Yeah, I dropped off the face of the earth.

I've been paying zero attention to what I eat except for maybe a couple of days a month, after while it falls apart because I just don't care right now. Too busy caring about a billion other things. Someday.

Moving sucks.

The day after my last post, an opportunity to move to a bigger, better, cheaper house two towns away came up. And I jumped on it, even though it meant a ridiculous amount of stress trying to get my life packed up and moved in a little under two weeks. And then I got to the new place and ... it didn't work out quite like it was supposed to. Basically the place was a fucking pigsty -- and I got stuck with a bunch of my mom's excess belongings because, oh yeah, she up and moved to another country.

I'm not proud of it, but I've basically been eating anything not red-hot or tied down, as long as it didn't require cooking or effort. You can imagine how healthy that's been. I'm pretty disgusted with myself right now, but I also seem to lack the give-a-damn to do anything about it. I'm hoping once I get my kitchen unpacked, and feel like I can actually accomplish things instead of merely getting through my days ... I don't know.

I know I could've eaten properly the last three weeks. It would've been monotonous, boring, and irritating, but I could have done it. But at the same time ... I couldn't. I don't deal with upheaval well, even when I choose it. Mix it with my mother taking off (we talked every day and now I have no way to contact her) and I'm basically a fucking wreck and don't even know how to start to fix it.

I hate salad.

But I ate it. *grumble* All I wanted after work tonight was an order of boneless hot wings, but I restrained myself and had a steak caesar salad. No croutons. Booooooorrrrriiiiinnnngg.

But I know I'll feel better about it tomorrow.

Company came, and they brought sugar.

My biggest weapon in the fight against eating shitty food is simple avoidance. If I don't go places where it is, if I don't buy it, it won't bother me. My second strategy is simple obsession. I have to obsess and think about not eating things constantly, because otherwise I honest to god forget I'm not supposed to have any chips and salsa that are just sitting out for us at work and I start munching them without a second thought.

Well, both those went right out my window when my cousins showed up to stay for a couple of days. The combination of just enjoying hanging around them and having a good time, and of them being all "hey! let's go get ice cream! Let's make beef stroganoff for dinner!" and me being all "Whatever you want!" because I can never say no to them ... well, it ended in another two days of poor eating.

But they left today, and I took the extra junk food to work tonight, so my house is a safe zone again. Of course, I'm supposed to go to their house for a couple of days next week and they live on like 90% carbs, so .... that's a problem for next week. I need to keep that problem, to whatever extent it manifests, to those two days I'm at their house, rather than falling in to the "oh, I'm just going to eat crap on Tuesday, I might as well eat junk until then anyway!" trap. Yes. *resolve*

Pouty entitlement.

My schedule is screwy as always, so I went to bed at nine this morning and got up at four in the afternoon. So I haven't eaten yet, partially because I'm fighting with myself. My mood today is very spoiled child-like; I feel like dammmit, I DESERVE chocolate, or ice cream, or whatever the hell else I want. That extends to non-food things too. Basically I'm stomping around my house pouting like a five year old. I know it's stupid. I know if I order up a pizza, or go buy ice cream, or whatever, that I'll regret it. I just have to try to keep that in mind.

ETA: Realized my feelings were probably largely motivated by not having eaten anything in 20 hours. Drank some milk as a quick fix and already feel better! So silly.

I ate properly today.

But it sure made me cranky.

Also a few days ago would normally have been my weigh-in day, but I've lost my damn scale! When I did a major kitchen re-arrange last month I stuck it somewhere, and I cannot figure out where that somewhere is. I live in a two bedroom duplex so there aren't many places it could be ... so I guess I put it somewhere REALLY safe!

Pwned by cake.

A few posts ago, I was talking about not letting my baking projects derail me. I had two this week, one a cake I'm actually being paid for (no fucking way!) and the other for my grandmother.

The first one was no problem. It was a new recipe, so I did have a bite of the extra layer that fell apart. Not a problem. The second ... the second was a super, super chocolatey cake, because that's what my grandmother loves (All told that thing has 1 pound 3 ounces of chocolate, plus the equivalent of 8 more tablespoons' worth in cocoa.). I'd made it before, but I made a couple of adjustments to the recipe so I again tried a bite of what I shaved off the top to shape it.

I should have just trusted it was good, because that one taste of chocolate sent me totally over the goddamn edge. The last two days, I was possessed by the god of cake. All I could think was cake, cake, chocolate, cake and chocolate, chocolate and cake ... and that spawned cravings for even worse things. At least chocolate has antioxidants. There's no redeeming value to french fries.

I'm not sure why the first cake didn't unseat me but the chocolate did. Guess I'l have to rely on others to be my chocolate testers from now on, because I clearly cannot be trusted.

Predictable.

Yesterday went about like I thought it would (half good, half bad), but today was another thing entirely. My damn period decided to start early, which in retrospect I should have seen coming. The first couple of days are so uncomfortable, especially when I have to move around, that I just don't want to eat or even drink anything. It was half-past midnight before I ate today, because I felt so nauseated and unwell before work, and then trotting around doing my job felt like my innards were bruised and being shaken.

Predictably, when I got done with work and the gross feeling started to pass a little, I was so ravenous and unstable from blood sugar swings that I gorged on french fries and bread. I should have forced myself to eat earlier, but I thought I could handle it. Instead I self-justified right into fast food. Dammit.

Well, that went badly.

I had good intentions, but my grandma kept handing me biscuits and shoving key lime pie at me. And while it would of course have been better for me not to eat them, I just couldn't deal with The Diet Talk that would explode if I showed even the slightest regard for what I was stuffing in my piehole. She's always looking for any excuse to try to give me diet "tips". If I say I had fruit from breakfast she launches in to how it's so good for your weight and so low calorie and I have to be all "Oh, it was just all I had" so she'll shut up.

I don't know why it freaks me out so much for people I know, especially family, to know I'm trying to lose weight/start with the diet talk. But it always happens, and since I still can't figure out what about it sends me of a scared, angry sugar binge, I'm trying to second coping mechanism: I just ate the biscuits (although not the third one she tried to feed me after she'd already ordered dessert!) and the pie, and I did enjoy them. But tonight's dinner was perfectly back on track, without even a second thought about it.

Of course, tomorrow I have dinner with my father and his horrible girlfriend, and god knows what she's making. So I might get to do it all over again tomorrow -- because as bad as my grandmother is, my dad is even worse because his "encouragement" always comes across as more "finally you're going to do something so you're not embarrassing to be seen with". Even though he's never, ever said that to me -- but his attempts to motivate me always have this undertone of relief on his part, and it just gets tiring.

Ugh. Families! They scar us all in different ways I guess!

Tomorrow comes the challenge.

Every six weeks, I take my grandmother to get her hair done. We always go to lunch, usually to Red Lobster. It doesn't matter where we go; everywhere there's going to be things that are full of carbs. So I already know that tomorrow I'll end up weighing my options against my desire to appear to be dieting to my grandmother, who will then start "helpfully" telling me about Weight Watchers and how she's so proud of me and assorted other stuff that will lead to me having one of my meltdowns. Fuck.

Ready to climb the walls.

Everything today seemed like it was just a little harder than it should have been. I hit every red light, there was never any ice in the bin, little things like that. I was super cranky all night, and I let it affect my food choices. I had a few boneless wings, and I also had a little bit of cake -- I'm getting paid for a cake this weekend so I was experimenting with fondant last night, so I took another cake in to work. I did need to have a bite, because it was a new recipe and I can't trust my friends to tell me if it sucked. But I didn't need to have the entire inch-wide wedge.

Still, neither of those are enough to do any harm. I can tell because they didn't trigger any more sugar cravings -- and that cake sat in plain view all night and I didn't have any more -- and I didn't feel funny like I do if I have too much sugar. Those choices probably didn't help me accomplish any goals, but at the least they didn't hurt.

I'm still super irritated with the entire universe though!

Sugar cravings hit hard today.

All I wanted to do after work tonight was hoover an entire gallon of ice cream. I'd had chicken and vegetables at work like a responsible person, and I managed to make it through the grocery store with succumbing to the lure of chocolate or cookies. But I wanted it so bad I could already take the sugar on my tongue. So annoying.

Two down, infinity to go.

The last two days of eating properly haven't even been that difficult. I need to not get ahead of myself, I do that a lot. I'll start thinking too hard about how long I have to be 'good' in order to achieve x, y, or z, and it feels impossible. For now, I need to just focus on day by day, rather than any sort of big picture.

I'm actually sort of ashamed at myself for even falling into the "must lose tons of weight" mindset again. I keep slipping in to it, and I know exactly why: a guy. But said guy has never given me any indication of interest, and really there's no reason to think that any amount of weight loss would change that. We've known each other for more than a year now, so if he was going to like me that way, he would already. I guess it's just a triggering issue for me. So I have to constantly fight myself to NOT think "I need to lose 100 pounds" every time I consider what I'm eating. It really accomplishes nothing but bumming me out!

I'm baaaaaack!

Oh thank god, I finally have a computer again! The last couple of months have been, well, pretty hellish without it. I'm a total Internet junkie, so only having access at the library was killing me!

The bad news is that the last month I have gone completely insane with my eating. God knows how much damage to my progress I've done. I could spend ages justifying why I just ate two entire thin crust pizzas, and why yesterday I ate nothing except an absolutely giant bowl of alfredo and regular noodles, but the fact is I just need to stop. There's probably been a different trigger for every damn day (except the two I ate properly!), and instead of trying to work on whatever imaginary big issue I have, I need to come to grips with the individual daily challenges.

As of right now, there is nothing in my house for me to eat that is not reasonable and within my plan. Okay, except for the cake I made, but I'm covering that in fondant and taking it to work tomorrow so I won't be eating it. The challenge will be that at work I can order whatever the hell I want. And also that aforementioned cake will be sliced open and taunting me with its marbly, chocolate buttercream-y goodness. But I need to get used to that. If I'm going to be a semi-professional baker, I need to not let the things I bake have such sway over me.

THAT will be a continuing challenge for sure.

Still computerless.

And it's driving me bonkers. If prostitution was legal, I'd turn a trick to get the money to fix my damn computer.

Okay, not really, but I'm super irritated.

I was doing well on the eating front until I stupidly got on the scale last week. I ought to know better. No matter if the number is good or bad, it sends me into a spin. I thought I was prepared for it, but I obviously wasn't. If it's bad, I get depressed and eat. If it's good, I feel pressure to continue and I get depressed and eat. Gah.

Well, that was fun.

When most weight loss bloggers drop off the face of the earth, it's because they're wallowing in a puddle of their own tears and Twinkie wrappers. And I haven't been having a perfect run of it, but that's not why I haven't been blogging. No, my reason is simpler: my damned computer died.

I still haven't gotten it fixed; I don't know when I'll have the cash. So I don't know when I'll be regularly blogging again, but I hope everyone out there is doing well and I'll see you as soon as I get my personal system is up and running again!

Sugarfest.

The last two days, I've been acting like a petulant child who doesn't want to eat her vegetables. Instead I've been eating sugar. Not even because I was craving it -- just because every time I looked at a chunk of meat it seemed so deeply unappetizing. I should have just forced it down!

Bored, bored, bored.

I really don't know how people maintain diets for really long stretches of time. I'm so tired of meat, and cheese, and nuts, and produce. I'm tired of reminding myself all the time that I shouldn't have the stuff I want to eat, and choking down things that don't sound good because all I want is a bowl of noodles. I did it again today, but I feel completely unsatisfied.

Yes, I know I'm whining. I'm just feeling grumpy right now!

Somehow I made it!

After an extremely hectic day yesterday I worked a double shift today, and I managed abstain from the junk food. I nearly caved mid-afternoon, but at the last second I cancelled the fried cheese order (damn breading) and ordered turkey and cheese, plain. Not the most exciting meal, but within limits!

Couple of off days.

I was staying at somebody else's house the last couple of days, so I didn't try to stick to my plan. Yes, I absolutely could have made my own separate meals and stayed on track, but I opted to just go with the flow. The flow included waffles one night, which I almost never eat (diet or no diet), so that was a nice treat!

Not perfect, but still on track.

I snacked on a few chips today, and had three boneless wings as my carbs for the day. I shouldn't have, I was mindlessly eating, but I kept myself in check for my meals so I think it balances out.

Forgot my vitamins again though!

A third good day.

I wanted to eat junk all night. It was slow at work, and I was bored, and tired, and cranky. And I started thinking about the maple butter blondie, and the crunchy walnuts and super sugary sauce. I thought about how delicious it smells, and how warm and bubbly the sauce gets, and what a gooey and delicious mess it makes when it mixes with melty ice cream. And I thought that one more day might not hurt, and if I maintained while eating poorly for a whole month what was the difference?

And then I quite responsibly ordered a bunless bacon cheeseburger (and a side of vegetables that I never received for some reason). And I still freaking wanted the dessert. But instead, I had this:

And later, when a coworker told me she'd never had the blondie and said we should get one to share, I said no. And when she asked again, I said no again. Let's hear it for self-restraint.

Another good day.

I once again didn't eat anything I shouldn't have today. I'm especially proud of that because my ulcer was bothering me, and eating large quantities of starchy food makes the pain go away (not sure why other than maybe it sucks up the excess stomach acid?). But I kept slowly sipping milk and waited it out. If it had been much worse I don't know if I'd've been able to; but today the side symptoms (nausea, hot flashes and cold chills, a trembly sort of exhaustion) were worse than the pain, and I could deal with it.

I even took my vitamins today!

I also realized that I may have lost a little weight last month after all; when I weighed myself the number was the same, but my period started later that day. That water retention, added to bloating from eating too much sugar, was probably a few pounds. But it'll just go toward my next weigh-in total.

Almost a perfect day.

I ate 100% good healthy stuff today. Cheesecake Pusher had even brought in a new dessert, and I had none. I didn't convince myself it was okay to have a couple of boneless wings, or get a Reese's peanut butter cup egg at the store, or even just have a little too much milk. The only thing I didn't do right was take my vitamins with dinner!

No progress.

But I didn't really expect any with my utter lack of effort this month. At least I held steady!

I suck at this.

Cheesecake Pusher brought in another dessert, and I didn't even try to resist. Fail.

Bad me, no cupcake.

I hate it when the managers get cupcakes and birthday cakes for people, especially on busy nights when I know I'm not going to be able to properly eat until quite late. I had a horrendous night (why do people go to restaurants and act like dickheads?), I was feeling sorry for myself, and I had a chocolate cupcake. Bad, bad, bad. Whenever I'm restricting my eating, for whatever reason, my emotional eating problems seem to flare up again. I know the cupcake didn't put any more money in my pocket or make people any less rude. I knew it before I stuck it in my mouth. Eating it was a stupid decision.

My friend on the HCG diet gave up after about three days. Color me not surprised.

Blah blah blah.

I opened this post last night, but had nothing to say. I still don't, really; nothing worth mentioning has happened on the diet/food front in the last couple of days. The most exciting thing was getting strawberries for 2 for $4!

Motivation and lack thereof.

I did alright today, despite the little voice in my head whispering about the delicious things I could order at work, and how one more day wouldn't hurt, and didn't I want to try that new pasta dish? It was a little difficult to push away temptation, because I don't really have a motivation to. That's the problem with the whole "I don't mind being fat but let's lose some weight anyway." There's no sense of urgency.

I ended up managing to order something appropriate by thinking about how horribly cranky I was the last couple of days, and reminding myself I'd just feel that way again if I went and ate a bowl of chocolate. And then I nearly ordered dessert anyway because one of my tables did and it smelled so good. That's the problem with working in a restaurant: constant exposure to my trigger foods. I have to keep reminding myself that it makes me feel physically unwell to eat that stuff more than once every couple of weeks. It's not worth feeling like I have a boulder in my stomach. Right?

Easier day.

I had less cravings, but I also felt so tired all day. And I suck at remembering to take my vitamins.

Knowing and doing.

I know that if I just eat appropriate things for a few days, the sugar cravings and crankiness will go away. I know that just a couple of days of wanting to scream at everyone who looks at me will pass quickly, and then I'll go back to feeling level and not hungry most of the time.

Yesterday I gave in and had french fries late at night; today I made it through. Hopefully that will make tomorrow easier!

Still alive.

Not that this makes me unique, but I freaking hate getting sick. Colds that might make normal people miss one day of work knock me out for three or four days. Which is actually an improvement -- before I had sinus surgery, an average cold would have me lying on my couch and unable to breathe for two weeks. So, you know, progress.

I haven't been paying the slightest bit of attention to what, if anything I've been eating, other than trying to eat a piece of fruit or something carrots every few hours for the vitamin value. Some days that was all I ate. One day, when I absolutely had to go to work (sorry to anyone I infected, bastard managers), all I ate that day was a chocolate dessert because the hot chocolate and cold ice cream sounded like heaven on my throat.

Yesterday, though, I engaged in some ridiculous emotional eating. I don't know what macaroni and cheese and ice cream would solve, but it didn't work. Instead I felt jittery and nauseous and even threw up a little. Lesson learned.

Damn you, immune system.

How am I getting sick MORE often now that I'm taking vitamins and eating more produce?

Dragging ass.

I think I could easily sleep for a week right now! Not for any particular reason, just feeling quite tired and as such have nothing interesting to say!

I'd rather be fat.

One of my friends just started this crazy "HCG diet." I say crazy for three reasons. First, I don't think taking such a potent hormone can really be safe -- assuming someone on the diet is taking actual HCG rather than a sham drug to the first place. Second, There are a whole bunch of strange restrictions -- like she can't have tomatoes, or strawberries, this, that, or the other thing. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it. The third reason is it's severely, severely low-calorie: 500 calories a day. Holy. Jesus. For a few days, maybe. But whatever version of this she's latched on to, she's planning on eating 500 calories a day for 42 freaking days.

I can safely say I'd rather be a lardass than subject myself to that kind of idiotic regime. She's hungry all the time, tired and weak and cranky, spending a lot of money on the "hormone drops" .... it's ridiculous. It blows my mind that she finds low-carb too restrictive, but is still attempting this. She buys in to the idea that it will "permanently re-set" her metabolism and after that she can just go back to eating whatever she wants. Sigh.

Two more days.

It wasn't as hard to get back on track as I thought it would be; the last couple of days have been good. I've been cranky about it, going through a little sugar withdrawal, but nothing major. Been a couple of humdrum sort of days.

The not-delayed weigh-in.

I was going to put my weigh-in off for a week, because the last week hasn't been so great. I didn't deny my hormonally-induced cravings like I should have, then I was sick, then I was feeling sorry for myself, and then last night my friends and I finally went to a restaurant we'd been talking about going to for a year. So basically I made bad choices for the last week, and I was going to give myself a week to at least take of the retained water weight. Then I decided it would be better to stick to the monthly date no matter what.

So, as of this morning I'm at 259 pounds from a starting point of 275.

Sick.

I don't know if I got some stomach bug or what, but I was sent home from work because I was throwing up and I feel miserable.

At least I don't want to eat!

AHHHHHHH!

I've had two meals in the last two days that were off the rails. I need to work on my impulse control during my period, that's always when I lose my focus.

On the plus side, I've been doing much better with my water consumption the last couple of days! It's really nice to have water and ice cubes that taste .... clean.

Increasing my water intake, low-carb treats.

I really like water -- as long as it's cold! -- but I have a hard time drinking it at home because the water in my house tastes weird. More than that, it gives me a headache! My old roommate used to get headaches too. I've been buying 2 gallon jugs of water, but tonight I finally got a Pur filter for my sink. I also got a big plastic jug to keep in my fridge; so now I can have ice cubes and chilled water that doesn't taste funky.


I've been getting myself little low-carb treats the last couple of weeks. In previous attempts, this would've meant stuff full of sugar alcohols and aspartame, some imitation of a high-carb treat. Now, though, I'm treating me to good real food. Right now, I'm snacking on "deluxe" mixed nuts -- no peanuts! Yummy! And they're seasoned with sea salt rather than regular salt, so they have an interesting tang to them. And more potassium than sodium, which is always good. Last week, I got 1/4 pound of lightly smoked gouda and 1/4 pound of creamy havarti. It's too rich to eat more than a slice of at a time, but soooooo good. Simple things, but little things for a bit more variety and a little indulgence!

Didn't eat pizza.

Although that may be more a result of falling asleep watching tv than any sort of willpower! Cooked some chicken when I woke up and had a sugar-free whole fruit popsicle. Pretty uneventful day, pizza craving aside.

Oh god, I want pizza.

All day today, I've been craving various things I don't need to be eating. First was boneless wings from Chili's. Then more McDonald's. Then pizza. I ate some delicious salty almonds, and that helped. Then I saw a pizza commercial and now it's all I can think about. Ooey, gooey cheese and warm sauce and slightly crunchy pepperoni ... fuck! Driving me nuts!

Relatively unscathed.

Well, yesterday's McDonald's meal didn't send my spiraling out of control today, which is great. I didn't feel all bloated up today, which surprised me; and I didn't have wicked sugar cravings either! Oh, I admit I had a couple of thoughts of "it didn't hurt yesterday, it won't hurt today..." but then I slapped myself silly and walked away from the chocolate.

Mostly. I did get one single Reese's peanut butter egg at the store. It was 18g of carb, and it was delicious. Yes, it could've been spent on something else, but I budgeted for it. I didn't even want a second one when I finished it.

Wish my tax return would come so I could get my pedometer!

ETA: Realized I've really really been itchy today. Wondering if it's connected to what I ate, that was more wheat than I've had at once in a month. Hmm.

Why I need to remember to eat.

I wasn't hungry before work and forgot to eat. I munched some cashews that I had in the car, just because they were there. Then I ordered some food after the dinner rush .... and we got totally freaking slammed again. I never got a chance to eat. I threw my food in a box, thinking I'd eat it when I got home. For an hour after close I worked to help clean up the horrible mess all over the restaurant; then we all packed up our stuff and left.

On the way home I listened to a rambling voicemail from my father's drunken hag of a girlfriend. I started thinking about what I was going to do for dinner ... and realized I'd forgotten my boxed-up chicken. Dammit.

There's no point in going through all the mental processes; the end result was self-justifying right through McDonald's. Could have all been avoided if I'd just freaking eaten. But I didn't eat anything but a few cashews for about 24 hours and then ran around for several straight hours, stressing out. I should know by now that sort of behavior sets me up for crashing blood sugar and idiotic, emotional decisions.

Ah well. Tomorrow is another day, during which I will not make the same stupid mistake.

Probably too much sugar; Victoria's Secret.

One of the benefits of working at a corporate restaurant is that certain things are always pre-weighed and measured. So when I decided I wanted some potatoes tonight, I knew if I ordered the red potatoes they were a certain amount that I could budget for. One of the negatives of working at a corporate restaurant if that we have eighty varieties of sauces. So the cook screwed up and put the wrong sauce on my breadless "sandwich," and I was so hungry that I didn't notice until I was halfway through it. The sauce in question has a lot of sugar in it. Damn! Hopefully it didn't do too much damage; I hardly had any carbs at all the rest of the day.


After my post last night, I started thinking about why I dislike Victoria's Secret so much. I mean, I think most of their ads are fucking retarded. And it drives me crazy how none of the women in their ads feature women actually wearing bras that fit instead of ones small enough to make their tits burst out. And their anorexic-looking models make me want to barf. But when I started actually thinking about it, I realized that my dislike of it actually started with something ages ago.

Long ago, probably when I was 19, I went to VS trying to find something sexy to wear for my boyfriend. I was mildly fat at that time; I don't really remember what clothing size I was wearing back then, or how much I weighed. I trotted in there and grabbed some bras in the size I normally wore. But when I tried them on, they wouldn't even go around me! I couldn't even get them hooked! I tried going up a band size, but that still didn't work. I got irritated and left, thinking their sizes much be screwed up. If I wore a 36, and their 38 wouldn't even go around me, then obviously they bras much run smaller. And I didn't really think about it anymore after that; I kept buying bras at Wal-Mart, and then at Lane Bryant.

Thing is .... it wasn't until I worked at Lane Bryant, in 2006, that I actually was measured. I'd been wearing a 36C since I was 15, and I actually needed (by then) a 40D! So of course those bras at VS wouldn't fit me. They were the wrong cup size (my actual breast size hasn't changed with weight), and possibly the wrong band size. Plus, their were molded cups with underwires, when I'd been wearing basically sports bras. But I'd never tried other styles, so I didn't really figure that out. Seems stupid in retrospect. But I never thought about it! I just disliked Victoria's Secret .... turns out for no reason.

Kind of excited now about the idea of being able to get something there! Although I looked at the bra I was talking about yesterday and it was actually a 42 rather than a 40, so I'm still quite a while away from that.

Ho-hum day, uncomfortable underwires, daily walking.

Nothing particularly exciting happened today. My eating was fine; I drank a lot; I did forget to take my vitamins.

I may need to go down a bra size again; the one I was wearing today kept jabbing me in the armpit because it was slightly too big. But I also wore it yesterday too, so maybe it'd just stretched. That's kind of what I'm hoping for. New bras are expensive and a pain in the ass anyway. Not to mention, right now I'm wearing a 40. If I'm really already down to a 38, then it may not take long to get to a 36. After that is where it gets scary ... because 36 is the lowest band size Lane Bryant carries, and I have no idea where to get a bra smaller than a 36. Other than Victoria's Secret which I am reallllly not a fan of. But I shouldn't even think about that now, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Once I get my almighty tax return, I think I'll buy a pedometer. I'm quite curious about how much I walk every day at work. The last time I had one, when I was working at Lane Bryant, I was walking five miles a day!

The chocolate pusher.

We have a regular customer at my restaurant who loves to bring in baked stuff for us. I don't really know his whole story; he spends a lot of time at the bar, but he doesn't drink. He just talks to all of us. He's not creepy, which is a nice change from some of our bar regulars. He's always bringing in cakes and pies he's made at home, glowing with pride and clearly basking in our enjoyment of it.

Tonight, he brought in a flourless chocolate cake, with crushed raspberry sauce. He'd even used a stencil to trace a powdered sugar fairy and flowers on it. It was beautiful, and looked delicious. When I was done with my shift, he asked me if I was going to have some; I said I needed to have some real food first since I hadn't eaten all day (today was crazy hectic). When I was eating, he smiled at me from the bar and told me not to forget to save room for dessert. I just smiled with my mouth full, hoping he'd forget.

I almost made it out, too; then one of my coworkers brought up the cake and the guy's face lit up. He right away cut me a slice and drizzled sauce over it. Fuck. I didn't want to hurt his feelings! So I told him I was full and would take it home. Then I had a tiny, tiny bite, just the very tip of the slice, not even a half a spoon, so that I could give him the big smile and the compliment he wanted.

It really was a very good cake. I did bring the box home, because I didn't want him to see me throw it away. It's sitting on my oven now. I had planned to put it down the garbage disposal right away, but had to clear out the sink first. I did some dishes; I did some laundry; I watched some "King Of The Hill." The cake is still there. Even after tasting it, and it being delicious, and a nice slice of it carefully boxed up in my kitchen ... I don't really want it. I didn't have to talk myself out of eating it; it's as appetizing as the styrofoam box it's in.

And I don't know why. So I don't feel triumphant, or proud, or anything. Mostly ... puzzled.

Wardrobe; uncomfortable hope.

Yep, that's my wardrobe. Took up the entire width of my bed.

The other night I dumped out my entire wardrobe on to my bed and started sorting it. My entire wardrobe takes up a four-drawer dresser with two shelves on top, two closets and their two shelves, three 18 gallon plastic tubs, and 25 gallon plastic tub! I was just tired of reaching into my clothes and pulling out things that didn't fit.

So I sorted them in to four categories: fits now, almost fits, almost-almost fits, and 'yeah fucking right.' Oh, and goodwill. I might go through that last one again and pick out some things I might be able to sell on ebay. Some of it is horrible old clothes, but some is stuff like a pair of size 20 average jeans. I may be a size 20 again soon, but I will still have short legs. I seriously don't even know where I got those. And I'm never going to get around to taking them to a tailor to have them shortened!

As part of this, I tried on a lot of clothing that I'd either forgotten about completely (seriously, there was a denim skirt in there that I have absolutely no memory of buying!) or just hadn't tried in a while. And damn, was that blow to my self-esteem. I knew about 3/4 of my wardrobe was slightly tight; but it turns out it's more like 90% is either a little tight or just doesn't fit at all.

And it's not a bunch of  'skinny clothes' either, from high school or something. I got rid of most of those several years ago when I decided I wasn't going to put myself through the diet rollercoaster anymore. These are mostly clothes I bought when I worked at Lane Bryant. They're already fat clothes. And it did really bum me out that night, made me feel quite hopeless. And that's when I realized that I was actually starting to hope that I might really truly lose a lot of weight.

Fuck. I've been down this road before. Multiple, multiple times. There's really no reason for me to think that this will be the time that I actually get skinny and stay that way. The statistics are absolutely not in my favor, and I know that. I didn't start out trying to become skinny; I just wanted to wear my cute clothes again. I feel like I'm setting myself up for failure by even pondering taking it further than wearing my favorite lacy corset top again.

In a rather contradictory way, I'm looking forward to 2/10, which is when I'm going to properly weigh myself.  I know that daily weighs mess with my head; I know that weekly weighs are almost worse because what if that one particular day I've still got a gutful of food, period water retention, whatever. But a month seems like a good number.

Vitamins make me hungry; comfort food.

I took my first dose of all my vitamins last night with my dinner. Strangely, about an hour after eating, I got really hungry again. My stomach was literally growling! Happened again today. I can't imagine what it is about my vitamins that would make me hungry again so fast.


Something happened at work tonight that made me really freaking angry. The combination of already being hungry and being pissed made me start thinking evil little thoughts. Thoughts like ... "chocolate, I haven't had chocolate in weeks" and "it wouldn't hurt to order pizza, just one night of pizza wouldn't do anything" and then "I know food won't fix this but I still really really want some cake."

If I had stayed at work, I honestly don't know what I would have eaten. But I was so sick of everything in that place that I just left. I came home, albeit by a longer route because I was still debating with myself if I was stopping somewhere for something. I knew if I got home, I would be too lazy to go back out for junk. So I pointed the car home, where I ate some carrots and the half a chicken breast I had left from yesterday, and I drank some Diet Orange Crush and watched television.

I'm still royally pissed. But I don't want chocolate anymore. Or not much anyway.

I also feel like getting on the scale for some sort of 'validation', which is stupid because my worth has nothing to do with my size and that's an old fucked-up attitude talking.

$100 and 15 hours.

I've spent $100 on supplements in the last week. Yikes! But I've got 2-4 months worth of Coromega, multi-vitamin, mixed vitamin E, chromium piccolinate (for insulin receptor sensitivity), magnesium, and potassium. I realized today I only have two more days' worth of my Prozac (the little blue ones), going to have to get a refill. I also got some melatonin and valerian root, because my sleep schedule is just totally fucked up. Tylenol PM would've been cheaper, but I don't like how it makes me feel so I'm going to try this and see how it works.

I'm a little irritated; I just looked at my new bottle of magnesium, and it's the same damn magnesium oxide as the old bottle! The sent me the wrong stuff, by the same brand. But I already opened it! Damn. That'll teach me to be excited about my supplements and tear right into them.


Just ate the other chicken breast I cooked last night, when I realized that I hadn't eaten anything in 15 hours. Before changing my eating, when my blood sugar wasn't regulated, I would've had a crazy blood-sugar-crash-induced crying jag about eight hours ago. I'm not feeling any different physically, but my moods are a hell of a lot more stable without the roller-coastering blood sugar!

I've been noticed; vitamins.

A woman at work turned to me today and said, "I meant to tell you last night, you look like you've lost weight." Bloody hell. If she noticed, that means the next time I see my mother or father they'll have noticed too, and I'm just not up for that conversation.

I know for most people it's a compliment. But I just hate hearing it. Before it was because I was ashamed because it implied they were aware of how fat I was. Which was silly, because how could anyone not see? So it's not that now. Maybe because I don't know how to respond to it. I try to just say thanks, even though I don't really think it's a compliment (but I know most people think it is). But people just don't like to leave it at that, they want to know if I really have, how much, etc. I find it all very tiresome.


My Coromega, potassium, and magnesium arrived today! I also went to the store and got some vitamin E. I've never taken that before; but I figured I could use the extra anti-oxidants. Especially since I struggle to eat enough produce. I like fruits; I like a very limited set of vegetables. I keep trying to like other ones -- I keep trying peas, sprouts, zucchini, squash, blah blah blah. The only vegetables I really like are broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, mushrooms, tomatoes (I know, technically fruit), green beans if barely cooked, and limited amounts of lettuce and baby spinach. I've always been a really picky eater, which is why I think I need to take a fistful of pills every morning! I'll also need to get a new bottle of multivitamins -- I didn't realize how old mine were, I thought I'd got them sometime last year but they expired in May of last year. Ack.


Made garlic parmesan chicken fingers tonight; I'd have preferred to bake them but haven't gotten my oven fixed yet, so I fried them in a bit of olive oil instead. Love those monounsaturated fats. I also used a couple of tablespoons of flour since I didn't have any almond meal which I'd usually use. Haven't made those in a very long time, forgot how delicious they were!

Too tired to write.

I just couldn't stay asleep for very long last night, so I don't feel rested. Then we were really busy at work, so I'm ready to snuggle in to my bed for the night. Thought fried chicken fingers sounded delicious tonight, but instead I had grilled. Should drink some more water first; I did a little better today, but not much.

I hope my order of vitamins comes soon; starting to get leg cramps because I've run out of potassium.

Ketosis and a jiggly pannus.

When I woke up this morning, I thought I must have been sleeping with my mouth open. I had a strange stale taste in my mouth. But it didn't go away after brushing my teeth, or even eating. It was starting to bug me. Then, while I was wandering around at work, it suddenly dawned on me: that yucky taste in my mouth is from ketosis. So that tells me two things: I'm burning fat, and I'm not drinking enough water or I wouldn't be tasting it.

Drinking enough water has been a struggle for me, mostly because of the cold. When I'm at work, I'm fine. But at home, where it's cold because I'm trying to keep my gas bill down, I don't want to be drinking ice water. And warm water hurts my teeth (weird, right? Makes drinking hot tea during a cold miserable!). So I pour myself a glass, and then it takes me a really long time to drink it. Sipping it isn't working; I might have to resort to chugging.


One of the first things I notice when I start losing weight is that my belly fat starts feeling really squishy. I generally feel softer all over. Some of it is de-bloating right at first, but I think so of it is shrinking fat cells too. It's interesting; usually my belly fat is very solid, and doesn't wiggle around when I walk. Then I get these little hollows right in front of my hip bones. And for some reason that makes my hanging fat even jigglier, I guess because there's less securing it to the fat higher up.

Had another day of not eating a whole lot; I got my protein in, and ate some carrots and kiwi because I knew I needed some produce, but I always find it difficult to eat when I'm not hungry.

I don't know how people do it; caving to the scale; vitamin E.

Yesterday, I think I ate maybe 700 calories. I just wasn't hungry. And today, I woke up feeling absolutely terrible! Not hungry; when my blood sugar is regulated, I actually rarely get hungry. I just felt ... off, like I was getting sick. I felt run down, lethargic, generally crummy. With how I was feeling, I really don't know how people can eat that way on a daily basis -- I don't know how I did it in sixth/seventh grade (I don't know what my calorie intake was, just that I was eating once a day. I probably would have progressed to full anorexia if my mother hadn't been paying attention. Anyway.). I made sure to eat a little more today, so hopefully tomorrow I'll feel better.


I dragged my scale out from under my kitchen table tonight; I guess I wanted a little reassurance. My jeans felt tighter today than they did yesterday, and because my carbs and food in general were very low I know it's not an actual gain. In fact, from a couple other physical symptoms I know I'm ovulating and that's when I start retaining water every month, so I really shouldn't have given it a second thought. But I did, and I dragged out the scale. It's the end of the day, I'm bloating, and I was wearing clothes, so I know it's not really an accurate reading--which is why I'm not updating the side bar. Still, it read 266, so at least nine pounds down in two weeks. I'm going to try not to let the curiosity get to me again for a couple more weeks.


I finally found a brand online of tocopherol/tocotrienol vitamin E, but damn is it expensive! Going to check my local vitamin store before I order it, just in case they have another brand that's not so pricey. I could get regular vitamin E, which is to say the d-alpha-tocopherol type, but it seems silly to only take half the compounds of an antioxidant.

Why low carb, and genetics.

ETA: Since Allan decided to waste god knows how much of his time reading and mis-interpreting this post, I suppose I'll clarify. I say at the beginning of this post that low-carb is the healthiest way for me. I did not say I followed it. Knowing doesn't always equal doing. That ought to be obvious to anyone who can read, when I describe what I was eating and blatantly say it was not healthy. My own fault for being unclear, I suppose. Also, I'm 29, and I was 17 and had been through Weight Watchers, calorie counting (my mother counting them for me, really, as I was 8th grade), Susan Powter's low-fat stuff, rinse and repeat, when I discovered low-carb. It works when you do. I didn't do it. I didn't say I was doing it the last 12 years. I just said I didn't pay attention to calories. God forbid.
And lean sirloin is perfectly healthy.

I've been thinking about the different weight loss plans out there, and their various levels of success. For the last twelve years, I've known that low carb is the healthiest way to go for me. Because of this, I've pretty much not bothered, ever, to count calories. It's been a bit of a shock, as I peruse diet boards, to read so much about calories.

The old mantra of "eat less, move more!" makes me want to tear my hair out. I, and my mother, and various other people I've known, are living proof of the fact that it is not always as simple as "calories in, calories out". That's not to say there're aren't people it works for -- and certainly there are fat people who eat impressive amounts of food, and when they stop, they lose weight. But I suspect that those people are genetically inclined to be thin in the first place!

If it's all as simple as the math of calories, to have maintained a weight of 275 I should have been eating at least 3000 calories a day -- and that's setting aside the face that I waitress, so I spend hours a day walking, walking, walking. Not intense exercise, but steady.

In reality, a very typical day for me was a peanut butter sandwich (two slices of whole grain/seed bread with maybe 3TBS of peanut butter) and maybe 2 cups of milk for breakfast before I went to work (815 calories). At work I'd often have an order of boneless wings -- those are 1160 calories. When I got home I might drink some more milk if I still felt hungry, but more likely I'd start drinking water and  Diet Coke. That makes my caloric intake a little under 2000 calories.

If I didn't feel like eating before work, maybe I'd have the boneless wings (1160) and a dessert (840). Then maybe when I got home I'd have my favorite quick meal, macaroni and cheese. I'd usually get the Velveeta Shells and Cheese 2% because I don't like the really thick sauce (660). That's 2600 calories.

On a day when I didn't work, I'd probably have peanut butter sandwiches and milk twice if I didn't have anything else in the house. That's 1630 calories. If I did have something else in the house, like stuff to make beef and broccoli (usually without the rice), I might hit 2500 calories.

Hedonism Bot. How droll.

If calories were all that mattered, I should have been losing a pound every couple of days, rather than staying steady. Am I saying that what I was eating was healthy? Fuuuuuck no. I'm saying that according to the math of calories, I shouldn't have gone beyond 230 pounds even at the caloric intake I was eating over the long term. And once I got above that number, I should have been dropping weight.

It didn't happen, so obviously there's more going on with my biochemistry. And I think that same something goes on with a lot of fat people, because despite the stereotype, not all fat people spend their days like Hedonism Bot. Some? Yes. Have I had my share of binges? Hell yes. But I've known a lot of fat people who have been in the same situation as me.

But wait, it's simple math! So we must be lying! We're all filthy lying fat people who secretly keep a bag of chocolate coated bacon on hand at all times. Pfffft. Anyway, that's why I do low carb instead of counting calories. When I was a teenager my mother and I both did the calories thing, and the low-fat thing, and we both went and got fatter. So much for math. We don't have a history of diabetes in the family, but I think we must have insulin resistance because low carb works like a charm for us.

My mother is a large part of the reason I came to peace with myself as I am, actually. Not because she ever felt okay with being fat; she was constantly dieting. But since she was about a size 20 most of my life, and since I do not fucking eat that much, I figured there must be a genetic basis. The rest of my mother's family never go above mildly plump, but my paternal grandmother has been on Weight Watchers as long as I can remember, and my dad's sister as well.

How strong is that genetic basis toward being a fatass? I don't really know. My mom actually starved about a hundred pounds off a few years ago -- literally, as she couldn't afford food and wasn't telling anyone how desperate her situation was. Now that she can eat, she's at about a size 10 -- very slightly plump, which she hates and it always bemoaning. So, despite my very strong views that I don't have to change because I'm perfectly healthy and anyone who doesn't like me because of my weight can take a long fuck off a short pier .... I am curious. We'll see how long the curiosity lasts.

Someone at work was having boneless wings for dinner tonight, and the smell got to me. I had two of hers; and I admit I rolled the 60-carbs-per-order around in my head for a while, because I seriously love them. I could happily eat them every day. In the end, I had steak and vegetables. I didn't even have any of the English toffee my boss offered me, and then left on the counter for everyone to scarf. I can't really attribute that to willpower though -- I grind my teeth in my sleep and they were sore today, I knew a bite of that would cause intense molar pain.

So my food for today was an EAS low-carb shake because I didn't have time for breakfast, two boneless wings, a small lettuce/tomato/cucumber/ranch salad, a 7 ounce steak with asiago cheese, and a cup of steamed broccoli and carrots.

Need to remember to get some Vitamin E ... why in the fuck is it so difficult to find natural vitamin E with a tocopherol/tocotrienol mix?

Jumping the gun.

I still haven't gone near the scale, but after discovering that my work shirt can go over my head, I pulled out another shirt of mine. It's a lovely lavender button-up, which is a great color for me; it has quite flattering seaming. The last time I tried to wear it, my stomach pushed at the buttons, the shoulders were uncomfortably tight, and the arms were torturous. Tonight, even though I shouldn't have tried it because I haven't been at this long, I pulled it out. It's not entirely comfortable; still a little tight across the tummy. The shoulders fit again; the arms fit, although barely.

In this case, it didn't do any harm to try on an old piece of clothing. It was encouraging. But I remember other times, in the past, when I would pull out an old shirt or something and feel totally despondent because it didn't fit. I'm hoping to be able to avoid that this time; after several years of working on my mental and emotional responses to clothing and fat, I think I'll be able to. Now if something doesn't fit, I'm able to say the clothing is the wrong size for me, rather than I'm the wrong size for the clothing. So hopefully if I get this urge to pull out some item later on and it's still uncomfortable, I won't throw end up on that emotional downslide that was so familiar in years past.

I've just ordered some Coromega; I know that omega-3 fats as very important, but I honestly cannot stand fish. I eat salmon maybe twice a year, and shrimp once. I keep trying to like the nasty stuff, and it just doesn't work for me. So, I'll pay $25 for a three month supply of orange pudding-y omega-3 supplement. It's supposed to help with insulin sensitivity among other things. I also ordered a bottle of potassium, as moisture got in mine and ruined it. And, after reading that magnesium oxide isn't a very absorptive chelate form, I ordered a new bottle with a better form.

I've re-read my "diet bible", so to speak, and there's an entire chapter in these on magnesium. I know if I forget to take my extra Mg for too long, I start getting migraines again. I also know it has a lot of uses in the body, including nerve transmission. What I had forgotten, or never noticed on previous reads, was that magnesium may help with chronic fatigue syndrome (that's an older study, just an example). I don't know that I have chronic fatigue; I've never been diagnosed with it. The times I've brought it up with a doctor, I've been told to lose weight. And I can practically hear people all across the world agreeing with that.

The thing is, my lack of energy started at a very particular point in time. I contracted mono in late 2000, and since then I have functioned in a state of constant tiredness. I was fat long before that; when I lost a significant amount of weight after that, it didn't help. I'm sure losing weight wouldn't hurt, but I really believe that something was damaged by that damned virus. But try getting a doctor to see past your weight! The first one I mentioned it to told me I must be diabetic; nope. Then it must be my thyroid; nope. Then I must have sleep apnea! Oh wait, except I don't! Anemia? Nope. And no, none of those are self-dismissed conditions, I had the medical tests.

(I had a doctor tell me once that the reason I couldn't breathe through my nose was because of my weight. If I thought he would remember me, I would take my CT scan and allergy test results and shake them in his stupid face -- turns out I'm allergic to 70/72 allergens I was tested for, and I had a deviated septum, a narrowed nasal passage [leading to my nostrils collapsing and blocking airflow], grossly enlarged turbinate bones, and a formation called a concha bullosa in the right side of my sinus. That surgery was the best thing I ever did for myself!)

Anyway. I'm going to try the magnesium and see if it helps. I no longer have insurance so I can't get an intracellular magnesium concentration test to confirm, so we'll just have to see how it goes. It would be really nice to feel like sleeping actually did anything for me.

I take it back!

My jeans that I wrote about a few days ago, that were uncomfortable, fit fine now. Thank god, since I don't like the Lane Bryant Right Fit jeans, my old pair developed a hole along the zipper seam, and the nearest LB outlet that carries the old style is an hour away. And I've not found jeans that are comfortable and look good in my size anywhere else.

My work shirt is a button-up, and I can now pull it on and off over my head without undoing the buttons. That's particularly handy at the moment, since my shirt lost a button and the replacement buttons I bought are slightly larger, so it takes a while to force them through the buttonholes!

Beef and boobs.

I rarely properly cook at home -- pretty much only on my days off, actually. The other days I have snacks/odd composition meals (cashews, cheese, and baby carrots; sliced turkey, milk, and kiwi; etc.) and then have steak or chicken or whatever at work after my shift. But today was a day off (thank GOD), so I got in my grannymobile and slipped and slid to the store, where I wandered the aisles of cellophaned meats trying to decide what to have for dinner.

I was nearly derailed at one point -- the meat department is next to the bakery, and I saw croissants. Fuck me, do I love croissants. Had the bakery been open, I probably would have bought one, because one wouldn't have been a problem carb-wise. But it was after 9:30, so the only available flaky goodness came in batches of five. And I know without a doubt I'd have eaten them all within the next twelve hours. They're just a trigger food for me. So I walked away and went in search of bloody, dripping meat.

(Sidenote: Someday I'm going to bake my own croissants. They're a massive pain in the ass, but I like a baking challenge.)

I ended up getting these awesome 3/4 pound packages of very thinly sliced "sandwich steak" for $2.50 each -- I love the clearance meat bin. I fried one of the packages up in olive oil, cooked some LC Dreamfields penne (great stuff!), and coated it all in roasted garlic alfredo sauce and parmesan. Delicious!

ETA: Since Allan decided to make a post specifically about my dinner, I thought I'd clarify that when I said "all" I was being figurative. I was not literally saying I had 3/4 of  pound of meat for dinner -- I mentioned the size of the package only because it was a good deal. Even if I did eat all of it, that's 450 calories because that was the raw weight. Oh holy Jesus, I'm going to explode and start destroying cities with my fatz.

One thing that drives me crazy about weight loss (or gain) is how little it takes to change my bra size. I always seem to lose or gain inches around my ribcage first, and it takes less than ten pounds to alter my bra size. I spent today hitching my tits back into my favorite bra, which I think I'm going to have to pack away because the girls are falling out the bottom. Right now that's not such a big deal, since I have a stockpile of bras from my days working at LB (last count was 19!).

This one is a 42D; I have in my collection 42DD (in a certain style that runs small), 40DD and 40D bras. Below that, I'll have to start buying new ones. That ought to be interesting. I haven't been below a 40D in .... well, I don't actually know since I wasn't properly fitted until I worked at LB. But I'm sure it's been a long time. I'm not sure how my actual breast tissue will respond to weight loss either; the one time I dipped below 200 pounds I don't think that I lost any size. But I don't really remember, but I hope that's correct. I'm vain enough to want to keep my meat balloons.

On loss being noticed.

After three years of knowing me, my friends at work can't help but notice my eating has changed drastically. They can hardly fail to notice the lack of boneless hot wings and the replacement of carrots for chips with my spinach dip. But I haven't told anyone I'm dieting. What I've said is that I'm cutting out wheat to see if it helps my allergies. Which isn't a total untruth; I may have a wheat sensitivity. But I just don't want to go into the diet thing.

For one thing, they've all heard my spiels about being fine the way I am -- not because I walk around looking for ways to bring it up, but from the kinds of conversations that come up in three years of association. (Usually it's got something to do with my use of the very word fat: "Excuse me .... c'mon, I'm a fat girl, I can't fit through there!" "You're not fat! Don't talk about yourself that way!" "HAHAHA! I weigh 275 pounds, I'm fat. It's just a fact." etc.) So to start talking about dieting, well, that's going to come across as hypocritical. I don't feel hypocritical, because I know my reasons; but I just don't want to try to explain it all.

I also don't want to get sucked into the conversational quagmire that is "diet talk". You know, the conversations that go in endless circles about calories or fat grams or carbs and "good" days or "bad days" or "cheating" or whatever ... women use it as a bonding mechanism, but I really don't want to do that. It's not my actual friends I'm talking about here, but coworkers in general. I also don't want to know what Cindy Lou thought was the greatest weight-loss trick in the book, because after my many diets in the past I've heard them all -- and so many of them seem to skirt that eating disordered line.

Of course, if it goes on for any length of time, change will occur, and people will notice. I'm hoping it'll be slow enough that people won't start asking questions. At my size, small losses aren't very noticeable, so this ought to be doable. If necessary, I'll continue wearing my larger clothes longer than necessary to mask it. Because I fucking hate that "have you lost weight?" question! I hate it!

For one thing, it's so often paired with "you look great!" Implying that "looking great" can only be a function of weight loss chaps my ample ass. Also, it's nobody else's business if I'm losing weight. This is my personal skin, and what goes on under it doesn't involve anyone I don't choose to involve. Also, there's the fact that people, or more specifically women, feel the need to keep talking about it! If they'd just say "Have you lost weight? Yes? Okay." that would be one thing.

But instead it's more of the conversational quagmire -- have you lost weight? that's so great! I'm so fat! I need to lose weight too! how much have you lost? how long did it take? what are you doing? oh I tried that once and it worked/didn't work/made me sprout tentacles out of my ears. My aunt's cousin's sister's roommate lost like 200 pounds though and she looks great but it was just so hard and I thought that Weight Watchers would be better so I signed up for that but the points thing is really confusing and I have this book but what if something isn't listed or what if it's wrong like I had cheese enchilladas yesterday and they were in the book but what if this place's recipe was different how do I really know how many points it is and then I got on the scale today and it said I only lost a half a pound and I was SO GOOD yesterday so there must have been something in those enchilladas because everything else was perfect and it just upsets me so much and I know my Weight Watchers coach said to only weigh myself once a week but it's just so hard and I want to know what to expect when I go to the meeting because I don't want to start crying in front of everyone especially the women who've got those neat pins because they've actually KEPT it off and I just don't know how they do it it's so hard but they're just so inspirational and I want that to be me one day because you know my mother/father/some relative died of heart disease/diabetes/falling on a bear trap and of course you know that happened because he/she was so fat and I just don't want MY children growing up thinking it's okay to be so gross and fat like I am I just can't believe I let myself end up here!!11!!

You know I'm only partially exaggerating! And honestly it's just boring to me. So I try to avoid it. That's not to say there aren't constructive, quality conversations; I wouldn't even bother to look at any WL blogs if there weren't. But the average conversation about weight loss? Please.

So, here's hoping I can hide it and keep appearing fatter than I am! Not often you hear that, huh?

I was able to wear my one-size-down jeans, the 22s, to work today. They're not truly comfortable, like I said yesterday; when I sit down I still feel a little like my guts are being squashed up in to my ribcage -- but they're fine as long as I'm standing up, so they were great for work.

To journal? To weigh?

Every diet plan ever tells you to measure your food, keep a food diary, and watch the numbers carefully. I've done that in the past; usually I use DietPower, which I think is an excellent program. However, after a couple of days of careful tracking, I start to be obsessive. I start fiddling with nutrition graphs, watching the weight graph incessantly, and generally I become neurotic about it. It occupies all my thinking.

This time, I haven't been keeping a record of anything. After years of various stages of low-carb eating, I know roughly what the carb content of the things I eat are. I know if I eat an ounce of cheese and have two cups of milk for breakfast, and then have chicken salad on romaine for lunch, and finish my day with lunch meat, cheese, and mayonnaise (today's food), the only appreciable carb amount was in the milk. If I have a kiwi or some baby carrots with dinner, I know there's a little more there. The exact number isn't really important to me.

Conversely, last week when my father wanted to go to our favorite Chinese restaurant and I had pan-fried dumplings and cheese wontons, I knew I was over my target. So there's no point to knowing the exact amount; it didn't really matter. What was important was that my next meal was the appropriate composition, and the next, and the next.

After my intial weighing, I also shoved my scale into the back corner under my kitchen table where I just won't see it often. No matter how I try to tell myself that daily numbers aren't important, only long-term trends, etc., that stupid number still upsets me whenever I make a weight-loss attempt. If it's higher by a pound, it's depressing. If it's lower, it's not low enough. For whatever reason, I'm not able to frequently weigh myself without edging closer to those disordered eating tendencies I've run in to before. So I'm just not going to do it. Oh, at some point my curiosity will get the best of me and I'll jump on the damned thing. But until that point, I'm not going to track it. I know where I started; hopefully I won't know exactly where I am weight-wise for a long time. I am going to take pictures, but not post them -- without comparison photos it seems like pointless voyeurism!

So this time I haven't been doing any tracking of anything. I may later, if I find myself often making choices that don't fit with the plan or if I find I'm not getting results. But so far, this approach is working. My size smaller jeans aren't comfortable enough yet to wear, but at least I don't have to lie down to button them anymore. The weird feeling of fullness is also a little less, but that may be due to simple water loss. We'll see.

Getting to this point.

After realizing that being fat isn't the be-all-and-end-all of life, I lived quite happily for several years. It took some time to get rid of the morality I'd attached to food -- good food, bad food, "being good", etc. -- and I did that basically by eating, for about three years, whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. And I actually didn't gain much weight at all, I hovered right around 255.

It was a really good time for me mentally; I needed it. The story I've written in my last three posts is by no means complete; I flirted with eating disorders more than once, but that's a separate story. So for me to stop having stupid responses to food, comfort binging and then reflexive dieting, etc., took a long time. I'm still not 100% sure I can follow any sort of particular diet without sliding back in to a very unhealthy mindset.

So why am I even doing this? Well ... I don't entirely know. For the last year or so I've had occasional diet urges, but couldn't be bothered, quite honestly. No matter what diet you follow, it takes a lot of effort. Add to that the fact that I don't think I'll even have a significant long-lasting impact on my weight, and it seemed pointless. It still does.

But honestly, it'd be nice to be able to wear my fun clothes again. In the last six months my body apparently got sick of its set point and I jumped up to about 275 pounds. I basically have nothing to wear except one pair of jeans and a handful of casual shirts. I could go buy new things -- if I had any money, but I really don't. I spent it all on a dream vacation in November! It wouldn't take much weight loss to be able to wear my favorite clothes again, so we'll see how I do.

Also, the last couple of months, I wake up feeling like my entire abdomen is bruised. I also have a strange .... full feeling a lot of the time, like a combination of overeating, constipation, and a pre-period swollen uterus. (How's that for a mental image!) I'm not 100% sure, but I suspect that my body has finally begun packing fat into my abdominal cavity rather than "around the edges" so to speak. It's kind of uncomfortable! The fat around the edges is also making it a little difficult to get comfortable enough to sleep, something that didn't happen a few months ago.

And I'll admit that there's a part of me that still wants to be "skinny". Just to see what it feels like, I guess. Will it ever happen? I don't know. But if I can at least wear my clothes again, that's a start. We'll go from there.

Getting better.

When I was 24, I weighed 250 pounds (ish), and wore a size 22 jeans. Well, I started out the year wearing a 24 or 26, usually from WalMart, with the ends chopped off because they were too long. I also wore huge baggy t-shirts. I had a few nicer tops, and maybe one pair of slacks; I knew of Lane Bryant, and shopped them sometimes, but didn't wear most of my nicer clothes. I was fat and gross, what did it matter?

In June of that year, a string of random events lead to me getting a job as a keyholder at a Lane Bryant. And there, something amazing happened. I met women who were fat, but who didn't cower in their houses, ashamed. They had lives. They had husband, boyfriends, sex. They had friends, and jobs they loved, and activities they enjoyed. They had fun. And they didn't hate themselves, complain constantly about how fat and gross they were, and they didn't diet constantly. I had never encountered such a thing. I was amazed.

It was an incredible awakening. For the first time in my life, I came out of my shell. I started to think I had worth now, not -100 pounds from now. I started talking to people -- to the point where I never shut up now.  I stopped dieting. I went out. I had friends. God, I had fun. I spent a huge portion of my wages from LB right there in the store, buying a plethora of awesome new clothes -- $3000 worth. And I had a 40% discount! Suddenly, I started to see my body as it really was, instead of the blimp-like proportions I imagined. I stopped dieting and started getting really irritated when my family members gave me well-intentioned grief about my weight. For the first time in my life, I was happy.

Sometime later, I stumbled across Shapely Prose and other fat-acceptance websites. I had stumbled half-way into fat acceptance without even realizing it. The more I read, the more irritated at our society's weight obsession I became. The more I started to see examples of how fat is vilified, how fat people are mistreated, and how women especially are treated by a society that implies they should be invisible (the thinner the better) unless they're extremely sexualized. I won't go in to more; the reading is all out there for anyone. I got in to arguments with people sometimes -- at work once, a male coworker "jokingly" told a female coworker that dessert was going to go straight to her thighs. I got right in his face. It was a good time.

But basically, I stopped believing that being fat was a moral failing and that it doomed me to die of a heart attack at 30. And I was happy.

To be continued.

The dark days.

I've been fat my entire life, except maybe when I was really little. Actually, I remember at five years old running in to the house, very excited to show my mom that my tummy was flat. At five years old. How sick is that?

I was really only chubby until high school, but I felt like I was the whaliest whale in the universe. When I look at pictures of myself at 14 now, I'm disgusted. I don't know what size I was, but I know I was not fat. But because I grew hips and tits before most of the other girls, I was teased mercilessly for being a lardass.

In high school it got better, honestly; but by then the damage (by other kids, by my well-meaning but slightly moronic father, and by my desperately dieting mother) was already done. I hated myself; I hated everything about my body. I thought I was fat and useless and that nobody would ever love me, let alone physically want me. Basically, I was miserable.

I dieted off and on, but always gained the weight back. My biggest "success" was getting back to a size 14 once when I was .... 21, maybe? But then I stopped dieting and regained all the weight within a month. That was the last time I really stuck to it and lost an significant amount of weight. After that, I mostly just gave up and was fat and miserable. I felt like my skin was slick and oily and repulsive; I felt like I waddled; I felt like everyone who looked at me instinctively hated me.


To be continued ....