I'm panicking! Don't panick! I'm freaking out! Don't freak out!

I had a moment of insanity today after reading a woman's blog about her weight loss success assisted by lap band surgery.  To further that, I looked at a male colleague today who admitted to having laser surgery on his eyes recently and realizing that, he's also lost quite a bit of weight.  I speculated, in my Monday morning crappy mood, that he's probably had lap band surgery.  Can you see me squinting my eyes in suspicion? 

What's the point of all this you ask?  Who cares? 

The point is, everybody around me is dropping weight like it's hot (I hate that song, but it's so dang true!) and I'm stuck at my ~50 pound weight loss (if you want to be specific, it's closer to 40 pounds now, 'cause I'm actively gaining like a mutha).  It's time to get this train moving back down the track.

Can I share with you that for a split second, I panicked and considered taking my lazy ass back to the Nutritionist at Kaiser and inquiring about weight loss surgery again.  How bad does it have to get before I realize that I can do this on my own?  I'm not uneducated, I'm not lazy, I'm not stupid, nor do I hate myself.  I *LOVE* me some me!  So why then do I insist on making this harder than it needs to be!

I'm starting a graduate degree program next month and in my personal and professional  life, I continue to be a full time mommy, wife and employee.  Zoo week is coming up (six mandatory dance rehearsals and three recitals) next month and add to that, I'd like to go to Ocean City to chillax for a day or two (the Flowers will be there for a week with Daisy, but I must save my leave for Jamaica in August).  The Bottom line is, I have no extra time for ANYTHING.  Therefore, Weight Watchers weekly meetings are just not gonna happen.  I didn't get much out of the last go-round of WW meetings at work.  I love that woman, but she just wasn't speaking my language last time around. 

But mercy me, I have to do something quick or the dam is gonna break.  I can't afford to let that happen.  I WON'T LET THAT HAPPEN.  I love the happy, quirky, less-demanding, less stressed, running, Stairmaster-ing chic I've become since I lost the weight.  I will not allow myself to succumb to the regain.  The buck stops here!  It's time to recommit to my fabulosity.  Right here and right now.

Weight Watchers online, here I come. 

Keep on runnin' yall!

-----------------------------------
Gratitude Journal
1. Just for today, I will not complain about anything; I am blessed and highly favored and I know it
2. Seeing my brothers and sisters on TV last night on line at food pantries across the nation have inspired me to eat less and be thankful for more
3. My colleague complimented me this morning and told me that she believes my Flowers will be very successful women because I am so structured and focused on raising them well
4. Daisy treated me to a steamed crab feast yesterday and brought them all the way to my house!  Love that woman! 

Nope, I'm not dead, I've just been hiding

Here's the thing: I've been on a lazy, eating-whatever-I feel-like, post-surgery binge since the week of Christmas.  You see, I had a bunionectomy on Monday, December21st.  It was the most long-winded, drawn-out procedure I've ever endured.  And to make matters worse, I had the surgery on my right foot.  I live in Northern VA - hello, I practically LIVE in my automobile.  Not being able to drive, or exercise, or go from point A to point B as I pleased was very hard on me. Marigold was patient and drove me to and fro, but it wasn't the same.  I wanted to drive MYSELF!  My truck!  My music! My  heat up as high as I wanted it!  All that!

I've always been a very independent girl and this activity-halting surgery was a real slap in the face. I mean, I was informed of how my recovery would go and the things I was prohibited from doing, but still.  It was mentally worse than I ever thought it could be. I hated life for about ten weeks. Not to mention, the first two weeks I was forced to wear the ugliest boot known to man, then for the next three weeks, I wore another really ugly shoe-like contraption.  I was no fashion statement, I tell you.  It was a long, unattractive and painful ten weeks.  The pain was not that intense, but it was the kind of pain that would not go away.  I'd pop an 800 mg ibuprofen and surf through the next four or six hours pretty painlessly and feel, for the most part, okay. Then, you guessed it!  Here the pain would come again.  I don't deal very well with pain.  I never have, and I probably never will.  I'm a complaining, weepy, over-reacting wus, to be more precise. And the scar!  Oh the scar!  It's awful.  I would have endured another few weeks of pain if I could've avoided a scar.  It's really ugly.  But my bunion is gone and my big toe, despite the swelling that still lingers, looks great. 

So, I had my surgery and I sat on my butt through two (or was it three?) blizzards.  Chrysanthemum and Rose were out of school for a solid week, plus a day or two here and there, and you know who was home with them.  Yup - yours truly.  We spent about a week baking cookies, cakes, pies, and I happily hoovered any other sweet things I could get my grubby hands on.  I gained eight sloppy pounds.  I was miserable.  I was very angry with myself, but felt powerless to change things.  We were stuck in the house!  Literally! The only activity I got for a while was shoveling snow. It's a pretty good workout, in case you hadn't heard. We got so much snow it blanketed everything, including my mood.  Don't get me wrong, it was wonderful having the extra time with my Flowers, but it was not joyous to be forced to sit on my rapidly-spreading butt for weeks at a time. 

Finally, on February 8th, I got clearance from my Podiatrist to begin slowly exercising again, with strict orders to take it easy.  I did the happy dance out of his office, with plans to break a sweat again ASAP! 

Sixteen weeks later, I'm running/walking again, I'm back up to three miles at a time, I've been reunited with my beloved Stairmaster, I've lost five of the nearly ten pounds I put on, and I'm so very happy to be active again.  I never once in life thought I'd become the kind of girl that becomes miserable from being forced to be inactive.  Seriously!  Me???!!  Who woulda thunk it?

I can't take all the credit, I've started seeing my therapist again last month and I'm working on some of the issues I've been dodging for about thirty years.  Better late than never, eh?

I still battle with my weight.  I still overeat and occasionally binge on something I know is no good for me.  Oh yeah, I dropped out of Weight Watchers the last time around.  I'm a WW drop-out again.  Like Oprah said, 'I can't believe I'm still talking about my weight!'  I'm currently reading Women Food and God by Geneen Roth and I'm actively seeking insight into my quest for self-destruction a la food. Learning to love myself completely, despite my extra body weight and my other miscellaneous shortcomings has been a repeated theme with me.  I'm still a work in progress! 

The most exciting news of all for me is that I've enrolled in a graduate program.  I'll start pursuing my M.Ed (Masters degree in Education) in June.  I feel very strongly that this program is going to be a good fit for me and I have high hopes for myself. I want to do well and learn a lot.  I miss researching so much!  If I could afford to be a professional student, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Anyhoo, I'm alive, life is good.  I hope to be back real soon. 

In the meantime, keep on runnin', yall!

Holy Crap

I got on the Tanita scale at work yesterday (as I do every other Friday) and my weight is up six whole pounds. So much for celebrating my birthday responsibly! Holy Schnikey, Bat Man! It's time for some serious reconfiguring and recallibrating.

Time to revisit (seriosuly) journaling my food and beverage intake and counting points.

Well, if only it were that simple. I have to go through the motions of convincing myself I'm worthy of losing those six points and getting my eating back on track. No more Burrito Bowls from Chipotle for me.

In order to make it home yesterday, I had to stop for gas. I stopped at a gas station and loaded up on my "screw it, it's Friday night and I just got fat" cravings: salt and vinegar potato chips and an industrial sized box of Dots. I got home and immediately proceeded to eat the entire $2.19 bag of chips leaving my tongue a raw and irritated oversized worm in my mouth then proceeded to start on the Dots. I could only get through about half the box before the desire to sleep overcame me. I had put myself into a salt-induced coma.

In a mattef of about eight hours, I had transformed myself into a self-defeating, eating all the wrong crap, loser on a self-destructive mission, MESS. I felt fat, unworthy, confrontational, ugly and sleepy.

Today has been better, so far. I woke up and hit the dreadmill with the plans to run five miles. I only made it through four before I decided enough was enough. My tongue still felt raw and swollen, making my run long and uncomfortable.

Still four miles is four miles, right? I didn't make my goal, but there's always tomorrow.

So much for my self-loving, 'I deserve to be thin' mantra and foolishness from Thursday. I feel like a fat fraud today. With a swollen and irritated tongue.

That's what getting on the scale and seeing a HUGE gain will do to your self-esteem: throws it into the trashcan of your self-esteem.

I'm going to eat some more dots. Than take a nap. Blah.

--------------------------------
Gratitude Journal
1. Running four miles even though I felt like crap
2. Knowing that God loves me, despite my shortcomings
3. It's Saturday! No matter how bad my day is, I'm at home
4. Rose's first sleepver tonight with her best girlfriends
5. Breakfast on my deck in our new deck furniture: pure bliss


Keep on runnin' yall.