Scale & Perspective

I Have No Idea Where I'm Going

In the beginning, it was simple. Let's review:

I had gone from:

• slightly overweight but fairly healthy with the occasional foray into thinness by way of VLCD's (Very Low Calorie Diets)(late teens to mid-20's)
• to thin and healthy by way of healthy eating and regular, vigorous, exercise (mid-20's to early 30's)
• to obesity compliments of my first clinical depression cycle (early to mid-30's)
• to several years of yo-yo dieting and exercising trying to get rid to the depression weight whereby I became progressively heavier and less healthy (mid-30's to 40)
• Finally to the Diet to End All Diets that I began in September 2004 where I dieted and exercised very consistently and lost 50 (22.3kg) of the 70lbs (31.8kg) that I wanted to lose.  My "success" on that score peaked in September of 2005 and I have been on a round of yo-yo dieting and exercising ever since.

And so here I am.  Not back to square one, but certainly on that path.  I'm sick of Sugar Addict Girl screaming at me every time I feel bored or anxious.  I'm sick Judgmental Know-It-All Girl's endless critique of every single food choice I make.  I'm sick of my self-worth being so throughly linked to my behavior in terms of food and exercise.

Am I still depressed in spite of using the SAD light?  Am I self-medicating with sugar and that's why I can't get a grip?  Is that why it's so hard to motivate myself to do anything after work, you know, like, go to the gym?  Is this issue I'm facing the result of biology or behavior?  Do I just need to grow the fuck up and stop being a self indulgent baby who's creating all kinds of drama so she can continue down the no effort required path to self-destruction?  Have I learned nothing in these past three years?

So, that's how I feel.  What am I going to do about it?  I'm not sure.  I'm not sure I even care about "thin-ness", but I really do feel like I am hemorrhaging health these days. The post-op instructions say no  exercise until Friday.  That gives me five days to get my head around the fact that I need to will get back into a regular workout program.  As for food???  This weekend it became clear to me that I have lost all awareness of how much I'm eating, particularly at night and on the weekends.  I'm going to start journalling my food again.  Not counting calories, just working on being aware.

Can I tell you how much I hate having to admit that I've slid this far back?  I really, really hate it.

The Other Side

Percocet's not nearly as much fun as people from my druggie days made it out to be.  Perhaps the standard therapeutic dosage lacks the kick of the recreational required amount.  Damn, am I happy that I am now mature enough to have no interest in finding out.

Surgery is now complete.  Class two narcotics are no longer on the menu.  Today is my first day back at work.  I have a small incision under the belly roll and another in my belly button due to the laproscopic tubal ligation.  I'm concerned about one under the belly roll staying clean and dry.  The bruising from the laparoscopy is interesting.  It could be six months before the final outcome of the ablation is known.  From what I've been reading on the ablation discussion board, it's going to be interesting in a TMI science experiment sort of way.  I'll spare you those details 'cuz I'm considerate like that.

Hospital anesthesia is very different from dentist office anesthesia.  The only other time I'd been put *way* under was when I was eight and they took out my tonsils.  What I remember from then, it made me really sick to my stomach.  Friday I told everyone who came into the pre-op prep room that I wanted an anti-emetic either in with the anesthesia or just as I was coming out of it.  Well, either they didn't listen or they forgot because as soon as I was moved from recovery to the step down ward, I felt sick enough that I asked for a a basin.  I got down two bites of toast down and a cup of ginger ale before being spectacularly sick all over everything (myself, the gurney, the floor, my friend's shoes (sorry Lola!)).  Gee, they couldn't get that anti-emetic pumped into my IV fast enough at that point, but by then it was too late.  I was sick twice more before it kicked in.  Did they think I was kidding?

Post op instructions say no exercise for two weeks after the procedure.  My sleep has been crap for the past month so I'm really looking forward getting back into a real program.

And She's Back

It is budget season here the large corporation that pays my bills and so I've been very busy playing with spreadsheets and making up numbers which will indicate to management that they need to keep all of us working for another year.

Work busy-ness is good since it distracts from the fact that my surgery is the day after tomorrow.  I am on Day 9 of what I pray will be my last period of this magnitude.  My body seems to know that something is up and so it has thrown the kitchen sink at me this month.  Sure it sucks, but it also helps keep me focused on why the hell I would voluntarily submit my body to something like this.  My greatest fear is not the procedure and the recovery, it's that the procedure won't work.  I don't want to have a hysterectomy.  I really, really don't.

The Day After Halloween is the Scary One

There are piles of candy everywhere!  I have raging PMS.  Fortunately, my co-worker and I keep renewing our "No office candy bet" so I am safe for the moment.  There's still no such thing as a $50 piece of candy...

I really just want to get this period over with.  This will be my last one before the endometrial ablation that's scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow.  I have no illusions that I'm going to be one of the women who end up period free after the procedure.  I just want to get back to something approaching normal.

Cardio Was Committed

After being inspired by the utter tools that spawned a certain discussion over at BFD (I'll link to the BFD discussion rather than the hateful blog in question because I just could not handle inviting those people into my cyber-house...) I hauled my butt to the gym last night.  I can only hope I pissed off any like minded people at my gym by having the nerve to work my fat in public.

Oddly enough my neck, upper back and shoulder feel fine today; no pain, full range of motion.  I'll never understand how I can go from needing to munch 800mg of ibuprofen every 4-6 hours to needing none within the span of just a few hours.  I never get the same answer twice from the medical establishment either.  As much as I'd like to try some weights or a bit of work on the rowing machine, I think I'll wait another day to make sure to make sure this sticks.

Accountability...

Sucks.  One (supposed) benefit of having a blog is that it forces you to be accountable.  Sort of like going to a WW weigh-in when you know you've been off plan.  Frankly, I prefer my usual method of pretending that I didn't gorge on sugar eat poorly all weekend by simply leaving this space blank.

For some reason it started with Chinese food for lunch on Friday.  I don't get that at all.  It wasn't cheap, starchy crap either.  It was good quality food with what should have been a good mix of protein, fat and carbs.  I don't know what sent me to binge-land, but needless to say, things just got worse from there.

Part of the problem is that I'm having issues with my neck and upper-back again.  I spent Saturday on the couch, knocking back the ibuprofen and getting reacquainted with my ice pack.  Since I've just started getting back my motivation to get into regular workouts again, the pain (and the dreary day) served to make me the Queen of Self-pity.  Also it was boring as hell.  Boredom and self-pity.  Not at all helpful.

Thank [insert the deity of your choice] that every day/hour/minute is a new opportunity to turn it all around.  I have lentil soup and a fabulous salad for lunch today.  Healthy and delicious!

It Let Out A Terrifying Wail...

And then died. 

I'm talking about my Stick Blender.  I haven't used it in a while.  I'm not sure what made the motor seize, but it was pretty spectacular.  Along with the screech, there were sparks and the smell of fried capacitors.  If I hadn't been trying to blend something already kind of gloppy it would have been a little less harrowing.

That was just the beginning of the saga of the "fried" black bean patties.  The Pineapple Rice is pretty good, but the Cuban Black bean Patties... Well, those didn't go quite as planned.  Some of it was Operator Error some of it was the recipe:

1. In spite of their cornmeal coating and a generous coating of cooking spray, the patties immediately glued themselves to the bottom of the stainless steel saute pan with no intention of letting go.  This was my fault.  The pan was way too hot for the spray and it just burned itself onto the pan.  I generally don't like Teflon, but this is one application where it has its uses. 
2. I used the same (medium size) pan for the patties that I used to saute the pineapple for the rice.  It was much too small to let me get the spatula under the patties to have any hope of prying them off in one piece.
3. The patties have egg white as a binder and they have a generous amount of Pepper Jack cheese.  I couldn't really tell if the sheen I was seeing on the patties, under the cornmeal crust was melted cheese or uncooked egg white.
4. The recipe calls for "2 cups of cooked black beans, drained (1 15oz can)".  There are not 2 cups of black beans in a 15oz can.  This meant that there weren't enough beans to hold the other, wetter ingredients together.

All in all, neither pretty, nor appetizing.  The rice is excellent, but unless you need to get it on the table in 20 minutes, just use brown rice, or even better, brown basmati rice.

Sports Bra...Check

Tee-shirt...Check

Shorts... Check

Gym Socks...Check

Cross Trainers... Hmmm, there's one... What the heck did I do with the other one?... There it is, under the bed... (picks off the cat and dog fur)...Christ, when was the last time I vacuumed under there?  Never mind!... Okay, proper sneakers...Check

Sweat Pants to go over the shorts...  Still in the "storage" dresser in the office...  Oh look at the cute kittens!  Do the kittens want to play?...  Never mind the kittens... Golly, look at all those cool clothes in the storage dresser that are too small for me... Never mind those.  Get the sweat pants and get out of here... Fine!... Sweat Pants... Check.

Jacket...Check.

iPod...Check.

Head phones... Not a fucking clue...  When was the last time I used the headphones?... Business trip in August?...  Yup, still in my travel bag... Head Phones... Check.

Car Keys... Check.

(Get in car, commence backing down driveway)

Water?...  You forgot to bring water.  Go back in house to get water bottle?  No.  There's water there... Just drive, dammit.  You know you really should work on limiting all of this negative self-talk.  Yeah, yeah, later Miss Mary Sunshine. Right now we're driving.

To.The.Gym.

Workout... Check.

Now that wasn't so hard, was it, ya freakin' drama queen... Enough with the name calling... Bite me...

And so it is in my head.  Crowded as ever.

I Heart This Woman...

Kate Harding...  I really, really, do.  I don't know anyone who nails the ""Thin" doesn't equal healthy anymore than "fat" equals unhealthy" issue better than she does.

Some Progress

I am very pleased to be able to announce that my pants do not hurt today.  Sadly, that *is* what counts as progress these days, but there you are...  I never said it was going to be pretty.