World inside my head...

Wow, I really fought the urge to drink a Shiner Bock tonight. I have 2 left in the fridge from a GNO a few months ago. I was on the couch tonight watching Ray Romano's "95 Miles To Go" and I just really wanted that beer. I have been so depressed lately that it sounded like a super good idea. But I just couldn't do it. I felt like I would be defeating the purpose. How many calories are in that delicious adult beverage? More than I care to think about. And why was I in such a funk to begin with? Because I'm so fat. So, the angel on my right shoulder finally won against the devil on my left shoulder. 

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.

This weekend I hit rock bottom. I had transformed from my werewolf state back into my normal self and I still couldn't couldn't shake the werewolf appetite. I was still eating junk when I wasn't hungry. Granted, we had a bunch of Halloween candy to munch on and Casey made us all Halloween bags with Halloween treats in them. I didn't work out at all. On Sunday, I did have a bit of a nap and slept off a nasty headache. Usually my attempts at resting are thwarted with thoughts of things that need to be done - errands, cleaning, working out. But not Sunday. I just allowed myself to rest in my big cozy bed and it was so amazing. I think my body really needed that. But I was in an awful funk the whole weekend.

I weighed in on Saturday and I was pleasantly surprised that I had only gained one pound. I shouldn't have gained any, but seeing as how I was expecting at least a five pound weight gain, I'll take the one. But as the weekend progressed, I just felt worse and worse. I had pretty much decided that I was just never going to lose weight and I might as well just give up. What's the point? My blog is a seesaw of joy and pain, energy and lethargy. I go for weeks writing almost everyday and then I slack off and I go for days without so much as a "Yes, I'm still fat" entry. Who am I kidding?

And then, last night, I had to go buy a suit for my 2nd interview at work. Again, I tried on a size 18W pants and again, they were too big. I thought last time maybe it was just the brand running big and with a different brand I'd need an 18W, but I was wrong. I couldn't find a 16W so I sucked in my gut, averted my eyes from other shoppers and headed to the Misses section. Yep, the normal people section. I tried to pretend like I totally belonged there and put on my best "No, I'm not lost, I really wear this size!" face as I grabbed a size 18 (minus the W) pants and rushed off into the dressing room. Believe it or don't, they fit! Yep, they fit. I was in shock and awe. I felt much better all of a sudden. I know I still have a long way to go, but to see the cold hard evidence that I'm actually losing weight was so reassuring.

Today, I had my annual exam with my girly doctor. Last time I was there (a year ago), she told me that I could lose 30 pounds by my next appointment, no problem. Of course, I've been dreading this day for a long time. I knew there was no way I had done it, especially with the past couple of weeks going the way they had been. But, I was hoping I'd lost at least some weight because my scale at home has been telling me that I have. I got on the scale that resides under the sign that declares "Put on your big girl panties and deal with it!" That always makes me chuckle and it always makes me feel better. Not only is it funny, but it reminds me that there are other women out there who hate getting on the scale as much as I do and that is comforting. I saw my weight, which was more than it is at home but I was also wearing my clothes and that scale never agrees with my scale. However, I couldn't remember how much it was when I was there last year. I thought for sure it had to be less than last time. When the nurse had finished asking her usual questions, taking my vitals and I was wrapped in the cozy hospital gown, open in the front with the oversized paper towel draped over my legs, donning my black dress socks, the doctor came in with my chart. After she asked me how I was, she said, "Well, your weight looks good!" I was dying to know so I asked, "What was it last time?" She replied, "237." WOOHOO! I wanted to jump up and scream "YESSSSS!!!!" while I was striking a rock star pose. No, it wasn't the 30 pounds she had predicted, but it was 20 pounds I wasn't expecting. I felt rejuvenated. I felt happier. I felt like I was back on the proverbial horse again. She told me that my BMI was 37 and she doesn't like that. She showes me her little spinny wheel thingamajig that says how fat you are. She said for my height, she would like for me to be at 150 pounds. I thought to myself, "That's fine with me!" When she left the room to let me put my clothes back on, she said, "Next time I see you, you're going to look great!" I told her, "Yep, hopefully I'll be at 150!" SHe said, "Even 170 would be good for you." So, she's given me an attainable goal. 50 pounds in a year. I'm really hoping I can be at 150 the next time I see her.