiquity. a kind of stone thought to consume the flesh of corpses, used for coffins.
Since doctors like to throw around the term morbidly obese when it comes to my "outer shell" I figured that sarcophagus is fitting. After all, people think that I am hard and I have no feelings and I can't hear what they are saying about me and I truly will be consumed by it. I also feel that it is a monument to everything I haven't done in my life. It has been sculpted over the years and bears the inscriptions of the hurt and pain that I have endured and it stands out to say "this is my accomplishment" I thought nothing more of myself than to let this happen.
That's bullshit.
Not really.
It has held me back...it has made me less confident, less trusting. It has held me back. It is me. I have held me back.
In considering this major surgery and major change in my life, I have thought a lot about what I want to be different. I want to be more driven and I believe that starts here. I want to be accomplished, but that is an action, not a passive arrangement. I want to continue to see the world the way that I do now. Where I know how it feels to be mistreated over something that does not affect the person doing the mistreating. I want to continue to be guarded when appropriate. I want to analyze...everything, but your intentions. I want to continue to be funny and enjoy laughter. I want to be capable of giving and receiving love because it flows from me and to me, not because I am begging for it or someone is sympathetic towards me. I want to be less angry.
I have held ME back.
The goal is to be more active.
http://www.hoab.org/gastric-bypass/
http://www.hoab.org/lapband/
http://www.hoab.org/realize-band/
http://www.hoab.org/gastric-sleeve/
(This is in no way an endorsement for Heart of America Bariatrics, simply put, these are just links that you can use to gather more information on the proedures available.)
Decisions have to be made.
So, since this is just really an update of what happened last night, which is nothing really. I wanted to take some time to discuss the title of my blog "Life Inside the Blubber Sarcophagus" .
For those of you who do not know...a sarcophagus is defined by Dictionary.com as :
1. a stone coffin, esp. one bearing sculpture, inscriptions, etc., often displayed as a monument.
2. Greek Antiquity. a kind of stone thought to consume the flesh of corpses, used for coffins.
Since doctors like to throw around the term morbidly obese when it comes to my "outer shell" I figured that sarcophagus is fitting. After all, people think that I am hard and I have no feelings and I can't hear what they are saying about me and I truly will be consumed by it. I also feel that it is a monument to everything I haven't done in my life. It has been sculpted over the years and bears the inscriptions of the hurt and pain that I have endured and it stands out to say "this is my accomplishment" I thought nothing more of myself than to let this happen.
That's bullshit.
Not really.
It has held me back...it has made me less confident, less trusting. It has held me back. It is me. I have held me back.
In considering this major surgery and major change in my life, I have thought a lot about what I want to be different. I want to be more driven and I believe that starts here. I want to be accomplished, but that is an action, not a passive arrangement. I want to continue to see the world the way that I do now. Where I know how it feels to be mistreated over something that does not affect the person doing the mistreating. I want to continue to be guarded when appropriate. I want to analyze...everything, but your intentions. I want to continue to be funny and enjoy laughter. I want to be capable of giving and receiving love because it flows from me and to me, not because I am begging for it or someone is sympathetic towards me. I want to be less angry.
I have held ME back.
The goal is to be more active.
http://www.hoab.org/gastric-bypass/
http://www.hoab.org/lapband/
http://www.hoab.org/realize-band/
http://www.hoab.org/gastric-sleeve/
(This is in no way an endorsement for Heart of America Bariatrics, simply put, these are just links that you can use to gather more information on the proedures available.)
Monday, July 27, 2009
Imperfection is the New Black!
Finally...I am fashion forward!
Everyone is screwed up in their own way, I just feel screwed up in every way. The goal is to be more active. I fell asleep at 7pm. Dead asleep, on the couch. Snoring, drooling, the whole bit. I woke up disoriented with a mouth full of cotton. Goal unattainable? Of course not. I guess my husband thinks that I just don't want it bad enough. I am just kidding though...he did not say that, I am just thinking for him again. I have got to quit doing that.
Today was a good food day, for the most part. This morning the girls and I had 1 blueberry waffle and shared a lovely golden delicious apple. Fruity perfection. My lunch consisted of half a tuna salad sandwich, Sugar Free Chocolate Pudding and celery sticks. Not smoking has been hard, but I have been able to combat it a bit by chewing gum, eating carrot sticks, and popping grapes like Vicodin (you know to take the edge off...lol)
Back at work, so the activity level was low. Not taking breaks because obviously breaks = smoking in my world. MMMMM...lady cigarette, you are quite the temptress. I wonder if I can include the shakes and uncontrollable sweating as being more active...if so GOAL ACHIEVED.
I felt bad for my co-worker and friend Debbie...she came back from her vacay and was completely stressed with copious amounts of unexpected work on top of current work, no one that we normally smoke with in the office was there...or if they were, they weren't smoking. I tried to listen to her, I really did, but alas...I was a bad friend to her (sorry Deb) All I could think about was CIGARETTES....at one point it seemed that people were turning into cigarettes in front of my eyes, you know like when cartoon characters stranded on desert islands turn into turkeys. I will try to do better, please understand that it is not you, it's me. Does methadone work as a nicotine replacement?
I realize that this blog is about weight loss, so I will try to get back on track. I did pretty good today, food wise, but dinner was bad. My sister cooked and made Hamburger Over a Cloud, (which is ground beef in gravy over mashed potatoes) and Brussel Sprouts. I should have had tuna. I did not.
Jim's surgery is tomorrow to remove his gall bladder, so we spent some time outside with the kids this evening. We had a water balloon fight. It was fun and we could tell that Autumn, my oldest, was having a blast for sure. She hit me so hard in the head with one that it actually knocked my headband off (and I was starting to think that was an actual part of my body). I guess that was something. It wasn't quite the physical activity that is going to get me down under 200 lbs, but it was a start.
Today's weight 291.0 (see, I told you that I would stick with the 294)
The goal is to be more active.
Everyone is screwed up in their own way, I just feel screwed up in every way. The goal is to be more active. I fell asleep at 7pm. Dead asleep, on the couch. Snoring, drooling, the whole bit. I woke up disoriented with a mouth full of cotton. Goal unattainable? Of course not. I guess my husband thinks that I just don't want it bad enough. I am just kidding though...he did not say that, I am just thinking for him again. I have got to quit doing that.
Today was a good food day, for the most part. This morning the girls and I had 1 blueberry waffle and shared a lovely golden delicious apple. Fruity perfection. My lunch consisted of half a tuna salad sandwich, Sugar Free Chocolate Pudding and celery sticks. Not smoking has been hard, but I have been able to combat it a bit by chewing gum, eating carrot sticks, and popping grapes like Vicodin (you know to take the edge off...lol)
Back at work, so the activity level was low. Not taking breaks because obviously breaks = smoking in my world. MMMMM...lady cigarette, you are quite the temptress. I wonder if I can include the shakes and uncontrollable sweating as being more active...if so GOAL ACHIEVED.
I felt bad for my co-worker and friend Debbie...she came back from her vacay and was completely stressed with copious amounts of unexpected work on top of current work, no one that we normally smoke with in the office was there...or if they were, they weren't smoking. I tried to listen to her, I really did, but alas...I was a bad friend to her (sorry Deb) All I could think about was CIGARETTES....at one point it seemed that people were turning into cigarettes in front of my eyes, you know like when cartoon characters stranded on desert islands turn into turkeys. I will try to do better, please understand that it is not you, it's me. Does methadone work as a nicotine replacement?
I realize that this blog is about weight loss, so I will try to get back on track. I did pretty good today, food wise, but dinner was bad. My sister cooked and made Hamburger Over a Cloud, (which is ground beef in gravy over mashed potatoes) and Brussel Sprouts. I should have had tuna. I did not.
Jim's surgery is tomorrow to remove his gall bladder, so we spent some time outside with the kids this evening. We had a water balloon fight. It was fun and we could tell that Autumn, my oldest, was having a blast for sure. She hit me so hard in the head with one that it actually knocked my headband off (and I was starting to think that was an actual part of my body). I guess that was something. It wasn't quite the physical activity that is going to get me down under 200 lbs, but it was a start.
Today's weight 291.0 (see, I told you that I would stick with the 294)
The goal is to be more active.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Road to Redemption (pt 2)
I believe I said the goal was to be more active. I did not reach that goal today. I got up made breaksfast for the fam, played computer games, took a nap. Woke up around 2, drove to Subway to EAT FRESH, then came home watched a movie that I could not stand, now I am sitting at the computer again trying to convince myself to go to the store so that I can bring my lunch to work tomorrow and eat healthy or keep doing the same old thing.
Re-reading my post from yesterday I just wanted to make it clear that I am not a lazy person. (Today I was) I am just always too busy doing so many things for others that I have no time for myself. This has been a problem with me for a long time. I put way more time into other people than I put into myself. I put way more time into other people than other people put into me. I guess at this point they will all really miss everything I do/did for them when I am dead. Truthfully, I know that the people I WASTE my time on, will just look for someone else to do it for them when/if I am gone. Taking care of my kids is NEVER a waste of my time. They are my whole reason for getting up and doing what I do everyday. They are amazing and they love me. They do not judge me. They do not understand "fat" as a bad thing. I am just their mom. Theirs are the only true relationships that I have, where there is no bias, just love!!! My fear is that will change one day. One day, people will not just be making fun of me, they will be making fun of me through my kids. Outside people will taint my relationship with my kids becasue people are cruel.
I think about my kids warning their friends before they meet me. Saying "My mom is a big woman" like a forewarning and a joke at the same time. My kids might even laugh with their friends about me and so ends the true part of the relationship for me. I know that all kids end their "true" relationship with their parents at some point only to regain it later, but to think that it would be about my weight KILLS me.
Before I close this today, I just want to let all my family and friends who are following this know that I will say a lot of things here. I am not blaming or calling out, we all make mistakes and I take responsibility for who I am and how I am. You read this at your own risk, I do not want anything I say here to be held as a point of contention with you. I do not want this to cause a problem in any relationship. If you can not handle that, please don't follow my journey. I am willing to have a hard conversation with whomever needs to have it. This is one place where your judgement is not allowed.
The goal is to be more active.
Re-reading my post from yesterday I just wanted to make it clear that I am not a lazy person. (Today I was) I am just always too busy doing so many things for others that I have no time for myself. This has been a problem with me for a long time. I put way more time into other people than I put into myself. I put way more time into other people than other people put into me. I guess at this point they will all really miss everything I do/did for them when I am dead. Truthfully, I know that the people I WASTE my time on, will just look for someone else to do it for them when/if I am gone. Taking care of my kids is NEVER a waste of my time. They are my whole reason for getting up and doing what I do everyday. They are amazing and they love me. They do not judge me. They do not understand "fat" as a bad thing. I am just their mom. Theirs are the only true relationships that I have, where there is no bias, just love!!! My fear is that will change one day. One day, people will not just be making fun of me, they will be making fun of me through my kids. Outside people will taint my relationship with my kids becasue people are cruel.
I think about my kids warning their friends before they meet me. Saying "My mom is a big woman" like a forewarning and a joke at the same time. My kids might even laugh with their friends about me and so ends the true part of the relationship for me. I know that all kids end their "true" relationship with their parents at some point only to regain it later, but to think that it would be about my weight KILLS me.
Before I close this today, I just want to let all my family and friends who are following this know that I will say a lot of things here. I am not blaming or calling out, we all make mistakes and I take responsibility for who I am and how I am. You read this at your own risk, I do not want anything I say here to be held as a point of contention with you. I do not want this to cause a problem in any relationship. If you can not handle that, please don't follow my journey. I am willing to have a hard conversation with whomever needs to have it. This is one place where your judgement is not allowed.
The goal is to be more active.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Road to Redemption
281, that's what the scale said this morning. How does that happen? Probably stress and water retention, but oh well I am sticking with the 294, why be disappointed on the backswing, right? Yesterday I was pretty angry. I don’t think I am less angry today, but I feel like I need to introduce you to my “road to ruin” before you can walk side by side on my “road to redemption”. So, I will be addressing my regular blogs as the Road to Ruin and the Road to Redemption.
My travels to 294 have not been an easy road and the path was not all that straight. What you will come to know about me is that I analyze everything. I analyze you, I analyze situations, and most importantly and strictly of all I analyze myself and my role in everything, even if I do not have a role.
It’s not that I think that I am all that important, I just feel like I have a way of screwing everything up for everyone and screwing things up the worst for myself.
Today has been an overall good day. It was just me, my husband, and my two year old today. My four year old is spending the weekend with her Nana and my sister who lives with me is also there. Just kind of a relaxing day. The baby and I went to the store yesterday to stock up on fruity snacks, so that I could resist temptation of snacking on unhealthy foods.
Everything is just better when everyone cooperates and today was the best. I made turkey chili for dinner with lots of tomatoes and three kinds of beans.
I didn’t do anything though. That I believe is the crux of the true problem. I am terminally inactive. To be honest, it’s not really all that comfortable to move. When you are big and you try to exercise you sweat in places that you could never imagine. To make things worse, I HATE to walk. I am just being honest here. I don’t mind riding the exercise bike or being on an elliptical machine, but I hate the stupid put one foot in front of the other for exercise purposes. It’s ridiculous. What are you supposed to do while you walk? Look at a bird? This has been a really bad excuse of mine for a while. Truthfully, I just don’t want people looking at me. The thought of my neighbor keeping track of my laps of the block as I make them angers me. That sounds ridiculous, but people do that stuff. People count your laps, guess how much you weigh (badly)even though there is no prize involved.
You can ask anyone and I will provide you with a list of names if need be…I do not eat an unreasonable amount of food. People tell me that all the time. I am fat, not because I eat a lot, but because I make poor dietary choices and I don’t do anything.
Anyway, back to ignorant people and their ignorant ways...I was in a restaurant with a friend once, I had the fish platter with cottage cheese and a side salad. I will never forget that order, because as I was getting up from the table to pay for it, some two tooth hoosier with a trucker cap and a greasy salt and pepper beard told his son (who was sitting in front of a triple burger with fries and chili) that he better hurry up and start eating because I was headed his way and it looked like I was still hungry. I was hungry after that, I was so pissed off that I could have taken a bite out of that ignorant uneducated UGLY man.
The goal is to be more active.
(To be continued)
My travels to 294 have not been an easy road and the path was not all that straight. What you will come to know about me is that I analyze everything. I analyze you, I analyze situations, and most importantly and strictly of all I analyze myself and my role in everything, even if I do not have a role.
It’s not that I think that I am all that important, I just feel like I have a way of screwing everything up for everyone and screwing things up the worst for myself.
Today has been an overall good day. It was just me, my husband, and my two year old today. My four year old is spending the weekend with her Nana and my sister who lives with me is also there. Just kind of a relaxing day. The baby and I went to the store yesterday to stock up on fruity snacks, so that I could resist temptation of snacking on unhealthy foods.
Everything is just better when everyone cooperates and today was the best. I made turkey chili for dinner with lots of tomatoes and three kinds of beans.
I didn’t do anything though. That I believe is the crux of the true problem. I am terminally inactive. To be honest, it’s not really all that comfortable to move. When you are big and you try to exercise you sweat in places that you could never imagine. To make things worse, I HATE to walk. I am just being honest here. I don’t mind riding the exercise bike or being on an elliptical machine, but I hate the stupid put one foot in front of the other for exercise purposes. It’s ridiculous. What are you supposed to do while you walk? Look at a bird? This has been a really bad excuse of mine for a while. Truthfully, I just don’t want people looking at me. The thought of my neighbor keeping track of my laps of the block as I make them angers me. That sounds ridiculous, but people do that stuff. People count your laps, guess how much you weigh (badly)even though there is no prize involved.
You can ask anyone and I will provide you with a list of names if need be…I do not eat an unreasonable amount of food. People tell me that all the time. I am fat, not because I eat a lot, but because I make poor dietary choices and I don’t do anything.
Anyway, back to ignorant people and their ignorant ways...I was in a restaurant with a friend once, I had the fish platter with cottage cheese and a side salad. I will never forget that order, because as I was getting up from the table to pay for it, some two tooth hoosier with a trucker cap and a greasy salt and pepper beard told his son (who was sitting in front of a triple burger with fries and chili) that he better hurry up and start eating because I was headed his way and it looked like I was still hungry. I was hungry after that, I was so pissed off that I could have taken a bite out of that ignorant uneducated UGLY man.
The goal is to be more active.
(To be continued)
Road to Ruin (pt1)
As a child I was a small thing. Barely existed, well it feels like barely existed, but the truth is that it was probably the only time in my life that I was normal. When I was about 8 my parents divorced which was devastating to me emotionally, physically, and mentally. My mom was devastated because my dad would never allow her to have a job and now she was responsible for everyone and everything on her own. My dad was not really around a lot especially when I was younger, so we survived everyday with determination of my mother and the assistance of my grandparents. I felt overly responsible for everything and a lot of responsibility thrust upon me, but this is not my therapy session, it’s about how I gained all this weight. The truth is…no one was paying attention. My mom was worried about money and survival. My grandparents were worried about us, our survival, the added stress of two families living together, and their own careers and existence. In the midst of all this worry, no one noticed that I would go from plate to plate after dinner finishing off what everyone else left behind.
Food was punishment and reward growing up. The adults would wait for the kids to go to bed and then they would eat popcorn. That always pissed me off. I like popcorn too, this has actually lead to many heated discussions so I will not go any further with it. Holidays were all about excess. Not in the amount of food, but in the selection. There were 10 different kinds of cookies, every pie you could imagine and it was a special occasion so you could pretty much try everything, but again no one was paying attention. Before anyone paid attention I was 10 years old and 150 lbs.
By then it was too late! My mom tried to switch everything to sugar free, raw sugar, and veggies, but WE WERE NOT HAVING IT. We were pissed. We didn’t know that we were eating in a way that was unhealthy, but now it had gone too far and we had to change. It wasn’t our fault we didn’t know. I think they gave up, we were really strong willed. Due to my mom’s single parent status, with trying to work and go to school, we didn’t do anything but lay around, so no surprise that My 5th grade self weighed 150 lbs.
(to be continued)
Food was punishment and reward growing up. The adults would wait for the kids to go to bed and then they would eat popcorn. That always pissed me off. I like popcorn too, this has actually lead to many heated discussions so I will not go any further with it. Holidays were all about excess. Not in the amount of food, but in the selection. There were 10 different kinds of cookies, every pie you could imagine and it was a special occasion so you could pretty much try everything, but again no one was paying attention. Before anyone paid attention I was 10 years old and 150 lbs.
By then it was too late! My mom tried to switch everything to sugar free, raw sugar, and veggies, but WE WERE NOT HAVING IT. We were pissed. We didn’t know that we were eating in a way that was unhealthy, but now it had gone too far and we had to change. It wasn’t our fault we didn’t know. I think they gave up, we were really strong willed. Due to my mom’s single parent status, with trying to work and go to school, we didn’t do anything but lay around, so no surprise that My 5th grade self weighed 150 lbs.
(to be continued)
Friday, July 24, 2009
Day of Reckoning
I have been fat practically all my life. I guess there were times that I was chunky or "thick", but to be completely honest I have been fat more than I haven't. Today is July 24, 2009 and I weigh 294 lbs. I want to scream writing that!!! How does this happen? It's not overnight I can tell you that.
People always say that dieting is not easy and that people are always looking for the quick fix, they think they should wake up in the morning and the nightmare that is their fat ass disappears. Just like you can not lose weight overnight, you can not gain weight overnight. You may not believe me, but I have always known that I was fat, but 294 kind of snuck up on me. I should probably also mention that I am only 5'1" tall. So I am literally like a beach ball and some days it feels like it.
I am 34 years old, married for 10 years, and I have 2 beautiful daughters who are 4 and 2. My husband has always been supportive, I guess. I say I guess because he has never really addressed my increasing weight over the last 10 years. I say I guess because he threw me for a loop this morning.
I have diabetes, type II adult onset, because I have a fat ass diabetes. I did it to myself. There is no sympathy required. My fault. My bad. I have always been able to say that I am diet controlled, but in reality, I never controlled my diet and I never went to the Dr. so I wore my "diet controlled" status like a badge of honor. (one I bestowed on myself).
Lately, I have been super tired and super sick. I have been getting every cold, every sniffle, every virus, every why can't I get myself out of bed? The answer...non diet controlled diabetes. Uncontrolled diabetes. Fasting bloodsugars over 150. I am shocked that I finally have to say it out loud. Rounds of blood work ensue and I become "Medicated Diabetic".
My struggles with weight loss are not unlike those that you have heard before, but I will relay them anyway... Gain weight, lose weight, gain weight, get gym membership, lose weight, sister loses car and needs ride to work, no time to go to gym, lose gym membership, gain weight, go to dr., get put on meds to help lose weight, fight with husband, flush pills that cause me to be irritable down the toilet, gain weight...pretend I am not fat, look in the mirror...write blog about being a fat ass.
I spent a lot of the end of last year considering lap band surgery...called the numbers, got the info, supposed to set up time to go to seminar, never went. Looked at papers sitting in my cluttered house, put them back on top of pile, put more stuff on top of them...they are filled out by the way, they just need a stamp.
On my way today to have more blood work done to complete my "medicated" status, I call my husband to fill him in and he asks me delicately about the lap band "thingy" I was going to do. I start filling him in on all the steps and about it being a commitment and I have to know and trust that I am going to commit to it. He tells me flat out to quit making excuses and make a hard decision. I just say ok.
I hang up the phone and I cry. I make the hard decisions everyday and don't get credit for them. I make the hard decision to get my fat ass out of bed and go out into a world where people look at me and judge me for being fat. I make the hard decision to go to a job EVERYDAY where my boss refers to me in private as "Big Momma". I am a full-time employee, a full-time wife and mother, and a full time human being. I make hard decisions everyday. It is always easier to do something else. I push myself and prod myself to enter the cruel ass world where people wonder what my husband sees in me or even worse feel sorry for him.
I cried so hard after that phone call. Then I called my friend Amy and cried to her. Then I hung up and cried. Then I cried and wrote a blog about being a fat ass. Then I called a bariatric surgery office and made an appt. for a seminar that I am dragging my husband along for (serves him right)
I am usually a lot more funny than this, so ends day 1.
People always say that dieting is not easy and that people are always looking for the quick fix, they think they should wake up in the morning and the nightmare that is their fat ass disappears. Just like you can not lose weight overnight, you can not gain weight overnight. You may not believe me, but I have always known that I was fat, but 294 kind of snuck up on me. I should probably also mention that I am only 5'1" tall. So I am literally like a beach ball and some days it feels like it.
I am 34 years old, married for 10 years, and I have 2 beautiful daughters who are 4 and 2. My husband has always been supportive, I guess. I say I guess because he has never really addressed my increasing weight over the last 10 years. I say I guess because he threw me for a loop this morning.
I have diabetes, type II adult onset, because I have a fat ass diabetes. I did it to myself. There is no sympathy required. My fault. My bad. I have always been able to say that I am diet controlled, but in reality, I never controlled my diet and I never went to the Dr. so I wore my "diet controlled" status like a badge of honor. (one I bestowed on myself).
Lately, I have been super tired and super sick. I have been getting every cold, every sniffle, every virus, every why can't I get myself out of bed? The answer...non diet controlled diabetes. Uncontrolled diabetes. Fasting bloodsugars over 150. I am shocked that I finally have to say it out loud. Rounds of blood work ensue and I become "Medicated Diabetic".
My struggles with weight loss are not unlike those that you have heard before, but I will relay them anyway... Gain weight, lose weight, gain weight, get gym membership, lose weight, sister loses car and needs ride to work, no time to go to gym, lose gym membership, gain weight, go to dr., get put on meds to help lose weight, fight with husband, flush pills that cause me to be irritable down the toilet, gain weight...pretend I am not fat, look in the mirror...write blog about being a fat ass.
I spent a lot of the end of last year considering lap band surgery...called the numbers, got the info, supposed to set up time to go to seminar, never went. Looked at papers sitting in my cluttered house, put them back on top of pile, put more stuff on top of them...they are filled out by the way, they just need a stamp.
On my way today to have more blood work done to complete my "medicated" status, I call my husband to fill him in and he asks me delicately about the lap band "thingy" I was going to do. I start filling him in on all the steps and about it being a commitment and I have to know and trust that I am going to commit to it. He tells me flat out to quit making excuses and make a hard decision. I just say ok.
I hang up the phone and I cry. I make the hard decisions everyday and don't get credit for them. I make the hard decision to get my fat ass out of bed and go out into a world where people look at me and judge me for being fat. I make the hard decision to go to a job EVERYDAY where my boss refers to me in private as "Big Momma". I am a full-time employee, a full-time wife and mother, and a full time human being. I make hard decisions everyday. It is always easier to do something else. I push myself and prod myself to enter the cruel ass world where people wonder what my husband sees in me or even worse feel sorry for him.
I cried so hard after that phone call. Then I called my friend Amy and cried to her. Then I hung up and cried. Then I cried and wrote a blog about being a fat ass. Then I called a bariatric surgery office and made an appt. for a seminar that I am dragging my husband along for (serves him right)
I am usually a lot more funny than this, so ends day 1.
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