Three Sixty-Three No More

Where Have I Been...

2011-10-30T10:31:00.000-07:00

Typically when I go underground bad things happen. I isolate, eat, and rationalize my behavior. Not this time. This time I have been grounded and way more focused. I have lost a total of 72 pounds as of this morning.

It's been tough and a journey -- and I still have long way to go. My goal is to be under 150 lbs and I still have about 145 lbs to go.

I am still scared. I still feel like I am on borrowed time. I realize that's crazy thinking but I think it's what helps keep me motivated. I realize that I could become height and weight appropriate and drop dead the next day of a heart attack, or a stroke, get hit by a bus, or murdered. I get all that. I need to let go of those kinds of fears and just live live.

It's all about writing it down and being conscious about what's going in my mouth. It's about viewing food differently. Not as something to comfort me. Not as something to make me feel good. Something that fuels my body. It also means I can't enjoy what I am eating -- it means that I don't need to feel I want to embrace it.

My therapist told me people don't have relationships with food, and that's a bullshit excuse. I was mad at him for a very long time. A very long time. I thought he was full of shit. But really he's right. We don't have relationships with food. Relationships are two way streets, even if its a bad relationship. Food doesn't give a shit about you and me. The makers of it do. Especially the fast food folks, but the reality is, you can't have a relationship with food. You can have a relationship with yourself and sedate yourself with food I suppose.

I used to laugh when I would hear people say "I am breaking up with cheese" I am breaking up with milk". But I get that now. Fast food is my big down fall. It still is. I would really like to say "I will never ever eat fast food again." However, I am going to stick with the mantra that for today I choose not to eat it.

While I am here bitching, I hate face book. I stumbled across my former husband who looks terrible. Just simple terrible. I got a pang in my heart when I saw him. To think I used to be crazily in love with him so many moons ago is just mind blowing. So many years have passed, it's been a lifetime. Anyhow, I saw his photos and the photos of his wife. She's much larger than me, and she was in a scooter. That's my biggest fear, being one of those big fat scooter ladies. She also looked kind of like me which creeped me out big time. This motivates me even more to lose weight. My weight calculator tells me that May 2013 I will be height and weight appropriate.

I hope you are doing all well - I am recommitting to write her more often.

Epiphany

2011-06-28T00:47:00.000-07:00

Most people would rather be right than happy.

I am consciously choosing happiness.

It’s not like I chose to weigh this much!!!!

2011-05-26T17:59:00.000-07:00

I read the above in the title on another person's blog that I am not going to link as I am trying to live my life as drama free as possible. (Nothing's worse than two fat people cat fighting -- trust me on that.)

My response to the statement above is "Duh"

No one asks to be overweight, or be a drug addict, alcoholic, sex addict, have a gambling addiction, have an eating disorder of any kind, or any myriad of addictions.

It happens. And when it happens we have to find the root of it, fix it and move on.

But it takes hard work, so when I see crap like "It's not like I asked to weigh this much." I think of it as a cop out.

Come on all of you who are obese take some responsibility. You were not born this way, you did not come out of the shoot being 100 lbs over weight. It took action, which is you overeating, not moving enough, and making poor food choices.

Almost wished the rapture had happened yesterday....

2011-05-22T13:09:00.001-07:00

Then I wouldn't be battling this whole food thing.

No more sugar. No more artificial sweeteners.

2011-05-20T10:45:00.001-07:00

In the long run = good.

Short term : hard.as.hell

And here I thought being thinner would solve all my problems...

2011-05-16T11:10:00.000-07:00

Boy was I wrong.

Right now I am reading "It will never happen to me" by Claudia Black. In a word, this book is intense, real, and it's what I needed to read. The author has this amazing quote:

"I spent my whole life making sure I didn't end up like my dad. And now, the only difference between my dad and me is that my dad died from his alcoholism and I don't have to die from mine"

When I read this time stopped for a moment. And I sat up a little straighter and I said "Yeah, no kidding, I have worked so hard not to end up like *X* and now the only difference...."

The only difference. What powerful sentence.

The only difference is that I erroneously thought that being thin, or thinner, would solve all of my problems. Man I was wrong. Being thinner, is just being thinner. It doesn't fix what's going on in my head. I am still fucked up. I still have these ridiculous thoughts. I still obsess about stuff I can't control and shouldn't even be wasting my time thinking about. Being thinner doesn't prevent me from opening my mouth, inserting my foot, or not even being depressed. It just means I am thinner.

I am reading this today....

2011-04-25T18:51:00.000-07:00

This is probably one of the hands down most interesting books I think I have read in a very very long time. I loved it so much I sent it to my Cousin in the hopes that we can read it and talk about what we found inspiring and what we hated, because we have fun doing things like that.

I don't even know where I am spiritually anymore. I know I am scared into believing "something", if that makes any sense. I don't think that's what God intended for us to be "scared" into believing. But I admit I am.

When I think about God, my Creator, the Universe, I am in constant of awe of how this all came to be. I have a tough time reconciling that this just came about after a big explosion. I have a tough time thinking that life was created without some forethought of how we'd survive as human beings. The way our hands perfectly interlock together as we walk hand in hand, how we eat, and our body uses food to fill our gas tanks, and then has this ingenious way of eliminating waste. How sex feels good so we continue to want to do it over and over and often have children along the way. How our bodies have this amazing ability to heal. How we think, and move, and live.

I can't just accept the fact that I began as a fish. or a lizard. or whatever.

And I refuse to buy into the fact that Christianity is the only way to know and love God.

I'd be interested in what others think about this book. I'll weigh in after I read it. I hope you do to.

I don't do anything small. It's all super size for this chick.

2011-04-24T18:24:00.000-07:00

My black and white thinking has come back to haunt me I think. What prompted me to get from here to there or there to here was my inability to do anything small. I am not sure how that happened or where or who I might have inherited that from. I know my parents were never big spenders, or show off's. However, we do have addiction within our family, and perhaps my inability to do anything small has something to do with that.

My grandmother never did anything small either. If there were 4 people for dinner she cooked for 12. If you had a birthday, it wasn't just one gift it was three, and your siblings got un-birthday gifts because she couldn't bear to hurt any one's feelings. She smoked, she over ate, and she over spent.

So perhaps that's where I got this all from. Who knows, these days I am not in denial about anything.

Anyhow, back to my original prose -- I got two birds. Cockatiels -- and I settled for Cockatiels because I originally wanted a Cockatoo. I thought they were very cool until I saw how destructive they were and what a mess they made. I thought that two little birds were better. And I researched and realized I couldn't stuff them into a dinky cage, so I got a lovely big cage:

It's three feet tall and almost three feed wide. When all said and done with the stand is towers over me at almost 6 feet tall. It's pretty, it's ornate, and it screams me. And now I have two delightful birds, in this really big cage. It's now decorated with funny toys, water dishes, food dishes, a ladder, everything these two sweet peas could ever wish for. The other day as I was cleaning out this rather large cage, it dawned on me that I just don't do anything half way, or in moderation. I do every thing full-tilt, full throttle and larger than life.

Especially when it comes to food.

That was a light bulb moment.

I don't eat just a little of anything. Whether it's vegetables, meat, carbohydrates, soda pop, or candy. I do it full throttle.

So I conducted an experiment today. With it being Easter my family wanted roasted lamb and vegetables for dinner. Not being a fan of lamb I wasn't too thrilled with that notion, but hey it's once a year, what the hell. So I found an excellent recipe by one of my favorite cooks - Ina Garten, and I made her 4 hour lamb, however, with it being just two I was cooking for I wasn't going to go "whole hog" and get the 7-8 lb lamb shank, I was going to get a small 2-3 lb lamb shank.

And I did. For real.

I made the lamb, served it up, and worried like crazy, to the point of a stomach ache that my family wasn't going to get enough lamb for Easter dinner. Well guess what, there are left overs y'all. I worried for nothing.

So I realize I need to do that with everything in my life. I don't need 5 sweaters of the same kind in different colors using the excuse that I am a big girl and they might not make them anymore. I don't need to have two pieces of toast I can have one or *gasp* a half a piece of toast. It's okay to be a little hungry, it means I am burning calories and losing weight -- and I admit I am a bit more clear headed when my stomach rumbles somewhat. I don't need to walk around with a 5 cup tumbler of whatever I am drinking. I can use a regular 6-8 ounce class and "refill" the damn thing with water and ice if I need be.

I need to focus on doing small things -- it's why people in France aren't fat. They don't eat like Americans, they eat on a much smaller scale.

When we reach bottom

2011-04-17T18:50:00.000-07:00

Those of us like me who have an eating disorder often times even when we receive, realize, and grasp the meaning of our disease or diagnosis have to hit rock bottom like all addicts before us before we can get better.

Sometimes it comes in the form of a health scare. Sometimes we hit rock bottom emotionally. Other times it's because we are sick and tired of being sick and tired.

For me it's a mixture of all three. I had numerous health issues. Felt wretched emotionally and am now at the point where I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. And for me all it took was to catch myself in the mirror on a Monday, and forget how fat I was on a Tuesday when when some idiot parked too close to my car and I had to literally squeeze in to my car to get in. A sight to see I am sure.

I still am not sure why I am compelled to over eat. But I do. Recovery is hard. It's not about pounds lost anymore either. I am down a tad over 50 lbs from my all time high and it's still a battle each and very day.

Today I strive for peace nothing else.

Pain + Isolation + Frustration = Late Night Eating

2011-04-10T08:59:00.001-07:00

I see it's been almost three months since my last post. God I feel like a bad Catholic- Father forgive me it's been 765467 years since my last confession.

So what have I been doing. Jaw surgery - 2 of them. Ugh. And that should help with weight loss right? Well yes some, but not like I hoped.

The pain has been ridiculous. And so I find that those nights I am up in pain, take my pain meds, I manage a way to eat. It's stupid, frustrating, and ridiculous.

Thankfully, I haven't gained what I've lost but I see a pattern.

When the scale moves down...

2011-01-22T22:32:00.000-08:00

It's kind of like the sun -- I have a sense of well being. I knew something was up yesterday when at the end of the day my ankles were not horribly swollen. It didn't hurt horribly to ambulate this morning when I woke up. As much as I didn't want to I weighed today and I was down another three pounds. I am now a week of being grain free, and pretty much following this food plan by the Paleo (Caveman) people and weight watcher points of course. And dude it's working. I am not feeling incredibly deprived and I am able to stay focused.

So maybe I am turning the corner.

So..,,

2011-01-20T23:58:00.001-08:00

I stayed on my food plan and it wasn't so bad.

Yes, I Am Avoiding You Like The Plague...

2011-01-11T23:41:00.000-08:00

Oh how I am practicing avoidance. There I said. Now I can breathe. I have been putting off coming here to write for a very long time.

October 10th, 2010 to be exact.

I wish I had something snarky, profound, or witty to say. I don't.

The bottom line is I am a coward. I have an eating disorder. I am out of control with it a lot of the time. I use any excuse to over eat. If I don't a handle on it, it's going to do me in.

They say admitting you have a problem is the first step.

My problem is I need to shut my mouth, stop shoveling food in and take about 10 thousand steps a day.

And so here I am. I digress.

I lumber...

2010-10-10T00:36:00.000-07:00

So I am doing the exercise thing. I am hating it. h a t i n g it. Just thought I would put that out there. I am not sure what's going on but my body is really pissed off. I no longer walk, I lumber. My knees kill me, my hips kill me. My doctor tells me to take it easy because of the arthritis. My argument is if I take it easy then I won't lose weight. If I don't lose weight my joint problem become worse.

On days that it rains and it's overcast I am reduced to using a cane.

It's that bad.

On days that it's sunny, I am so much better.

My spouse shared with me that one of the biggest reasons he left California to move to the Pacific Northwest was because he felt that he was trapped spiritually and emotionally down in California. In many ways I understood where he was coming from because that's how I feel living in the Pacific Northwest.

I hate it.

He just looked at me and sighed. And then went on about his business.

He doesn't want to hear what I have gone through being "here" for the past 15+ years. I think it's too painful for him. He asked me "What are we going to do?" My reply was I have three options:

1. We all move some place else. (that is so not going to happen he has a great job here)
2. I move some place else. (that is so not going to happen, I can't take my kid with me, and I am married)
3. Deal with it. (which I am trying to do but it's sucking greatly right now)

My evil big dark horrible fantasy is to shed all of this weight -- every stinking pound of it and then just disappear for awhile. But we all know that's not going to happen either.

Jesus Christ I whine a lot.

Nobody.

2010-09-27T13:48:00.001-07:00

"Nobody has ever tilted my head up and looked me in the eyes when I’m emotionally raw and told me I’m beautiful.”

I now realize why I am fat.

So emotional...

2010-08-01T18:23:00.000-07:00

Emotions. Emotional. Eeeemowshawnaul. Emo. Emo. Emo.

God that's me today.

I am seeing a pattern. It's maddening and ridiculous. Right now I feel like I am a ball of yarn that's snarled and tangled and I am trying to "undo" the knots and straighten it all out and I just can't. No matter how hard and how diligent in regards of the knots I can't follow the correct path to the "source" of where the knot started and fix it.

And I don't know where to start.

I do not know where to start.

fuck.

There's so much going on in my life right now. And it's nothing really horrible. There are others around me who are fighting cancer, divorce, death, prison. Yes, I said prison. I have a good friend who went to prison. Jesus.

It's just life. And I don't feel like I am handling all of it very well. I feel like a big baby.

All because the scale isn't moving. And it's not moving because I am not doing my part.

There I said it.

The scale isn't moving because I am not doing my part.

Well wait. let me back up - it's moving up and down the same fucking 5 pounds. I was doing so well and then I stopped doing what was expected. I made excuse after excuse. And while the binging stopped (thank God), the tight control didn't continue and this is where I am again.

Too much food. Too little exercise, and fear all equals a program that's not working and me holding the cards.

And the pattern that follows is I stop writing, stop journaling and I go into hiding and slip into the deliciousness of denial. I discontinue to dialogue with myself because it's too painful. I don't do the things I need to do to have a healthy life.

I then stagnate.

And that's where I am right now -- the sleepy sluggish town of "Stagnationville" Population 83,495,734,597,459,374,594,759,347,593,485 - that's a whole lot of residents. Chances are you too are a resident but you don't even know it.

However, we are talking about me not you. See how easy it is for me to change the subject and take the focus off of me and put it on to someone else?

It's how I roll and why I am fat. Abdicate responsibility, finger point, and shove off what I need to own.

And then there's "radical acceptance" -- something I do a lot of lip service with but not something I actually honestly practice.

God I feel like a fraud today. An emotional fraud.

I could say it's because I am exhausted -- but then after I am no longer exhausted then what.

So now what. Well, I have a choice. I can go back down into my rabbit hole and take all my food with me and eat until I die, or I can fill up the rabbit hole with dirt so I am not tempted to go back down. Put on my shit kickers, and climb up on this big ass draft horse and continue to ride.

Hell if I know which direction I am going. I haven't ever been great at reading maps. However, I always manage to get to my destination one way or the other.

And while I cry today about my family: those who I butt heads with, those who I miss (Cathleen) so very much, those who are aging before my very eyes (my mother), and those who I feel as if separated by a huge chasm -- I am going to continue to ride and take in the scenery, the sights, smells, and sounds -- and attempt to make sense of this trail called life.

God how dramatic can I get. I mean really.

July -- Really?

2010-07-07T00:20:00.000-07:00

As I slink back here rather sheepishly I see that July is really here, and I haven't posted since the third week of May.

What has yours truly been doing that's been so important that she can't find the time, make the time, justify the time, beg, borrow, or steal the time to blog and keep herself accountable and real?

Actually, a whole lotta nothin.

I wish I could say, "Oh my God, it's just life, and I have been busy with school, work, EXERCISE, embracing a whole new way of eating, applying these amazing life skills that I have embraced FULL TILT.

Uh no.

Oh yes, there's life. There is child rearing, meals to be cooked, a house to clean, laundry to wash, dry, fold, and put away, a spouse to keep happy, work to be done, school work to finish, a program to work.

However, school was over the beginning of June. Work will always be there. My child can help me now with the laundry. We have to eat no matter what.

So really it's laziness on my part. I would also be dishonest if I said I as working my program really fucking hard. I'm not. I know it. It's my stuff, I own it.

God I feel so defensive on my own blog. I am totally arguing with myself. It's so stupid.

So for the record I haven't binged in a long time. That's good. I am not down 10 lbs each month. That's bad. My therapist and group keep telling me -- (imagine this in a sing song snippy 5 year old bratty voice) "It's not about the amount of weight you lose, it's the journey, don't pay attention to the number."

Well I gotta whole lot of FUCK and OFF to say to that. Its IS about the freaking number. The FREAKING NUMBER IS WHAT MOTIVATES ME YOU ASSHATS!!!

So what this means is that while I am not binging, I am not weighing and measuring like I should. I need to be more accountable. That's the bottom line.

Ugh and this whole Teflon mind thing -- fuck that too. I realize that thoughts come in, and slide out. I get that. I also get I am not going to feel the same exact way tomorrow as I might right now. But that doesn't mean my thoughts aren't valid. And it also doesn't mean I can't be angry, right?

The exercise part is what's keeping me back. I feel like a sloth because it's hard to exercise. I get myself in this stupid circle. I exercise, feel my heart pound, just know I am going to die and then I stop exercising. I need to move through this fear, embrace the exercise, strengthen my heart, and lose weight.

Lather, Wash, Rinse, Repeat right?

I am going to die if I don't exercise. Every thing's hard to do right now. Between the arthritis and the fat it makes movement tough. The pool is my friend I am finding out.

Damn I can't believe it's July. I so want to be really under 350 by August.

And yes, to me it's all about the numbers. I am not apologizing for that.

Down for the count....

2010-05-21T21:07:00.000-07:00

I am sicker than a dog with a nasty sinus infection and ear infections.

Thanks for checking in I will report back later.

I Can Hear Myself Think...

2010-05-07T06:29:00.000-07:00

I have a 7 AM dental appointment. I am getting a crown as my bottom tooth broke. I have been dreading this appointment for weeks. The good news -- I see an ass kick of a dentist who is damn awesome. They mill their own crowns so I won't have to come back yet again. The other great part is that I arose early this morning. The entire house is asleep and I haven't yet heard:

"Where's my..." "I can't find..." "How come...." "What's the plan...."

In my head the running dialogue looks like this: "Your *X* is where you last left it, if you would put it back where you last left it you might find it." "I am sorry you can't find *X* -- next time think where you place." "How come? How about because I don't feel like it. And I said so. If that's not good enough too bad." "What's the plan? Well, whenever I say what's the plan you say 'I don't like that plan' It doesn't matter what the plan is. Where we go to eat, shop or what have you. You say to me 'What's the plan' to hear yourself speak. So you tell me WHAT'S THE FUCKING PLAN MAN? When you let me know, I may or may not follow."

I don't ever say those things -- I typically find what they are looking for, help them look, stop what I am doing of course to help them find their crap, and make plans to only have them changed. And unlike my partner I am fine when plans change. It must be the ADHD in me -- I always knew it would be good for something.

I remember what our argument on Friday night was about. Now it's ridiculous to recall, it even made me laugh -- On Friday night my partner has this stupid show he insists on watching. It's a science fiction show. SNOREZVILLE in my world. We also don't eat at the kitchen table which pisses me off. He eats his dinner and drinks his glass of wine in his "Man Cave". It's what he does to relax. And honestly eating at the table which I say pisses me off -- probably really doesn't because I don't have great mealtime memories as a kid. Mealtimes were full of anger, yelling, and I always sat to the left of my Dad as he was right handed. If he was going to backhand me, it was with his weaker hand. Or sometimes I'd duck and he'd miss.

I digress.

Anyhow I think the fact we don't always use the table to eat pisses me off because it's something I think we should do but we don't. Probably a control thing. Meals are kind of stilted when we have meals there any how. So probably just the best.

Where was I? The fight - oh duh. Okay -- so the boys are eating dinner and this show comes on. I make say "I am headed down town to pick up prescriptions." (Downtown is like 4 miles away). My partner pipes up and says "No, don't go tonight, it's getting dark, just stay in, we can all go together tomorrow." I blinked at him and narrowed my eyes. My first thought was "Don't control me you dickwad" And so I sighed and said "Oh please, I will be just 20 minutes." And I turned to walk away and get my keys and purse. Instead of him letting it go he raised his voice and said "Do you really NEED this medication tonight? Why can't it wait. I just got home. I am settling in for the night, don't you want to spend time with me?" Well - that statement and question triggered me. He'd been gone on a business trip for 3 days. He just got home late last night. Instead of catching up with me he parks his ass in front of the TV, is served his meal (that I have to change), and expects me to sit in his man cave with him in silence while he watches his favorite television show.

Homey don't do that.

I did that growing up. Not doing it in my own home.

So instead of just shutting my mouth and saying "You have a point." He didn't have a point. I am tired of negotiating with him. I am tired of having to answer to him anyhow so I tell him if he wants to rule a small country then go find one.

Wrong thing to say. That totally pissed him off. And rightly so. I was telling him in essence in not a nice way he was being a control freak. There was no room or reason for rudeness and I admit to being rude. Rude is one of the best skills I have in my repertoire of dysfunction.

The verbal gloves came out and we went a few rounds. And there was no winner of course -- I apologized. He doesn't like apologies. He says they are worthless, he wants actions to back up words.

Yeah, yeah, yeah - okay whatever. Don't we all.

So here we are a week later. Group therapy is done for the week. Individual therapy is done for the week. I have been practicing being mindful all week and not being judgmental. Damn that was a tough one. I am trying to find the middle path. However, I gotta say the middle path to me has always been the chicken shit way to go. You make decisions in your life, right or wrong, you make a stand and you own it and stick to it. I am learning that maybe that's not the right way to be.

What I am learning is there is more than one way to see a situation. That two opposite ideas can be true at the same time. That a life worth living has both positive and negative aspects. Acceptance and change are balanced. And having a dialectical perspective is just the opposite of seeing the world in a black and white or all or nothing way.

So I am tough. And I am gentle. I am doing the best I can and I need to do better. I will try harder and be more motivated to change. I am trying to expand my thought and ways of considering life situations -- and will try to unstick standoffs and conflicts.

I so love Mexican standoffs. I don't know why. I always have. I can hear the music of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly in my head when I begin a stand off. Even if I don't win I love em. I know how fucked up that is.

Back to my original train of thought -- I am working on being more flexible and approachable avoiding assumptions and that all too familiar blame game.

I had to make a commitment this week to practice Dialectical Abstinence. And honestly that was the scariest commitment I made short of agreeing to marrying my spouse. It's huge. So I am keeping in mind that before the race my goal is to win, 2nd place isn't an option. After the race I will analyze the results, implement change, and get ready to race again. And if I should slip I will go back to the starting line as quickly as possible. In essence if I fail, I need to fail well.

I think this therapy is going to be good for me.

I keep saying that. I wonder if I believe it or I am convincing myself.

It's Begun...

2010-05-05T09:24:00.000-07:00

Intake is complete. The paperwork is done. Insurance approved. Real therapy has begun.

The kind of therapy I am doing is called Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, or DBT. The definition of Dialectical thinking is that two opposite ideas can be true at the same time. There is always more than one way to see a situation and always more than one idea or opinion. Nothing is ever black and white.

The main focus for me right now is mindfulness zeroing in on mindful eating. I admit I began to have a running dialogue in my head to myself when they were talking about the states of mind -- rational minds, emotional minds (that's me) and then of course the wise mind, which is in the middle and balanced. I initially thought they were full of shit. However, I was wrong.

I am learning so much about being mindful. Not just in my eating behavior but in my life. This week I am focusing on things like -- when I am eating, eat. When I am walking walk. When I am bathing, bathe, when I am working work. When I am in a group or conversations focus my attention on the very moment, I am with the other person.

I do keep a food journal, and write about how I am feeling. We are working on distress tolerance as well. That ought to be fun.

So far, it's been good. I had my first group therapy session last night, which included a therapeutic meal, which was an interesting experience. There are 6 of us, all women. All different body shapes and sizes. We all have some sort of an eating disorder. It was easy for me to see who was had issues with anorexia, but it wasn’t so easy for me to determine who was bulimic and who wasn’t. However, when the meals came out it was clear who had issues with perhaps binging and compulsive overeating. And I say that because we kind of know our own. I observed the same behaviors in some of the others that I exhibit myself. It was interesting. On a whole I don’t care for eating in front of others. I am a closet eater. So exposure therapy was uncomfortable. But I did it. The commitment is 6 months -- which for someone like me that's a huge thing. I don't like to commit to anything.

My partner and I had a blow out Friday night. He drew a line in the sand. He said I am not tolerating *XYZ* from you any longer. And while he’s right there’s so many behaviors of his I swallow and tolerate. I am not sure he’s going to like it when I begin to push back and bring his behaviors to the forefront and tell him what I am okay with and what I am not.
His biggest complaint with me is that I don’t validate his feelings. I don’t allow him to express his feelings, be angry, or allow him to be himself. He says he can’t be vulnerable Right now I am not sure how to tell him that while I get where he’s coming from when he’s himself I don’t find it acceptable. I am not sure if that’s my stuff or if it’s really his problem.

I own the fact I don’t like to see him angry. I grew up in an angry house and any sort of anger always resorted to a really bad scene all the way around. The other part is that when he gets angry he doesn’t just get angry he drones on forever. And honestly I check out after about 20 minutes.
In other news which has nothing to do with anything – I heard this hilarious song called “My Dick” and I laughed myself until I thought I was going to wet my pants. It’s horribly offensive. But then again so am I sometimes.

Though Shall Not Judge -- The Self Criticism -- It's Gotta Go Too...

2010-04-29T15:56:00.000-07:00

I am to fill this out daily as part of my therapy. It's a tool to track mood. Ho-hum

Every day I fill out this card and keep a food diary . I turn them in weekly. I am honest to a fault and say it like it is. My therapist didn't like what had to say in my side comments. She felt the remarks were self critical, negative and judgmental. I have to stop the negative self talk she says. When I began to splutter she said "363" you just have to stop. Today. Right now. This minute. No more. You are not going to do well reading this negative stuff you say about yourself every time you see this card."

I didn't know what to say. 40+ years of negative self talk and self criticism she expects me to stop on a dime. I just looked at her. Then she began about commitment because in my intake sheet I was asked if I thought change was important. And while I said yes, I wasn't strong enough in my statements. I was ambivalent.
My life has revolved around judgments. Me judging me.Me judging others.Others judging me.Others judging others.It's integrated into who I am.Breaking that habit is going to be really fucking hard. I mean Jesus I just looked out the window at my nosey ass neighbor who peers in everyone elses windows and I thought automatically to myself "Oh there's nosey parker Brenda being the nosey bitch that she is."

I'm a work in progress I guess.

I cannot begin to tell you how rebellious I am feeling.

My laugh of the day:

Self-Soothe skills with smell - wear your favorite cologne, boil cinnamon, BAKE COOKIES. I AM SO FUCKING SURE, GO AHEAD BAKE A GODDAMN BATCH OF COOKIES.

So I laughed and I laughed and I did cast a huge judgment which I am going to talk to my therapist about next time I see her. Do not give a compulsive binger permission to freaking bake a batch of cookies.

Jesus Christ.

The Short Bus Of Food....

2010-04-28T09:23:00.000-07:00

If there was a short bus for people like me with food issues I'd be on it for sure. Today is therapy and treatment and I am dreading it. Bad food week. But that's why I'm going right? If everything was perfect and great I wouldn't be where I am today.

My husband is traveling this week which I am happy about. Makes food plans easier for me.

I just need to get my stress and anxiety under control.

It's really not about the weight.

2010-04-25T21:57:00.000-07:00

"Imagine not being frightened by any feeling. Imagine knowing that nothing will destroy you. That you are beyond any feeling, any state. Bigger than. Vaster than. That there is no reason to use drugs (in my case food as a drug) because anything a drug could do would pale in comparison to knowing who you are." (page 52, Women Food and God, Roth)

When I read that in the bathtub this morning it took my breath away. I have no idea what it's like not to be frightened. My entire life has been riddles with anxiety and fear. I worry all the time that something big, ugly, hairy, and scary is going to eat me up and destroy me. I can't imagine being beyond any feeling or any state. And as I read: "That there is no reason to use drugs (in my case food as a drug) because anything a drug could do would pale in comparison to knowing who you are." I wept. I wept for myself, for my mother, for my sister, for any woman who's waded through their own personal hell.

My thoughts continue to run back to my first serious relationship. Looking back I think that's honestly when my life began to unravel. I began to use drugs seriously for the first time. It's the time in my life I gained my first 40-50 pounds. My eating began to get crazy. I drank then -- not tons, but enough of those foo foo sugar drinks to pack the calories in. I smoked a lot -- nicotine and pot. I wasn't equipped to deal with the world. I didn't know how to manage my money. I went to live with my Aunt, who bless her heart was trying to raise her own kids as a single mom. I left her with a large phone bill and our relationship hasn't been the same since. Very sad. My excuse was that I was 19 years old and didn't know better. But still, that's an excuse. It's not how I was raised.

My first serious relationship, the one I lost my heart and my virginity to was amazing and overwhelming. He was a simple boy who became a simple man who was raised by a really controlling mother who I think would have liked him to have stayed home and lived with her forever. We fought and we loved so passionately -- from age 16-20. I thought I was going to marry him. He bought me a promise ring. Honestly, I think I may have pressured him. I loved him so much. His mother didn't like me one iota, and neither did his ass of a brother Steve. I don't think his sister cared for me, his other brother and wife liked me well enough. And his father did as well when his wife wasn't around.

I remember distinctly one evening we got into this really heavy argument. I don't even know how it began but he wanted to know if I'd fight for him. And I wasn't sure how to respond. He told me he fought for me all the time - that his mother hated me. That was the first time I'd heard those words. I went home and I ate an entire plate of brownies washed down with Mexican coffee. My first memory of binging.

Our relationship was almost like Romeo and Juliette, thankfully neither one of us died -- but his parents tried their best to separate us. They sent him to Alaska to fish an entire summer. He came back with a sexually transmitted disease and told his mother I gave it to him before he left for Alaska. I made him tell her the truth in front of me. It was humiliating. My parents were furious over that. His parents sent him to Oregon for truck driving school for a year. They didn't know we would sneak and meet weekly.

And then one day he drove to my home and stood out in the drive way crying and said "I don't love you anymore. I haven't loved you for a long time. I can't do this anymore." And he walked away. I was crushed and devastated. I saw his mother down town shortly thereafter and I asked her if she was now happy. Because she truly now could be because her son told me he no longer wanted to see me. The woman actually became angry and said that I had no idea how much her family loved me and it was a crying shame he and I couldn't work it out. I just rolled my eyes at her and walked away. I didn't look back.

I often wonder now almost 30 years later how he is. If he's happy. If his mother is still controlling his life.

I wonder what he would think if he saw me today. Big, fat and weighing over 300 lbs. I wonder if he would think I was miserable. Or if he would think I was dumb, fat, and happy.

I wonder.

So for tonight - there is no reason to use food because anything a food could do would pale in comparison to knowing who you I am.

I don't know who I am yet. I am almost 47 and I don't know who I am.

You Know What It's Like To Be Drunk Right?

2010-04-22T10:16:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been to a party or a bar and had a wee bit too much to drink? And in between that buzzy, floaty or really drunk feeling you find yourself telling anyone around you too much information? And then the next morning you thing What The Fuck Did I Just Do? God, did I throw myself at him, oh shit I kissed him! I told him where I lived. Oh my God my underwear is inside out!!!!!! Did I drive home that way?

Holy shit. Holy shit.

Well not that I did the above last night. I was completely sober. I just feel naked right now. I spoke outloud of what I am doing. I feel like I am exposed like I have been locked out of my house with just a towel barely covering my fat ass.

I dont know where this journey is going to take me. Christ, I don't even know if I am going to succeed. I just know I told the world that I am in treatment and feel a huge amount of pressure which is so stupid. This is for me. Not for you. Not for my parents. Not for my husband, or even my child. This is for me.

I guess my worry is I will let myself down again.

Treatment...and not the window kind...

2010-04-21T23:13:00.001-07:00

I entered outpatient treatment for my eating disorder. Binge eating and compulsive overeating.

Instead, I wish I had lice.

No really.

Part of this is shame and disgust. I mean come on what kind of person eats themselves up to 363 pounds? And that hasn't been my highest weight ever.

So here I am sitting in the dark with you on a Wednesday night telling complete strangers I have entered treatment.

My husband is gently snoring to the right of me. I wish I could fall asleep as easily as he does. My mind continues to run as though it's a hamster on running wheel forever it seems. And every time I lay down my body decides to share with me every ache and pain like a first grader on show and tell day. Then I'm too hot and I throw the covers back (god dang perimenopause) or then I am freezing my ass off.

Sleep is quite the adventure in my house.

I am not sure how I feel about treatment. In some ways, I am excited to be finally doing something. In other ways I am so embarrassed and already grieving about not eating what I want when I want and how much I want.

The work I am going to be doing is going to be long. Really hard and just plain painful and intense.

As I said, I almost wish I had lice instead.

Since When?

2010-04-14T19:31:00.001-07:00

Is it me or have the sizes changed over the years? I can remember being a size 7-9 in high school and weighing around 135 pounds. I recently read an article about Iman's Daughter who underwent gastric bypass surgery and went from 330 pounds to a sleek and curvy 165 pounds. She states she's now a size 8. Honestly, I had to blink and re-read that number again and I thought to myself ''Since When?"

Back in my day 160-170 lbs was a firm size 16. If you weighed 150 lbs you were a 12-14, and then 140 lbs got you a size 10. I always ran between a size 7 and a size 9 and my weight ranged from 130-135 lbs soaking wet. The only time I can remember being a size 4-6 was when I was weighing between 115-125 lbs.

I wonder if because we as a society have freaked out about Hollywood's focus on rail thin movie stars and have now just made the sizes bigger even though we aren't thinner. Regardless it's kinda weird.
So tomorrow is the day. I enter treatment for this stupid eating disorder of mine. When I called around looking for the right program I was told pretty much by every program coordinator that I wasn't sick enough. Because I didn't throw my food up, I wasn't anorexic, I wasn't suicidal, and I wasn't cutting myself there wasn't anything really for me except Over Eaters Anonymous. That compulsive overeating wasn't really a problem after all I could always do the band or have gastric bypass surgery.

Okay -- whatever.

Then I called one clinic and this nice lady said -- "You know if you binge at all we can help." I told her that I binged all the time, except I didn't throw it back up which is why I have ballooned up to 363 pounds. I told her I ate in secret, and have changed my behaviors so no one would find out. If that didn't qualify as a mental health problem I didn't know what did. I am the same as a drug addict or an alcoholic, except food is my drug. If I were spending crazy with credit cards, or gambling there would be a treatment program.

Thankfully, this woman agreed.

I am nervous. A lot nervous. I am scared. I am afraid in many ways it's too late for me. I feel defeated, overwhelmed, and very very fat. It was one of those "Did you get the memo that you are FAT??" days.
I realize that being fat is just a symptom of something bigger than me, and I am scared to find out about that. One of my biggest fears is going crazy.

Maybe I am already there.

I don't have to be sick anymore...

2010-03-29T12:56:00.000-07:00

Over the past month I have been working hard at self discovery and had another one of those light bulb "a-ha" moments. And while those moments are great they are kind of creepy, don't you think?

About a month ago I had this cardiac scare. Chest and back pain (upper), sick to my stomach, sweating etc... went into the ER, all my cardiac enzymes came back normal. No heart attack. I am still going through all the testing to rule it all out as I am a fat woman in her mid forties.

After Wednesday we will know for sure.

So while I am going through all of this shit my father who has this "on again - off again" relationship with me (he's either really nice to me or he is silent because I have pissed him off)decides he's going to start speaking to me again because he's worried about his 300+ pound daughter.

As I began to be lulled back into this highly dysfunctional relationship a whole lot dawned on me. My entire life I have been attempted to please Dad. I mean right out of the shoot I was a dissapointment because I was born with a vagina and not a penis and a set of testicles. It wasn't something that was hidden or not talked about my Dad was pretty vocal I should have been a "Craig" and not a "Cassandra". And because of that I tried to make up for that by being rough, and tough and hard and very loud. Instead of who I really was which was light hearted, outgoing and happy with a mixture of a bit of shyness instead of this rough and tough tomboy.

My Dad and I butted heads for years and years. He'd go weeks without speaking to me and as I survey my childhood, teenage and young adult years the only time he'd break his silence or be nice if something was wrong with me and I gave him reason to worry.

Age 8 I lied to my mom about something kids lie about. It was over drinking gr@pe Ju!c3. I had a purple ring around my mouth. She said "Did you drink the gr@pe Ju!c3?" I said no of course as my dad was standing right there and not even thinking about the purple ring. He came unglued and I remember being hit really hard upside the head -- hard enough that I hit the door jam. My fight or flight took over and I split for my room two floors up and began tossing furniture in front of my door. It was horrible. My mom was yelling at me to let her in, and I really was thinking about jumping out the 2nd story window. The upheaval of that was my father didn't speak to me and decided that I didn't need to be grounded after all but just stopped speaking to me until a teacher noticed the bruise after I complained of a headache and my dad was forced to face what he did (granted this was 40+ years ago, today he'd have been arrested I am sure) and it was only then he spoke to me and had my mom take me to the doctor. And I never got an apology. I think it was then I connected if I were sick or hurt Dad would pay attention.

Age 13, Dad wasn't speaking to me because of something I did at school I think. I was grounded again, and then a week before Christmas I got really sick with high fevers, tonscillitis, and I think Mono. All I know is that I was really sick. Mom was worried, and Dad began talking to me and I started to get better.

This has gone on my entire life.

So now it's the heart thing -- and Dad wasn't talking to me. Am I bringing this shit on myself?

Well regardless of why, I am recognizing it and I don't need my Dad's approval for anythign and if he decides to stop talking to me again I refuse to get sick.

It's his fucking loss not mine. This is my life we are talking about not his.

I did it.

2010-03-17T12:00:00.001-07:00

Exercise has always been my bane of existence. I have always found it to be a complete utter waste of time. Much like taking a poop.

However, I have to admit when I was height and weight appropriate I was probably one of the most active people around. Never sat still, was always on the go, endless energy etc...

When I was first diagnosed with the arrythmia I have I was a coca cola drinker, cigarette smoker, and over weight. The arrythmia diagnosis scared the living shit out of me and I stopped being active even though I wasn't "obese" I was just over weight.

And then the weight continued to pile on. I stopped exercising out of fear.

I am not sure what happened in my head but I equated my heart rate being over 70 with it being sick and that it would kill me when the reality was not exercising, continuing to eat bad foods and gaining weight was going to kill me.

In the meantime, I developed another kind of arrythmia, along with type 2 diabetes, toss in some self loathing and anxiety in the form of panic and you have yourself a fine kettle of fish. Yes?

Anyhow - I did something super scary. I actually moved my body to the point that I was breathless, sweaty and my heart rate got to almost 100 which is a feat unto itself with all the cardiac meds I am on.

Now don't laugh -- I actually called my mother and said "Okay Mom, I am on the treadmill and if I pass out as I talk to you please call 911."

Not only as Mom happy to help she made the time go by that much faster. After five minutes I got off the treadmill and stopped. I was tired. I thanked her, we hung up and I drank some water and tried to get in tune with how I was feeling.

The oddest thing happened. I got this feeling of really well being all over. So much so I jumped on the treadmill and did another 5 minutes. I know my doctor would like continuous time but hey it's better than nothing.

So -- I did it.

And it didn't kill me. Go me.

Trying something different. March 17th, 2010 menu

2010-03-17T10:50:00.000-07:00

It's so easy for me to be dishonest about my food intake. I don't even know if I am doing it on purpose to sabatoge myself or what, but I can screw with my head better than anyone I know.

So - I am going to take the time to record my food as I eat it so it's fresh in my head.

March 17th, 2010
10:50 AM - Breakfast.

two eggs over easy: 75 cal x 2 150 calories
1 piece Killer Dave's Bread 130 calories
1 tsp margarine 50 calories
Water

330 calories for breakfast.

My attempt is to stay under 500 calories per meal and eat lower glycemic.

We'll see how that goes.

Ten Pounds At A Time -- As My Sister So Wisely Says.

2010-03-05T08:00:00.001-08:00

The past few weeks have been a flurry of drama and doctors appointment. Lots of anxiety. First it was a trip to the ER to rule out a heart attack. That was ruled out -- thank God. Then it was a diagnosis of diabetes. Got that covered. Along with the basic fact I must.lose.weight. -- it's just a fact. A sleep study uncovered apnea and a cpap is in order. My stress test yesterday showed a left branch block and they had me stop my stress test. No one would say anything which upset me. I didn't find out as I was walking out the door that I had this blockage and this was from another tech who saw my report and thought it was cool. Later I went to have an echo cardiogram and the tech who was good pressed too fucking hard and broke my skin. Wanted to smack her upside her head. But I didn't. After waiting what seemed liked forever my first cardiologist called back to tell me that maybe an angiogram was in order. This sent me into a mega anxiety attack loaded with a the biggest melt down ever. And then finally at the end of the day the cardiologist called back and had talked with my EP who felt it was totally the medication I am on that is causing this block and for me to come in and undergo a different kind of stress test.

Add to that a whole lot of anxiety, fear, guilt, shame, and self loathing -- and that's where I today.

I realize in my head logically that guilt and shame are wasted emotions. It is what it is right? However, in my heart of hearts I feel so much remorse for allowing myself to get into this condition. I feel horrible that I let myself go. And it's not so much about wanting a nice looking body it's the functionality of it all.

To be able to fit into a booth, a movie theater seat, an airplane seat, a turnstile, regular sized seat belts, to shop off the rack at a regular store, to be able to cross my legs, not wear clothes with an "X" after them.ever.again. To not have a triple chin, to be able to see my neck and neck bones. To have the ability of taking are of my personal hygiene and not having to rely on a hand held shower to clean myself in places I should normally be able to reach. To be able to look down at my shoes, to be able to tie my shoes without aid, to be able to do all the things that thin people take for granted that I either have a tough time doing or cannot do at all.

To not worry I am going to die every.single.day.

It all takes me getting my collective shit together, making a plan, and seeing it through. But fuck me if this isn't the hardest thing I have ever done. This is harder than having son, and it took me 16 years to bring him into the world.

This is harder than kicking drugs, quitting smoking, or earning a degree.

I don't want to fail.

I.do.not.want.to.fail.

I admit to being overwhelmed and not knowing which direction to turn.

Getting to the bottom of why I eat is the scariest part of all. I am afraid that's going to consume me and take me to a place I will never ever be able to recover from.

Then there is my son who is a child is this all fair to him? I have thought from time to time how much easier it would be for him not to have me around -- intially it would be devestating but in time he'd be okay. I have got to be an embarrassment. You know?

But those thoughts are always fleeting. I love my son and the rest of my family so much. If there is one thing I am capable of is love. And I do love fiercely.

I just wonder if I have broken my body beyond repair.

So I continue to work, write, plan, and pray. "WWPP" as they say.

My sister who is full of the sagest advice said "Take it ten pounds at a time."

So I am taking it ten pounds at a time. I have 24 sets of 10 that I need to lose. 240 pounds. My goal is 119 pounds which for many of you I am sure seems like too little. For me and my height and cardiac issues it's a perfect weight.

Again it's not about looks it's about health.

Thanks for listening.

A night at the "Ritz"

2010-03-03T09:07:00.000-08:00

I haven't been sleeping well. Being obese the worry is that sometimes you might suffer from sleep apnea. Because I was concerned I had a sleep study.

After what seemed like a bazillion wires I was hooked up and ready to go:

Yes they draw on your head to take measurements -- weird huh?

I didn't sleep well, I tossed and turned. I did manage to get some REM sleep but not the restful kind -- and while I don't have tons of apnea I might qualify for a cpap machine.

What I did find out is that I talk in my sleep and I am a sleep walker. Which made me laugh.

Tomorrow is my stress test - once I am cleared for exercise I hope to see the weight fall off.

Eat Your Frogs In The Morning

2010-02-28T21:32:00.000-08:00

One really good friend of mine who knows what I am going through sent me the neatest card that had the coolest quote:

"Eat a live frog every morning and thing worse will happen to you the rest of the day" - Mark Twain.

I thought "What the hell does that mean" and my friend said "In short, if you do the worse thing on your plate first thing in the morning the rest of the day is a cake walk."

And she's right. Exercise and food planning are my "frogs". I hate doing them. Moving this body of mine is no small feat -- it takes effort. It hurts, and I am embarrassed to do it to be honest.

The food planning -- it's a pain in the ass and the rebellious teenager in me feels if I make a food plan the idea is to stick to it, and no one tells me what to do. Blah blah blah.

Ridiculous logic I know.

So I am going to get my frogs off my plate in the morning so they are done for the day so I can focus on all the other crap I have to do during the day as I continue being a productive member of society and all that jazz.

I Want To Be Addicted To: Organic Food, Exercise, Yoga, and Meditation

2010-02-22T09:13:00.001-08:00

I feel like that Michael Jackson song- "Stop Pressuring Me!" Every time I turn around someone is strongly suggesting I undergo some sort of weightloss surgery.

It's not that I don't appreciate the advice -- I do. It's just not an option for me at this time.

It's okay to be hungry

2010-02-21T14:38:00.001-08:00

For whatever reason I am associating being hungry with being sick. I am not sure if its blood sugar issues or what but that's what is happening. In talking to lots of folks it's super okay to be hungry. I am told that when we do yoga or we meditate it's better to do these activities on an empty stomach rather than a full stomach. We are more focused and aware rather than in a food induced coma.

Anyone have any feedback on that?

I am not drinking enough water I know that, and I am attempting to step up my water intake. Maybe that will quell my hunger. The stupid part to all of this is that I don't really know what it is I am hungry for. And because I am not sure what it is I am hungry for I don't believe I am truly hungry for feed. There is something clearly lacking. But what it is I don't know.

These days I am not terribly patient although I am attempting to remedy that with some meditation and journaling like I am now. I know I am fatigued all the time and my thinking it's because I am not sleeping well at night -- I am actually going to go in and have a sleep study performed.

My treadmill was rescheduled because of a disagreement between physicians in regards to what medications I should and should not be taking before my test. So I kindly asked them to get their collective opinions together and call me to reschedule.

Anyone have a treadmill? Was it scary or okay.

My doctor has decided to watch my blood sugar before putting me on medication which I guess I am okay with. He's putting a lot of trust in my that I am really going to lose weight.

God if he only knew how hard this is.

I just want my treadmill test over with and get a prognosis. Whether it's good news or bad news.

Jesus, did I just say that.

Whether it's good news or bad news.

That means I am admitting there could be some bad news and if there is I will face it.

That's a first.

Of course I don't want bad news but I want to feel healthy and good on top of everything else. I am so tired of being tired. I am exhausted all the time.

That can't be good.

So whether I need a CPAP, a stint, diabetic medication, or what have you I want to feel better so I can exercise with confidence so I can get this crap off my body. I can't help but think how much better I am going to feel once I am 100 lbs down and then 200 lbs down.

So for today I am 9 lbs down. One more pound and then I can mark off one block towards my goal.

Oh My God I need to do this.

No more isolation.

It's okay to be hungry.

So It Wasn't A Heart Attack...

2010-02-10T16:59:00.000-08:00

Late Sunday night - early Monday morning I woke from sleep not feeling well. I woke up to use the restroom and was instantly nauseated. I then began to sweat profusely and experienced some upper chest pain and upper back pain. It didn't go away and I felt pressure and then I think because I freaked myself out felt I couldn't get a breath.

I woke my husband up and called for some help and off to the hospital I went.

I felt sorry for the paramedics as they lifted me my stretcher off and on the ambulance -- I know that between the gurney and my weight it was over 400 lbs. The straining and grunts as they lifted me up and down were humiliating. However, they were very kind about the whole thing.

I was a wreck on the way in -- as I left my home I truly didn't think I was going to see my family ever again. It was horrible.

As we arrived at the hospital it was straight out of ER -- slammed through the doors, rushed on to a cardiac room, shirt off, bra off, more cardiac leads, blood taken, xrays taken -- a million questions. I was still sweating -- and still nauseous.

"Are you having chest pain now"

I nodded yes.

"She not throwing PVC's this is good, let's get a blood gas and cardiac enzymes, along with metabolic panel, sugar levels, and sodium levels."

I continued to shake -- "And let's add a half of a milligram of Adivan to her IV and let's get her warmed up.

Thinking back and reflecting about everything that happened I might as well been a car that wasn't starting properly -- everyone while kind was impersonal working over time to diagnose what was wrong with me.

The Adivan did the trick 30 seconds after it was pushed through my IV and then most everything became okay. I shook a bit and was warming up. My blood sugar came back higher than normal --177 to be exact. So that was a problem.

My stomach was extraordinarily vocal and it was suggested since it had been 14 hours since I had eaten anything to try apple juice and two pieces of turkey. Both sounded gross but I choked them down. Twenty minutes later I felt like I could go home. Weak but okay.

One by one the tests came back telling me that I had not suffered a heart attack which I am so very thankful for. However I was dx'd with type 2 diabetes, low potassium levels (which caused nausea,vomiting, pain, weakness, short of breath), some thyroid is off, and I panicked. All of that combined was too much for me to take I think.

The big elephant in the room that no one was talking about was me and my weight. I finally broke the ice and said "Look. I am fat. Morbidly obese. I know this. I am trying, but it's clear I am not being diabetes. I don't know what to do anymore, and I am scared. I thought I was dying today." And then I promptly burst into tears.

That's all that was needed I think because then everyone jumped into action taking care of the emotional part of me. And I have to say it was nice. I heard from two of the nurses who were bigger than who were now 120 lbs a piece what they did. A social worker who was called (I guess they are always called if they suspect heart attack) was on hand to tell me I didn't have to do this alone.

Leaving the ER 6-8 hours later knowing it wasn't my heart was a blessing. Following up with the doctor today for more testing was a bitch. Tomorrow is the cardiac doctor who wants to do a stress test to back up the negative cardiac enzymes.

The reality is -- I have diabetes now. I need to handle this.

No more excuses.

I just need help.

I don't know what to do.

Watching Oprah, Dr. Oz and Bob Greene

2010-02-07T13:25:00.000-08:00

I saw the show today about diabetes. Scared the hell out of me. Especially since yours truly has type 2 diabetes. I am not on any medication as of late as my levels are very low -- like right over the cut off, so thedoctor says "Lets do the exercise and diet plan first" -- so I am back at it -- again.

I checked out Bob Greene's sight, and it seems doable. Weight Watchers was just so complicated for me. The points just boggle my mind. I am truly in a place where I just need someone to direct me and say "Eat this".

The biggest hurdle for me aside from food is the exercise. Every thing I read says "Exercise is not negotiable, you must exercise" Okay --- I get it. But (here comes the but's I am famous for but's) it hurts so badly. My joints hurt so badly. And I am afraid. My cardiologist says I am okay to exercise but I am afraid if I do I will fall over dead from a heart attack.

Then again, if I continue this way I am going to fall over dead from a heart attack right?

Right -- thought so.

I am feeling overwhelmed and not knowing where to start. Kind of like when I was in first grade -- first day of school and not sure where to go sit. I was ever so thankful to see my name on a desk, and was directed to go sit.

Someone take me by the head and lead me to the gym or the pool or somewhere.

Anywhere.

Winning My War With Food

2010-01-27T23:41:00.001-08:00

> I am not getting out of bed. I refuse to get up to eat. I don't need
> food tonight.
>
> Really.
>
> Truly.
>
> I am going to win. I will enjoy exercising some day. Maybe I need to
> learn to "exorcise".
>
> I am not getting out of this bed.

Not So Ready To Put The Face To The Name....

2010-01-26T18:49:00.000-08:00

I pulled my face from the site. It's all shame based I know. But the idea of putting my face on my fat body and allowing you to see it is so incredibly humiliating. I can't even put it into words.

So -- I have retreated once again in the safe space of anonymity. At least for awhile. Until I feel stronger. Which right now I don't. I don't think I could stomach a cruel comment -- I am not sure what I would do if I heard "My God why did she let herself go like that?" Or the pity comments. I don't want them. I know I did this to myself. And trust you me -- I am doing a great job on the self loathing part, I don't need to hear anything from anyone else.

Man I am a piece of work.

It's January 2010

2010-01-21T00:19:00.000-08:00

And I am almost right back where I started so many months ago.

This is frustrating, infuriating, degrading, sad, hard, ridiculous, mind blowing, overwhelming, horrifying, defeating and depressing.

I don't want to have to suffer a heart attack before I get my collective shit together.

All I know is that I am tired of counting points, weighing, measuring, and worrying.

I worry about everything -- if I exercise too much or too hard will I hurt my heart. If I don't will I hurt my heart.

Who am I bullshitting - I need to figure out how I got here. And then I have to find my way out.

I want out.

Out.

Out.

And I don't want to die to get out.

It Starts Innocently Enough...

2009-12-07T14:37:00.000-08:00

The dinner was healthy. Enough. Chicken, vegetables, lots of vegetables. Brown rice - not too much. Lots of water. Fresh fruit for dessert.

And then I was done for the night -- it was before 7:00 PM.

Or so I thought.

A trip to Ikea was taken earlier in the day, the crowds while not terrible, the stores were hot, people were in my way. I just wanted to get in and get out and that's not what happened.

I was proud of myself for passing up their amazingly evil Swedish Meatballs and mashed potatoes. All I had was water while we rested.

And then we saw the goddamn Swedish Fish. They were purchased (first mistake) for St Nicholas Day (we celebrate that with our child).

Home, home, home we went -- had a very reasonable dinner. Everything was great until about 10:00 PM.

The fish were open -- and I took one. It started with one fish. And the next thing I knew -- the entire bag was gone and I had a stomach ache.

Fuck.

When I don't write -- I avoid. When I avoid I isolate. When I isolate I eat.

2009-11-13T22:21:00.000-08:00

When am I going to learn?

I know all this shit in my head. I have it down in my head. No refined foods. Eat cleanly. Don't over eat. Drink your water. Move your body. Exercise. Write. lather, rinse, repeat.

It shouldn't be that hard. If I were following the plan and sticking to it I could easily be down 60+ lbs and most likely under the 300 lb mark.

But am I?

No.

Not even close. I am under 363 pounds only by 10 pounds.

I am so frustrated I don't know what to do with myself.

My Thoughts For Today...

2009-10-14T10:18:00.000-07:00

I have so much on my emotional plate.

Defying Gravity...

2009-09-22T13:34:00.000-07:00

This is what I sang to my fat as I swam for 90 minutes this morning:

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap!

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you can't pull me down!

I'm through accepting limits
''cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!
I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down:

No Pain No Gain?

2009-09-21T20:06:00.000-07:00

The old saying used to be, "No Pain. No Gain." Well I am feeling the pain. God if I ever knew that getting back into shape would be so painful emotionally, spiritually, PHYSICALLY, OH.MY.GOD. I wouldn't have eaten those french fries, ho' ho's or potato chips, the gravy, the mashed potatoes, etc...

Thankfully the pool opened back up today. It was closed undergoing yearly maintenance. So I was left to my own devices, and I chose walking. Which really should be called hobbling. As I don't walk, I waddle and hobble. It's sad really that I allowed myself to get to this point. So back in the water I am, floating amongst the others and my body able to swim, stretch and move without great pain.

I just hope 100 pounds down from now my feet don't hurt me anymore.

The funeral was this weekend -- and it was good seeing family and friends I haven't seen in 25 years. What was the weirdest thing ever was seeing these folks who I was was so worried about seeing who have gained weight and gone bald.

So the world does go on, and it doesn't revolve around me.

The trend is downward...

2009-09-20T22:02:00.000-07:00

I had two mothers. Both amazing women. One who gave birth to me and raised me until adulthood and the other who opened her home to me from the 9th grade on when things were really tough with my dad.

Momma *I* died on the 11th and we buried her yesterday. And while it was incredibly sad she taught me so so much during my highschool years about who I was ; her death represented to me a part of my life that was now ok to close. She and her husband Dad *J* were such amazing people and ones who I love very much.

As I listened to their song "stardust" I couldn't help but want the same kind of marriage they had together. They were partners in the truest sense of the world.

I"ll miss you momma. Always.

Isolation = Frustration = Deprivation = Indignation = Isolation

2009-09-14T18:30:00.000-07:00

I often find myself in these loops or as some would refer to as "vicious cycles" So not only am I trying to figure out how to get out of them I am also trying to figure out how I get into them in the first place.

Clearly, I am doing something wrong.

Okay - so I began to swim.

L.O.V.E. it.

No pressure or pain on my joints. I feel light as air. No demands on my time, no one calling my name, or wanting anything from me. I can swim from 5:30 AM - 1:00 PM undisturbed if I choose. In fact, most of those who swim along side of me are very encouraging and nice. It's pleasurable all around.

And then I got water in my ears. Being the water baby that I was as a child I used to get water in my ears all the time. It was never a big deal. I just shook it out and it went away. The water never left my ears and on day 6 when my ears hurt I figured something was wrong and went to have them checked. Swimmers ear I was told, and rx'd antibiotics, and some other meds. The antibiotics took care of the swimmer's ear but my ears are still clogged. The left more so than the right.

Back to the doctor I go and it seems now I have a huge wax build up for some reason. So have the ears irrigated wasn't pleasurable in the least, the vertigo sucked. We didn't have much luck with the ears so I received yet more meds to loosen wax (sorry to make you all gag), and go back on Friday for more irrigating.

About the isolation part. I can't hear worth a fuck, and frankly it's pissing me off. I have to say "What?" "Speak Up" "Please talk on my right side" I know it's frustrating my family. It's frustrating me -- horribly. I feel so isolated not being able to hear. I can't use the phone on my left side - at all. Everything's muffled. The right side is better but not by much. Is this how people who are hard of hearing struggle each day? Good God.

And so I am frustrated. My joints hurt to walk so I swim. When I swim my ears are clogged and I can't hear -- I feel like my body is falling apart. It's ridiculous.

The Deprivation part -- I know how I am when I am sleep deprived. It's ugly. I am a very tactile person. I am also an auditory person, I genuinely like noise. But I don't like not hearing well.

Which goes right back to isolation. I don't want to go out anymore. During the day I swear anyone who walks to the front porch must think some really really old person is living inside because the TV is up as loud as I can, or the stero so I can hear.

And this all funnels to what.

What do I do when I am stressed out regardless of being happy or sad, glad, or mad. I fucking eat.

In fact, I don't even need a damn reason. So for the 12 days I have been uncomfortable in my own skin. I so want to eat. Macaroni and cheese, bread with mashed potatoes and gravy, more bread, more butter, popcorn with parmesean cheese, pizza rolls, crackers with cream cheese, ice cream by the bowl full.

But I'm not. It's water and more water. So much water I might as well just sit in a Omar the Tent Maker sized Depend and just pee. Raw vegetables, fish, chicken, and fresh fruit. Three meals a day and two bloody snacks.

God sometimes I really wish I could skip this whole eating thing all together.

It's such a pain in the ass.

In the meantime I am doing other forms of exercise which I don't enjoy as much and I can be honest here and say I just don't like to exercise. It might be because of my girth and it doesn't feel good. It might because I don't like getting over heated and out of breath. Or it might be because I am just plain lazy and would rather sit on my fat ass and play World Of Warcraft, or Bejewled, to kill time.

Who knows.

Keeping It Real

2009-09-08T07:34:00.000-07:00

This is utterly humiliating. However, it's important that I have integrity throughout this journey. And sometimes that means posting those photos that you wish you could burn.

I am 376 pounds here at the start of summer. Today I am 358 pounds.

The Accomodations I Make Because I'm Fat

2009-09-08T06:34:00.000-07:00

Just moving my body is sometimes a chore. And it shouldn't be. I realize we all get tired, age doesn't always help either. However, I see lots and lots of sixty and seventy and even eighty year old people who are physically fit who move just fine.

The first thing I feel when I wake up in the morning as I swing my legs from the bed to the floor is pain. The bottoms of my feet near my heel hurt like a mother fucker in the morning. I hobble for about five minutes and then I am fine. Those first five minutes are a bitch and all I want to do is sit back down and go back to bed.

Riding in an airplane, watching a movie, riding as a passenger in someones car, going through a turnstill, riding a ride at an amusement park, dining at a restuarant, or even fitting through doorways in much older homes takes planning and can be a challenge. And it's ALWAYS embarrassing. Always.

I have been known to call ahead at a resturant and ask if they have sturdy chairs because I am bringing an eldery aunt who is a big lady. I am always too ashamed to say "I am fat and I need to know if you have chairs that can support 350 pounds.? Flying is scary even if I buy a first class seat. I always ask my son who's little to sit next to me so I don't have to sit next to another grown up who would most likely be horrified at the remote possibility of sitting next to an obese woman who's fat is spilling over in their area, regardless of how good I smelled.

I can't make an honest post without talking about personal hygiene. I sweat more. I shower more (sometimes three times a day), I am terribly self concious about not being fresh and clean -- and let's face it when you are as fat as I am with folds of fat and aprons, if you don't keep clean and dry your skin turns angry, red, it smells, and you can develop all kinds of nasty things from fungus infections to bacterial infections.

And let's be real here, I mean down right bare bones, gloves off honest. Being obese and having to wipe your ass is no fucking picnic. When you are a neat nick like me the mere idea of not being clean sends me into orbit -- hence multiple showers a day.

Maybe I am OCD about that -- but I doubt it.

People associate those who are obese with being dirty, stupid, and slovenly. I work very hard to look as sharp as I can being this fat. I shower, deoderize, and powder. I wear the best clothes, makeup, and use the best products money can buy. All because I don't want to be looked at as the "Frumpy, Schlumpy Fat Lady"

If I were referred to as "Whiskey Tango" I think I'd die.on.the.spot.

The very idea of being able to live in our world normally -- to be able to do things like cross my legs, pull the tray table down all the way in front of my on an airplane, not worry about wearing a seatbelt in a back seat, fitting into a booth, riding a ride at Disneyland, or going through a turnstill without fear of being stuck is all exciting and frustrating for me.

I would like to wake up tomorrow and be thin, even if it meant that the next 18 months were over in a blink of an eye.

But I know that's not reality, and I need to trudge through this journey. No one did this to me -- I did it to myself. So I need to undo it.

Logically I Know This Isn't Why I Am Fat...

2009-09-07T09:29:00.000-07:00

When I as born I didn't weight a lot -- maybe 6 pounds. As a toddler and a child I was always very thin. I was a ball of energy, could eat anything I wanted, never gained a pound. My sister on the other hand was always a chunk. She was almost 9 pounds when she was born, a chunk of a toddler, and wasn't clearly a fat kid, but she was always on the fence.

Through Jr.High and High School -- I was the thin one, she was the overweight one. And as much as it shames me to admit it I made fun of her and her weight. My mother had always been overweight and so it wasn't like this was a foreign concept to me. My grandmothers were round and my grandfathers were stout.

So for years I made fun of my sister. And then I experienced my first pregnancy and gained 15 pounds. And then I wasn't gangly thin anymore. In fact, I had curves which attracted attention. My sister in the meantime had lost that baby fat and was a young woman and looking good.

Unfortunately that pregnancy didn't end up in a baby and but I kept that fifteen pounds -- as a consolation prize. I remember clearly I was 137 pounds and wearing a size eight not my normal size four or five and thinking even then that I was probably over weight.

And as I continued to gain weight I thought in the back of mind that somehow I was being paid back for making fun of my sister's weight. Maybe the God I believed in was doing the whole eye for an eye thing -- and showing me the pain of being overweight and how it feels to have others ridicule you, talk behind your back, and shake their head and think "Why did she let herself go?" If I close my eyes and quiet myself I can almost hear them.

How screwed up is that?

Logically - I know this isn't the reason I am obese, but in my heart I will always wonder.

I am still trying to pinpoint and figure out when food started becoming a comfort. I always liked things that tasted good and that doesn't mean those things were necessarily good foods for me. But I wasn't eating to soothe back then. I think it was all about being social -- and eating and drinking back then for me (much like it is today) is strongly connected in my culture regarding social interactions.

I would like to find a group of friends who didn't socialize around food. I am not sure how difficult that would be. Most I know, athletes, active people, sedentary people alike regardless of the activity (even after a run or going to the gym) want to stop for a "coffee" or a "beer" and that to me defeats the purpose and sends me down a dangerous path. More often than not I pass and go on home and honestly feel a bit resentful.

For today I am going to do some sort of exercise and eat as healthily and sanely as I can.

The Hardest Part Is Getting In The Car And Going To The Gym...

2009-09-06T20:12:00.000-07:00

It's true. Once I am at the gym or the pool I do the work. I do what's expected. I can't say as I like it, but I do it.

The excuses I make at home to get myself going are vast and many.

I am the master of bullshitting and excuse making when I don't want to work out.

Re-establishing Boundaries

2009-08-29T22:57:00.000-07:00

I am in bed once again before anyone else. My desire to eat this evening is so very strong. I could easily "shark" and binge -- no question there. The other part to this is if I am in bed I won't be asked to prepare food. I won't have to say "gee make it yourself" and we can all still be relatively happy.

I wonder if this is how an alcoholic feels. I can't imagine being a drunk and a food addict at the same time.

Who I choose to speak to about my weight. How much I have gained or lost, what I am eating or what i am not all needs to conversations that I begin or initiate. Not others. I just haven't figured out yet how to do that without coming off bitchy.

Then again should I even care how I come across? These are my boundaries right?

A Very Dangerous Time For Me

2009-08-26T23:56:00.001-07:00

My shoulder is paying for all the swimming. I don't care it was something I needed to do to prove I could do it. And I did it.

Being up late is a scary time for me. Everything seems magnified at night. Pain, loneliness, bordeom, hunger, fear. And when it all rolls into one it's a dangerous time for me.

So here I am writing instead of eating, or drinking excess calories.

As I swam today I was ticking off in my head 10 pounds a month x 22 = 220 pounds which would bring me down to 143 pounds which is acceptable for me. My cardiologist would like me down to about 119 pounds which I realize is reed thin but for my height I think that's appropriate. I think she's look at BMI and that would put me right in the middle of a healthy BMI.

If I ever saw 119 pounds that would mean I would have lost 244 pounds. That's the size of two 120 pound women, or one over weight man.

God that just kills me.

It actually makes me hungry just thinking about it -- how pathetic is that.

So I need to do this differently. I need to focus on just ten percent. That would be 36.3 pounds. I can do that. Cripes I might just try with five measly pounds. If I could go down just 5 lbs, I think I might feel like I could do this.

They tell me that moving is the hardest part and I am moving doing something each and every day.

Next is food. I am attempting to take everything out of my diet that is white. Breads, flour, sugar. Skim milk can stay, sometimes a red potato can stay, low fat cottage cheese can stay.

If I were really smart I'd eat nothing but fish, chicken, fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, and brown rice.

But I'm not that smart or I wouldn't weigh what I do today.

One of two things is going to happen with this journal. You are either going to see me succeed or you will see me slowly die.

I want to live. I really want to live.

And where is God in all of this. I remember telling a priest many years ago that I felt that for some reason God stopped hearing me and listening to me. That I heard nothing back from him.

I hope that's not true.

Weightlessness

2009-08-25T14:53:00.000-07:00

I think I know how the Astronauts feel. I got really brave and donned a swimming suit and began swimming at the pool. Talking my self into putting on the damm thing was a feat unto itself.

Walking into the pool area I just felt like my chest was going to explode -- I was that stressed out. And then I saw "my people" -- lots and lots of women some who were bigger than me all in swimming suits swimming their to their hearts content. I knew then I could do this.

My son was delivered to his swim coach who didn't give me a second look which was fine by me. I then placed my things on the bench, showered, and eased into the pool.

The water was a balmy 86, it was heaven. For the first time in a really long time nothing hurt. I mean nothing. My joints didn't hurt, my neck didn't hurt, my feet didn't hurt.

I felt thin and weightless for the very first time in a really long time. I think if I hadn't already been in the pool and my eyes being wet, they would have been wet with my tears.

The next 90 minutes flew by. I swam alone for the first 30 and then joined my son for a family swim for the next 60. The pool had shallow water aerobics so some really funky 80's music was playing and I ended up walking, dancing, and singing back and forth in the shallow area with my son while the aerobics class did their thing.

And then it was time to get out. No one wanted to get out, we were having too much fun, but it was time to go and as I began to climb the steps to get up I felt my body become heavier with each step, and reality came crashing back upon my thighs, hips, arms, chest, and torso.

I was back once again a fat lady who weighs over 300 pounds. And who lives to enter the water once again to experience the weightlessness that also lightened her soul.

Stop Pressuring Me!!!

2009-08-09T22:54:00.000-07:00

For the love of God I of all people realizes I'm fat. I don't need to hear how worried you are about me!! Don't you think I already know? Just because the lapband works for you (which I am still in suspended judgement about) doesn't mean it is going to be the silver bullet for everyone. Me included. So stop pressuring me.

Joy - I want Joy...But Why Can't I Have It?

2009-07-26T18:09:00.001-07:00

The above makes me cry every single time I see it. The bride is just so utterly blessed to start out her married life to a man who shares that joy right along with her.

You know I want that. I really want that joy. But I am not sure how to get that. I know there are various things in my life that cause me great joy -- my son, my partner when we are not fighting, my life's work, when I feel I am on the same plane with God, the gentle breeze upon my face on a early Spring day, eating sun-kissed warm tomatoes fresh off the vine out of the garden on a late August afternoon, the sun on my back, holding a baby, holding a baby anything for that matter. Feeding people and seeing the joy in their faces and feeling it in their heart with my food.

But am I typically joyous. No, and I am sure that's one of the reasons I am obese.

I've always marched to the beat of a different drummer. My entire life I have. My first memories are hearing "Why can't you be like everyone else." And at a very small age I was already pushing back and asking "Why do I have to be like everyone else?" And because I voiced that question I was labeled as a small child as a trouble maker and that label has followed me around since.

I am a good mother, I love and care for my child, he's brilliant, funny, and has his own lovely little quirks that I embrace.

But I just want to be able to frolic, and be myself without looking over my shoulder and worrying about offending, or embarrassing, or any other myriad of behaviors that I have been told aren't acceptable.

I just want to be me.

Me. Me. Me.

Just free to be me.

Practicing Avoidance

2009-07-18T11:52:00.000-07:00

I never used to be one that avoided anything. I was the one in the family that embraced, relished, and looked forward to confrontation. I am and was always fiercely protective of my immediate family and friends, even if that was to my own detriment.

So - I am not sure when I began to practice avoidance. My guess it's most likely when I began to eat to soothe, comfort, and sustain emotional pain. Instead of confronting head on my pain, dealing with it, and working through it I ate to cope.

And so here I am this morning Slim Fast in one hand, thoughts in the other as I so desperately attempt to figure out how I got here at over 300 pounds. It all comes back to one specific thought -- "Practicing Avoidance"

Now I realize (as I am no dummy)that practicing avoidance isn't the only reason I am weighing over 300 pounds and am mere steps away from a stroke or a heart attack. I realize that over the past 24 years I have got into the habit of using food to cope, it's been my drug of choice. And even as large as I am now when I close my eyes and think about food, the flavors, the crunch, the warmth, the texture, a wave of calm rolls over the top of me -- it speaks to me much like my guess someone who's addicted to Heroine would.

"It's okay, you know you want it -- it's just do it this one more time." "Once more isn't going to hurt you." "You can always begin again tomorrow." "There's always tomorrow."

Maybe there won't be a tomorrow for me. I hope there will be. I have this incredible little boy who really needs his mother -- and I really need him. And then there's my spouse -- even though we butt heads from time to time, he's really a great man who's suffered enough loss in his life for ten lifetimes -- and I don't' want my irresponsibility to cause him another loss.

And then last but not least there's me. I want to live. I am not ready to die. There are so many things that I want to do still in my life. As corny as it sounds I do want to live to be an old woman, with a shawl around my shoulders -- gummin a piece of chicken sittin in my backyard. (Great song btw).

My goal is to be height and weight proportionate by age 50. I am 46, I don't know if that's going to be enough time, but I am sure trying.

What I do have on my side is that my cholesterol is fine, I don't have diabetes (yet), and I am mobile. That may not seem like a lot but it is to me. When I stop and really think about all of this I recognize that my brain does work, and it sees the error of my ways, and when I am rational I know I can do this.

I also know it's going to be a lifelong fight for me.

The hardest part about this is acknowledging that I am an addict. I am an addict and a slave to food. The only difference between me and the alcoholic is that I am using food to cope -- if I were drinking I'd be at the bottom of a bottle every single day. I'd not be functional. I'd be hiding bottles. My son would wonder why his mother is drunk daily by the time he returns home from school. There'd be excuses, and lies.

However, now I don't hide a thing. I don't have to. I eat what I want, no one says boo.

I think the even harder part is getting to the root of all of this -- and understanding that an alcoholic can abstain from alcohol and live a healthy life for the rest of his or her life -- whereas our bodies require us to eat food as fuel. That means for me I have to let that tiger out of its cage three times a day and deal with the unruliness of this tiger when really I'd rather never eat again.

That's where I'm at today.

The impact of words...

2009-07-11T23:18:00.000-07:00

My in-laws were over this afternoon to visit. They'd been away traveling. I have always had this love-hate relationship with them. I love them very very much. However, they are extraorinarily shallow people -- especially when it comes to money, clothes, material things, and of course (drum roll please) weight and appearance. And that's the part I don't like -- hate is a pretty strong word -- but I do hate what comes out of their mouths sometimes.

We were all having afternoon tea and my mother in law was talking about seeing someone in town that she hadn't seen in 20 years. A girl who had dated her youngest son. The two caught up and my mother in law marveled how great this girl looked after having five children -- and I didn't think much of it until my father in law said -- "Did she gain weight? Is she fat?"

Ouch.

I just sat there and looked at him and said nary a word. My mother in law attempted to ignore him. And I'll be damned if he didn't ask again.

"Is she over weight now?"

I looked at him and said - "Why do you ask?"

That shut him up.

Just a glimpse...

2009-07-10T20:31:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I was walking in an outside mall. This mall had many storefronts. I was window shopping with my family, and as I was walking I caught a glimpse of a woman in one of the storefront's glass. I thought to myself -- "Wow what a big girl, I bet she's hot today, it's got to be over 90" And then I realized -- that was me I was seeing in that reflection. It stopped me in my tracks. My eyes instantly felt wet as I wondered how I had gotten to where I am today.

How did I get there -- Christ, there are so many excuses to give. So so many. I haven't always been overweight. In fact, I was underweight for many years. My sister was the chunk and I used to make fun of her.

I still feel guilty about that.

As I studied myself in the reflection of the storefront during the hottest part of the day I thought I saw the thin me -- even if it was fleetingly. I know she wants out -- I know I have to get to her -- save her, and rescue her.

Lumbering about these days is no small feat. I think about where to move and how to move. I am concious about they way I move as I don't want to waddle, or thunder about. My balance is off and I am paranoid about stairs.

A fat person falling is a serious thing. Not only can we hurt what we fall on, but we can hurt ourselves as seriously as well.

I keep going back to "How did I get here?" "When did food become my addiction, my friend, my solace, my comforter?"

I'm not sure -- but I can tell you this -- the woman looking back at me from that reflection looked sad, vulnerable, angry and tortured. She didn't look happy, carefree, light, and spirited. I want her back -- whole and in one piece. That's what I want -- and it's okay to want that.

My neck and shoulders used to be on of my best features. I loved the bones of my collar bones, and the soft lilt of my neck. My collar bone is covered in mounds of flesh, my neck (thankfully I still have one) is largish, and meets with my chin(s) -- and chubby cheeks.

I suppose it could be worse -- I could have jowls.

My high cheekbones, deep set eyes, and heart shaped face are gone -- replaced with big round cheeks- and a rather largish round face. I know if I were a man I'd look right past me -- in fact, I look like someone's grandmother.

So as I look at my reflection once more -- I ask how did I get to where I am today. And the reality is I guess it's not imporant how -- I need to acknowledge that I am there, and it's time to come back from where I came and do the right thing.

For me this time.

No one else.

Test results...

2009-06-28T21:46:00.000-07:00

I am too ashamed to show my face. The idea just nauseates me. But to keep it real I will share this -- taken from an infrared camera.

My test results came back. So far I am okay. I realize that if I continue this path I won't be okay for long.

Cholesterol - 173
Triglycerides - 239
HDL - 42
LDL - 83
Fasting Sugar 111

They tell me the total cholesterol is fine. Personally I'd like to lower it to 150. The Triglycerides I'd like to get below 150. The HDL I'd like to raise to over 60, and continue to lower the LDL which they say is fine. I of course want to lower the fasting sugar level which they say happens with exercise and weight loss.

What did I weigh today -- a month later? 363.5

I have moved. I have actually gained a half pound -- probably water weight.

I have asked myself over and over -- "Why can't you get it together?" "Is it going to take something catastrophic for you to finally wake up?"

Every time I see morbidly obese people in scooters I tell myself if I don't get it together that's going to be me in 20 years.

I have a son -- he needs to see me as an old woman.

I am going to do it.

Meeting The Doctor

2009-05-14T00:18:00.000-07:00

My new doctor welcomed me to the team. That's the first time a physician has ever welcomed me to anything. I walked into his office full of regret,doubt, and fear. I thought it was too late for me that I had done irreversible damage to my body.

I walked out with somewhat of a sense of I guess I would call hope. We made a plan, and actual plan. And instead of more pills he gave me some education and I learned a lot in that hour.

While I realize that it's me who has to do the work to undo what I have done to myself over the past twenty years -- I think I have some support.

He made one remark that made me laugh -- He said during World War II that the Babushka women were the women who made it through the famine because well, they were fat. And if we had a famine now instead of the abundance that we have now in the world of everything -- women like me who are over weight would be the ones left to survive and populate the world again, where all the skinny bitches we already hate, would essentially die.

I laughed heartily.

Not sure where this is taking me...

2009-05-13T00:23:00.001-07:00

And here I am.

I haven't been fat all my life. In fact as a child and as a teenager I was a toothpick. The first time I gained any weight at all was the summer of my Junior year in high school. An unplanned pregnancy , I had an abortion, and during that 12 week period I gained 15 pounds. It was the first time I was uncomfortable in my own skin. Looking back -- I began eating then during that period to soothe those scary feelings I was having then.

That was many many years ago and today I weigh three hundred sixty -three (363) pounds. Those are really hard numbers to see, speak, and write.

But it's the reality of what I have become -- sick, tired,achy,ill, no confidence, angry, resentful and did I say tired? More like exhausted.

The fact is I need to get my shit together and face this head on. Or the reality is I won't be around to face it.

My son needs me. My husband needs me.

I need me.