It has been six weeks and five days since we last communicated. I never thought we’d go this long, really. When I sent you away, I thought it would only be for a week…you know, the usual. But then week after week passed and I never brought you back. To be honest, I didn’t want to. I didn’t know the extent of how you affected my feelings until you were absent from my life for an extended amount of time.

So much as changed since the last time I saw you; the time for one. It gets dark sooooo early now, you wouldn’t believe! It’s also the holiday season. Yep, my favorite time of year. I’m also busy nanoing my behind off. Almost done and I should win again this year. OMG! the president elect….I think I’m still in shock from that. The nation is talking about how we’re heading for change after the election results; but I’m a skeptic. I prefer the wait and see approach. Oh, and there has also been a couple of guys to come into my life that I’ve chased away. Again with my usual. It’s funny, you are part of the reason I chase guys away on a regular. I suppose I measure my self-worth by what you say; the higher the number, the less worthy of love I feel. Sad but true. I know you don’t mean to make me feel this way; you’re just being honest, brutally so. That’s your job, so I accept it. I’d hoped with avoidance, my mind set would change. Without the constant reminder of how much I weigh, I would feel better about my self. It worked somewhat, but there was also your distant cousin, the mirror to remind me of my lack of progress.

So tomorrow we reunite after six weeks of absence. I can’t say that I’m excited. More anxious and nail biting nervous. I’ve been good, I promise. Eating right and working out everyday, but I know you; that doesn’t always matter. I’m hoping that we can be on good terms again but I won’t get hopes up. So yeah, tomorrow, bright and early. Just like old times, huh?

Sincerely,

Trina

Three things that seem to be hindering my weight loss as of late. I haven’t stepped foot on my scale since my birthday a month ago. I suppose I know I haven’t been good. I haven’t been bad either, but there is a REALLY good chance than I haven’t lost any weight.

I’m like super tired all the time…no energy or drive to work out. I feel like I spend half of my time at work and the other doing a mountain of homework. So now that the homework had tapered off because we’re nearing the end of the quarter, there is Nanowrimo-national novel writing month–that I can’t pass up no matter how busy I am. I have a month to write a 50,000 word novel so that doesn’t leave much time to do anything else. It’s a crazy month of creativity, tears and nervous break downs and this is the third year I’ve done it. I’m not a sadist, I’m an aspiring writer and for some reason, I do my best writing when I’m in a hurry.

Unfortunately, Nano tends to mean eating candy, popcorn and cocoa while I sit with my lap top for hours on end. Not the most healthy thing on earth, so this year, I’m trying to implement a thirty minute workout break. Here I am on day two…Word count: 7,000+ … Work out break: 0

Maybe I’ll be more structured during the week…

What are the odds…so you all know that I have beef with medical professionals…they have serious math issues since they think that fat = unhealthy. Again, not saying I’m the healthiest person on earth, but I personally feel that I’m doing a bit better than say a chain smoker or an alcoholic…but that’s just my opinion. I mean, what do I know?

Another thing that annoys me is that they want to blame EVERYTHING on my being overweight. And then try to tell me all slow like because since I can’t control my eating, I must be too stupid to do so. I like the way my friend put it:

So they thought they would have to spell it out for you (ie. dumb it down) so that you would understand how you’re at risk for diabetes, high blood pressure, strokes, cancer, hepatitis, anemia, canker sores and hoof rot, all because you’re not a size 3.

My problem as of late is that they are convinced that I have high blood pressure. Now, contrary to what they may think, I know that I have many of the risk factors of high blood pressure…but I also know that I DO NOT have high blood pressure. They shake their heads in that pitying type way like I’m deluding myself—well, I have been called delusional by a doctor already, so whatever. But every freaking time I go into a medical office, they manage to piss me off BEFORE they take my blood pressure. I don’t know why or how they do that. And then they say that my blood pressure is dangerously high. Well DUH! You’re giving me serious homicidal tendencies; how do you expect my blood pressure to look? So then they look at my weight, and the color of my skin and it all make sense, right?

So I had another doctors appointment because they want to monitor my ‘hyper tension’ since I can’t at home because obviously, I can’t control my eating habits…you know throwing down all of that fried chicken and butter drenched corn bread. I told myself I wasn’t going to engage with these folks…I wasn’t going to argue…I was just going to smile and nod so that I could get out of there in less than the two hours I’m usually in there arguing my point. But that morning, as I put on all black and tied my hair back, I knew I was gearing for a fight and I was just putting on my armor.

I had an early appointment and was called in real quick which helped keep me calm. The nurse who took my weight and blood pressure was very nice to me and managed not to say anything about my weight. So I was still calm when she took my blood pressure thinking happy thoughts and surprise, surprise, a very normal blood pressure. Then I step on the scale and surprise, surprise, I have dropped 12 pounds since my last visit. I know I’m being mad sarcastic right now, but I can’t help it. When ever a doctor sees a fat person, they always assume that person is on their way to being more fat rather than they are trying to lose weight and I argued untill my face was blue the last time I was in there, telling them I had already dropped 50lbs and they wanted to act like they didn’t believe me.

So when the doctor asked if I had been doing anything different, seeing as I was 12 pounds lighter with a normal BP, I said, “Nope, been doing the same, ole, same ole.” Which is completely the truth. The doctor said “That’s great.” Wrote some things on the chart and I was free to go.

I was feeling a little anticlimactic. I was totally expecting an argument; a fight for death; hair pulling and name calling and mama dissing type fight as I argued my point of view. But nothing. It was a nice change of pace, but I felt oddly deflated.

First of all, there were three things that happened in June that totally threw off my weight loss/work out/lifestyle change groove. First, school started, secondly, my hours at work increased and then there was that darn pneumonia. This all lead to me going a whole month (including 2 straight weeks) without working out or watching what I ate. So July comes rolling around and I’m still having some issues finding my way…getting the umph to work out as well as avoiding my sweet/salty craving. August shows up and I have no excuses for why I’m not working out except that I was being mad lazy. And then when I did work out, it didn’t show up on the scale.

So it’s September now…and I knew it was time for me to put my foot down and get back into the swing of things. First of all, no more treats…that’s right…goodbye chocolate and farewell french fries…I’m all business. Then I had to promise to make some personal time for my treadmill…we had a falling out last month. I came home channeling some old school Janet Jackson and was like, “What have you done for me lately?” Seriously, I sweat and I wheeze and I battle shin splints and you can’t burn one freaking pound off?!? We are so done! It’s over! But I had to suck it up and admit that I was being counter productive…working out and then eating a bowl of french fries and barbecue sauce will never equal weight loss.

And lastly on the road to getting my groove back, I had to come to terms with the fact that my scale hates me.  It has given me the same dang number for nearly 3 months. I’m sorry, but I am so not cool with that. I mean, here is this little silver and black contraption that I stood on every week and I let the numbers it chose to display make or break my day. I would be in a perfectly good mood and then I’d get on the scale and my whole damn day was shot. I refuse to let some inanimate object that doesn’t even care about how much work I’m putting into this dictate the way I feel. I’m DONE. So I adopted my new slogan: SCREW THE SCALE. That’s right, I said it. I’m not scared. I’ll say it again. SCREW THE SCALE! I know what I’m doing. I’m eating right, I busting my ass every day sweating buckets, lakes and rivers. I’m doing it right. So what if the scale doesn’t reflect this! My clothes do. My jeans don’t fit…too big. I found my waist and I even wake up feeling smaller.

Some day, my scale and I will have a nice sit down and discuss our differences, but in the mean time, SCREW IT!

Ever get that feeling that someone has implanted your head onto someone else’s body? Yeah, me neither until recently. When I was a kid, my mom would always say, “You learn something new, damn near every day.” It was just something she said, but I’m realizing it was true. As of late, I’m learning a lot about my body. It’s changing…like pubescent changing or something. When I’m getting dressed, I notice all of these differences…

Well let me see if I can break it down for you…There are all types of figures that we women have been bless with (or cursed with as the case may be) whether it be the hourglass or the pear or the triangle or the lasagna noodle. I have never been skinny or small for that matter. Well actually I was a small baby, but then they fed me and it seems as if I didn’t stop eating until I was 21. So the body I’ve had has always kind of resembled a beach ball with limbs.

Now, all of a sudden I have all these indentations and dips and curves—instead of just rolls. I went out the other weekend in some tight size 14 jeans and a tight shirt and went in at the waist and it was commented on many times that night that I had an hourglass figure.

The thing is since I’ve never really known a small day in my life; I kind of don’t know my body type. I had no idea that my butt was this noticeable until my waist started shrinking. Or that my boobs would STAY THE SAME EXACT SIZE! Goodness, they are starting to look like they need their own zip code! But that is besides the point… I am suffering through a plateau and maybe I’ve been a bit down on myself, but this new…discovery, I guess, has got me feeling better. I mean, looking good and having an actual shape…I might just keep this up.

I have known both ends of the spectrum…lets just say there were some tough times growing up when I had to do other things to take my mind off the growling of my stomach and then the eventual hunger pains. Drinking water on an empty stomach still makes me feel sick. And then we would get some food and my sis and I would just eat and eat and eat until we were groaning and immobile.

And here I am fifteen or some odd years later and I think I’m still fighting this eating seesaw. I can go HOURS without eating and then stuff my face until I feel like I will literally explode with the next bite…and lets face it; that would be messy. But what’s different now is that I feel crazy guilty when I eat like that…I should considering I’m probably eating five days worth of calories. But beyond that, the ‘fit to burst’ feeling translates to me having no control and I KNOW I have more control than that. It has come to the point when I LOVE the empty feeling and I look forward to the hunger pains. How sick is that? I suppose not eating and controlling myself means that I have the will power to turn away from food…the good and the bad.

This weekend, I am running a food gauntlet. I mean food is like being thrown at me and I have to duck out the way or go over my daily calorie count. I have donuts flying by my head and I’m tripping over pizza slices and I’m barely staying afloat in a sea of carbonated high fructose corn syrup bliss. I want to indulge so bad. I’m craving that immobile feeling of fulfillment I had when I was younger when I went without for long amounts of time. I want to groan, undo my pants and sigh after eating. But I can’t.

I am trying to reprogram my thinking to find a happy medium between starvation and over consumption. I need to be satisfied with…satisfied. I need to stop thinking that I’ll only be happy if I’m full to Thanksgiving capacity. And I need to do this soon, because pigging out every weekend is sabotaging my ‘life style change’.

…well that and the French fries with honey barbeque sauce…soooooo addictive and sooooo good!

I have finally gotten my lap top back. Some three weeks ago, there was an issue with the wireless and then the techie guy talked computer to me for about 20 minutes, none of which I understood until he said it would take three weeks to get my computer back. It was a sad, sad time for me. But it’s back!

So I am currently on break from school…starts back the first week of September. My friends want to have a girls night out during labor day weekend. I’ll be honest; I’ve been in hermit mode most of this year as I try to drop those pesky 60 pounds. But since it’s taking me a little longer than expected, I have to give in. So I want to go out, I just wish I could leave that roll that spills over the top of my jeans at home, you know?

I guess I should admit to owning a few articles of shapewear. Corsets and the briefs and the body suit, but honestly, who invents these things?!? They either ride up, slip down or pinch in unmentionable places. Not to mention those damn snap crotches. It’s almost impossible to go to the bathroom in a normal amount time. Trust me, I tried and it was HORRIBLE! Oh come on, I can’t be the only one who has suffered through the agony of shapewear. And another thing, they don’t really work. I still have a roll, it’s just smoother. It’s like putting perfume over funk; it won’t fly.

After a rather traumatizing night with shapewear where I had to beg my friend to take me home so I could take the necessary ten minutes to use the restroom (you know with the snaps and the pulling and the tugging and the shifting…), I threw all of my shapewear into the back of my closet never to be seen again. So when this weekends plans were made, I had a brief thought of pulling out the corset…you know to give me that hour glass figure we know and love, but the corset rides up, and then there are the briefs, but they slip down and the body suit…yeah the snaps. In the end I decided that I’m going to let my roll hang on out. Let it have its last hurrah, because this time next year, it will be longggggg gone!

Like seriously, I’ve ALWAYS been the fat kid from as far back as I can remember. I was a small baby, but then my grandmother couldn’t get me to stop crying when my mom went back to work and would feed me to keep me quiet. So I became the chubby kid. Where I’m from, Fat = ugly and that’s what I thought of myself. My sis was super skinny and stylish…back in the late 80’s early 90’s. If you saw pics of her, she looked like an extra on the Cosby show, like she was one of the kids or one of their friends. She had the best clothes and all these boys calling her. So to me, that meant Skinny = pretty/happy/popular. I had an ugly duckling/swan complex when I was younger; I thought I would hit a certain age and become something else. And since this never happened I spent ALL of my teen years thinking I was ugly. I have finally grown out of that, but I’m still faced with the problem of thinking that because I’m fat it makes me unattractive. I’m still thinking that once I lose this weight, I’ll feel better about myself but I sometimes wonder if that won’t be enough, like I’ll lose this weight and I’ll find something else wrong with my skin…my hair…my height….

I am forced to admit now that I have a problem. I’m a grab and go girl; I like the grab and get the heck out of dodge. Most of my clothes look exactly the same because I want to grab a shirt and a pair of jeans and not worry if it matches. I only wear white socks for this reason. My shoes (all running shoes, some variation of black, silver and white) and my keys are by the door so I can grab them on the way out.

And this seems to be the case with food. I’m all about convenience. If I have to cook at any point between Monday and Friday, then I won’t be eating. I don’t have the time, patience or will to stand there cook something in the small allotment of free time I have after I get off work and before I go to bed. I want to walk into the kitchen and grab something and eat it. No hassle and fuss. I’m a snacker; usually nibbling on something every couple of hours or so. So I shop this way, buying crackers and cereal and bagged salad and grilling chicken on the weekend so that it’s cooked for the entire week and canned fruit because it last longer. 

But then I also bought popcorn and candy and I made a batch of cookies. I should have known better, but they were all on sale! And all totally grab and go. And then this freaky thing started happening; I’m sitting on the floor reading some assigned chapters and I look over and there are like five empty candy wrappers right next to me. I don’t remember eating them. I don’t even remember getting up to go to the kitchen to get them, but there they were. I’m ashamed to say that my second thought; after I realized I had ate them, was maybe there is a Milky Way loving ghost in my apartment.

But then the cookies in the cookie bowl—because I’m too cool (read: cheap) for a jar—started depleting and I had melted chocolate on my fingers. And I found an empty box of popcorn in the cabinet. That’s when I had to admit it: I’m starting to just pick up food and not even notice that I’m eating it. Of course those calories are flying under the radar. No wonder why I’m stuck on this darn plateau.

And possibly a caffeine drip. I haven’t stepped foot on my treadmill in a week. It’s looking lonely over there, having collected a weeks worth of dust. It taunts me every time I walk in the door after another long day of work. It says my name and reminds me of my calorie intake for the day and reminds me of how much I really need some cardio. But I don’t have the time or the energy to spare. I have to walk passed it and straight to my school books and spend the next several hours being frustrated by rational expressions and logarithmic functions. College Algebra is a Beeyotch!!!