Okay, well, it’s been a week of fair effort on my part and I weigh 198.9 which, according to the scale, is a 2.6 lb weight loss in this last week. I doubt there’s any feasible way it’s possible that I could have lost that much. I have to chalk it up to all the variables that might have occurred between last Sunday and this Sunday, but the primary goal is that somehow next Sunday I weigh less than it claims I do today.
At any rate, it’s given me a boost and I feel a bit like I’m back in the game. I am cautiously optimistic. I tried to look back to how long ago I was this weight and it appears that this is the first time I’ve been under 199, so yay, a milestone (just barely) and it took a really long time to get there. However, for my weekly weigh in numbers down below, I will round up an ounce to 199.
Yesterday I went to Old Navy to see if something stood out for me and nothing did. But I did try on a dress and as I changed I caught a good look at myself since we have no full length mirror at home.
Well, it’s not pretty, folks, and even though I have lots of energy and strength, I look very wibbly wobbly for lack of a better word (Doctor Who reference). I feel almost normal, but then see myself and am painfully reminded that I still weigh 200 pounds, FFS. Two hundred pounds, even at 5’8″ is LARGE.
You know, it is a bit shocking to see yourself as you really are. On the other hand I can’t be bothered to get upset about it. I look okay in clothes and providing I continue to lose weight I’ll look better than I do now without them. And at 267 when I started this journey I looked much worse, of course. But the bottom line is my body has been through A LOT and has the battle scars to prove it. It still gets me where I need to go. It still responds and feels and works.
I’m going to love it and be grateful for it, no matter how it appears. If there is another man in my future, he’ll have to love it because he loves me.
It took me a few hours yesterday to stop feeling blue about the pleasant talk I had with my husband. I had to force myself to recall that the man broke my fucking heart and turned his back on me while I was down on my knees to him. LITERALLY ON MY KNEES! I’ll never give him the satisfaction of knowing that I still desire him in fact I think something’s broken inside me that I would say I still love him.
I fear that if there is another man in my life he’ll be dull by comparison. I have to remind myself that this is a college town and there must be some culturally diverse and stimulating men around here. There must be! One thing about my new business idea is that it will expose me to educated people, so hey, I might find myself a professor of something. One can hope.
Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I love it and it ticks so many boxes as far as my personal goals and using my creativity. The best news is that I can more or less run it myself until I can afford a part time employee so staff costs will be low. I want it so bad I can taste it. I have had a change in heart about the domain name, so that was $10 wasted, oh well.
My swim was great today. I really didn’t want to go; it’s hard to go on Saturday. But I had missed a day of swimming mid-week so I forced myself and got a good workout. I do a lot of that — forcing myself. And that’s okay if that’s what it takes. After seven or so months of swimming about six days a week, it’s a habit and I’d feel pretty guilty skipping it after I’ve said I’m going to do it.
Warning: The rest is me whining about my mother.
My mom, seems pissed at my dad. She took a long nap (how nice for her!) and doesn’t seem to be speaking to him. Maybe I missed a fight. I’d rather be alone than live with someone to whom I give the silent treatment, and I mean that with all my being. She took him back after they were divorced and she shouldn’t have. It’s made her resentful her whole life. She’s never felt good enough for him, which is so odd since she was the one with good grades and had a high paying job, but he didn’t even graduate from high school. Low self esteem is low self esteem, I guess.
You know how they say if you want to know how your wife will look, just look at her mother? Well, damn, I just don’t want any part of that. I purposefully make myself sit and stand tall because she really, really hunches over. She speaks with her mouth full, and I am shocked at that. This was a woman with a professional career. Did she speak with her mouth full while dining with clients? Geez!
My poor mom is truly the most miserable person I know. Dad says he predicts she’ll have regrets on her deathbed and I said, “No, Dad, I don’t think so. She’s had so many opportunities to change and she wouldn’t. She’s always the victim.”
As a child I truly despised my mother and every single morning when I met my friends at the curb I’d mutter, “I hate her. She’s a witch. I hate her!” Because my mom would be cruel to me as she tried to comb my hair every day.
And apparently only my brother is allowed to be smart. My sister and I simply don’t count. In fact other than my daughter, the first grandchild, mom doesn’t really like any of the girls. My mom obsesses over men. She’s fanatical about Barack Obama to the point where she can’t disagree with one thing he does and if anyone criticizes him, watch out. In her mind if Barack said it or did it, it must be gospel. How about thinking on your own, mom? He is not Jesus!
After my daughter was born, I was probably around 20 or 21 (my daughter two or three), and we were in the car with mom and dad going somewhere. My mom said something about a neighbor and it just so happened this neighbor was a young marine biologist and I had just been to his condo the night before and had a drink (it went nowhere, by the way). So when my mom made this comment that I knew first hand was wrong, I was proud to say, “No, actually, mom, it was like this… blah blah blah.”
You know what she did? She said I was wrong again.
So again, I said, “No, mom. I just spoke to him last night. I was with him and he said…”
She discounted me again.
From the backseat I looked at the back of my father’s head and for the very first time in my life I said to him, “Dad, why can’t you defend me? What can’t I ever be right?”
He said nothing at all.
And that sort of sums my mom up. She’s not a happy camper. And dad doesn’t rock the boat until he’s super pissed and then, watch out. Our lives were hell due to his horrible temper and her endless pouting, curled up in a fetal position after fights with dad or us kids.
Mom just stopped by to tell me they are watching a movie and invite me to watch it with them. It’s obvious she’s been crying. I have no idea what happened between her and my dad. She, THANK GOD, told me last week that she’s going to look into counseling because when she talks to dad about his COPD he “gets mad” at her yet when I talk to him about it, he doesn’t.
Well, that’s sort of normal, isn’t it? Not right, but sort of normal to take more out on your spouse than your daughter. Plus I put things differently than my mom does.
Every now and then I feel like a second wife and I ABHORE IT. I wonder why every single fucking night she has to ask him what he wants to drink with dinner when it’s ALWAYS WATER, plus he’s been told he needs to drink more water, so why, as a wife would you not just give him fucking water with his dinner anyway? And why she has to ask him how many pieces of bread he wants with his spaghetti and then say to him, “That many? I’ll give you one and a half.”
And the “huh?” thing… No matter what he says (or me) she first says, “Huh?” really loud forcing you to stop and begin again. She usually interrupts with her loud “Huh?” even before you’ve got the third word out, so she could really figure out what you’re saying if she’d just shut up and listen, but no. It’s an odd power trip.
She’s convinced dad will eat only iceberg lettuce for his salad and I thought, well that’s ridiculous. He eats salads at restaurants and they are made with lots of greens. I made the terrible mistake of saying one day to mom that dad can eat the same salad as the rest of us, he can’t be a picky baby. And OH MY GOD, she really got a dig in about me knowing him better than her. Wow. Did that feel awful and awkward! What a freak. Turns out he’ll eat any lettuce put in front of him, but she’s such a creature of habit. And I feel that was a low blow on her part.
I pray she’ll go to counseling. She won’t change, but perhaps she’ll feel that someone’s on her side. They’ve got tough times ahead, the two of them, and that’s why I desperately want to get on my feet financially so that I can help.
With our long, tense history it’s understandable that I sometimes feel the need to lash out at her when I’m upset over my marriage. I try so hard not to, because she doesn’t deserve that, BUT IT IS HARD.
It’s only on the very rare occasion that she seems real and genuine and then you know what happens? She overdoes it. I’m not kidding, you can ask my dad, sister, daughter, this is what she does:
Generally she waits until you are a captive audience, usually across the table from her at a restaurant. Or at the stove stirring something that has to be stirred continuously. You’re making small talk and then suddenly:
“Honey there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
OH GOD! NOT THAT.
And it’s ALWAYS something morose and heavy and awful and from the past that I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO DISCUSS. Fuck! Why oh why can’t she just be normal?
Okay, I apologize for talking about her for so long. As you can see, I’d need a whole other blog devoted to my poor mother and her ways.
But I do truly hope that she’ll go get that counseling.
Starting weight: 267 (mid October 2013)
Today’s weight: 199
Total weight loss to date: 68 pounds
Goal weight: about 150 (about 30-50 pounds to go)