Oh, the joys of blog-browsing. Apparently being fat is a sin. Not that I believe in God - but if there is a benevolent being, I really have a hard time believe he gives a damn about how fat my ass is. And I don't think it "sets a bad example for the children." I had a Mormon friend once who was about a size 14; she didn't have rolls, didn't have a sagging belly, she was just all-over sort of solid. I'd guess she was maybe 140, 160 tops at 5'4". She went on a crash diet and told me it was because "I don't want my daughter thinking it's okay to be fat."
I sat there and looked at her in shock as she kept talking about it, amazed that at a little under half my weight she would say that in front of me -- especially with the amount of time she and her daughter spent around me and our other friend who was bigger than me. She noticed my expression and quickly started trying to backpedal, saying it wasn't okay for her, she didn't feel good, she meant unhealthy not fat, she didn't mean anything against anyone else. Maybe she even thought she meant it, but I'd heard enough of her comments to know that although she loved us, "fat people" weren't okay. That sort of attitude pisses me the fuck off. One of the many reasons we aren't friends anymore.
I've seen several posts by people detailing what their "typical day" pre-diet was. Al's description of a typical day ingesting 13,000 calories stunned me. I'll be honest, it makes me ill thinking about eating that much. (And before any of Al's followers jump my shit, he said he'd be sick eating that much too, and I'm not judging it at all, just saying I personally couldn't eat that much.) Nobody would ever believe it because after all, I am a fatty, but I highly doubt I've ever eaten that much in one day, let alone have that be a typical day. A more typical day for me, if I'm just sort of screwing around, is a big glass of milk, about 20 ounces, a few hours after getting up. Then maybe I'd go get my favorite chips and queso and a burrito from Qdoba some time in the evening ... and that would be it. That's about 2000 calories. When I was working at the restaurant, I'd usually only eat the end of my shift, and then I'd have some boneless wings (1500 calories if I had a LOT of ranch) or maybe a burger and fries (probably about 1500). Or sometimes I'd just have a dessert for dinner.
Healthy? Fucking hell, no. Do I binge sometimes and consume 3000 calories at one sitting? Hell yes - but again, not normally, not even often, and typically it was all I'd eaten that day. Some times I won't eat anything all day because I just don't feel like it. I'm in no way shape or form saying I was eating well, I'm not trying to say my weight isn't a result of what I was eating -- because carbs totally fuck me up, and of course that's what's quick and easy to make or buy. It's just that every once in a while I'll realize that people look at me and probably assume that I am eating thousands upon thousands of calories a day, that all I think about is food, and that at any moment I might have "sausage gravy" on my face as Al likes to say.
I don't really have a point, just rambling. I guess I just object to the cultural stereotype that all fat people are uncontrollably stuffing their faces all day long. I think it's ironic that we look at the skinny people we know who stuff themselves at every opportunity and say how they're lucky they can eat whatever they want -- but a fat person isn't conversely unlucky, they're just a gluttonous sow.
In other news, I'm back to being fucking jobless. The place I worked doesn't allow any absences during the training period, and I had the bad luck to get sick. I went despite gagging and vomiting constantly, threw up in the parking lot after barely avoiding puking in my car halfway to work (a trip which takes five minutes), and that was that. Motherfucker.
And then I forgot to post this yesterday, which btw was a spot-on day of eating.
Showing posts with label daily fat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daily fat. Show all posts
Friday, August 31, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Days and days.
Nothing noteworthy happened today, other than I couldn't fall asleep until about 9:30 this morning and when I finally did, I managed to sleep for five straight hours. That's like a miracle for me. Wondering if I might be able to fall asleep just a tiny bit earlier tonight for a change.
I've spent most of the day reading one thing or the other. A lot of it has been from a blog by a doctor who's written a lot about low-carbing. I knew he wrote a blog but I never had read it before. Lots of interesting stuff.
Holy hell, I actually fell asleep at about 11:30 last night and slept (more or less) until 5:30. That's the first time I've slept at night in months. Of course, I woke up with a screaming headache and went back to sort-of sleep until 3:30 because the pain just kept getting worse and worse despite staggering up for pain killers, allergy meds, potassium, and magnesium. I had a small glass of milk, a hunk of cheese, and a peach, too. When I finally dragged myself up, I started thinking about the short time I was awake yesterday, and I realized I didn't drink that much water. So I was probably just seriously dehydrated. I've had some turkey and cheese and some NutThin crackers and several glasses of water, and I do feel a little better. The pain is starting to recede back to once spot, at least, whereas it was squeezing my whole head before.
I ate pizza and ice cream today. Fuck. There was no reason to do that. There was plenty of other stuff I could have eaten. My cousin ordered pizza and I just dove right in. And then had a "what the hell, already fucked up" moment and had some ice cream. Not very much of it, but any is too much. Dammit. I'm paying for it all now though, I've spent most of the last couple of hours in the bathroom. My intestines are not happy with me! I guess I can hope that some of the dreadful carbs just passed on through!
I'm heading home tomorrow, finally; I've enjoyed my week here, because I always like spending time with my cousin, and it's been sort of like a mental vacation. My angst about the boy has been way down (although I suspect when I go home and back to my normal life it'll come rushing back), I've done a lot of reading. Haven't done any non-blog writing, which I really had planned to do, but just never felt like it. It will be nice to be home, though. We're a close family so I don't feel uncomfortable in their house, but of course I'm more comfortable in mine.
Of course, I'm absolutely not looking forward to starting my new job at 5:45 in the fucking morning on Monday. Why the fuck do these fucking call centers do their training classes at such stupid times? It's goddamn idiotic. That's not when any of the regular shifts start, so what's the point? This job is just going to be hell. I just have to keep trying to find something less hellish. Like stabbing myself repeatedly in the kneecap with an icepick.
I've spent most of the day reading one thing or the other. A lot of it has been from a blog by a doctor who's written a lot about low-carbing. I knew he wrote a blog but I never had read it before. Lots of interesting stuff.
Holy hell, I actually fell asleep at about 11:30 last night and slept (more or less) until 5:30. That's the first time I've slept at night in months. Of course, I woke up with a screaming headache and went back to sort-of sleep until 3:30 because the pain just kept getting worse and worse despite staggering up for pain killers, allergy meds, potassium, and magnesium. I had a small glass of milk, a hunk of cheese, and a peach, too. When I finally dragged myself up, I started thinking about the short time I was awake yesterday, and I realized I didn't drink that much water. So I was probably just seriously dehydrated. I've had some turkey and cheese and some NutThin crackers and several glasses of water, and I do feel a little better. The pain is starting to recede back to once spot, at least, whereas it was squeezing my whole head before.
I ate pizza and ice cream today. Fuck. There was no reason to do that. There was plenty of other stuff I could have eaten. My cousin ordered pizza and I just dove right in. And then had a "what the hell, already fucked up" moment and had some ice cream. Not very much of it, but any is too much. Dammit. I'm paying for it all now though, I've spent most of the last couple of hours in the bathroom. My intestines are not happy with me! I guess I can hope that some of the dreadful carbs just passed on through!
I'm heading home tomorrow, finally; I've enjoyed my week here, because I always like spending time with my cousin, and it's been sort of like a mental vacation. My angst about the boy has been way down (although I suspect when I go home and back to my normal life it'll come rushing back), I've done a lot of reading. Haven't done any non-blog writing, which I really had planned to do, but just never felt like it. It will be nice to be home, though. We're a close family so I don't feel uncomfortable in their house, but of course I'm more comfortable in mine.
Of course, I'm absolutely not looking forward to starting my new job at 5:45 in the fucking morning on Monday. Why the fuck do these fucking call centers do their training classes at such stupid times? It's goddamn idiotic. That's not when any of the regular shifts start, so what's the point? This job is just going to be hell. I just have to keep trying to find something less hellish. Like stabbing myself repeatedly in the kneecap with an icepick.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Carb hangover.
Today was unremarkable in every way, except for the fact that I felt fucking godawful after yesterday's little carb indulgence. My allergies have been worse and I've just felt generally ..... blah. I've done well so far not eating the few junky things in the house that sound good to me, mostly because of feeling so damn crappy!
Well, I guess it was bound to happen.
I woke up pissed the fuck off at the world, and that rapidly descended down into tearful misery. I did a bunch of errands, and then on my way home had a "fuck it all" moment and decided that god dammit, I wanted a freaking burrito. I wanted to sit in air conditioning, eat, drink Diet Coke, and read, and fuck everything else. So I went to Qdoba and I enjoyed the hell out of a burrito and an order of chips and queso. And I did enjoy them ... while I was chewing.
As soon as I stood up though, I realized I felt like I had a bowling ball in my belly. I had a crampy sort of feeling under the right side of my ribcage. A few hours later, I felt gassy and was spending a lot of time in the bathroom. That's what happens when you slam down 200g of carbohydrates after a monthish of behaving (or at least behaving better than that, for fuck's sake). I wasn't that sick, but it wasn't pleasant, and it wasn't worth it.
It was bad timing, too, because an hour or so after that I headed 100 miles south to stay at my aunt's house for a week with my cousin. This is bad because they chow carbs like nobody's business. It's worse than my dad's. There are things I can eat -- already here, plus what I brought -- but there's also a surplus of things I shouldn't eat.
This is where being really picky comes in handy, though! See, of all the junk in the house ... it seems I lucked into not liking most of it. I normally love macaroni and cheese, but they have this weird organic brand that tastes vaguely like cardboard. I love ice cream as much as the next fatty, but not the flavors they have. I didn't spot any cookies or cakes. The corn Chex cereal won't be a problem -- rice checks might have been, but I don't much like corn Chex. The tortillas they have are corn, another thing I'm not big on. They do have one bag of chips that look delicious (tuscan herb and parmesan) and two bags of pretzel bites. One is sour cream and onion flavored, so blech. The other is four cheese. I like Ramen noodles, but I don't wicked crave them. Nor any of the generic flavored rices or pasta packages. I'm sort of amazed.
It's always bugged me how my aunt and cousins eat. When my younger cousin was fourteen, she was on a swimming team so was practicing six days a week in addition to horseback riding, archery lessons, gym class, and being a growing adolescent. One day I watched her eat dry Cheerios and a banana for breakfast. For lunch she packed a fruit roll-up, some chips, and a thing of Ramen noodles. Dinner that night was spaghetti noodles with tomato sauce. The next day, she had the same breakfast. Lunch was a treacle sandwich (syrup on bread for anyone who doesn't know), some squishy fruit snack things, an apple, and some cheese-flavored crackers. Dinner was leftover spaghetti.
I don't remember what she ate the third day, but she came home complaining that her leg muscles were tired and hurting. I suggested maybe she needed some protein to maintain her muscles, and maybe some vitamins and minerals, since she'd had 99.9% empty carbs for at least three days. She looked at me and shrugged ... and had Ramen noodles for dinner. Ahrg.
Her sister wasn't much better then, and their mother .... well, let's just say she's got a shelf full of diet books, another full of workout videos, a bunch of unused gym equipment, and several bottles of "homeopathic" HGC "hormone" diet supplements. And eats just like her kids, all the time. With the addition of a respectable amount of alcohol.
Anyway, I was expecting there to be a lot more tempting awful crap, but I might just make it out of here in decent shape. I mean, I know that no matter what food surrounds me it's my choice what I eat. But it's definitely a lot easier to not eat Cheetos if they're nowhere near. Avoidance is definitely my key strategy!
As soon as I stood up though, I realized I felt like I had a bowling ball in my belly. I had a crampy sort of feeling under the right side of my ribcage. A few hours later, I felt gassy and was spending a lot of time in the bathroom. That's what happens when you slam down 200g of carbohydrates after a monthish of behaving (or at least behaving better than that, for fuck's sake). I wasn't that sick, but it wasn't pleasant, and it wasn't worth it.
It was bad timing, too, because an hour or so after that I headed 100 miles south to stay at my aunt's house for a week with my cousin. This is bad because they chow carbs like nobody's business. It's worse than my dad's. There are things I can eat -- already here, plus what I brought -- but there's also a surplus of things I shouldn't eat.
This is where being really picky comes in handy, though! See, of all the junk in the house ... it seems I lucked into not liking most of it. I normally love macaroni and cheese, but they have this weird organic brand that tastes vaguely like cardboard. I love ice cream as much as the next fatty, but not the flavors they have. I didn't spot any cookies or cakes. The corn Chex cereal won't be a problem -- rice checks might have been, but I don't much like corn Chex. The tortillas they have are corn, another thing I'm not big on. They do have one bag of chips that look delicious (tuscan herb and parmesan) and two bags of pretzel bites. One is sour cream and onion flavored, so blech. The other is four cheese. I like Ramen noodles, but I don't wicked crave them. Nor any of the generic flavored rices or pasta packages. I'm sort of amazed.
It's always bugged me how my aunt and cousins eat. When my younger cousin was fourteen, she was on a swimming team so was practicing six days a week in addition to horseback riding, archery lessons, gym class, and being a growing adolescent. One day I watched her eat dry Cheerios and a banana for breakfast. For lunch she packed a fruit roll-up, some chips, and a thing of Ramen noodles. Dinner that night was spaghetti noodles with tomato sauce. The next day, she had the same breakfast. Lunch was a treacle sandwich (syrup on bread for anyone who doesn't know), some squishy fruit snack things, an apple, and some cheese-flavored crackers. Dinner was leftover spaghetti.
I don't remember what she ate the third day, but she came home complaining that her leg muscles were tired and hurting. I suggested maybe she needed some protein to maintain her muscles, and maybe some vitamins and minerals, since she'd had 99.9% empty carbs for at least three days. She looked at me and shrugged ... and had Ramen noodles for dinner. Ahrg.
Her sister wasn't much better then, and their mother .... well, let's just say she's got a shelf full of diet books, another full of workout videos, a bunch of unused gym equipment, and several bottles of "homeopathic" HGC "hormone" diet supplements. And eats just like her kids, all the time. With the addition of a respectable amount of alcohol.
Anyway, I was expecting there to be a lot more tempting awful crap, but I might just make it out of here in decent shape. I mean, I know that no matter what food surrounds me it's my choice what I eat. But it's definitely a lot easier to not eat Cheetos if they're nowhere near. Avoidance is definitely my key strategy!
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Once again, being social is good.
(Weight wise, the news is that I ate well today. Other than that it's a bunch of blathering.)
I managed to sleep a little bit today, and woke up starving. I was in the process of making myself something to eat when somebody knocked on my door and my dog went absolutely nuts. It was a college kid doing one of those fundraiser things, and I thought that once I told him I was unemployed and couldn't help, that would be the end of the conversation. Instead, I ended up talking to him for almost an hour. It was quite a weird conversation; I think he was hitting on me, truthfully. He kept asking me questions, and telling me personal stuff, and complimenting me. I now know that this stranger used to have a Prince Albert piercing, has 21 tattoos, likes big women and was in fact in an amateur porno with a big woman, his sister works for a big adult film company, he takes certain drugs for "enhancement" in sexual situations, and he thinks all women should have at least three vibrators.
Most people would probably be uncomfortable with a conversation like that with a stranger, I think. I just laughed and shot back jokes about threesomes and strippers. But it was still a very odd encounter. He gave me his phone number in case I ever wanted help with "chores." He also said he'd been wanting to stop by and find out who had the car with the great racing stripes (they're not great, they're freaking stupid). It doesn't happen to me often, but I definitely got the feeling he was hitting on me. I might have enjoyed it more if he hadn't said "wasn't there a guy living here too?"
I said my mom lived here before and she was married.
"No, since then. A big guy?" and he made that shoulder gesture that means muscular instead of fat.
My heart sank and I tried to say casually, "I had a boyfriend for a while."
"Kicked him to the curb, huh?" he grinned at me.
"No. The opposite." I tried to say it in a tone of voice that would shut him up.
It didn't work. "Oh. Why?"
I had to swallow hard before I could say, not very loudly, "I don't know."
"Well, he's dumb! You're cute."
I just laughed and said thanks. Once he left, though, I felt really sad. Then I started to get paranoid and wonder if he was just pumping me for information because he's going to rob and rape me or something. But he looked like he was about to shit his pants when my dog was barking at him, so I'm not too worried.
I finished making my dinner and ate, trying to decide if I wanted to meet a friend for our usual Saturday night bingo or not. I didn't feel like facing the world but she guilted me in to it, so I showered and left. And I cried all the way in to town, and then was so early I didn't want to go in by myself so I sat in a park by a willow tree kind of in the dark and sniffled to myself. I hate how much I miss him. I hate that I miss him and not just someone. And I'm shocked that it's not triggering binge after binge after binge, honestly. I guess it's because in this case, I know that eating won't make me feel better. Sometimes it does. In this case, though, it wouldn't accomplish anything.
Anyway, I met my friend, and I consumed all my carbs for the day in one meal but overall behaved myself. I didn't even eat the pile of chocolate deliciousness she kept trying to push on me and ordering me to eat because she was full. No fucking idea how I managed that. By the time I headed home, I was feeling .... not happy, but at least not miserable. I felt slightly hopeful. It lasted a couple of hours before I started getting mopey and sniffly again. It's like I need constant stimulation, constant distraction, or else I start obsessing and missing him and moping.
I'm not naturally a weepy person. Depressed, yes, which is why I've been on Prozac for years, but that's just a biochemical imbalance (my personal theory is that my mother smoked marijuana while she was pregnant with me). That aside, I'm usually loud and cheerful and the life/annoyance of a party. Or at least a small group. I feel like my lovesickness is almost totally subsuming my personality. If this stuff doesn't start to pass soon ... fuck, I don't know what I'll do. I can't afford professional help. I guess all I can do is keep trying to process it. I should probably delete his number from my phone but I can't yet. I did finally get rid of the last of the pictures. I still have them on my computer, but I haven't looked at them in a week. I guess that's something.
I'm worried about what will happy in terms of my eating if I do start feeling normal again, though. It's weirdly easier now that it is when I feel happy. When I'm happy I'm more likely to toss everything to the wind because it doesn't seem important when I'm already happy. Of course, I'm not doing this because of being unhappy, because weight loss won't do anything for that either.
I managed to sleep a little bit today, and woke up starving. I was in the process of making myself something to eat when somebody knocked on my door and my dog went absolutely nuts. It was a college kid doing one of those fundraiser things, and I thought that once I told him I was unemployed and couldn't help, that would be the end of the conversation. Instead, I ended up talking to him for almost an hour. It was quite a weird conversation; I think he was hitting on me, truthfully. He kept asking me questions, and telling me personal stuff, and complimenting me. I now know that this stranger used to have a Prince Albert piercing, has 21 tattoos, likes big women and was in fact in an amateur porno with a big woman, his sister works for a big adult film company, he takes certain drugs for "enhancement" in sexual situations, and he thinks all women should have at least three vibrators.
Most people would probably be uncomfortable with a conversation like that with a stranger, I think. I just laughed and shot back jokes about threesomes and strippers. But it was still a very odd encounter. He gave me his phone number in case I ever wanted help with "chores." He also said he'd been wanting to stop by and find out who had the car with the great racing stripes (they're not great, they're freaking stupid). It doesn't happen to me often, but I definitely got the feeling he was hitting on me. I might have enjoyed it more if he hadn't said "wasn't there a guy living here too?"
I said my mom lived here before and she was married.
"No, since then. A big guy?" and he made that shoulder gesture that means muscular instead of fat.
My heart sank and I tried to say casually, "I had a boyfriend for a while."
"Kicked him to the curb, huh?" he grinned at me.
"No. The opposite." I tried to say it in a tone of voice that would shut him up.
It didn't work. "Oh. Why?"
I had to swallow hard before I could say, not very loudly, "I don't know."
"Well, he's dumb! You're cute."
I just laughed and said thanks. Once he left, though, I felt really sad. Then I started to get paranoid and wonder if he was just pumping me for information because he's going to rob and rape me or something. But he looked like he was about to shit his pants when my dog was barking at him, so I'm not too worried.
I finished making my dinner and ate, trying to decide if I wanted to meet a friend for our usual Saturday night bingo or not. I didn't feel like facing the world but she guilted me in to it, so I showered and left. And I cried all the way in to town, and then was so early I didn't want to go in by myself so I sat in a park by a willow tree kind of in the dark and sniffled to myself. I hate how much I miss him. I hate that I miss him and not just someone. And I'm shocked that it's not triggering binge after binge after binge, honestly. I guess it's because in this case, I know that eating won't make me feel better. Sometimes it does. In this case, though, it wouldn't accomplish anything.
 |
| Not for me! |
I'm not naturally a weepy person. Depressed, yes, which is why I've been on Prozac for years, but that's just a biochemical imbalance (my personal theory is that my mother smoked marijuana while she was pregnant with me). That aside, I'm usually loud and cheerful and the life/annoyance of a party. Or at least a small group. I feel like my lovesickness is almost totally subsuming my personality. If this stuff doesn't start to pass soon ... fuck, I don't know what I'll do. I can't afford professional help. I guess all I can do is keep trying to process it. I should probably delete his number from my phone but I can't yet. I did finally get rid of the last of the pictures. I still have them on my computer, but I haven't looked at them in a week. I guess that's something.
I'm worried about what will happy in terms of my eating if I do start feeling normal again, though. It's weirdly easier now that it is when I feel happy. When I'm happy I'm more likely to toss everything to the wind because it doesn't seem important when I'm already happy. Of course, I'm not doing this because of being unhappy, because weight loss won't do anything for that either.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
They still don't fit!
But I didn't really expect them to either. My size 22 jeans, that is. Although if I lay down I can at least get them over my flab now. And the 24s are a little loose now.
It's 1:25 in the morning now and I haven't eaten anything today. Haven't been hungry, and even when I did feel a flicker of it ... I just couldn't care. It's been a bad day in terms of my emotions. Sometimes when I feel like this, I'll binge because why the hell not eat what I want, I'm already miserable. But today I'm so blah that I can't be bothered. I'd have to go to the store or a drive-through for unhealthy food. Or order pizza. I can't be bothered to do either. I finally ate at 3:30, because my brain was starting to prod me to go out and get junk food even though my stomach was fine. Now I'm goddamn ravenous. I do feel slightly better though.
I couldn't sleep last night, or rather this morning, just like usual. Obsessive thoughts kept me awake for an hour or better; then I woke up every hour or so. Eventually I got up and got ready to go to my interview, which I can only hope went well because it would be the perfect job for me. I was supposedly one of only five people they were interviewing .... but I'm trying not to get my hopes up. Then I came home and watched some Olympics, read some, and then eventually fell asleep. Taking a nap from 7-midnight guaranteed I'll be up way past dawn today, but at least I got some sleep finally.
It's 1:25 in the morning now and I haven't eaten anything today. Haven't been hungry, and even when I did feel a flicker of it ... I just couldn't care. It's been a bad day in terms of my emotions. Sometimes when I feel like this, I'll binge because why the hell not eat what I want, I'm already miserable. But today I'm so blah that I can't be bothered. I'd have to go to the store or a drive-through for unhealthy food. Or order pizza. I can't be bothered to do either. I finally ate at 3:30, because my brain was starting to prod me to go out and get junk food even though my stomach was fine. Now I'm goddamn ravenous. I do feel slightly better though.
I couldn't sleep last night, or rather this morning, just like usual. Obsessive thoughts kept me awake for an hour or better; then I woke up every hour or so. Eventually I got up and got ready to go to my interview, which I can only hope went well because it would be the perfect job for me. I was supposedly one of only five people they were interviewing .... but I'm trying not to get my hopes up. Then I came home and watched some Olympics, read some, and then eventually fell asleep. Taking a nap from 7-midnight guaranteed I'll be up way past dawn today, but at least I got some sleep finally.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Well, that went okay.
I didn't clarify in my previous post that my dad only tends to analyze my food and bug me about my weight if he notices I'm not eating "normally." Other than that he'll make an occasional comment but has learned to basically shut the hell up because I refuse to talk about it. But if he smells dieting ... it's on.
Anyway, it wasn't bad. For dinner he made a big bison burger patty with gouda cheese and we shared it. He also made corn on the cob, and had some leftover carrots and potatoes he'd cooked with a pot roast, and some cheese-filled garlic breadsticks. Here's what's interesting about my dad: he's concerned about my weight, and yet he piles food on me. I said I wanted one potato; he put two on my plate. I said I didn't want any carrots (I don't like them cooked), he tried really hard to get me to eat some. Then he decided to make the corn too. Then he offered me the breadsticks, and I said I had plenty. But he plopped on one my plate anyway! And keep in mind we each had a half a pound of freaking buffalo too! I scarfed the buffalo burger - was delicious - ate the corn, and gave the rest to the dog.
Breakfast wasn't an issue, I'm never hungry when I wake up. I had a glass of milk, and we headed out. We had lunch at a restaurant, and chicken and salad didn't raise any eyebrows. For dinner he made steak and baked potatoes, and I ate some of the small potato. I was tempted by the white cheddar Cheez-Its. And his bowl of mini candy bars. And the ice cream. But I didn't have any of it.
Of course, on my way home I got all weepy and upset and nearly engaged in some emotional eating. The only thing that stopped me from making a pit stop at Perkins for my favorite kind of pie was that I'd been crying for an hour and knew I looked like hell. Oh, I know eating won't solve anything. I know it won't create a magical answer to my text messages and make my unrequited love .... requited. I still want to order up some subs or go for tacos or something, because I'm sad and nothing is making me feel better. Of course, I know that in the end food won't either. I'm just sad and feeling hopeless. I hate that I feel like this because of a man. I keep waiting for it to pass, to not feel like my life will never be complete again without him. It's pissing me off.
Anyway, it's two in the morning and I haven't gone crazy on carbs yet. I'm truthfully not sure how I've managed the last few weeks. I don't really have any concrete reason for wanting to lose weight -- other than so some more of my clothes fit. I feel like I'm largely stumbling along in a state of numbness when it comes to my eating, and I sort of wonder what will happen when that wears off. If that makes any sense.
Anyway, it wasn't bad. For dinner he made a big bison burger patty with gouda cheese and we shared it. He also made corn on the cob, and had some leftover carrots and potatoes he'd cooked with a pot roast, and some cheese-filled garlic breadsticks. Here's what's interesting about my dad: he's concerned about my weight, and yet he piles food on me. I said I wanted one potato; he put two on my plate. I said I didn't want any carrots (I don't like them cooked), he tried really hard to get me to eat some. Then he decided to make the corn too. Then he offered me the breadsticks, and I said I had plenty. But he plopped on one my plate anyway! And keep in mind we each had a half a pound of freaking buffalo too! I scarfed the buffalo burger - was delicious - ate the corn, and gave the rest to the dog.
Breakfast wasn't an issue, I'm never hungry when I wake up. I had a glass of milk, and we headed out. We had lunch at a restaurant, and chicken and salad didn't raise any eyebrows. For dinner he made steak and baked potatoes, and I ate some of the small potato. I was tempted by the white cheddar Cheez-Its. And his bowl of mini candy bars. And the ice cream. But I didn't have any of it.
Of course, on my way home I got all weepy and upset and nearly engaged in some emotional eating. The only thing that stopped me from making a pit stop at Perkins for my favorite kind of pie was that I'd been crying for an hour and knew I looked like hell. Oh, I know eating won't solve anything. I know it won't create a magical answer to my text messages and make my unrequited love .... requited. I still want to order up some subs or go for tacos or something, because I'm sad and nothing is making me feel better. Of course, I know that in the end food won't either. I'm just sad and feeling hopeless. I hate that I feel like this because of a man. I keep waiting for it to pass, to not feel like my life will never be complete again without him. It's pissing me off.
Anyway, it's two in the morning and I haven't gone crazy on carbs yet. I'm truthfully not sure how I've managed the last few weeks. I don't really have any concrete reason for wanting to lose weight -- other than so some more of my clothes fit. I feel like I'm largely stumbling along in a state of numbness when it comes to my eating, and I sort of wonder what will happen when that wears off. If that makes any sense.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Weight tolerance.
First of all I want to make it clear I am in no way criticizing anybody's reasons or methods for weight loss. I'm not saying I'm better or anything. I'm just pondering.
I've been reading a lot of blogs -- reading and writing distract me from my stupid moping over my ex, at least somewhat. In my reading I keep coming across things that I find I sort of struggle to relate to.
The big one is people talking about how heavy and uncomfortable and tired they feel fat, how hard things are every day. They talk about pain, especially in their back, hips, ankles, and feet. They talk about those things being alleviated as they lose weight. I've been over 200 pounds for at least ten years (with a couple of dips), probably more like 12. Half of that time, I've been over 250, and at least a quarter of it I've been over 275 pounds. The most discomfort I've had was last year when I felt sore around my ribcage when I woke up, which I thought was probably from fat pressing on my internal organs. (Of course, I weigh more now and it's not happening.)
Other than that, I haven't had the kind of pains the obese normally have (or are expected to have). When I was hating myself and blaming everything on my weight I thought my foot and ankle pains were from my weight -- until I realized that even my thinnest coworkers were constantly complaining about the same pains. Waitressing just beats you up. And when I have lost significant amounts of weight, like the time I got down to 187 ... I didn't feel any differently. Nothing hurt any more or less.
I suspect the fact that I've been fat to some extent or the other has a lot to do with that. I've always been relatively active - walking to catch buses, riding horses and herding goats, waitressing, trotting across campus (the last seven months I have been a lazy ass, though). As my weight has increased my muscles have adapted, and my ligaments and tendons have as well. So I've just never felt like normal daily tasks are painful or overyl tiring or really uncomfortable. Life is hard because life is hard, my flab has nothing to do with it.
In fact, until I started blog surfing, I always thought of those problems as affecting people at much higher weights than I'm at. When I weighed around 260 pounds, my father suggested that I have some sort of weight loss surgery - and I laughed at him and told him that was ridiculous. I would never have imagined that someone around my size/my weight would be willing to have plastic implanted in them, or have their internal organs re-arranged. One of my favorite bloggers had a lapband put in at about twenty pounds higher than my current weight, and I still can't wrap my brain around the idea. And yet as I surf around, I find more and more people at my weight or lower who have had these drastic surgeries. And it just blows my mind. Again, this isn't a criticism - just personally eye-opening.
In less randomly blathering news, I ate well today!
I've been reading a lot of blogs -- reading and writing distract me from my stupid moping over my ex, at least somewhat. In my reading I keep coming across things that I find I sort of struggle to relate to.
The big one is people talking about how heavy and uncomfortable and tired they feel fat, how hard things are every day. They talk about pain, especially in their back, hips, ankles, and feet. They talk about those things being alleviated as they lose weight. I've been over 200 pounds for at least ten years (with a couple of dips), probably more like 12. Half of that time, I've been over 250, and at least a quarter of it I've been over 275 pounds. The most discomfort I've had was last year when I felt sore around my ribcage when I woke up, which I thought was probably from fat pressing on my internal organs. (Of course, I weigh more now and it's not happening.)
Other than that, I haven't had the kind of pains the obese normally have (or are expected to have). When I was hating myself and blaming everything on my weight I thought my foot and ankle pains were from my weight -- until I realized that even my thinnest coworkers were constantly complaining about the same pains. Waitressing just beats you up. And when I have lost significant amounts of weight, like the time I got down to 187 ... I didn't feel any differently. Nothing hurt any more or less.
I suspect the fact that I've been fat to some extent or the other has a lot to do with that. I've always been relatively active - walking to catch buses, riding horses and herding goats, waitressing, trotting across campus (the last seven months I have been a lazy ass, though). As my weight has increased my muscles have adapted, and my ligaments and tendons have as well. So I've just never felt like normal daily tasks are painful or overyl tiring or really uncomfortable. Life is hard because life is hard, my flab has nothing to do with it.
In fact, until I started blog surfing, I always thought of those problems as affecting people at much higher weights than I'm at. When I weighed around 260 pounds, my father suggested that I have some sort of weight loss surgery - and I laughed at him and told him that was ridiculous. I would never have imagined that someone around my size/my weight would be willing to have plastic implanted in them, or have their internal organs re-arranged. One of my favorite bloggers had a lapband put in at about twenty pounds higher than my current weight, and I still can't wrap my brain around the idea. And yet as I surf around, I find more and more people at my weight or lower who have had these drastic surgeries. And it just blows my mind. Again, this isn't a criticism - just personally eye-opening.
In less randomly blathering news, I ate well today!
Monday, August 6, 2012
Dammit.
I already blew through all my carbs again, and I've only had .. well, my first meal of the day, so breakfast I guess. In fact I probably had about twenty grams more than I should have (and I feel like I have a rock in my belly). I really need to stop doing that. I know that, regarding my insulin levels which is what LC is all about, it's much more effective to spread them out throughout the day, plus it allows more flexibility in the rest of my meals. Not to mention, it's very easy to end up having all my carbs at one meal ... and then have them again at the next. And that would obviously just undo the progress I've made. I've been down that road many times in the past. I need this time to be different. To achieve that, I need to not put myself in to situations where somebody else is providing the food or where I feel like they're going to comment on what I eat. That's been a lot of the problem this last week, because I've been around family so much, at the hospital, etc. Luckily this week is looking better in terms of that.
Have to admit I am feeling a little hopeless overall though. I'm still feeling deeply sad. Honestly I'm impressed I've had as few problems with my eating as I have, the last couple of weeks. Maybe I'm finally maturing or something. Or maybe I'll end up flaming out horribly like I have before, haha. The fact that I'm wickedly craving McDonald's french fries is not encouraging. There were many nights before when that urge would hit me and I'd just zip up the street for some. It's unfortunately a very short trip for me. Way too convenient. But I made myself a little pizza on my last low-carb tortilla, so I'm not hungry anymore, so there's no reason to eat anything else.
I haven't worked on my story in more than a week. I opened my laptop to do so the other night, and then decided my time would be better spent applying for more jobs. I have the shitty job in the hopper, I have a possible return to my restaurant job pending, and I have an interview for an awesome job Friday. But I don't want to end up with just the shitty job, so in case I can't go back to the restaurant, or in the likely event I don't get the awesome job, I want to have other irons at least near the fire.
Forgot to post this last night!
Have to admit I am feeling a little hopeless overall though. I'm still feeling deeply sad. Honestly I'm impressed I've had as few problems with my eating as I have, the last couple of weeks. Maybe I'm finally maturing or something. Or maybe I'll end up flaming out horribly like I have before, haha. The fact that I'm wickedly craving McDonald's french fries is not encouraging. There were many nights before when that urge would hit me and I'd just zip up the street for some. It's unfortunately a very short trip for me. Way too convenient. But I made myself a little pizza on my last low-carb tortilla, so I'm not hungry anymore, so there's no reason to eat anything else.
I haven't worked on my story in more than a week. I opened my laptop to do so the other night, and then decided my time would be better spent applying for more jobs. I have the shitty job in the hopper, I have a possible return to my restaurant job pending, and I have an interview for an awesome job Friday. But I don't want to end up with just the shitty job, so in case I can't go back to the restaurant, or in the likely event I don't get the awesome job, I want to have other irons at least near the fire.
Forgot to post this last night!
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Nothing and yet too much.
My brain feels curiously blank lately. My emotions are still running all over the place -- had two different cry-sessions today over the ex -- but I feel like I have few coherent thoughts about any of the emotions tumbling around inside me.
I did have a couple of good evenings. Yesterday I spent most of the day with my dad, taking him home from the hospital and making sure he was as okay by himself as he insisted. Then I went to the restaurant I worked at to meet a friend to go for a drink, but she was running late so I sort of hung around reading for a while and chatting. Then we had a drink (Jack Daniels and Diet Coke pour moi), she had some cigarettes (I didn't even ask for one, and I smoke sometimes when I'm stressed out), and we talked. She's been so busy moving, working, and raising her three kids that we haven't had time to hang out in a long time, so that was really great.
Today, I saw my grandma for a while and had dinner with my younger cousin. She's about to turn 17, and I probably talk to her about more things than I should, but she and her sister have always been more like my sisters. We talked about boys and cried over our respective heartbreaks, which felt a little weird to me. Usually I'd suck it up and try to put on a brave face for her. But she told her therapist during a family session that our family doesn't share emotion, and so she feels like she's not allowed to. So when I started getting all freaking weepy about him, I didn't hide it. I hope it was the right thing to do.
Anyway, for a while after both of those social activities, I felt better. In fact, yesterday I felt happy for the first time in a long, long time. But it didn't last; a couple of hours later my sad came back with a vengeance. Interestingly, none of this unhappiness/brief forays into normality have had an effect on my eating. Sometimes when I'm happy I want to eat a bunch of junk because I feel like I'm happy, so why change anything? And sometimes when I'm sad, I eat because who the fuck cares. Haven't vacationed in either emotional eating spot though, which is nice.
I haven't made very good food choices though, at least in terms of spreading my carbs out. They've tended to be clustered around one meal. So I need to work on that a little. Haven't done any exercise either; I'm still just ridiculously exhausted from last weekend because I haven't had more than two hours of sleep in a row since then due to leaving my phone on in case my dad needed me. He never did, but plenty of other people called me. Constantly.
I did have a couple of good evenings. Yesterday I spent most of the day with my dad, taking him home from the hospital and making sure he was as okay by himself as he insisted. Then I went to the restaurant I worked at to meet a friend to go for a drink, but she was running late so I sort of hung around reading for a while and chatting. Then we had a drink (Jack Daniels and Diet Coke pour moi), she had some cigarettes (I didn't even ask for one, and I smoke sometimes when I'm stressed out), and we talked. She's been so busy moving, working, and raising her three kids that we haven't had time to hang out in a long time, so that was really great.
Today, I saw my grandma for a while and had dinner with my younger cousin. She's about to turn 17, and I probably talk to her about more things than I should, but she and her sister have always been more like my sisters. We talked about boys and cried over our respective heartbreaks, which felt a little weird to me. Usually I'd suck it up and try to put on a brave face for her. But she told her therapist during a family session that our family doesn't share emotion, and so she feels like she's not allowed to. So when I started getting all freaking weepy about him, I didn't hide it. I hope it was the right thing to do.
Anyway, for a while after both of those social activities, I felt better. In fact, yesterday I felt happy for the first time in a long, long time. But it didn't last; a couple of hours later my sad came back with a vengeance. Interestingly, none of this unhappiness/brief forays into normality have had an effect on my eating. Sometimes when I'm happy I want to eat a bunch of junk because I feel like I'm happy, so why change anything? And sometimes when I'm sad, I eat because who the fuck cares. Haven't vacationed in either emotional eating spot though, which is nice.
I haven't made very good food choices though, at least in terms of spreading my carbs out. They've tended to be clustered around one meal. So I need to work on that a little. Haven't done any exercise either; I'm still just ridiculously exhausted from last weekend because I haven't had more than two hours of sleep in a row since then due to leaving my phone on in case my dad needed me. He never did, but plenty of other people called me. Constantly.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Five days and counting.
That's how long I've had a headache. Actually, it's probably multiple headaches that have just bled into each other, because the pain has moved around a lot. Really getting on my nerves though. I've been extra careful to be hydrating, take my allergy meds, and sleep enough, and I did a sinus rinse last night that really just seemed to make it worse. I've got a pretty high tolerance for headache pain, thanks to spending the first 26 years of my life with completely fucked up sinuses. But this is just getting ridiculous. Between the sore ankles, the lack of sleep, and the headaches, I have yet to try that C25k workout again, but I haven't forgotten about it.
Been thinking about starting a routine of good old-fashioned abdominal crunches, because I'm realizing that I've lost what core strength I had from years of bending and lifting while waitressing. Which I may be going back to anyway, sigh.
I was able to wear one of my favorite t-shirts again today. It's nothing special, just a nice chocolate brown v-neck in a comfy material, but I like it. It was tight before, not constricting my blood flow or anything but would ride up over my stomach etc. Was nice to wear it and be comfortable today.
Been thinking about starting a routine of good old-fashioned abdominal crunches, because I'm realizing that I've lost what core strength I had from years of bending and lifting while waitressing. Which I may be going back to anyway, sigh.
I was able to wear one of my favorite t-shirts again today. It's nothing special, just a nice chocolate brown v-neck in a comfy material, but I like it. It was tight before, not constricting my blood flow or anything but would ride up over my stomach etc. Was nice to wear it and be comfortable today.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Car comfort, hula hoops.
The car I'm currently driving is ... well .. it's a car. It gets me from point A to point B. Of course, it died in rather spectacular ways twice which is one reason I'm jobless now, but anyway. I've hated driving it the whole time I've had it, but the last couple of weeks I've been hating it less. I thought it was just because I wasn't spending two hours a day in it anymore like I was when I was working. But today I realized it's something else. See, it's a two-door car, with really long doors, so the seat belt has to stretch really far. Also, the steering wheel doesn't go up very far. And I have short legs. And the clutch has to be pushed it really far to shift. And I have a fat belly. So when you add all that up, you have my abdomen being smashed by a seatbelt not long enough because I have the seat so far forward, and the steering wheel rubbing on my stomach because it's so big.
Well, whatever I've lost, water or fat in whatever amount, is just enough so that I can drive without the wheel rubbing my stomach, and I can even breathe while doing it. Amazing.
Been thinking about getting a hula hoop. I have a nutty hippie aunt who hula hoops to live music on stage and stuff, and she said it really helped her feel better - that it's hard to be bummed out while hula hooping! God knows I need some amusement.
Well, whatever I've lost, water or fat in whatever amount, is just enough so that I can drive without the wheel rubbing my stomach, and I can even breathe while doing it. Amazing.
Been thinking about getting a hula hoop. I have a nutty hippie aunt who hula hoops to live music on stage and stuff, and she said it really helped her feel better - that it's hard to be bummed out while hula hooping! God knows I need some amusement.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Trainwreck of a day!
Okay, maybe trainwreck is overstating it. The day at the rodeo was actually pretty fun despite my exhaustion -- I hadn't see some good ole steer wrestling or anything in years and I really enjoyed it. The day was marred by my father being admitted to the hospital for a burn from three days earlier that he didn't take care of, but that's a whole separate clusterfuck.
Foodwise, not a good day, although I didn't go completely nuts. But today I actually feel okay. No crazy cravings, not bloated as fuck, maybe a little more tired and snotty than normal but hard to tell if that's from carbs/wheat or from exhaustion/sunburn.
Had a surprising moment while leaving the rodeo. When I did the first C25k workout the other night, the minute long runs seemed absolutely interminable and I hated every second. I didn't realize quite how much of that was the awful shoes I was wearing though! My grandmother has knee problems, so she hitched a ride on on a golf cart to get to the car. There were other people who needed a ride so I said I'd walk. In fact I jogged behind the cart for about two minutes, and wasn't even out of breath which astounded me considering my walk/run the other night! I mean, I wasn't keeping up with the cart or anything. And I'm aware that two minutes isn't much. But still, I was surprised that after no sleep, in the heat, after my shitty experience the other night, that I wasn't gasping and red in the face.
I need to try to get enough rest today to do the first C25k workout again; being awake 27/28 hours straight and then not really sleeping that night either has really wiped me out, hopefully I can make it up today.
Foodwise, not a good day, although I didn't go completely nuts. But today I actually feel okay. No crazy cravings, not bloated as fuck, maybe a little more tired and snotty than normal but hard to tell if that's from carbs/wheat or from exhaustion/sunburn.
Had a surprising moment while leaving the rodeo. When I did the first C25k workout the other night, the minute long runs seemed absolutely interminable and I hated every second. I didn't realize quite how much of that was the awful shoes I was wearing though! My grandmother has knee problems, so she hitched a ride on on a golf cart to get to the car. There were other people who needed a ride so I said I'd walk. In fact I jogged behind the cart for about two minutes, and wasn't even out of breath which astounded me considering my walk/run the other night! I mean, I wasn't keeping up with the cart or anything. And I'm aware that two minutes isn't much. But still, I was surprised that after no sleep, in the heat, after my shitty experience the other night, that I wasn't gasping and red in the face.
I need to try to get enough rest today to do the first C25k workout again; being awake 27/28 hours straight and then not really sleeping that night either has really wiped me out, hopefully I can make it up today.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Struggling on.
I was going to at least go for a walk last night, but then I came across something that really upset me and I ended up having a mini breakdown and just going to bed. Still not too happy today. Not too happy is an understatement. I'm fucking depressed. So far I haven't made any poor choices foodwise, mostly because I'm too bummed out to care much about food or anything else. Yeah, it's about the ex. Yeah, it's pathetic.
Plus I know tomorrow is pretty much going to be a disaster. I'll be spending tomorrow with people I don't want to spend time with (one of whom I actively hate), at a place I don't want to be at, doing something I don't want to do -- and I'll be surrounded by food I shouldn't eat. Which is not to say I'm throwing in the towel immediately. I'll have a good breakfast (eschewing the famous cinnamon rolls at the place we're going, sigh), and I'll do the best I can with dinner (I have no idea what my aunt is making, my luck lasagne or something). Not sure what I'll be able to find at a freaking rodeo/fair/carnival that would remotely okay, plus frozen pina coladas are going to be enticing. I don't even drink normally but certain people who will be present tomorrow awaken the urge. Only plus; outside means I can keep my sunglasses on so people won't really be able to see my expression. That'll make faking happy -- which is absolutely necessary with that side of my family -- a little easier. Wish I'd had an excuse to not go. BTW, the person I hate isn't related to me. It's the skanky chain-smoking drunken bitch who's latched on to my father.
The chunk of fat in front of my ribs feels bigger and like it's sticking out more today. It feels discouraging. But I know it's just a feeling. It's because I'm not as bloated anymore, so overall I'm more jiggly; also the first place I lose any weight, even a few ounces, is in front of my hips. So basically there's just a little less support overall for that chunk of fat. I hate that particular chunk of fat. It sticks out over my waistband and it makes my (larger than average and very fabulous) boobs look smaller. I don't like that. They deserve more attention. I have a lot of clothes that, when they fit, draw attention to my rack, so it would be nice to wear them again. Not that I really have anywhere to do so.
I haven't done any work on my story. It's really hard, when swamped under with misery, to try to create something that feels anything other than miserable. Not to mention that crying until you puke makes it hard to type. One day at a time ....
Plus I know tomorrow is pretty much going to be a disaster. I'll be spending tomorrow with people I don't want to spend time with (one of whom I actively hate), at a place I don't want to be at, doing something I don't want to do -- and I'll be surrounded by food I shouldn't eat. Which is not to say I'm throwing in the towel immediately. I'll have a good breakfast (eschewing the famous cinnamon rolls at the place we're going, sigh), and I'll do the best I can with dinner (I have no idea what my aunt is making, my luck lasagne or something). Not sure what I'll be able to find at a freaking rodeo/fair/carnival that would remotely okay, plus frozen pina coladas are going to be enticing. I don't even drink normally but certain people who will be present tomorrow awaken the urge. Only plus; outside means I can keep my sunglasses on so people won't really be able to see my expression. That'll make faking happy -- which is absolutely necessary with that side of my family -- a little easier. Wish I'd had an excuse to not go. BTW, the person I hate isn't related to me. It's the skanky chain-smoking drunken bitch who's latched on to my father.
The chunk of fat in front of my ribs feels bigger and like it's sticking out more today. It feels discouraging. But I know it's just a feeling. It's because I'm not as bloated anymore, so overall I'm more jiggly; also the first place I lose any weight, even a few ounces, is in front of my hips. So basically there's just a little less support overall for that chunk of fat. I hate that particular chunk of fat. It sticks out over my waistband and it makes my (larger than average and very fabulous) boobs look smaller. I don't like that. They deserve more attention. I have a lot of clothes that, when they fit, draw attention to my rack, so it would be nice to wear them again. Not that I really have anywhere to do so.
I haven't done any work on my story. It's really hard, when swamped under with misery, to try to create something that feels anything other than miserable. Not to mention that crying until you puke makes it hard to type. One day at a time ....
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Extra grumpy today.
It's not a job I'd particularly enjoy, nor does it pay what I'd like. But it's something, and it doesn't start for almost a month so I can look for something better before that. Despite that, I'm still very grumpy today. I didn't sleep well; took forever to fall asleep, woke up a lot, etc. My ankles are also still sore from those damn shoes. And I sent my ex a text a couple of hours ago and no response (not that I really expected one).
I've just been very cranky all day. I've tried everything I can think to re-set my little brain. I had a good meal, I read, watched tv, took a shower, listened to some music, tried to take a nap and was too irritated to fall asleep. At this point, I genuinely feel like a boatload of sugary stuff would cheer me up. At least it would be something to enjoy, which nothing else has been today. I feel like heading over to Olive Garden for some breadsticks and something soaked in alfredo. Or Perkins for some peanut butter silk pie. Something. And I know food won't actually fix any of the problems I have. I'm just so motherfucking cranky! I'm really trying not to succumb to this urge, but I've been feeling it all day and that makes it pretty hard.
I watched some of the Olympic ceremony and ate one of my Carb Smart ice cream bars. The sugar taste did actually make me feel less cranky. Of course I'd rather be irritable than depressed, which is what I'm back to now. This heartbroken crap is getting old. Despite that, when I went to the store just now I managed to control myself. Didn't get anything I shouldn't. Did forget a couple of things I should have gotten, but oh well. Have rotten headache right now though.
I've just been very cranky all day. I've tried everything I can think to re-set my little brain. I had a good meal, I read, watched tv, took a shower, listened to some music, tried to take a nap and was too irritated to fall asleep. At this point, I genuinely feel like a boatload of sugary stuff would cheer me up. At least it would be something to enjoy, which nothing else has been today. I feel like heading over to Olive Garden for some breadsticks and something soaked in alfredo. Or Perkins for some peanut butter silk pie. Something. And I know food won't actually fix any of the problems I have. I'm just so motherfucking cranky! I'm really trying not to succumb to this urge, but I've been feeling it all day and that makes it pretty hard.
I watched some of the Olympic ceremony and ate one of my Carb Smart ice cream bars. The sugar taste did actually make me feel less cranky. Of course I'd rather be irritable than depressed, which is what I'm back to now. This heartbroken crap is getting old. Despite that, when I went to the store just now I managed to control myself. Didn't get anything I shouldn't. Did forget a couple of things I should have gotten, but oh well. Have rotten headache right now though.
Friday, July 27, 2012
My damn ankles hurt.
I think I'll be taking those shoes I wore yesterday to Goodwill. They're normally really expensive running shoes, but I got them for $10 at Ross. I got them because they were silver, white, and purple and I thought they were really cute, but ouch. Of course, some of it may also be due to the fact that I haven't done any activity in a long time, and the last time I did I didn't weigh as much. My eating didn't change but damn did that desk job have an effect. Which I knew it would, but then I got swamped under my the things going on in my life and I just couldn't care.
Anyway, hat's the only side effect of last night's exercise I'm feeling. A friend asked me how I felt today, like I was supposed to be all energized or something I guess. And I know for some people exercise releases endorphins that make them feel good, less depressed, etc. They just make me cranky that I'm sweaty and hot and feel like my entire head is pulsing. Oh well!
At least so far today I'm not having any cravings. Cravings require thought or desires, I think, and I feel totally empty of either today. I've got four hours before my date gets here and I have a bunch of stuff to do around the house -- probably only an hour or so, but it seems absolutely insurmountable, possibly because I just don't feel excited about him coming over. I don't feel much of anything about it. It's not really even a date; he'd just be a source of sex. And it is so not like me to be hesitating about that. Joys of depression/heartbrokenness I guess. The thing that pisses me off is that for a while, I was doing pretty okay. Then one of my best friends got engaged and it's like a dam of jealous misery cracked open in my head. Gotta run out eventually though.
Had leftover LC mac and cheese with chicken for breakfast; a glass of milk and a peach for a snack. Realized I don't say nearly as much about food as a lot of bloggers do, but that's really on purpose. Part of me wants to write everything down and weigh and measure and track it just for curiosity's sake, and because I'm the type who likes to look at charts and graphs. Maybe I'd lose weight more quickly if I went there, but I know that obsession lies that way, and with obsession comes a lot of mentally unhealthy things that I know will just cause me more problems in the end. Besides, what am I going to care about more when I look back at my blog in a year, or even a week: what was going through my head, or how many baby carrots I ate?
I did some cleaning - my house looks pretty good right now -- and was feeling a little more optimistic about the guy coming over. Then, about thirty seconds before he got here, I saw a piece of paper under my DVD player and wondered what it was. I pulled it out and found it was a receipt from when I went to the grocery story to get supplies to cook dinner for my ex the first time he came over. Really just fucking excellent timing, that. Now that the guy has left after an awkward hour or so, I feel sad and empty and like hopping in my car and going to McDonald's. I know french fries won't fix anything. Neither will chicken nuggets. But I want some form of comfort and don't feel like I have anything else available. I don't know why that kind of food feels comforting, especially since after eating it I feel like there's a rock in my stomach and I'm pretty disgusted with myself.
Okay, that was a strange experience. I went into my bathroom to get a Qtip. The medicine cabinet is mirrored and has three doors, and one of them was not quite shut. It created an awesome optical illusion (identifiable tattoo blurred out!):
Anyway, hat's the only side effect of last night's exercise I'm feeling. A friend asked me how I felt today, like I was supposed to be all energized or something I guess. And I know for some people exercise releases endorphins that make them feel good, less depressed, etc. They just make me cranky that I'm sweaty and hot and feel like my entire head is pulsing. Oh well!
At least so far today I'm not having any cravings. Cravings require thought or desires, I think, and I feel totally empty of either today. I've got four hours before my date gets here and I have a bunch of stuff to do around the house -- probably only an hour or so, but it seems absolutely insurmountable, possibly because I just don't feel excited about him coming over. I don't feel much of anything about it. It's not really even a date; he'd just be a source of sex. And it is so not like me to be hesitating about that. Joys of depression/heartbrokenness I guess. The thing that pisses me off is that for a while, I was doing pretty okay. Then one of my best friends got engaged and it's like a dam of jealous misery cracked open in my head. Gotta run out eventually though.
Had leftover LC mac and cheese with chicken for breakfast; a glass of milk and a peach for a snack. Realized I don't say nearly as much about food as a lot of bloggers do, but that's really on purpose. Part of me wants to write everything down and weigh and measure and track it just for curiosity's sake, and because I'm the type who likes to look at charts and graphs. Maybe I'd lose weight more quickly if I went there, but I know that obsession lies that way, and with obsession comes a lot of mentally unhealthy things that I know will just cause me more problems in the end. Besides, what am I going to care about more when I look back at my blog in a year, or even a week: what was going through my head, or how many baby carrots I ate?
I did some cleaning - my house looks pretty good right now -- and was feeling a little more optimistic about the guy coming over. Then, about thirty seconds before he got here, I saw a piece of paper under my DVD player and wondered what it was. I pulled it out and found it was a receipt from when I went to the grocery story to get supplies to cook dinner for my ex the first time he came over. Really just fucking excellent timing, that. Now that the guy has left after an awkward hour or so, I feel sad and empty and like hopping in my car and going to McDonald's. I know french fries won't fix anything. Neither will chicken nuggets. But I want some form of comfort and don't feel like I have anything else available. I don't know why that kind of food feels comforting, especially since after eating it I feel like there's a rock in my stomach and I'm pretty disgusted with myself.
Okay, that was a strange experience. I went into my bathroom to get a Qtip. The medicine cabinet is mirrored and has three doors, and one of them was not quite shut. It created an awesome optical illusion (identifiable tattoo blurred out!):
I've tried before to use those online predictions of what I'd look like if I lost a lot of weight, but they've never inspired me because that's just something on the computer. But I stood there for several minutes looking at this, wondering if it was something I could accomplish. Who knows. But it was an interesting experience. And stopped me from pursuing junk food too. Instead I cooked a couple of hamburger patties with some jack cheese, popped them on a sandwich thin (those things are awesome), and had some carrots and cherry tomatoes too. Go me.
I got bored a couple of hours later. Since my floor was freshly vacuumed, and my house was reasonably cool, I whipped out an old yoga CD thinking I'd do some relaxing stretching. Yeah, that lasted about five minutes. I couldn't focus, for one thing, and for another I forgot how much the woman talks. And how much I hate downward-facing dog.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
And so begins another day.
Not that I'll be posting this for like twelve hours! I slept even later than usual today; it was a little cooler, so I wasn't waking up every ten minutes soaked in sweat, which was nice for a change. So far I've had some macaroni and cheese with chicken (made with Dreamfields LC pasta) and a whole bunch of water. Watched some Futurama and some South Park, read a little bit. Trying not to think too much about the date I have tomorrow. He's a nice guy, but I'm not really in to it. I was feeling optimistic when I invited him over a couple of days ago, but now I find myself wishing I could think of a good enough excuse to cancel yet again.
I keep wanting to text my ex, but I don't know what to say that won't sound stupid or whiny, so I've been holding off for a week now. I just hate not knowing what's going on with him. He just sort of faded away, and I don't know why. Maybe it doesn't even matter why. In fact, that probably would be the way to look at it: it doesn't matter why he stopped talking to me, only that he did and so he clearly doesn't care. I'm trying to remember that.
I don't feel terribly hungry, but I do feel like I should have some fruit or something for the nutrient value. Because my mac & cheese may have been yummy and low-carb, but it didn't have much actual value beyond the protein in the chicken and the calcium in the cheese. Some carrots would be good for me!
The friend who likes to lecture me about how I met my ex ran a 13k race this last weekend, and is very proud of herself. I'm not saying she shouldn't be, but ... I just don't get it. So she ran a long way. Yay? I can understand running to lose weight or for general fitness. I can understand running so you can run from attackers (I read too much). But just so you can say "I ran (this far)"? I don't get it. Again, not a condemnation of it or anything, I just don't understand the impetus. Similarly, I don't understand why my other friend's husband rides his bike 40 miles several times a week (in addition to a bunch of other workouts that are apparently so intense he has to be massaged to move the lactic acid out of his muscles every night so he can do it again the next day [which from what I've read is bullshit]).
Of course, they wouldn't understand why I read endlessly either. Different strokes, different folks, etc. However, her talking about it remind me of the infamous Couch to 5k program, which I've looked at and pondered before. Not because I care about the 5k, but just to try something new in a semi-guided fashion. Especially now that I can't afford a gym, so I can't swim or lift weights, which are the only two exercises I don't hate. And I've never seriously tried running, or even walking, as a scheduled form of exercise. Honestly, it hurt too fucking much. I spent so long waitressing or trotting around retail stores in uncomfortable shoes that my body hurt constantly from the ears down. Seven months of not doing that crap has seriously unkinked me, and I'm loving it. After a few months of my desk job, I was astounded to find that when I rolled out of bed in the morning I could walk. Right away. Without feeling like my feet were solid and incapable of flexing. It was pretty damn amazing.
Anyway, I think walking/running is something I might be able to do now. I do still have the problem of a bra that can sufficiently support the pounds of breasts bouncing on the front of my chest, but I think for the limits of C25k I have one that will work. Also, when I told my mom today I was nervous about walking around at night she sort of laughed at me. This used to be her house, and she rolled her eyes and told me it's safe. I'm still a little nervous, but ... I think I might go ahead and do it. I'd rather go to a nice air conditioned gym, but I'd feel better about spending money on that (once I have a job) if I already have an exercise habit. I might find I hate it more than I've ever hated anything, but I guess we'll see.
Well. That was interesting. Think I'll make it a separate post though.
I keep wanting to text my ex, but I don't know what to say that won't sound stupid or whiny, so I've been holding off for a week now. I just hate not knowing what's going on with him. He just sort of faded away, and I don't know why. Maybe it doesn't even matter why. In fact, that probably would be the way to look at it: it doesn't matter why he stopped talking to me, only that he did and so he clearly doesn't care. I'm trying to remember that.
I don't feel terribly hungry, but I do feel like I should have some fruit or something for the nutrient value. Because my mac & cheese may have been yummy and low-carb, but it didn't have much actual value beyond the protein in the chicken and the calcium in the cheese. Some carrots would be good for me!
The friend who likes to lecture me about how I met my ex ran a 13k race this last weekend, and is very proud of herself. I'm not saying she shouldn't be, but ... I just don't get it. So she ran a long way. Yay? I can understand running to lose weight or for general fitness. I can understand running so you can run from attackers (I read too much). But just so you can say "I ran (this far)"? I don't get it. Again, not a condemnation of it or anything, I just don't understand the impetus. Similarly, I don't understand why my other friend's husband rides his bike 40 miles several times a week (in addition to a bunch of other workouts that are apparently so intense he has to be massaged to move the lactic acid out of his muscles every night so he can do it again the next day [which from what I've read is bullshit]).
Of course, they wouldn't understand why I read endlessly either. Different strokes, different folks, etc. However, her talking about it remind me of the infamous Couch to 5k program, which I've looked at and pondered before. Not because I care about the 5k, but just to try something new in a semi-guided fashion. Especially now that I can't afford a gym, so I can't swim or lift weights, which are the only two exercises I don't hate. And I've never seriously tried running, or even walking, as a scheduled form of exercise. Honestly, it hurt too fucking much. I spent so long waitressing or trotting around retail stores in uncomfortable shoes that my body hurt constantly from the ears down. Seven months of not doing that crap has seriously unkinked me, and I'm loving it. After a few months of my desk job, I was astounded to find that when I rolled out of bed in the morning I could walk. Right away. Without feeling like my feet were solid and incapable of flexing. It was pretty damn amazing.
Anyway, I think walking/running is something I might be able to do now. I do still have the problem of a bra that can sufficiently support the pounds of breasts bouncing on the front of my chest, but I think for the limits of C25k I have one that will work. Also, when I told my mom today I was nervous about walking around at night she sort of laughed at me. This used to be her house, and she rolled her eyes and told me it's safe. I'm still a little nervous, but ... I think I might go ahead and do it. I'd rather go to a nice air conditioned gym, but I'd feel better about spending money on that (once I have a job) if I already have an exercise habit. I might find I hate it more than I've ever hated anything, but I guess we'll see.
Well. That was interesting. Think I'll make it a separate post though.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Today I woke up feeling nothing ...
... except a craving for Qdoba. All I want to eat is a bowl of rice and three-cheese queso and chicken and green salsa and sour cream. This is product of the fact that I freaking love Qdoba, and also because I last ate about 24 hours ago. I've been hungry since I got up, but nothing sounds good. Except, you know, the burrito.
Well, for a while I wanted pizza. Then pancakes. Then croissants. If I just ate something I'd feel better, but I don't feel like I could choke down anything I have in the house. So I drank a lot of water, and I read, and eventually -- once Qdoba was closed! Avoidance is key for me! -- I went to the grocery store. Forty dollars of fruits, vegetables, dairy, and such later, I came home and made myself a little pizza on a low-carb tortilla. Honestly, I didn't expect to enjoy it very much. I expected it to be a pale substitute that made me crave the real thing more. But it was surprisingly satisfying. I feel alright now. Will have a peach later on, I think. And my next meal I think will be .... hell if I know. If I even get hungry again I'll figure it out.
I've basically just had this window open all day to type whatever popped in to my head, which has been a lot less than the last couple of days. That's not necessarily a good thing, though, because it's basically because I've been pretty depressed all day. Oh, just low-level depressed, not sobbing or anything. Just sort of feeling empty and nothing. It's actually sort of a break from my misery the last few weeks, but that doesn't mean it's healthy.
If I did more social stuff, I'd probably feel a little better. But it's hard to set anything up, because I feel like it's hard to even carry on a normal conversation. The last time I went out with a friend I hadn't seen in a while, I started telling her what had happened with the ex and I started crying in the middle of the restaurant. Embarrassing. Sometimes people will be in the middle of telling me something and I'll be struggling to understand, not because I wasn't paying attention, but because it felt like my brain had forgotten how to decode their words, usually because some thought about my ex or something had sort of halted my neurons.
I feel like doing what I did the last time I felt like this, the last time my life felt so empty and up in the air. I used to put my little schnauzer on her leash and walk for hours. We'd just wander our neighborhood in the dark, every night, until I finally dragged us home. It felt right to wander aimlessly. Sometimes I sang to myself. Sometimes I talked to my dog. Sometimes I cried. Other times I was just absolutely silent. I don't know if it really helped; it didn't keep my weight in check nor did it tire me out. But I find myself wanting to do it again. Unfortunately, that was about seven years ago, and it's not something I've felt comfortable doing since. The town I moved to after that had a state prison in it, and I didn't feel safe wandering the streets at night when felons were regularly released there. Then I moved back to my old town -- but the opposite end of it, and to get to a well-lit, safe area I had to walk about a mile up a road with no sidewalk and no streetlights. Where I live now, there's enough gang activity to make me uncomfortable roaming at night, even though none of it is really in my area. I wish I could move back to my little wood-floored house in the quiet, safe neighborhood where I used to wander.
Really, I hate the town I live in now. I like my house. It's quirky and has lots of room for me and my pets. It's fairly cheap, and I'm overall fond of it. But the town I live in smells because there's a cattle processing plant, it's weirdly organized and I can't find things, and then there's the gang activity in certain places. There's a reason housing is cheap, is what I'm getting at. If I had the money, I would move. Maybe I should have, back when I had a job and they were still giving us bigass bonus checks. But finding somewhere that I can have the three cats and two dogs I've accidentally acquired is a pretty big challenge. And at the time I had money, I was happy.
Actually, I had an offer a few days ago to move back to the prison-containing town and live for a year rent-free. There were a lot of reasons to do it; money, change, being there for a family member struggling with some emotional issues. But in the end I just couldn't do it. The space I'd be crammed in to would be much too small, and because of the way the house is arranged I'd have no privacy. Plus I'd have to find a job down there, and then after less than a year bail out on it and haul all my things back to this area (100 mile drive), because in a year all reasons to live there would have gone to college or moved away, leaving me alone and without a place to live, in a town I don't really want to live in. And honestly, I feel like I'm just too goddamn old at this point to be uprooting my life like that every year, at least when it comes to jobs. My work history is bizarre enough already (I tended to work a lot of unconnected jobs consecutively).
I suppose because I'm unemployed and applying for jobs all over the place, it's normal that I've been trying to evaluate what my goals really are. In terms of a job or a career, I've never been one of those people who knew What I Want To Be When I Grow Up. Oh, for a while I thought I'd be a novelist. And I do love baking. But I never even knew what to go to school for, because I was so ... unfocused, flighty, whatever you want to call it. And there are plenty of people like that, but those people usually have something else they want. For example, they want to get married and have kids. Yeah ... I don't. I mean, if I were with someone and they wanted to get married, I'd do it for them. But I'm never spawning. Ever.
So I don't want any particular career, I don't want a husband, I don't want kids. I don't want any of the "normal" things society tells me I should. What do I want? I want to be happy. But what would make me happy? Fuck if I know. :)
But hey look, it's late evening (er, according to my jacked up schedule) and I've eaten properly today!
 |
| Yeah, yeah, somebody's probably gonna wanna bitch at me about it and tell me how unhealthy it is. Go for it. |
I've basically just had this window open all day to type whatever popped in to my head, which has been a lot less than the last couple of days. That's not necessarily a good thing, though, because it's basically because I've been pretty depressed all day. Oh, just low-level depressed, not sobbing or anything. Just sort of feeling empty and nothing. It's actually sort of a break from my misery the last few weeks, but that doesn't mean it's healthy.
If I did more social stuff, I'd probably feel a little better. But it's hard to set anything up, because I feel like it's hard to even carry on a normal conversation. The last time I went out with a friend I hadn't seen in a while, I started telling her what had happened with the ex and I started crying in the middle of the restaurant. Embarrassing. Sometimes people will be in the middle of telling me something and I'll be struggling to understand, not because I wasn't paying attention, but because it felt like my brain had forgotten how to decode their words, usually because some thought about my ex or something had sort of halted my neurons.
I feel like doing what I did the last time I felt like this, the last time my life felt so empty and up in the air. I used to put my little schnauzer on her leash and walk for hours. We'd just wander our neighborhood in the dark, every night, until I finally dragged us home. It felt right to wander aimlessly. Sometimes I sang to myself. Sometimes I talked to my dog. Sometimes I cried. Other times I was just absolutely silent. I don't know if it really helped; it didn't keep my weight in check nor did it tire me out. But I find myself wanting to do it again. Unfortunately, that was about seven years ago, and it's not something I've felt comfortable doing since. The town I moved to after that had a state prison in it, and I didn't feel safe wandering the streets at night when felons were regularly released there. Then I moved back to my old town -- but the opposite end of it, and to get to a well-lit, safe area I had to walk about a mile up a road with no sidewalk and no streetlights. Where I live now, there's enough gang activity to make me uncomfortable roaming at night, even though none of it is really in my area. I wish I could move back to my little wood-floored house in the quiet, safe neighborhood where I used to wander.
Really, I hate the town I live in now. I like my house. It's quirky and has lots of room for me and my pets. It's fairly cheap, and I'm overall fond of it. But the town I live in smells because there's a cattle processing plant, it's weirdly organized and I can't find things, and then there's the gang activity in certain places. There's a reason housing is cheap, is what I'm getting at. If I had the money, I would move. Maybe I should have, back when I had a job and they were still giving us bigass bonus checks. But finding somewhere that I can have the three cats and two dogs I've accidentally acquired is a pretty big challenge. And at the time I had money, I was happy.
Actually, I had an offer a few days ago to move back to the prison-containing town and live for a year rent-free. There were a lot of reasons to do it; money, change, being there for a family member struggling with some emotional issues. But in the end I just couldn't do it. The space I'd be crammed in to would be much too small, and because of the way the house is arranged I'd have no privacy. Plus I'd have to find a job down there, and then after less than a year bail out on it and haul all my things back to this area (100 mile drive), because in a year all reasons to live there would have gone to college or moved away, leaving me alone and without a place to live, in a town I don't really want to live in. And honestly, I feel like I'm just too goddamn old at this point to be uprooting my life like that every year, at least when it comes to jobs. My work history is bizarre enough already (I tended to work a lot of unconnected jobs consecutively).
I suppose because I'm unemployed and applying for jobs all over the place, it's normal that I've been trying to evaluate what my goals really are. In terms of a job or a career, I've never been one of those people who knew What I Want To Be When I Grow Up. Oh, for a while I thought I'd be a novelist. And I do love baking. But I never even knew what to go to school for, because I was so ... unfocused, flighty, whatever you want to call it. And there are plenty of people like that, but those people usually have something else they want. For example, they want to get married and have kids. Yeah ... I don't. I mean, if I were with someone and they wanted to get married, I'd do it for them. But I'm never spawning. Ever.
So I don't want any particular career, I don't want a husband, I don't want kids. I don't want any of the "normal" things society tells me I should. What do I want? I want to be happy. But what would make me happy? Fuck if I know. :)
But hey look, it's late evening (er, according to my jacked up schedule) and I've eaten properly today!
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
TMI
I mentioned in a previous post that I had sent a picture of the scale to a friend of mine, because I wanted documentation but I didn't want to know the number myself. Well, yesterday my curiosity got the better of me a little bit and I told her, "I just want a yes or a no, that's all - is the number on the scale 300 pounds or higher?"
I shouldn't have asked, because she thought she was being encouraging by telling me it was "just under." I said "That's not a yes or no answer." and she thought I didn't understand, so she said "It's just under 300." I was like, "I know that, the point is I just wanted to know yes or no."
So, now I know that I'm closer to 300 pounds than I've ever been in my life. I don't know what constitutes "just under" - one pound, ten, twenty? Considering this is a woman who didn't think she was thin at 117 pounds, I have no idea. And I love her to pieces, I know that she was only intending to motivate me by telling me it wasn't "that bad". But Christ on a pogo stick. If "just under" means something like 295, the amount of weight I'd need to lose to a 'normal' size just jumped significantly, and that is depressing.
Of course, the fact is that nothing's actually changed except my own knowledge!
I shouldn't have asked, because she thought she was being encouraging by telling me it was "just under." I said "That's not a yes or no answer." and she thought I didn't understand, so she said "It's just under 300." I was like, "I know that, the point is I just wanted to know yes or no."
So, now I know that I'm closer to 300 pounds than I've ever been in my life. I don't know what constitutes "just under" - one pound, ten, twenty? Considering this is a woman who didn't think she was thin at 117 pounds, I have no idea. And I love her to pieces, I know that she was only intending to motivate me by telling me it wasn't "that bad". But Christ on a pogo stick. If "just under" means something like 295, the amount of weight I'd need to lose to a 'normal' size just jumped significantly, and that is depressing.
Of course, the fact is that nothing's actually changed except my own knowledge!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Resisting.
Well, I restrained myself when I went out, despite my friend desperately trying to push chocolate mousse on me. That was good. When I got home, I decided I was going to do some cleaning and re-organizing. I did some vacuuming, then unhooked my computer. Then I saw I'd missed a spot, so I plugged the vacuum back in to the same outlet .... which lit up blue for a moment and then all the power in my living room, and half of my kitchen, died.
I about lost it. I was right on the brink of a meltdown, because the outlet my fridge was plugged in to was one that went out and I couldn't drag the fridge across the kitchen to a working outlet. It's a million degrees here lately so I thought all my food was going to spoil. I also have no tv and no internet. I was livid. If I'd had any ice cream or anything, I probably would have eaten it, even knowing it wouldn't fucking help. Luckily, I had no such things here.
I calmed down once I remembered that my dad had given me a heavy-duty extension cord, so I have that running across my kitchen now to power my fridge. Not the safest thing, but hopefully it won't be for long. I also have the world's most obnoxious coaxial cable stretched from the one port that carried my internet to an outlet in another room, so I at least have internet access. Luckily it's wireless so my laptop can pick it up.
But I'm almost certain my landlady is going to claim that nobody is available tomorrow, because she won't want to pay Sunday rates to have an electrician come out. I think it's just a blown fuse, should be pretty simple to fix; but I can't find the friggen fuse box to check. The circuit breaker, yes; but the fuse box is well-hidden. Aggravating.
I about lost it. I was right on the brink of a meltdown, because the outlet my fridge was plugged in to was one that went out and I couldn't drag the fridge across the kitchen to a working outlet. It's a million degrees here lately so I thought all my food was going to spoil. I also have no tv and no internet. I was livid. If I'd had any ice cream or anything, I probably would have eaten it, even knowing it wouldn't fucking help. Luckily, I had no such things here.
I calmed down once I remembered that my dad had given me a heavy-duty extension cord, so I have that running across my kitchen now to power my fridge. Not the safest thing, but hopefully it won't be for long. I also have the world's most obnoxious coaxial cable stretched from the one port that carried my internet to an outlet in another room, so I at least have internet access. Luckily it's wireless so my laptop can pick it up.
But I'm almost certain my landlady is going to claim that nobody is available tomorrow, because she won't want to pay Sunday rates to have an electrician come out. I think it's just a blown fuse, should be pretty simple to fix; but I can't find the friggen fuse box to check. The circuit breaker, yes; but the fuse box is well-hidden. Aggravating.
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