Tag Archives: diet

The Part Where I Attempt to Take Care of Myself (Again)

While it may be boring to everyone but me, I am once again embarking on a health kick.

I’ve gained all the weight my body will allow. I have a knee that just can’t take any more. When my weight’s lower, it hardly bugs me at all.

I actually began the healthy eating part yesterday but didn’t weigh myself until this morning. I know most people would be devastated to weigh 249 pounds, I was only relieved I hadn’t gained back every pound I had lost after the cheater discarded me. I was up to 270+ at that time. So, hey, it’s all relative, right?

I also know that it took a great deal of effort for me to get to 199 pounds and I stayed at that weight for about a day and a half. I’m 5′ 8″ and I was wearing normal sized clothing at that weight, of course I was swimming a lot, too, so that no doubt made a difference in how I looked. My point is that my goal is to get back to 199. That’s it. Any more than that will be icing on the cake, so to speak.

I plan to get more active but right now I’m focusing on the eating. Part of the reason for not doing everything at once is my knee hurts too much!

I was considering gastric bypass surgery recently and was reminded that before they perform that surgery they put you on a super diet to make you lose 25 or 30 pounds first. It reminded me that if I can lose weight without putting my body through surgery, I need to do it.

As I was losing the 70ish pounds I lost two years ago I knew all along that keeping it off would be nearly impossible. Every article I came across said virtually the only way to not gain weight back is to have gastric bypass. Otherwise the fat wants to come back and it does come back.

What I have to face if I can is that to keep it off I will need to eat less calories than other people who maintain. That’s just a fact. The metabolism is effed up or something. But to keep it off I will have to diet forever.

The odds of me succeeding at that are pretty much impossible, so I’ve decided that I’ll do my very best and I’ll add important lifestyle changes that might have a more lasting impact.

So yesterday and today I came home and made a homemade soup that was nutritious and super delicious.

I start by sautéing some cubed firm tofu in olive oil in a nonstick pan until it’s golden brown and meanwhile, in the soup pan I sauté a sliced leek, a handful of sliced mushrooms, fresh asparagus, and at the end, some spinach. Then I throw the tofu in and add hot water. For seasoning I added some light soy sauce, a few drops of sesame oil, a small squirt of Siracha sauce, and some salt and pepper. I let it simmer for about five minutes, until the asparagus seemed cooked, and then chowed down.

I’ve eaten that yesterday for dinner and today for lunch. Then a new batch tonight which I’ll finish tomorrow. It’s a bit hot these days for soups, but it’s all I can consider right now. I think it would be really good with a few shrimps or a handful of crabmeat.

Right now I’m weaning my poor body off the junk food I eat around here. My stomach is intermittently rebelling and I’m making trips to the bathroom. That always happens to me when I change my diet. It’ll stop eventually.

I’m working every day on getting better sleep. I’m often in bed before it’s pitch black out, but I still don’t get great sleep. Sleeping in a small day bed where I can’t stretch out has been problematic for me.

I’ve made a concerted effort to wash my face every night rather than use those makeup remover sheets. It’s a nice routine and makes me feel ready for bed. I did some research on those electric face brushes — hah, I can’t think of what they’re called. They have batteries and a fine brush which rotates and cleans your pores. I bought one from Korea that is said to be the most gentle so I’m excited to try that when it arrives.

I went to World Market on my lunch hour yesterday and bought three decorative pillows for my non existent couch. They were on sale and I got all three for $20. It was good to get out of the office and nice to do something other than hunt for vintage goods. To be honest I don’t need more kitchenalia! (Well, I need a new rice cooker, a new electric kettle, but I’ll buy those new). What I will need are practical things like a hose, a rake, a weed wackier, a toilet plunger, cleaning supplies, paper goods well, you get the picture. I need to save for practical things.

The most recent three day weekend reminded me that I have no fucking life at all and it depressed me. When I have a home to care for and a dog to walk, I will be too worn out to care about my lack of social life, at least for a while, while it’s new to me.

I am hoping that the house/dog thing will be the major lifestyle change I need to help me keep weight off.

My new position starts in one month and slightly increased pay with it and that’s about the time I will be able to start officially looking for a home to buy.

Oh, and apparently my sister, two of her children, and one grandchild will be moving here about then as well.

My father asked me if I wanted them to come to my confirmation this Sunday and I was floored. Interesting that it wasn’t my mom. Dad was born Catholic but hasn’t been in a church in many decades. I guess he just though I might like it, so I said, sure, that’d be nice and told them not to feel like they have to do all the standing and kneeling parts.

Interesting times ahead!

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Rage. Raw Emotions. Clinging to hope.

I am at my absolute worst right now. This rage I am feeling is so much more dangerous than my deep depression. I hope I can somehow manage it. I feel like taking one of the emergency anti anxiety pills but I know I have to do everything I can not to get into that habit.

I think this is Borderline at its worst. I feel so angry at everyone, including myself. I wasn’t all that eager to swim, but went there and shared a lane with a woman for about ten minutes. Then she got out and a man immediately took her place. He was an old man, a slow swimmer, and I use the term “swimmer” loosely since he mainly floated on his back and kicked his frog legs out to the side, arms wide. And every single time I swam by him I feared getting frog kicked and so finally I asked the man in the next lane if I could share his, and he said, yes, but that the woman who was there left her stuff and hadn’t come back. I said, okay, and got out and waited for a lane to open. She never came back, by the way. She was probably in a water aerobics class.

As I sat there watching this selfish man so leisurely floating up and down what was MY lane and I just felt like screaming. I waited about ten minutes and then shared the lane next to him but every time I swam by him I wanted to cuss him out under the water. I realized I was not going to get a handle on this rage and that I might as well get out or risk having a heart attack.

I don’t know why the pool was so crowded. I wish swimmers would have some consideration for who they pick to share a lane with. And now I fear, being an all or nothing person, that I will never go back or that my pool time will now diminish until it’s nonexistent. I’m so resentful yet this is almost entirely manufactured by ME. It’s all because of MY attitude, not the old man or anybody else.

I’m not sure why I feel so raw. Perhaps just that my comfortable routine is all over the place right now. I fear being told that my background check has embarrassing and humiliating things in it. I have mixed emotions about my husband. My weight loss has come to a crawl. Fuck. Sorry. But, Fuck. I am sorry for the language, I am just at a loss.

I guess I feel grateful that I have an appointment with my psychiatric nurse practitioner today.

I spent the entire day yesterday in training for a volunteer position at a place affiliated with the DA’s office where children that are victims of abuse can get their needs taken care of in one place.

We heard from another police detective, a woman from the Department of Human Services, a probation officer from the juvenile justice center (for under age abusers), and met some of the experienced victim advocates, which is what I will (hopefully) become at the end of training.

We heard another real 911 call that made me tear up, and we heard a telephone conversation between a 14 year old girl and her father who sexually abused her from age eleven. She worked with the detective and knew what to say to get her father to admit to the abuse on the phone. Her bravery was incredible. And it was almost satisfying to hear the utter panic in his voice when he realized it was all over for him. In spite of his extreme anxiety he was still asking her to lie for him.

It was nice to hear from the experienced volunteer advocates. They talked about the highs and lows of the job. More than one person said that you know the job is getting to you when you leave for the day and all you can think of is having a drink. They were kidding, but at the same time serious. I’m struck by the camaraderie in spite of the different goals of the various agencies. They use a lot of humor to offset such a serious situation.

I haven’t heard whether I passed the background check yet but will certainly know by Friday which is the last day of formal training. After that we’ll shadow more experienced people until we feel comfortable taking a case ourselves. In case you’re new to the blog, I was concerned that several years of suicide attempts would somehow show up on my background check.

Being able to volunteer is part of me getting my life back on track. I’ve lived abroad for the past several years and my references and work experience are old. I need to gain experience and references in order to start my life over. I also need to find out if I am capable of working again. It’s been about ten years since I held a job. I’m a bit sad that I’ve discovered this amazing world and wish that I were 26 and not 56 so that I could be someone who really makes a difference to a hurting child.

My husband (estranged) is helping me with a website I want to bring back, one that I ran before, but it’s such a pain in the ass with him giving it very little attention and it looks really bad while it’s under construction that I’m losing hope over it. This is the one thing that I might be able to turn into a way to make money, but he can’t get it together to bring the site up. He keeps saying he’ll do it and then he doesn’t.

I’m so wound up. I fear overeating. I fear doing something rash. I hate feeling this way. It’s so pathetic because last night I watched most of a PBS documentary about Mister Rogers and I was so overwhelmed with how genuinely kind this man was and I wanted only to emulate him, and look at me, screaming (in my head) at old men who just want to use the pool like me. And that’s where my rage takes me, back to despising myself. I want off this roller coaster. It’s no way to live.

Stop.

Breathe.

Breathe again.

Close your eyes.

Breathe.

Think about an image, a place, a time, the future, anything hopeful. It’s hard. I can’t choose, I am too scattered.

Just breathe then.

Something will come to you.

You can’t be having a fit if you’re breathing long, slow, deep breaths. You can’t.

Compassion. Have compassion for your mom as you help her with Facebook. Have compassion for your dad as you show him walkers to buy on Craigslist. All of our time here is fleeting. Love the people who have given you so much. Pet the dog. Breathe.

You can do this.

Breathe.

And think, “What would Lady Grantham do?”

The Week I Didn’t Lose Weight

As I feared, I did not lose weight this week, in fact I weigh four ounces more than last week, which I’m not going to bother to count.

I’m deeply concerned, but not in a panic about my lack of weight loss. It’s clear to me that when I’m mostly depressed I can pretty much control my eating, but when I’m anxious, it’s very difficult.

I’ve been anxious quite a bit in the last couple of weeks and I saw myself doing that nervous-mindless-eating thing, in particular with those hard candies (Nips) with the chocolate center. They have only 30 calories. But they are all sugar. And if you eat ten or twelve of them, well, so much for 30 calories.

I have tried not to eat them this week, and I have failed. If I weren’t living here, I’d throw them away so that the temptation is gone, but my dad likes them. I’m tempted to ask him if we can put them in his room, in fact I think I will do that. He won’t mind.

There are many snacks in this house at all times, and I’ve been pretty good at resisting them or severely limiting them, but since I’ve been nervous I am finding it almost impossible.

I’m considering weighing myself every day this week simply to get back on track and not allow myself to forget how important this is. I’m not even halfway to my goal weight, I can’t stop here. I won’t stop here.

This is not a plateau. This was just mindless nervous eating. If I apply myself, I will continue to lose weight. I really wish it would stop raining. I’d like to get outside to walk or hike.

The good news, I guess, is that I forced myself to swim yesterday even though I felt crummy. I am no worse for wear because of it, and it made me feel better since the pool is closed on Sundays. I did not want to go three days without exercising again.

This week I should be able to exercise on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday, so I will make certain I do.

Today are the Academy Awards and my parents plant to start watching the red carpet stuff in the late afternoon and snacking all day. I’m going to tell them that I have to be careful and excuse myself from that temptation as much as I can.

At the recommendation of a commenter, I tinkered with trying to set up my old website yesterday and just hit huge walls. To my shock, my husband did upload a new WordPress template that I chose and says he’ll begin to work on it for me. He obviously isn’t under any obligation to do this for me, but it’s the decent thing to do considering I still pay for his cell phone bill. I’m looking at it as an exchange.

It won’t require that many hours of his time. I’m pretty competent at running the website after it’s prettied up.

So I’ve got that to look forward to. I wish I could tell you more about it, but I can hardly have my children/family website affiliated with the raw me, the one with emotional problems.

Even though it requires me to spend far too much time sitting at a computer, the website helps me feel like I’ve accomplished something and I’m really proud of it. (If you’re new to the blog, I ran this site before, took it off the internet, and when I went to put it back on, I lost all of the hundreds of articles I had written, so I have to start from scratch.)

I did look into those standing desks and would really like to try one, but they aren’t suited, I’ve discovered, for laptop users. They are better if your monitor and keyboard are separate otherwise you can end up bending over to see properly. I won’t rule it out, however.

I just told my parents that for the first time since October I did not lose weight and told them it was because I was anxious. I asked dad if I could put the Nips in his room and he said of course. So I should be back on track now that I have “witnesses” to my purpose.

My mother, however, began to talk about meals and recipes and I had to cut her off and tell her I simply can’t think about food that much. It’s unpleasant for me and has the opposite unintended effect. She talked about buying a healthier wheat bread and I told her that, as I don’t eat much bread, I prefer it to be the one I love the most, a wheat sourdough. I don’t want to eat something simply because it’s a better version. I want to love it, but limit the quantity.

Now she’s overwhelming me with ideas of what to have tonight even though I keep telling her to do whatever she likes, that I will take what I want from it, but she doesn’t get that. SHE HAS TO OVER THINK EVERYTHING.

My parents left and I got up to put the Nips in Dad’s room and he had already done it, bless his heart. My mom wants to help in her own way, too, she’s just a bit clueless. Her heart is in the right place, however.

I think I have begun this week, just barely begun, to realize that I am separating emotionally from my husband. It’s a natural process, an organic one that can’t be forced or rushed. I no longer long for his messages or calls and I no longer care to be in his company. I seem to have accepted that it is truly over. I’m so grateful to be allowed some relief from the sadness, grief, resentment, humiliation, etc. that contact with him provides. There’s an emptiness that makes me uncomfortable, but I’m glad that most of my unhappiness hasn’t been replaced with bitterness and anger, at least not too much. I am not saying it will be easy from here on out. It’s unlikely that will be the case, but my healing seems to have begun.

I’m realistically optimistic in fact I “feel like a room without a roof.”

If you need a smile today, try this:

Sunday Stats
Starting weight: 267 (mid October 2013)
Today’s weight: 216
Total weight loss to date: 51 pounds
Height: 5’8″
Goal weight: about 150

Stop. Just Stop.

I spun my wheels again today and I didn’t hear from the imaging center. Tried to get my taxes done and that fell through. Then I had a fight with my mother and afterwards, in tears, I called my  husband.

We had a fairly long talk. He’s trying to help me bring my old website back to life. It’s not a very simple process. We bickered about things and we also were real with one another. He asked me again not to make any definitive decisions regarding my career, my life, our marriage. Just to put it on hold until his lawsuit is resolved. I said okay because I love him.

If you read that with disgust, I’m sorry. I never thought I could ever consider taking back a man who has and still is treating me so disrespectfully. He seems to be actually living with her, in my apartment, filled with my things. The slap in the face is so outrageous I can’t process it.

He is using her for rides, for sex, for who knows what else. But it’s clear he also has feelings for me. His life is in ruins in pretty much every conceivable way. He’s in survival mode.

I thought my living here was good for my parents. Almost as good for them as it was for me. I’m very helpful. I constantly do dishes and offer to shop and do errands. I do yard work. I take the dogs out. I spend a lot of money on food. But my mother is a very bitter, sad person and it’s clear she feels I’m making things worse by being here and not better.

I’m ashamed that I have no place to go. I’m also aware that there are no circumstances under which I would ever ask my own daughter to leave my home, but then I do love her unconditionally.

The problem started today when, stupidly thinking I might be able to reach her, I tried to talk to her about the silent treatment she gives to my father. I told her that I wasn’t speaking as a daughter, but just woman to woman, and that I feel she will really regret even 30 seconds of silent treatment after he is gone.

To my horror she responded, “You could have a heart attack and die before he does, or I could. You don’t know what I put up with.” And that’s when I realized she probably won’t feel any guilt at all when my father dies. She will still be the victim.

I said, “Mom, he’s dying. He uses an oxygen tank. He can’t do anything. He will more than likely be going before you or I go. This is the man who, in spite of all your problems with him, you’ve known him and loved him since he was a child.”

I won’t vomit up the remainder of the argument, but this is quintessentially my mother. She’s 100% selfish and incapable of putting herself in another person’s shoes and she is always a victim.

When she told me I had been rude to her when I told her that she was making me feel defensive about how I’m handling my health issues, I lost it. I yelled at her and told her I’d get out as soon as possible. I’d tell them I’m homeless if I have to. And I left.

Completely the wrong thing to do. But my god. Family dynamics. You go right back to those old childhood roles. I have grown up a bit, but my mother never has and never will. So now I don’t know what to do. I can’t afford to move out. And the wait lists for affordable housing is 9 to 12 months.

Oh, she did say, “Why can’t we just acknowledge that you and I can’t have these types of conversations. I get upset about what you say to me and you get upset about what I say to you.”

I said, “Actually you’re wrong about that. I have been that way in the past, but not now. If you or anybody else wants to tell me how I’ve been stupid or wrong, please do it and I will stand there with open eyes, ears, and heart and I will process it because I’m growing and changing and you can too.”

I called her within an hour of storming out and told her I was very sorry for losing control of my anger. She mumbled something and said she had to go. I was not sorry for what I said, only how I said it.

Meanwhile it hurts to sit here because my pelvis area throbs when I sit straight up.

I love my husband. I want to be back in my home. I want this lawsuit over with so that we can move on and have a life together. I need space from my mother.

I hate to abandon my father this way, but he knows it can’t be any other way. Mom is the saddest bitterest person we have ever known. My mother is the hot potato. Do I want to get stuck holding her? Her negativity truly sucks the life out of you. I’m not exaggerating.

I’ve decided to do what I can, which isn’t much. Do my taxes. Meet with the attorney about my horrible finances. Get on a waiting list for affordable housing. Write here. Get my website up and running again. Deal with all my health concerns, and hopefully keep swimming, which I haven’t done since Saturday.

I’ve decided not to decide anything since almost all of it is out of my control anyway. I’ve made so many impulsive decisions in my life and for once I just want to do the opposite. I’m going to wait and see. I’m going to stop. Just stop.

Life on Hold

I got so uptight last night worrying about my discomfort and bloating that I called my doctor’s office first thing this morning. The receptionist said I might want to go to urgent care or the ER. I opted for urgent care where I waited 1.5 hours to be seen only to be told that they want to find out what the results are on my STD test before they decide the next step.

And that’s sort of what my doctor said on Friday so I just spun my wheels, I guess. But I feel so helpless and I’m so worried. I feel as though I have cramps, yet I have no uterus.

The good news is that my STD results will be known in just a few hours. If it’s positive, they’ll treat that. If it’s negative they’ll order the ultrasound. Frankly, I think they should do both since I have so many pains all throughout my torso.

For anyone reading this blog for the first time, please know that I can’t recall the last time I had to have any sort of test for sexually transmitted diseases but I recently found out that while I was with my husband, he had other relationship(s) and that I overlapped with them. I just wanted to be safe rather than sorry.

I would almost find it funny if I did have an STD. I’d send him a text, “You and your girlfriend need to get down to Planned Parenthood. Tell your girlfriend I said thanks.”

Still, my heart is broken, since I still love him and I find none of this funny at all.

Sigh.

I wish so much I were sitting across the table from my daughter right now, enjoying her company and eating the Indian food we were going to go have. I’d rather be with her right now than any other person on earth. Thankfully she’s being fully understanding and supportive, unlike my mother.

I don’t want to be disrespectful about my mom by saying too much, but she’s quite a piece of work. She has made it clear this weekend and today that she thinks I’m faking and thinks it’s silly that I went to urgent care.

She kept giving me the 3rd degree and I tried to explain why I went until finally I said, “Mom, I don’t understand why you’re so concerned with how I am doing this. It’s starting to make me feel defensive.” She said, “Oh. Okay.” And she walked away. My mother will now ignore me and pout for a few days because I dared to talk back to her. I didn’t even speak loudly or have a rude tone, I just felt she was really being the opposite of loving and supportive. Why on earth would she have to second guess my course of action? I didn’t ask her to accompany me. I didn’t ask her to pay for it. Why can’t she just be a loving mother?

That is a question that is far too big for this little blog. But it is why I have often withdrawn considerably from my mother over my lifetime. I’m a lot like her, I admit it, but I have worked on being able to face when I’ve been wrong and I’ve worked hard to improve. She on the other hand, never sees her bad behavior.

The doctor at the urgent care suggested I tone down my exercise for a few days. I think that’s a good idea and I was going to do that anyway. I plan to just do laps the rest of this week and skip all the heavy ab work.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about grave illness and death this weekend and it really does make you realize your priorities in life. If/when I get through this, whatever it is, I plan to bring my website back to life, only this time it will be a regional magazine. I have huge plans for it and it won’t cost me much to get started. I pray I get the opportunity.

I just had a small glass of carrot juice and a piece of avocado toast sprinkled with flax seeds. I was starving and hadn’t eaten since dinner last night.

This is one of those moments when I realize how dire my situation is and how pathetic my life is right now. Fifty-six, living with parents, no friends whatsoever. Extreme debt. Cheating husband, possible STD or worse. The only thing that would put me right over the edge right now is if my car broke down.

In spite of all my troubles and worry, I am absolutely convinced that I would be far worse if I hadn’t been eating well, working out, losing weight, and getting the emotional help I need. If I can beat whatever is making me feel ill right now, I will still feel hopeful about my future.

A couple of hours later — STD test came out negative. I was actually disappointed. It would have been so simple if that is all it had been, plus now I don’t get to send that snarky message to my husband. Of course, if I wanted to be really devilish, I’d send him that message anyway. Ah, it’s nice to laugh.

And my life is still on hold.

Weighday and Extreme Paranoia

I weighed 221 (220.9) this morning and that seems about right considering the week I’ve had. I think that’s a bit under a 2 pound weight loss this week. That means that with hard work, I’ll get into the teens by next Sunday.

I can’t write much today because last night I suddenly became profoundly worried that I have a serious health problem. I am prone to worrying and I’ve tried so hard not to dwell on my concerns, but I’m losing the battle.

I am simply terrified about all the many symptoms I am having in my abdomen and pelvic area and have now convinced myself that I have ovarian or pancreatic cancer or both.

I should know better than to look up symptoms on the internet. It’s a huge mistake. But I did and it’s done and I’m miserable.

The bloating, pain, and constipation I’ve been feeling no doubt mean something and I’m terrified. I’ve convinced myself that after all this work to improve myself and stay optimistic about a better future, that I have no future at all.

And I have to wait until tomorrow morning to call the doctor and beg for that scan to happen earlier.

Plus I’m supposed to drive two hours to Portland to spend a cheerful day with my daughter tomorrow and I really don’t feel like it now. I can’t believe I’m working myself up like this!

The good news is that I did not text, email or call my husband yesterday, bringing the total days of leaving him alone to 2. I think I can manage not to contact him today as well. Of course all I can think of is that I won’t have his comfort as I fight the battle ahead of me.

Please don’t laugh at me. I know it’s ridiculous.

But when your stomach has been huge for years, you really do begin to wonder what’s going on in there. Obviously it’s mostly fat, but what other damage did my diet do? What damage did years and years of strong psychiatric drugs do? Not to mention that my older cousin just died last year of pancreatic cancer.

Shit.

I know there’s only so much we can do to protect ourselves from cancers and serious illnesses but it is really hard not to blame yourself when you’ve done little or nothing to prevent it. (Good Lord, I’m not even diagnosed yet!)

I snapped at my mother today because as she walked by she tried to take my plate. I pulled it away from her and said, “Mom, I’m going in there in 60 seconds to do the dishes.” And she said, “I am going to the kitchen. I’m just trying to take your plate.” And I wanted to say, “FUCK MY PLATE, MOM. LEAVE ME ALONE.” But I didn’t. I know she’s silly, but she doesn’t deserve me being snippy or rude to her.

The pool is closed and I’m sort of glad. I needed a day off. But still I feel at loose ends. It looks cold and gray outside, but if the sun makes an appearance at all, I plan to go outside and do some raking on my parent’s front lawn.

Hopefully I can talk myself into driving to Portland tomorrow because I’m sure the doctor won’t schedule an ultrasound for me that quickly.

If you’ve been ignoring pains and hoping they’ll go away on their own, stop it. Make an appointment to see your doctor.

There’s a really sad irony here. All the times I have taken overdoses because the world was too much for me, and here I am wanting only to live.

Stats
Starting weight: 267 (mid October 2013)
Today’s weight: 221
Total weight loss to date: 46 pounds
Height: 5’8″
Goal weight: about 150

I appreciate your comments!
Please follow me on Twitter @movingliquid1

Nothing Tastes as Good as Being Fit Feels

I have had comments from a couple of women who actually took the time to read my blog from the beginning, what an honor! It makes me feel like I’m not in this alone and really boosts my spirits. The internet can be an amazing place if you know how to get around it. You readers and commenters help me far more than I help you. I need you and I’m grateful for you.

I went back and read several of my earliest posts and was struck by how just in mid-December I yearned to swim more than two freestyle lengths in a row and I wondered what it was like to swim laps for an hour. A month later I was doing that and I still do it now with less and less time at the edge of the pool.

Lesson learned: if we start it and keep doing it, we will get better. And it doesn’t take nearly as long as you think it will. So just start.

I think my weight loss this week will be minimal, and I’ll accept that. It’s not the end of the world. I have had a couple of moments of nervous eating due to the pain in my pelvic region. I don’t want to go through surgery and recovery or have anything even more serious but ignoring it won’t do me any good. I must figure out what’s going on.

Today will be my last workout for two days. The pool is closed Sundays and on Monday I will drive to Portland to spend the day with my daughter. She has been involved this last month with a Women in Transition group at her local community college and it has opened her eyes to many possibilities regarding school and career. I’m considering doing the same course down here next term.

I spent quite a bit of time researching walking/hiking groups in my area and saw quite a few, but feel reluctant to get involved. I have so many insecurities such as will I be the only “old person” there, will I be the only single person there, will I be the most out of shape person there. Interestingly these are the same types of thoughts I had when I went to the pool to see what I could do there.

I’m thinking the next thing I might do for myself without any investment, is to begin a walk/run routine using the app I’ve spoken of a few times. No need to say more about it until I try it. But we are having a few more days with sun in them, and the other day, when I walked my parent’s dogs, I ran several yards and thought, hmmm, I might be able to do a little of this.

I did not message, email, or telephone my husband yesterday. A minor victory for me. Now today I will try very hard not to do that again. One day at a time, as they say.

Bless my parent’s hearts. As I was leaving to go to my counselor yesterday morning I was feeling terribly fragile and tearful. My mom didn’t really see it, though, and she said, “Well you’ll have plenty of things to talk about.” And I said, “Mom, I’m a wreck.” She said, “Why?” dragging the word out in disbelief as though I haven’t a care in the world. I said, “Because I love and miss him.” And she said, “Nooooo.” Again dragging it out. When I left my counselor’s office my dad had left me a voicemail saying they were going to the mall and I could join them for some lunch if I wanted to. I hate worrying them so much!

I just got back from swimming and it was a good workout. Swimming on Saturdays is a bit unpredictable but it wasn’t any more crowded than it is during the week. I have noticed that on Saturdays I am pretty fatigued from swimming for six days straight.

When I was in the deep pool doing my ab exercises I began to get a “stitch” in my side, yet it felt unlike the sort of stitch I remember in my youth. It was bad enough to make me get out and even now as I type it is throbbing. My poor, poor body. I abused it so, and now my torso is filled with mysteries. On my right a gallbladder filled with stones. On my left (ish) the new stitch. Then there’s the pelvic area pain. I fear I’ll be having a surgery soon and I dread it so much. Yes, I’m a worrier.

The limbs seem to recover pretty quickly, but the poor torso, having suffered years of a bad diet and now layered in fat, well, this is the price I pay for not taking care of my body. I just hope my issues are not too serious and that I may recover quickly. In the meantime I will keep exercising and trying to take weight off because it will make me stronger and make the doctor’s job easier. It’ll help my recovery too.

Years ago, when I realized I was really getting big (I was probably about 190 or so), I went to my doctor and spoke to her about bariatric surgery. This was in the earlier days of this surgery and she told me I wasn’t overweight enough to qualify for it. She did ask me if my breasts bothered my back or neck because they had gotten huge. I jumped on that and soon I found myself having a breast reduction.

The doctor removed 7+ pounds of breast tissue plus some liposuction on the side  breast area. The recovery was not easy and I had some complications but thankfully my breast sensitivity is all just fine, everything is all connected and I could button my blouses again.

Because of that, I am now realizing that my breasts are becoming small for my size. I don’t know why I almost find that amusing. And in the end I imagine it will all sort of balance out, or not. I’m not going to go have breast implants put in, I guarantee you that.

I don’t know why, but my very large breasts represented old and matronly to me and I really began to hate them. I prefer smaller breasts on me and I think I look a little younger without that enormous bosom. My god, before the surgery I could hardly get food to my mouth. It was a long journey from the plate, over my breasts to my mouth. Everything I owned was stained. I was mortified by it.

Now, between the breast reduction and the weight loss so far, I already don’t have to worry if I get seated in a small booth because I can fit there. If I were to fly I would not worry about how snug the seatbelt would be, and less embarrassed about what my fellow passengers think of me. I won’t kid you, it feels really good to take up less space.

Even when I used to go to walk by someone, I’d often misjudge how big I was and sure enough, bump into them, or the chair with my hip or butt. Every time I did that I felt embarrassed about the condition of my body, but still I didn’t do anything about it.

Now I’m wearing a coat that I bought three years ago and had almost thrown away because not only could I not button it, I couldn’t even tie it closed. Now I wrap it around and tie it snuggly around my new waist. This waist by normal standards is still big, but for me, it feels great.

There’s a horrible expression that “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” I think it’s rather insulting and certainly over simplistic, but on one hand I do sort of get it. Fitting in that booth, securing that seatbelt, buttoning that coat, running with the dogs all feel very, very good. I want to continue to the point that my body is the size that it should be.

I would love to ask one of these people who go from 300 pounds to 125 pounds if they feel as though they left part of themselves somewhere. I sometimes wonder if I’ll feel frail or tiny because it’s been so long since I’ve been a normal weight. I suppose it will feel like the new normal for me but I’m so damned used to feeling like a linebacker.

I want to feel feminine again. I want to dance. I want to wear a dress. I want to be thrown around in bed. I want to look good with my partner. And I feel that I will probably love that more than eating too much which is really what that silly expression is all about.

Thank you again for reading. I’d love to hear about your own experiences with diet, fitness, divorce, middle age, or anything else you’d like to share.

Please follow me on Twitter @movingliquid1