Basket case...yep, that's me. Especially tonight. I don't know why but my emotions are taking over my brain and forcing it to not function properly. I'm so stressed out about our financial situation right now that I can't think about anything else. Except for being fat. Being poor and being fat. Those are the two things I can think about right now.

My daughter recorded that "Ruby" show on the MyStyle network. She put in a season pass for me. I didn't know she did that until I turned on the tv yesterday and saw an episode recorded. I decided that I would watch the show and do a little exercising in front of the tv. It was great. In case you haven't seen "Ruby", it's about a lady who used to weigh 700 pounds. She is on a journey to lose weight the natural way, without surgery or drugs or anything extreme like that. And she's doing really well. Apparently, her most recent goal was to get under 350. In the show I watched last night, she hit 349.2. GO RUBY! I was motivated, I was jogging in place, I was squatting, I was doing tricep curls, bicep curls and I was sweating like crazy. I ended the night feeling pretty good. I weighed last night and I was around 2 pounds less than last week's weigh in. I thought I might have a chance to lose weight at this week's weigh in. The final weigh in.

Tonight, we went through the drive thru at Taco Bell because my husband is a coach a the church sports camp again this year and he had to eat quick and get to the church. I have been doing really well on my 4 golden eating rules from Paul McKenna. I haven't overeaten once since I started reading his book. I haven't felt full to the point of wanting to stick my finger down my throat until tonight. I ate too fast without realizing it and had cookies and milk afterward. And I felt it. All of it. I physically felt awful. I was watching "Ruby" while I ate (big rule breaker) and just didn't focus on what I was doing. I was so excited.  Ruby got down to 333! Someone pointed out to her that in only 34 pounds, she'll be under 300. Whoa. That is huge for someone who used to weight 700 pounds. And it hit me, I only have about 20 pounds to lose to be in the 100s again. That seemed do-able. I felt happy about that. Until I realized that just a few months ago, back in January, I only had about 10-12 pounds to lose to get in the 100s. And I felt defeated again. But I quickly pushed that out of my head and focused back on the show. Ruby drives me a little nuts. Really high maintenance, this one, but she's very sweet and has a big heart. She's action packed with issues, though. She wouldn't get rid of her dresses that she wore when she weighed 700 pounds because they were like friends. They were a security blanket for her and with all of the changes she has been going through, it was just too hard for her. She finally did in the end and I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off me and I wasn't even the one getting rid of my fat clothes! I felt motivated and knew I needed to get my body moving, so I went to put on my workout clothes. And that's when I messed up. I got on the scale.

2 pounds more than last night. So much for my weight loss this week. And that was all it took. Everything hit me all at once. Money, food, fat, weight. BOOM! I was Wyle E. Coyote and the Roadrunner had dropped the anvil on me once again. I decided I'd shake it off and go put on "Dance Your Ass Off", another show my daughter recorded for me on the Oxygen channel. I thought it would get me movin' and groovin'. Nope. I was sadly mistaken. After all of my emotions had been stirred up, I was just waiting to blow. Watching all those fat people shaking their asses and looking at themselves in those slinky dance numbers saying that they loved the outfits and felt sexy just blew my mind. Those fat people did not hold back one iota. They shook it, they twirled it, they flaunted it. They exuded confidence and I just stopped in my walking-in-place-tracks and stared at the tv. These fat people were good. Even the ones who didn't dance. These huge women who weigh over 200, 250, 270, were all flying around like they weighed 80 pounds. Their tiny little dance partners were dipping them, flinging them, cartwheeling them, and never dropped a single girl. I was dumbfounded. I know it seems silly. It's kind of a silly show, but for some reason, watching those people dancing like no one was watching, really broke me down. My husband tells me that showing confidence is the biggest turn on for him. He loves it if I give him a "come hither" look, or say something positive about myself, even if I'm joking. He'll take what he can get. And I was staring at these people through my tears trying to figure out why I can't do that. Why can't I even fake it? I think he'd even take that. But I can't. I feel silly. I don't know why.

I kept trying to jog and do my workout, but I couldn't. At this point, my head was killing me, I felt physically bad from eating 2 bean burritos and 3 chocolate chip cookies, and I was depressed. I couldn't do it. I couldn't stay focused on moving my body. I don't think that has ever happened to me before. Usually, once I start moving, I feel really good and I keep going. Not today, Buzz. Not today.

I was watching "Swingers" with my daughter the other night and she was saying how she loves swing dancing and wants to go sometime. I told her that I actually went swing dancing once, years ago. A guy I worked with went all the time and he asked my roommate and me to go with him. Despite my violent begging and pleading and refusal to go, I ended up going. Dancing is definitely not my forte. Especially not swing dancing. With all that flipping and swinging and flying around?? Are you kidding me? There was no way anyone was going to slide me through their legs and expect me to end up on my feet. I sat at the table for as long as I could before my friend dragged me out on the dance floor. I was so mortified. I was freaking out the whole time worrying that all of these people were staring at me and laughing and trying to figure out what in the world a fat girl was doing at a swing dancing club. But really, no one was looking at us. If anything, they were all staring at the people who were actually good at it, the ones swinging and flipping. And I have to admit, even though I was extremely self-conscious and worried the whole time, I had a really good time on the dance floor. My roommate hit the dance floor with him and she did all the acrobatics with him and made it look so easy. My daughter asked me why I didn't do any of the swinging and stuff and I told her there was no way he could have flipped me or flung me. I was too heavy. And I realized, I only weighed about 150-155 back then. Can you imagine? I was not all that fat back then and I still felt like the fattest person everywhere I went.

My point is, I have just never felt like a regular girl. I've always felt too fat to be feminine. I've been a tomboy since I was in diapers. I never had anything in common with other girls so all of my friends were guys. Guys loved me. As a friend. I love beer. I love sports. I'm extremely low-maintenance. Everything a guy wants, right? Except, even though guys always complain about the high-maintenance-girly-girls, those are the ones they are attracted to. My roommate was thin and hot and guys gravitated towards her. They would come over and end up hanging out with me all night because I was fun. But they always ended up with her. I've just never felt like I fit in anywhere. So, when this reader, this "regular girl", included me in her group of "regular girls", I felt really good. Like maybe I was just a regular girl. A girl who likes beer and sports and just happens to have too many chins and hips. Just a regular girl, all the same.

I checked out a book from the library called "The Weight Loss Cure 'They' Don't Want You to Know About" by Kevin Trudeau. While some of the things in the book are good advice, the actual plan is just ridiculous. Who in the world has time to go to the doctor every morning before work to get an hcg injection? And of those people, how many of them can actually afford to do that? My insurance company would make me pay the office visit co-pay as well as the injection co-pay, if they even covered the injection at all. He said to eat 100% organic food. Very nice in theory, but who can afford that?? I can't feed 4 people on 100% organic food. If I could, trust me, I'd already be doing that. He got me thinking about all of the food we eat and the drinks we consume and it just made me afraid to eat or drink anything at all. I was afraid I would get fatter, get cancer or something else equally horrendous. I spent 2 hours at Walmart shopping for food that week. Reading labels, trying to avoid any and everything with hydrogenated or partially hydrogenated anything. I tried not to get anything with high fructose corn syrup, which wasn't as easy. I was so stressed out by the time I left, I was wound up in one big knot. I just ended up telling myself, I can't do all of that. All I can do is my best and try to eat more fruits and veggies and watch my portion sizes.

I also checked out a book called "I Can Make You Thin" by Paul McKenna. Yes, I'm desperate. I've decided I'll try almost anything, including hypnosis. I figured, even if the whole hypnosis thing doesn't work, maybe he'll have some tips on overeating. I was right. He has 4 golden rules of eating and really, they're really easy and we should be following them anyway, but we don't. Basically, he says not to deprive yourself of the foods you want, just don't gorge yourself. Eat when you're hungry, don't wait until you're starving. Eat slowly and enjoy every bite you eat. Don't overeat until you're miserable. The basics. I'm only halfway through the book, but already, I feel better. Like there's hope for me after all. I can't wait to pop in the cd and see what hypnosis is all about. Hopefully, I won't end up clucking like a chicken at work.

I had my weigh in today at work. I went up .2 pounds. I was expecting it. But all I could think about was, "I can't wait to weigh in next week after working out and eating less junk! Maybe I'll lose 3 pounds!" And it made me want to go home and work out. Unfortunately, we only have 2 weigh-ins left of the contest. Leave it to me to wait til the last minute to start participating. Oh well. At least this has given me the motivation to start up again. I can't wait til this roller coaster straightens out a bit. I'm tired of being motivated and losing 5 pounds only to crap out and gain 10.

I did a lot of praying recently. I was begging God between gasps of air and muffled cries to please help me not hate myself anymore. I wasn't asking Him to help me lose weight, just not hate myself anymore. And I guess it's working. And what's even more strange, is that I've been getting a lot of compliments lately. People telling me I look really good, my body shape is different, asking me how much weight I've lost. My sister actually told me today that when she saw me at my great-niece's birthday 2 weeks ago, that she thought I was stunning. I asked her what in the heck I was wearing that day! I figured whatever it was, I should wear it everyday. But she could only remember what I could remember, denim capris and flip flops. We don't remember what shirt it was. Oh well. I don't care. I just care that she thought I was pretty. Even her husband mentioned that I was looking good. Some guy from Brazil contacted me through my website, just to tell me I am a "beautiful woman. kiss." What the...??? Maybe he's really some guy from Belvedere, Ohio, pretending to be from Brazil in order to find out where I live so he can kidnap me, put me in a well making put lotion on so he can make a suit out of my skin. But I'm choosing to belive he's really some guy from Brazil and really thinks I'm beautiful. How can I keep hating myself with all of these different people telling me how great I look? Maybe God told them to tell me, that's how He's answering my prayers. It's different when a stranger or someone you're only acquainted with gives you a compliment. When my husband, mom, siblings tell me I'm beautiful, it doesn't seem to be as true. Maybe because I tell myself that they have to tell me these things or they think I'll start crying. I don't know. All I know, is that all of these compliments are making me feel better about myself. I'm starting to believe that I'm pretty. Sort of.

All of these good thoughts have motivated me to work out. I did a video tonight and it felt great. I've had no energy lately and I'm always tired. I know once I get back into a workout routine I'll be full of energy. I need that right now. I'm hoping that all of these positive feelings and encouraging words from everyone will help me stay motivated this time and actually lose the weight. Cross your fingers.

I was talking to a friend at work recently and she was trying to convince me that there was nothing wrong with me. She told me that I was not fat and I needed to get over myself. While she herself, won't wear shorts or skirts above the knee because she is "too skinny". I told her I had been thinking that I was going to wear a skirt for Father's Day and freak out my family. I went the Saturday before and spent the whole day shopping and didn't find a single thing. And I tried. I really tried. Apparently, fat girls aren't supposed to wear skirts. I took my daughter with me and she can vouch for me. We went to Cato, Kohl's (that place is a joke!), Target, Walmart, Lane Bryant, Marshalls and even The Avenue. I finally went to the mall. I went to JCPenney first and found a pretty cute skirt. It was white and when I put my hand under it, I could see my pink skin peeking out at me. No good. I went to the Lane Bryant at the mall as well. I couldn't stand it. There wasn't even anything for me to try on. I tried on a couple of dresses at Cato but they were too long and I looked like June Cleaver. I finally had to call it quits to make it to my sister's salon so we could all get our hair done.

The next day, Father's Day, we went to a different Walmart so my daughter could get some fabric to make Casey a pillow and Chris some pajama pants. I saw a cute sundress and I tried it on. It was an 18 in misses. It actually fit. And it was ok looking on me. Lexy really liked it and told me to get it. Chris saw it in my hand later and told me he thought it was pretty so I bought it. Of course, I never wore it. I thought I'd start out by wearing it to my parents' house on the weekend before I ventured out and wore it in public. But we hadn't been to my parents' house. I finally decided to wear it on my daughter's 15th birthday. My husband and I took off from work and we took her and a friend and Casey to breakfast and then to Harry Potter 6 at the 10 am showing. I wore my dress. I fidgeted all day long. It pulled on the sides because of my boobs so you could see my bra on the sides and I worried all day that I was giving a free peep show because of the v neck cut. I just felt stupid all day. I've been trying really hard not to hate my body these days. And while I did feel too fat to bare my arms in my sleeveless dress, it was more that I just didn't like the dress on me. Everyone told me I looked beautiful that day. My husband told me I looked beautiful and he was glad I wore the dress. My parents told me I looked pretty and my little sister told me I looked pretty. I said thanks and accepted their compliments out loud. Inside, I was thinking that they were just saying that because they were so astonished that I was wearing a dress at all and they thought I was pretty because I was wearing a dress, not because I was actually pretty in that dress.

I felt so good and so motivated, that I FINALLY went to the farmer's market for some produce. It was awesome! Sadly enough, I had never been in a farmer's market before. When I went in, the first thing I did was walk around and check out the variety of fruits and vegetables available. I was also checking out the prices and comparing them to grocery store prices and I was excited. Plus, the produce looked amazing. The strawberries were red and firm, not green and fuzzy. I picked out so much stuff. My basket looked like a rainbow. Yes,a basket. I had enough stuff that I had to push around a little cart inside the farmers market which was smaller than my living room. But boy did I have fun! I felt adventurous and daring and started bagging up fruit I never would have chosen before. I'd always sworn off peaches because I refused to eat fruit with FUR on it. But I love the peach flavor. I decided to get over it and try some. I mean, if I can eat oatmeal now, after 33 years of gagging over the sight of it, why can't I eat a fur covered fruit? I even bagged up some apricots and red plums.However, I realized how little I knew about produce. As I squeezed and inspected the nectarines, I wondered in my head, "What color are they supposed to be? Are they supposed to be firm or smushy?" I decided that most fruit was still light colored when it wasn't quite ripe yet and smushy definitely meant it was overripe. So I did my best. I also wondered how in the world you were supposed to eat some of this stuff. Do you slice it? Do you bite right in? I bought green and red bell peppers. What in the world I'm going to do with those, I have no idea. But I'm sure it will be pretty. Maybe I'll put it with the broccoli and zucchini and steam it all into a pile of veggie goodness. Funny thing is, I wasn't having an anxiety attack like I thought I would be. I usually start freaking out when I'm around food in front of strangers. I worry that they're thinking I should be at home on a treadmill instead of picking out food. Maybe it was because I was at the farmer's market that I felt like it was ok. Like they were approving of the contents in my cart. I even looked at people. I smiled at them. I even carried on a conversation with this tiny little kid who was telling me all about Venom and how the black suit attacks Peter Parker and it makes him bad. I usually start hyper ventilating when I see little kids looking at me because I'm so afraid they're going to make a comment about the "fat lady". But this kid didn't seem to notice. His blond, curly head was just happy about his tiny little Spider Man in the black suit and wanted me to know all about it. As I unloaded all of my treasures into my new minivan, a big cheesy grin formed on my face. I felt like a grown up. I was at the farmer's market, getting grown up food and piling it into my grown up car. I don't know why, but that made me feel good.

I got an email from my friend, The Warden, tonight. I hadn't emailed her in a while so I kind of let it all out tonight. It felt kind of good to finally release some of the tension. She apologized for being a bad warden. I told her it wasn't that she was a bad warden, I was a bad inmate. When I messed up, I stopped confessing and it spiraled out of control. I was in a funk for such a long time. I can usually dig myself out eventually but this time was pretty bad. I've been giving myself serious stomach issues over it. I am just so miserable over the way I look. And no one understands. I just can't explain it. Chris can't even begin to fathom what is going on. He just thinks I really hate the way I look but oh boy, it is just so much deeper and so much worse. I can't get him to understand. I've quit trying because there's really no point. I need to focus more on my health and my goal than trying to get people to understand that I am in utter despair. I have to admit, part of the reason I haven't kept in touch with her or written on my blog is because I have been so down. I just knew I'd spill my guts and I figured the pity party was getting old. For a year now, I've actually had hope. I've been able to picture the "thin me". I've had goals, fantasies, outfits all pictured in my head. But lately, the pictures in my head are gone. I was hanging on to my hope for dear life with a light at the end of the tunnel. And now the hope is no more than thin little wisps of distant memories. I feel like I'll look like this forever. I'm not dieting and trying to figure out why I just can't lose weight. I'm just not "dieting" or exercising like I should or anything. I just haven't been able to get it back like I had it before. But the other day, I went to one of the Biggest Loser meetings at work and it flipped a switch in my head. I felt that spark again. I felt like I could lose weight again. And then all weekend I ate crap. Lexy and I did a run/walk for 3.5 miles (mostly walking because it was so hot by 8am we were about to puke) and it felt good. But I ate terribly all weekend. I just don't know what my problem is. It's my fault, I'm not one to make excuses. I don't believe obesity is a disease, for crying out loud. It's something I've done to myself and I just don't know why I don't love myself enough to do something better for myself.

I started this blog for a reason. And it really helped hold me accountable at first. I pay for it every month so I think I should really utilize this outlet again. I think it might help.

I had to go shopping today to find a nice top and some nice trouser jeans. I had a meeting at work on a Friday, which is casual day, but I didn't want to be too casual for this meeting. Instead of going last night knowing full well that I would need the extra time, I put it off 'til tonight. Big mistake. I went to Lane Bryant and tried on a few things. I even tried on a dress, just for the fun of it. I had no intentions of buying it, but I just wanted to see what a dress looked like on me since I haven't worn one since my wedding day. Wow, that was a big mistake. Not only did I look like a linebacker in a purple dress, but it was definitely not the right dress for me. I looked like Grimace, the old purple McDonald's character. Yikes. I found some trouser jeans that were ok but unfortunately, they didn't have my size. I needed an 18. I had tried on the 20 and they were just too baggy on me. They had a 16 and a 22. Great. I tried on some other pants and shirts but I was pretty much in between sizes on everything. I tried on 14/16, 18/20, 16 and 18. I wasn't a 14/16, an 18/20, a 16 or an 18. I was too big or too small for everything. I was sitting on the bench in my shirt and underwear staring at all of the lumpy fat piled up on the creaking wood, wondering, "What happened to me? How did I let myself get like this?" Feeling discouraged, I ran over to Target. I knew their clothes were always too crappy but I was getting desperate. I found some trouser jeans that I thought would work ok. Then I went to Cato. My husband went with me and was so ready to get out of the store that he kept telling me that everything looked fine, just so we could get out of there. Not very helpful. I grabbed a handful of tops and headed to the dreaded dressing room. Same problem as before. In between sizes. As I tried on one of the tops, I popped a button right off and it shot across the dressing room plinking off of the door before finally settling on the ground. I wanted to die. I just knew that the other lady in the dressing room knew exactly what had just happened. I didn't really pop it off because I was too fat. I pulled it over my head without unbuttoning enough buttons. But still, that doesn't matter when you're fat. Blowing a button is blowing a button. I was in that stupid store forever. My eyes were brimming with tears and my husband was following me around trying to convince me that everything looked fine. I finally settled on a top and got the hell out of there. I just wanted to throw up. I sat in the car staring out the window wondering again, "What the hell happened to me?"