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Archive for the ‘Weight Loss’ Category

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It’s 10:15 p.m. and I feel like I’m going to explode. You know, the type where your stomach tightens and an acid taste builds in your mouth. It feels like a loud animalistic noise will screech from my throat if I open my mouth.

Keep typing. Yup, that’s the thing to do.

I attached a picture of myself with the new haircut I got a week ago. I like this picture. A rarity for sure. I like my hair. I actually look happy in this photo. I think I was. Yeah, it was a week ago Monday and I’d spent the afternoon downtown Sidney looking for the perfect gifts for Lynn when I happened upon my salon. The rest of the story is evident.

So now, here I sit one week later, frustrated to the point of shaving my head because I couldn’t get my hair to look like the photo this morning. I tell myself I didn’t have the straightening gel, so of course my hair is poofier. I’ve always been so uncoordinated when it comes to styling my hair which is why I never do a damned thing to it. I feel so ugly with all of this weight on me. 227.8 That’s a whooping 11.8 lbs lost since January 1st. I’m being mature and accepting the loss, but fuck, it’s still 77.8 lbs away from my goal. And I still weigh over 200 lbs! That’s what disgusts me the most, weighing over 200 lbs.

I took a photo of myself tonight and as usual was shocked at the image. At least I don’t look full term pregnant like I did in January; now, it’s about 5 months pregnant. I don’t feel attractive and I miss that. I know I’m married and shouldn’t really care if anyone looks at me, but I do. I remember what it felt like to have a man gaze at me and I want that to happen again. Sure, I can dress nice, do my best to make my hair look like the above image, but no man looks at me in that way anymore. Not even my husband.

That hurts the most.

So, life’s not fair. But I have no one to blame for my situation but myself. I chose to binge on peanut butter, Starbucks ginger cookies, butter tarts, banana bread, cereal and milk. The results of my binging are 77.8 lbs of jelly like fat that gives me two stomachs, big boobs, large ass, thick legs and round face. Then there’s my laziness. I’d sat on my ass for years and now that equates to aches in every joint and with every movement. Trying to move around my load takes a lot of energy and I am definitely lacking in that area. I hear myself. I’m feeling sorry for myself.

Enough of that shit girl! Stop your fucking whining and get with the plan!

Taking this journey one day at a time is so slow and impossible to accept with patience and perseverance. I’m so sick of reading how it’s the journey, not the destination that is most important, to focus on this moment and to accept that the process is slow and steady. I want what the Biggest Loser offers – 6 hrs per day of pure hell in physical activity with a trainer that pushes you to the brink and beyond. I’m not working, I could do this. I think of it every night before I fall asleep and plan how I will take this approach in the morning. Well, the next day arrives, I sleep most of it away because I’ve been awake all night, and exercising, fuck, I haven’t even given it a thought.

No, my routine is 15 minutes of biking on my indoor recumbent bike at a light speed per my physiotherapist’s instructions. She permits me to do this twice each day. Following this, I do my stretches, balancing exercises and core work that she has given me, which takes 15 minutes. What do I actually do? First two days, I follow her instructions 100%, the third day I bike at a moderate pace working up a sweat and add additional stretches. Why do I do this to myself? I want to move without pain now, not a few months from now.

I’m obsessed with how I looked seven years ago. I was slim, could wear short skirts, cute hats, tank tops and best of all, I felt and looked sexy. I could see the eyes of men and women looking at me and I loved it. No, I craved it. The thing about it is that who I was seven years ago is dead. I cannot recreate her for she doesn’t exist.

So, what’s left?

On the exterior is an obese 47 year old woman who walks with her head down avoiding eye contact at all costs. I avoid going anywhere to be with people because of the shame and disgust I feel at how I let myself fall apart. I notice that I’m the minority in the public and now when I’m looked at it’s because I am different. I’m big. I’m fat. I’m ugly. Gone are the gazes. Now it is stares.

The depression and anxiety are like a roller coaster and I’m always terrified of moving towards upwards. Each jerk pulls my body deeper into my mind so that by the time I’m at the top, there is but a minuscule piece of me left. I look down and before I can take a breath, I am tumbling faster and faster until I crash at the bottom, landing in a murky, sticky brown puddle. Try as I might, I cannot lift my arms or body to rise. I am mired in this mess, my mess and right now I feel trapped, unable to find my way out.

Now I ponder my situation. I do have a choice. Continue or give up. I will continue. I don’t like it. In fact, I hate it so much that I have the urge to vomit. I’ll trudge forward and hope that I’ll figure out how to get out of the mud that encases my body and mind.

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Peanut_Butter_by_jakegarn Peanut Butter by *jakegarn

When I found this image at deviantArt.com, I laughed and thought, yup, this could be me!

So, it’s like 3:54 a.m. and I am awake. I did go to bed at 11:20 p.m., missing my goal of 11:00 p.m. by 20 minutes, but still, I felt that was an accomplishment. I took my nightly meds in addition to one ativan. I hate how I’ve been taking two and thought what better time to reduce it than the night before I have to get up early for a doctor and psychiatrist appointments!  I settle into bed to watch the news, a calming act for me as it makes me think of others and reminds me to stop feeling sorry for myself, when I suddenly crave Kraft Peanut Butter Lite Smooth.

Damn!

I lay there until 1:00 a.m. trying not to think of peanut butter, but I can smell it, taste it and the addiction yanks me out of bed to go seek it out. Now I know it’s hidden in the garage somewhere and it’s not too big of an area, so I should be in and out lickity split! Nope, nadda. I searched for ten minutes and left the garage defeated. Paul is good; he’s hidden it well. I feel a bit pissed at him, but I have no right because I asked him to do this to help with my binging. I go back to bed and two hours later I’m still awake, but more agitated than before. I clamber out of the bed, bouncing a bit more than needed in hopes of jarring Paul. I mean if he’s awake, then I could ask him where the peanut butter is, because surely I couldn’t wake him myself to ask, that would be selfish. Well, plan A didn’t work, he continued snoring and didn’t even budge. Now I’m up, what to do next?

Popcorn!

Yup, that’s only one Weight Watcher point for the bag and if I eat one at a time, that will take the edge off my wanting the peanut butter. I nestled into my recliner, my legs crossed and covered with my paw print fleece throw and commence the dance with my popcorn. I open the top of the bag just a wee bit and inhale the buttery salty steam. I select one popped kernel and place it on my tongue then ever so slowly close my mouth down around this warm morsel. I like the squeaky sound that arises, but more than that I salivate as I chew on this one tiny treat that brings me much joy. After about five kernels eaten this way, I’m bored.

Never known to do one thing at a time, I pick up my book ‘The Mindful Way Through Depression’ and start reading while eating my popcorn, which now seems to be going into my mouth three, four, five at a time. So much for eating my popcorn mindfully. All in my little world seems to be going well except for the fact that I’m still awake, I still WANT peanut butter and I have to get up in a couple of hours. I look at my food journal and become giddy realizing I have five points left! Woo hoo! Gonna get me some oatmeal now!

I heated up one pack of oatmeal, a first for me since I tend to eat two packs. I looked through the microwave glass and was astonished to see the oatmeal had risen to the top of the bowl and there were still five seconds left. Like a hockey game in overtime, my heart sped up and I couldn’t speak. Would it, would it, would it stay at the top or would it overflow?! I’m rooting for staying at the top. Come on, one second left, you can do it!

Ding!

Excited that the oatmeal did not overflow, I opened the microwave door hoping to see my masterpiece, but was greeted with a half filled bowl of deflated oatmeal. I was disappointed, but not enough that I wouldn’t eat it. I filled the indentation with Splenda brown sugar and a bit of skim milk. To my recliner I returned. I placed the very warm bowl against my chest, and slowly stirred the mixture. The brown sugar streaked through the thick oatmeal creating dark swirls with each turn of the spoon. The milk did not want to mix with this gloopy mess taking a lot longer to give in and become one with the oatmeal. The texture of oatmeal always makes me laugh, for it resembles the cottage cheese that has implanted itself on the back of my thighs.

Once done my second treat, I did feel a sense of fullness, but the desire for peanut butter lived on. I have to accept it. Kraft Peanut Butter Lite Smooth and I are over. Why? Because my name is Cathie and I’m a peanut-butteraholic.

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in_the_deep_dark_hole_by_demonikangelx in the deep dark hole by ~demonikangelx @ deviantArt

I did it. I finally did it. I cancelled all my massage and physio appointments. I was so conflicted before, during and after. Sure we got back 80% of the cost and once we paid $1,000 of our own money, it was free, but still I felt immense guilt for spending the money. When I looked at what I spent over the last few years on trying to lose weight it was appalling. I’m going to send an email to Weight Watchers to see if I can get out of the six month contract that cost $299. I bought it my first meeting because it was a huge savings $11.50/meeting verses $15.80/meeting, a whopping 28% less! What the fuck?! I mean look at my track record, I quit everything, so most likely I’ll quite this as well.

I weighed myself today and saw a 1 lb gain. I’m so fucking pissed it’s beyond belief. I know I’m not exercising, but I’m not going over in my points and I’m eating healthy. Okay, I admit, I ate 6 pkgs of oatmeal yesterday so that was like 12 points, but I do get 27 points total for the day, so that’s not bad and besides, unless I’m blind, I don’t remember seeing anywhere in the Weight Watchers’ books that I can’t eat just one type of food all day. Well, they do say to eat a balanced diet, so I’m probably wrong.

I left a message for my psychiatrist who won’t be in until Thursday or Friday asking her advice on what I can do to make myself do the things that will help the depression like showering, exercising and following through on what I say I’ll do. I know that mediation alone can’t lift depression, but I seriously don’t have the energy or desire to do anything. I just want to stay in bed. In fact I’m going to bed shortly, it’s 11:11 p.m. right now, that way I can sleep until 4:30 p.m. tomorrow. The thoughts of facing tomorrow fill me with dread. I’ve got things to do like grooming all the dogs which would definitely take more than one afternoon, crochet the fingerless mittens and summer bag, block the scarf I made Lynn then wrap and mail it (was for xmas), patch the walls in the exercise room, paint the exercise room, actually exercise in the exercise room, cook meals, sweep floors, wash floors, wash walls, wash windows, walk the dogs, make the bed, finish that anniversary slideshow I made for Paul for our 25th anniversary which was a year and a half ago, go to bed at 10 or 11 and get up by 8, eat three meals and two snacks daily and the list goes on.

I think I’m a dog. All I want to do is sleep, sleep, maybe grab a couple packs of oatmeal with milk and brown sugar to eat, drink a cup and a half of coffee, check my email and facebook to see if there’s anybody out there and finally, go back to sleep. Oh yeah, I’m one of those dogs that doesn’t like to go for walks.

So what can my psychiatrist to with one fuckinig call? Probably not much. I feel frustration  push up from my vagina through my stomach into my chest and get stuck. How do I make the want bigger than the don’t want? Or maybe it’s ‘how do I make the can bigger than the don’t want?’ That’s it..I’m fucking brilliant! I’m totally capable of getting on that damned recumbent bike and moving my legs in a circular motion, but like a spoiled rotten child I refuse to.

No! No! No! I Won’t! You can’t make me! I hate you! I hate you! Get away from me! No! Now fuck off!

Problem arising……

Genital arousal is happening as I type all of this. That is usually a tell tale sign that I’m being triggered by something or that I’m feeling intense fear, no make that, terror.

So am I afraid of losing weight? Am I afraid of having a nice looking body? Am I afraid of being able to breathe? Am I afraid of going for walks? Am I afraid of having energy? Yadda yadda yadda…..

It’s the same old bullshit I’ve been feeding myself for years, yet nothing ever changes. If I look at a journal from five years ago I’ll read almost verbatim what I write here. Frustrated. Can’t figure out why I don’t follow through. Wonder when I’ll wake up and feel better, whatever the hell that means.

I saw there is a 10 day silent meditation retreat late April that is free. This really intrigued me, but there was a section written that people with mental disorders should not attend as the retreat won’t heal them. Well, I know that! I’m seriously thinking of applying to go, getting a letter from Dr. Campbell to state I won’t go off on some rampage and kill every breathing entity and hopefully find a carpool. The thoughts of 10 days of silence seems a bit daunting as does 10 hours per day of meditation, but this quietness may be what we need to push through whatever barrier is in front of our face not allowing us to move ahead. I do worry how I’ll do without Paul and the puppies for 10 days; however, the way I am right now is no good to them at all, so if there is a glimmer of hope that this retreat might shake me loose from the vie that holds me, I’m willing to give it a go. I always rush into things then later quit, so this time I’m going to sit with it, discuss it with Paul, maybe even call and talk to them about my mental illnesses and finally talk it over with my psychiatrist.

Aagghh….gotta stop now…letter c is giving me problems and I can feel my frustration rising. If I don’t stop now, within a minute I’ll want to murder someone.

Before I go and since I’ve found the image for this post, I need to say that the little circles of hope I used to see in the distance are diminishing. This means that pretty soon there will be no opening with which to escape from my hell.

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exhausted pose drawings by ~JoeyGates @ deviantArt

Sexhausted_pose_drawings_by_joeygateso once again I’ve setup a personal blog. I’ve lost count as to how many I’ve setup. The main reason for doing it  yet again was the feeling I was getting from everyone inside that they were really mad at me for removing their blog. I’m hoping by doing this, things might settle down inside. I’m exhausted beyond belief. My eyelids, heavy and swollen remain closed tight against my eyes, my head is throbbing and I’m sure if I went to a mirror I’d see it with a large lump on the right side of my head.

Because of this poor sleeping schedule, my eating has been the shits. I’m not eating much nor drinking anything, and as for exercise, let’s just say I have avoided it at all costs. So Weight Watchers starts in 15 minutes, but I told Paul to take the car to work because I’m too damned tired to go. I can go to Victoria tomorrow at 10 a.m. which is what I’ll do. I’m so fucking scared about this upcoming weigh in. I have to have lost weight this week. That would make it two weeks in a row of losing weight. That would be a first since January 2nd, 2009.

Sabotage, sabotage, guess who’s the best at sabotage, Just close your eyes and think of friends, and before you know it, this really fat rolly polly image will form in your mind and you’ll shiver in disgust when you realize it’s me. So damned sick of sabotage. Oh please, make sure I’ve lost this week. Even though I feel really bad, I’m going to ride the recumbent bike today for sure, maybe 30-60 minutes. I don’t care if I hurt. It should hurt as a punishment for getting so obese.

I’m feeling really low right now and I’m having trouble staying awake after taking my morning meds and 2 ativan, so I’m going to bed.

Mirror mirror on the wall, please make my day better after all.

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