186.6 & First World Problems

It's been an overwhelming few days -- lost cash, missed hair appointment due to sick Kid, and worst of all, lost iPhone. My beloved iPhone! You know, the one with 1,000 pictures of my child? It's gone, gone forever. I lost it at a bar while I was out with friends from work on Tuesday night.

Anyhoo, I was so upset about losing the phone that I didn't eat much yesterday. Still, I didn't have high expectations for my weigh-in today. We've gone out to eat a few times, I drank twice, and I haven't been working out. Imagine my surprise when I stepped on and saw the number.

I'm shaking off the bad juju of the week and starting over. I had a great talk with Smith yesterday (yes! Smith lives!) and another friend of mine is selling me his old iPhone to get me through until I can afford the iPhone 4. My precious pictures are gone forever, but I've learned my lesson -- always download, and always install the "Find My iPhone" software.

How's YOUR week been? What challenges are you overcoming this week?

To Err is Fattening

Remember how I said in my food post a couple of days ago that I still make bad choices from time to time? Well, I made one last night.

After a long, emotional roller-coaster day, I asked Hubs if he wanted a treat. (That's code for "I'm going to send you out to get something bad for me.") He did, and so he went, and he returned with ice cream and a Slurpee for me. The Slurpee was tiny -- and it should have been enough. I dug into the ice cream anyway. Mmmm...cookie dough.

Within two bites, I was done. It was inexpensive ice cream, the kind that's a little gritty. It was a little too sweet. It wasn't what I wanted. But I kept eating. Bite after bite, a little more, a little faster, and before I knew it I was on the verge of speed-eating the entire pint. I wasn't even tasting it, wasn't even present, if that makes any sense. I was just consuming.

Something made me snap out of it; I don't know what it was. I looked down and saw that in about five minutes (maybe less), I'd inhaled almost two-thirds of the container. Two-thirds of an 800-calorie, 40g of fat container of lousy ice cream. My heart was in my throat; the spoon was still in my hand and I could feel it wanting to dig into what was left. "Go on, you've already eaten most of it. Just finish it off!"

I didn't.

I didn't finish the pint. For a single moment, the small part of me that's strong and steely and food-resistant jumped up and said NO. I clapped the lid on the carton as fast as I could, and ran downstairs to put it in the freezer. NO MORE.

I didn't want that damn ice cream. So why did I eat it? Because I had a sort of crappy day. Because I want to work out and I can't. Because being alone for almost two weeks has made me neurotic and paranoid and slightly depressed and I wanted something, anything, to make me feel happy. Guess what? After I ate that stupid ice cream, a wormhole didn't open up and erase my crappy day. I still couldn't work out. I was still feeling neurotic and paranoid and slightly depressed. That stupid, lousy, not-worth-it ice cream didn't fix anything.

It may seem like common sense -- how could food fix anything? Emotional eating has been my M.O. for so long that I hardly ever question it. I suppose in some ways it's like an addiction; there is a need, a huge, screaming, demanding need and I answer it. I give it what it wants because (used to be, anyway) for however short a time, filling that need with food makes everything else disappear. For those few fleeting moments, my brain checks out, my hands and mouth do the work, and everything goes away.

I don't want to check out anymore. I want to be here. I want to be present. I want to deal with things instead of hiding behind food, and fat, and funny.

Radio Silence

A lot has happened over the last few weeks. I haven't had any interest in writing until this morning, when I decided to just sit down to write. What happened of course is that I got distracted by the oh, thousand emails in my inbox (forgot to close Mail before leaving the computer weeks ago). And now here I am with about twenty minutes to write before I have to go upstairs and get ready.

So what is there to say? What's the big drama that's kept me from blogging for weeks on end? Part of me doesn't even want to rehash it all this morning. Part of me wants to pretend like everything is the same and bang out a funny blog post with no "real" content. And the other part of me wants to lay myself open like a map and show you all how I got from there to here.

I'll compromise. I'll give you this: All is not right with my world at present, and that's okay. I am physically well but emotionally bruised. There has been good news and not-so-good news. I'd be lying if I said I'm doing my best to deal with all of it, but after another perfectly-timed kick in the ass from Smith last night, I'm done with the sniveling pity party. A good portion of the mess I'm in is my own damn fault, and thus it's my own (damn) responsibility to claw my way out of it.

216

Hooray for losing almost a full pound! Amazing what happens when you get out of bed.

I've had a really hard time the last two weeks. For some reason, when I take heavy-duty painkillers, and for a couple of weeks after I stop taking them, I have INSANE sugar cravings. I experienced this after my hernia repair surgery last year, but I don't think I was as aware of it at that time. What makes these cravings different than a regular sugar craving is that the usual fixes (fruit, protein, water, exercise) don't make them go away. The only thing that stops them is, well, sugar.

They hit suddenly, these cravings, and they send me into a near panic. Before I can blink, I'm rooting through my kitchen cabinets, desperately trying to find a cookie, or a piece of candy, or some long-forgotten stash of sugary goodness. Fortunately, I don't keep stuff like that in the house anymore. I think the only candy-like thing here is a bag of semisweet chocolate chips that I keep on hand for baking, and (so far) I've not touched those. UNfortunately, I have a wonderful, caring, obliging husband who, upon hearing me say that I'm DYING for something sweet, asks what I want and goes out to get it. Limeade from Sonic? Sure. Milkshake? Of course. A candy bar from the 7-11 down the street? Done. Before I know it, I've inhaled an extra thousand calories. I finally had to ask him to tell me no when I demand this stuff. I even agreed to write "I will not get mad at you when you tell me NO" on a piece of paper, a sort of Fattie Rage Protection Order. My poor hubs.

Anyway, I'm determined to get back on track again. I picked up a small notebook at Target last night, to replace the food journal that I lost (read: stopped using), and I'm writing down everything I eat -- like Smith asked me to MONTHS ago. I've been cleared by my surgeon to resume "light" exercise: walking and jogging are okay, heavy lifting and ab work are not. So, there's a run on the schedule today. And tomorrow. And the next day.

Oh! And a big shout out to my mom, who took me out last Saturday for coffee, a pedicure, groceries, and new running shoes. My mom is one of my biggest cheerleaders, and I'm beyond grateful for her. YAY MOM!

Let's Get It Done

I spent an hour at my doctor's office this morning. (Of course, of those sixty minutes, only twenty were actually spent in her presence.). I had a list of issues for her -- facial cyst, gall bladder, recurrent mystery bulge, and my knee. She patiently listened as I explained each thing, then she did a few quick assessments. Three prescriptions and three referrals later, and I'm not fixed yet.

So what's on deck for 2010 so far?

• I'm seeing a plastic surgeon about the facial cyst. Since I've lost weight, it's far more noticeable (to the point that someone asked "What IS that?!" on meeting me for the first time), and I want it gone. My regular surgeon could have taken care of it, but as my doc said, "You probably don't want that type of surgeon cutting on your face." Hopefully, they'll be able to hack it out without putting me under, and I'll be in and out in one visit. Hopefully.
• I'm going to an orthopedic surgeon to get my knee assessed. I'm guessing that he'll poke at it, and then order an MRI. So, more waiting, and more tests for which I'll have to shell out hefty co-pays.
• I'm heading back to my regular surgeon who'll decide if my gall bladder needs to come out (again, probably more expensive tests and waiting). If it does, then he can take a peek at the mystery bulge while he's poking around in my belly. If there's something to fix, he'll fix it.

Oh! And according to the doc's scale, I've only gained back four pounds, which really isn't too bad in my opinion. She was really pleased with my overall loss, and about peed her pants with excitement when I told her I did a 5k and had enlisted the help of a trainer. She says she'll do whatever she can to help me get all this mess resolved so I can get back on track with exercise.

I'm trying to keep my food under control, but the gall bladder stuff is making it difficult to eat. About twenty minutes after I eat anything, I either feel a) pukey or b) agony. I can take meds for either, but only when the Hubs is home, since both drugs result in serious loopiness and/or coma-like sleep.

Anyhoo, that's about it for now. Waiting, painkillers, and more waiting. I hope your 2010 has started off on the right foot!

Holding Pattern

Yes, my knee still hurts, but not badly enough to stop me from running. So what's stopping me?

Honestly, I am just really, really, REALLY goddang tired. This has hit me out of the blue. I almost feel like I'm getting a cold, but it never comes. I'm still keeping my food under control (for the most part) but I've been listening to my body and sleeping when it demands.

This isn't the kind of sleeping that shows up when I get really depressed -- you know, where I crawl into bed and don't come out for three days? I mean, I CAN'T sleep like that, I have a job and house and a kid, for Pete's sake, but even if I could, that's not what I want to do. I'm staying active almost all day, but when I crawl into bed at night, sleep comes so quickly that I don't even have time to take my glasses off.

Maybe I really am getting sick? Dunno. Maybe weeks of all kinds of activity (holiday and otherwise) have caught up with me? Dunno. What I do know is that, as per usual, I'm just going to go with the flow. 'Cause quite frankly, I'm too tired to fight it.

Fighting the Urge to Snuggle

The weather's turned cold, and this is my body's cue to curl up and nap, apparently. Somebody done flipped the "HIBERNATE" switch. It's a tough urge to fight -- I've got a super comfy couch, a toddler who likes to cuddle, and streaming movies on Netflix.

I've been doing pretty well at keeping the naps under control, though. I've taken a couple of power-snoozes (less than an hour) on days that I work AND run, but that's it. I made up a few rules for myself to help:

1. Ask yourself, "Are you REALLY tired, or are you just bored?" I find that a lot of times I'll just go to sleep if I don't have anything interesting to do. I've been combatting this by getting back into photography, and I'm about to jump into scrapbooking again (that's my wintertime hobby).

2. No run? No nap. If I don't work out, I don't really have any excuse to be tired. If I do run, I let myself have a 45 minute nap, max.

3. No work? No nap. If I don't work in the morning (my usual 4:45 - 8:45AM shift), again, I don't have any excuse to be tired. And I really only need a post-work nap on days that are super busy, like today (lots of customers, supply order to put away, etc.).

4. Turn on the lights, or better yet, go outside. When I want to nap, I'll get up and turn the lights on (I usually keep them off during the day) or zip outside for a few minutes. It really helps.

Another thing I've been doing for a while now is to regulate my bedtime. This is one of those things that your mom or dad's been telling you your whole life -- go to bed at a reasonable hour. Again, so simple, but it really, really works. I've learned that I really need a solid eight hours in order to feel really good the next day. I just make my bedtime non-negotiable, like an appointment or any other time commitment.

I know I'm not the only one who must be feeling the urge to snuggle. How do YOU handle it?

Halloween, I Kind of Hate Your Face

My eating spiraled out of control this weekend, and I'm still trying to get a handle on it. Even after I got rid of all the candy in the house after my friend's baby shower last weekend, even after running all week, I still let myself eat (and drink) way too much.

On Friday morning, I let myself have Chik Fil A Chicken Minis for breakfast. Hubs had taken the day off for a school thing, and when he got back, we went to Ruby Tuesday's for lunch. I had a salad, but that salad had bacon, avocado, and cheese on it (not tons, but probably more than I should've had).

Then that night, my friend Peggy threw an awesome party, and although I started out strong -- eating celery from the veggie tray, drinking a light beer -- I ended up drinking too much and chowing down on everything from chips and dip to pumpkin-faced Krispy Kreme donuts.

Saturday, I felt like complete and total poop. Not hungover, but dehydrated and well, sugary. It's weird, sugar now has a very strange and unpleasant effect on me. It makes me so tired, and for lack of a better word, I just feel STICKY inside.

We went to a birthday party; my friend's son turned one and they threw a pirate-themed birthday party for him. I didn't eat much of anything -- I think I had a bite of cake and maybe one or two chips. Nothing seemed appealing. I can't really remember what we ate the rest of the day. After running a couple of errands, we took the Kid trick-or-treating and then had dinner with my mom. Mexican food! I had chicken fajitas, which aren't too bad I guess. But then when we got home, I ate some of Kid's candy, and then Hubs and I ate pita chips and spinach dip while we watched a scary movie. I was so exhausted, and still dehydrated, and still feeling like poop.

So here we are on Sunday. I tried to get back on track this morning: oatmeal with fruit, some coffee. But then I ate leftover dip while Kid napped, and then I ate candy. I still haven't had enough water. And I hopped on the scale -- up three pounds from Monday. FUCK. I haven't run today, I didn't run yesterday. I FEEL LIKE CRAP.

Can I get a do-over? Can I go back to Friday night and not pig out? No.

What can I do?

I can start over again, again, again. I can (will!) throw out the damned Halloween candy and leftover dip. I can keep drinking water for the rest of the day, have a decent dinner, and start fresh tomorrow. I can get a good night's sleep and hopefully keep myself from getting the cold I feel coming on. I can learn a lesson from this past weekend and stop making this mistake over and over again.

Frustration

I'm about at the end of my rope with this hernia thing. I was in agony for a week, then woke up the other day with zero pain (no gut pain, no back pain). Now my back is starting to hurt again, just when I'd decided to start running again. Yeah, I was going to flip my surgeon the bird and get back on the treadmill. But now, my entire low back, hips, and heiny are ablaze with aches and twinges. AGAIN.

I'm so over this. I'm so tired. And the worst part is, the self-doubt has given up on tiptoeing and is now stomping into my mind with huge steel-toed boots. THIS IS YOUR FAULT. IT'S PSYCHOSOMATIC. YOU'RE MAKING IT UP. SEE, NO ONE BELIEVES YOU. THEY JUST THINK YOU'RE A BIG FATTIE WHO'S TRYING TO AVOID WORKING OUT.

It doesn't help that I'm frustrated with the Hubs, too. And mad that I can't work. And worried about money. And just all around losing my shiitake.

Hurdle

I wrote about this over on my other blog already, but I feel like I need to write here, too. I'm facing a hurdle, again, six months after I cleared the first one. What sucks the most is that it's the same hurdle, and it's one over which I have absolutely no control.

My C-section incision seems to have ruptured a second time, leaving me with another hernia. This one's larger than the first, and as of this morning, it's WAY more painful. I stood up this morning and immediately felt an excruciating, burning pain shoot from the area of the hernia, across my whole incision, down my leg, and up to my ribs. I almost fell over. After staggering around for a few minutes, and calling my doctor's office, I had to get in touch with Hubs and have him come home. He drove me to the doc, who said, "Yep, it's another hernia" and scheduled me for a surgical consult on the 15th. Until then, I'm out of commission. No work, no intense workouts, no heavy lifting.

I'm trying very, very hard not to let this break me. I can still walk, I can still get up and move. I don't have to lay in bed for a month. But DAMMIT...why is this happening AGAIN? I'm so frustrated...and this frustration, I can't run out.