It's been a difficult week.


That is the operative word. And my comfort remedy is generally food, booze or shopping. I'm not one who turns to healthy means to comfort myself. I admit it.

We have no money, so shopping is out of the question. Although I've window shopped in nearly every thrift store within a ten-mile radius. I just haven't purchased anything. Well, I did pick up a 25 cent cookbook. Whoopie.

I haven't drank much because my calories don't allow, and only to add to the mix, I have stomach problems (aggravated by the stress, which alcohol and caffeine only make the tummy worse...). My doctor gave me Xanax for when my anxiety is through the roof (which has been daily), but I'm partially too chicken to take it because I fear being addicted. She also gave me a script for Zoloft, which I'm also not wanting to take (I don't want the side-effects, withdrawl and I don't want to give up having a glass of wine or beer sometimes).

So God's really working me, eh? My load is heavy, my family stress is through the roof (dealing with an adult child who has real "issues"). All of my cooping mechanisms are are basically gone right now. I have to figure out how I'm going to work though all of this. So far, it appears the same way I've limped through the last 18 months of my life - day by miserable day, grasping onto what is good. It hasn't been easy.

I don't really have any friends, not the kind that you immediately call when life is stressful, and get instant relief in the sound of their voice. No. Seriously, all of my friends have their own baggage. So it's almost a chore to call them; because I'm a "good listener" I end up sitting on the phone listening to them babble on about their husbands, kids, work and messy houses. It doesn't help. It really doesn't. My mom is wrapped up in the same stuff that is going on with my daughter (and she also has one foot in the river called DeNial), so that's not helpful. My husband is my husband. I love him, but there's strain there too. I end up resenting him because I carry the burdens of stress (mostly worrying about the finances).

I feel like I've nowhere to go and the walls are caving in on me. I wish I could eat it away, but not having my clothes fit would only add to my state of misery. I know this. I guess that's a step in the right direction.

So I type it out in my fatblog. Great. Lucky you. Lucky world.

I'm going to go take it on. Enjoy yours.


I don't feel like it was the best week for me. It was my period week, which never helps. I had an insatiable, literally, desire for sweets, and an almost equal need to constantly eat. It is amazing I made it out of the past week alive. On top of that, there were family stresses galore (negative), and social outings (positive). All things that could have sent me spiraling into a food coma.

We had friends over Friday. As usual, out came the drinks, cheeses and munchies. My favorite was the brie, second the hummus, and I feasted on them both. The next day was a grill out at the cousins. I did well during dinner (turkey burger, a couple chips), but overdid it later by chomping on chocolates and potato chips (don't ask). The next day was BBQ at the inlaws. I snarfed salad early to fill up my stomach, skipped the chips and beer, but indulged in the ice cream cake dessert. Compromises.


Prior to going to the inlaws yesterday I WENT ON A 5.8-MILE BIKE RIDE!!! I've been wanting to do this loop for a long, long time. It is right by our house; daily I see people tooling down the path, hearts pumping, legs cycling. I longed to do it, too.

Admittedly, I had to walk my bike up the major hill. But I did it. There was no call made to home to have someone pick me up because I couldn't make it. There was, however, a bit of humble pie eaten as a silver-haired couple rode their bikes past me as I pushed mine. Yeah. That felt really good. I told myself that someday I, too, would make it up that hill.

It took me almost an hour to complete the windy, semi-hilly ride. It is a beautiful ride. But the beauty took second seat to my huffing, puffing, leg-aching, constant "I-think-I-can" chant going on in my head. The hottest day of the year and I decide to hop on my bike for the first time to conquer a ride I've never even tried. Smart.

By the time I arrived home I was shaky, wobbly, sweating like an animal, and exhausted. It took me an hour and a cold shower to stop sweating.

But I burned over 400 calories. And I accomplished something pretty big (for me).

And, by making little tweaks to my normally abandoned eating behavior, I managed to hold my weight through a stressful, hormone-laden, socially eventful week.

Mission accomplished. Those little changes are what I will need to do all summer long to be able to hold or lose weight (I'd like to lose, obviously).

But, I saved the biggest news for last. It happened. I finally had someone ask me if I've lost weight. It was, bless her heart, my sister-in-law. She told me I looked great, said she could see it in my face, and we had a nice conversation on the struggles of weight loss.

Now I can check that goal off my list. Next goal? - 269.

This week I'm keeping away from desserts/sweets. Five days, M-F. I have to do it. I have to break myself from it for a few days.

Little Changes Everywhere

Today I am pleased that I have been able to make strides in my health, to be more intentional about my eating. I feel blessed to see visible reward for that effort. It is slow, and the changes are small. But there are changes.

Yesterday my cousin said I looked "slim" - not quite "have you lost weight" but getting close.

It'll happen.

Frustrating to me, though, is that not only has my weight spiraled out of control, but so has my house, my finances, and my life. As I continue to be thoughtful about my eating and exercise, my desire is to extend that intentionality to other areas of my life.

My cluttered house.

My sagging checkbook.

My overextended schedule.

I need to make tangible moves to change those other areas of my life so that my weight loss and health advances can continue. My cluttered house stresses me out. My bills, constantly being paid late (or forgotten), stresses me out. Having so much on my plate, too many commitments, stresses me out.

My goal over the next few months is to correct some of this. It overwhelms and depresses me. Like, seriously. I feel oppressed. I don't like it. God's purpose in my life is weighed down by fat, clutter and "things I need to do." Little changes everywhere. I need to make a clearer path for myself.


I weighed in the yesterday and it say 274. I about fell over. I've been so bloated an miserable (IBS) that I was certain I was gaining weight. It didn't reflect on the scale, but I'll tell you when your pants start cutting off valuable oxygen to your brain, you start to wonder if you've overindulged too much.

Horrible feeling. But I had to keep my head. Even though I had bookclub and other fun eatery occasions over the weekend. Even though there's some weird little thing in my mind that really would rather me just slide back up, than continue to go down.

So much of what I'm going through is mental. Physically I can conquer more than I think. Mentally, emotionally -- that's where my difficulties set in. If I continue tracking my calories and movement, I'm fine. But if I think too long on the whole weight thing, the clothes and the way they fit. The fact that I continue to go down?.. I start to lose my mind just a little bit.

No. Probably not normal. I realize that.

And I'm not saying I'm not happy about it. But, in a way it all feels like a lie. Like, sure, I'll lose some weight - AND THEN I'LL PACK IT BACK ON. Fear of failure, maybe. Fatbloggers (or "fitbloggers" if that makes you feel better) die off like a bad germ at a Purell convention. Half my link list has stopped updating or dropped off the map. Most of them making such remarkable progress, too. Inspiring.

Weight loss is one beast. If you can conquer the weight loss part, there's a whole new world of maintenance. I hear it is worse, actually.

Also, if you lose a significant amount -- like over 100 pounds, people notice. And, God forbid, you gain it back, people will notice that too.

Stinkin' thinkin' though, and I have to stay away from that thought pool. Not even drip my toes in to see how it feels. Walk past it, look at it and shrug it off. Deceptive. Waiting for failure.

But, I'll tell you, when I weighed in yesterday and saw the 274, I immediately knew I wouldn't record it as my weight. I knew I'd re-weigh again, until I got the result I needed (which wasn't 274) and use that. Weirdness.

But, hey. I'm creeping closer to 259 than 299, now, right? Interesting. Presently, I'm pretty focused on 269. It's only 6 pounds away. A month or so. That would put me 1/2 way to goal. Crazy talk. Just crazy. I literally can not believe I'm almost there. I don't believe the scale, I don't really believe my pants (but mostly I don't believe the scale).

I just have to focus on what I can: calories. And ignore what inhibits me from getting to the goal(s) I'm aiming for. But how do you ignore yourself?

Reality Check

Here is why it is good to journal. It keeps you accountable. Sometimes it shows you how far you've come, and sometimes it is a mirror to show you what work you need to do. Either is good.

This is a journal entry from a year ago (slightly abbreviated):

Springtime... I decided I might just break out a pair of capris from last year. Why not?

I took out a pair that I picked up from Fashion Bug. They're super comfortable. I slid them on. No. That's not true. I
went to slide them on an realized that I more had to stuff them on. And I could barely zip them.

I tried on 2 more pairs - my looser pairs. They were uncomfortable. Oh my gosh. UNcomfortable. Like - what the heck am I going to wear in a few weeks?! I'm devastated... I seriously need some prayer and support. Don't we all? What is the magic key that had me start this so long ago? How did I, at 330 make a decision to go down instead of be lazy and keep gaining?

... I was happier when I was simply 20 pounds lighter. I felt good. Clothes felt good - they fit better. I am not so weak that I can't lose 20 pounds.

Right now I'm 299. I want to hit 279 before summer...

Last year was rough around this time. I'll admit. I don't blame myself for needing to focus on my family instead of my eating. But I'm still glad I wrote about my struggles with my clothing. It was such a disappointment to me to take out the wardrobe I so proudly accumulated, only to bust the buttons off of the jeans and rip zippers. I kept having to go back to the few faithful "fat" pants that I had. I refused to buy any new clothing to fit my expanded body

And today I can fit back into those clothes. I'd like for them to be loose on me very soon.

Resistant To Change (277)

My insatiable appetite today had me running for a calendar to see if I was pre-menstrual. It was that bad. I'm not, though. I'm just coming off another weekend out of town.

This past weekend I can't say I did very well, but I can't say I did horribly. Saturday night dinner out I split a meal, had a moderate amount of appetizer - AND I went for a long walk (hauling butt) Sunday morning that brought me to sweat in 50-degree weather. And I had Chinese for Mother's Day. I indulged, but not to the extent that I would have if I weren't paying more attention.

Today I scrubbed floors, went for 3 walks and kept under my calories (OK, over by 6) to make up for it.

All of these things I could live with. Since I'm on the path to better lifelong choice-making, I guess I feel OK with it.

Today I weighed in at 277. My strange mental problem won't let me make it official. I thought on this off and on through the day, wondering what my malfunction is.

Fear, probably. I've lived a very fat lady for years. 300 pounds is heavy. Heavier than most. As much as an obstacle as it has been, frustrating, embarrassing (at times) - it's me. It's what I've been comfortable with. I've grown accustomed to accommodating my girth. Not having to work around that obstacle on a continuous thought wheel means making new accommodations in other places of my life -- opening doors that have always been closed off to me.

I think there's a part of me that is scared. Like, really scared.

Sixty pounds ago I would have not done everything I do now. Thirty pounds ago I don't know if I would have even made it out to dinner with friends the other night (I arrived late, and have been groomed to be fearful of fitting my big body into too-small places - arriving late could have presented a very embarrassing scenario). I would have made an excuse as to why I couldn't make dinner with the group, and spent it solo.

Not this time. I arrived late, feeling more confident than I've felt in a long time.

It's all good. Changes in the right direction. But it is still change, something I'm not always entirely comfortable with. If I have the strength to get down into the 250 zone I will literally poo in my pants. I'm 20 pounds away from 257, and 20 pounds away from 297.

Which will win out?

Not Normal

Though I've been busy, I'm still on track. With weekends out of town; still on track. Constantly making little changes in my behavior (eating and otherwise). Taking the stairs to my hotel room 3 floors up. Walking, intentionally, instead of sitting around during downtime. I overindulged a bit, but still managed to hold my weight -- actually lose in the process.

We need to talk about that losing.

I'm starting to get weird.

See, I started weighing myself with my Wii Fit. It was unintentional, really. I purchased the 'Fit and the board, and went through the process of making my character. Weighed in. Fine. I just grew accustomed to it. I liked the way the line moves down and it's much funner than weighing myself on the shipping scale in the basement.

None of that is weird.

What's weird is this hang up I have over being 279. See, I technically hit that goal with the Wii Fit last week. In fact, I hit 278 - surpassing one of my first BIG goals (my lowest weight in 20 years). But it didn't feel official. I couldn't allow myself (and still can't) to celebrate that goal until my shipping scale reflects the same.

The shipping scale says 280. The shipping scale fluctuates, the Wii Fit does not. I truly think the Wii Fit might be the better scale. But I can't get over the fact that the shipping scale is still stuck a little higher.

Instead of celebrating, I'm obsessing.

I shouldn't do this to myself. I shouldn't put so much on the number of the scale. Because, realistically, I could visit the doctor and have the scale say 285 and crap my pants right there, if I want to get technical.


This is how I failed at Weight Watchers. I couldn't' stand that when I went to my evening meetings, I always weighed in heavier than I did when I'd to my own (un)official weigh-ins (in the morning, after using the bathroom, and generally in my bra and underwear). It frustrated me to no end, and became the downfall of my efforts. I'm sure there were other issues that added to my distress, but the scale thing I really couldn't get over.

So you're telling me that when I weigh in at home on my scale and I'm celebrating my 5-pound weight loss, I can't have my little badge?!

Not for me.

The good thing is that my clothes are looser. I feel like I have more energy. Did I say my clothes are looser?

My next goal is to have someone notice and ask me, "Have you lost weight?" Because, so far, it hasn't happened. I don't really understand it, honestly. To me it feels like I'm walking around with a horse leg sticking out of my head and nobody's noticing. I know the big (but apparently subtle) changes that have gone on with my body, but people haven't caught on yet. I'm waiting.