Unitards Rock

I'm about to begin a very dangerous activity.

I always say the only kind of exercise I like to do is Tae Bo.

I've always claimed I couldn't because:
... the VCR is plugged in upstairs. Who wants to bounce around on a second-level hardwood floor??
... I don't liiiiike the new Tae Bo. I miss Billy Blanks' unitard - and all the "friends!"
... I just ate a taco.

I bought a $6 VCR from Goodwill today and had the husband install it downstairs. So I can use my old school Tae Bo - with manboobs popping out of the unitard and all the friends Emily and I became acquainted with in high school. We named them all. They have backstories.

I also made sure not to eat a taco today.

The last time I attempted to Tae Bo - I punched my kid in the head.

So...

Wish me luck. And stay out of my range.

UPDATE

I still love Tae Bo! And the best part? I didn't do it to make up for a binge meal. I didn't do it to plan for a binge meal. I just did it because I like it. A first for me.

I didn't punch my kid in the head - but I did kick my dog.
Skirts and Tae Bo do not mix. Pantsless Tae Bo is jiggly. But I was afraid if I took the time to go find workout clothes I would get distracted or find a taco. So pantsless won.
My hands are shaking from an adrenaline rush and my woken-from-hibernation muscles are thrilled with all this oxygen!

Emily S. - I thought of you the whole time! Miss you!

I Think I Can?

I've never given thought to the concept a fellow HCGer presented to me after hearing of my emotional struggles with food.

- What if? What if I just STOPPED? -

Stopped dieting. Stopped restricting. Stopped obsessing. Stopped worrying. Stopped the internal monologue. Stopped judging myself. Stopped criticizing myself.

If you have self-esteem (something I've apparently been lacking) - this concept may seem common-sense to you. But to me? The perpetually chubby? The thought never crossed my mind.

I've been thinking about it over the last twenty four hours and... I don't know if I LOVE myself enough to do it.

I want to. I really do.

I want to be able to shrug and truly not be bothered that I have to do a fancy little shimmy to get my fitted skirts over my hips.
I want to be able to cut all the size tags out of my skirts.
I want to be able to eat when I'm hungry and *gasp* not eat when I'm full.
I want to know what it is like to love myself unconditionally.
I want to be able to treat myself as a friend, not the enemy.
I want to know what it feels like to wake up each day without the mentally exhausting internal beating of a disappointed fat chick.

Can I?

Can you?

Doggonit!

HCG works - it really does. I've seen and experienced the results.

Even with my half-assed HCG dieting.

And were I not so emotionally intertwined with my fooooooods - I don't think I'd be starting this post. But I am. And I am.

I can't hack it guys. I want to - but it is as do-able for me as wearing pants again. (Ryan and I tried it on a giggly night in a dressing room - it was bad. I'm not sure about her, but I'll never forget the image of Laura in a pair of jeans after wearing skirts for 18 months straight.)

The clincher for me was when I realized that I wasn't happy with how quickly I was losing weight and I was choosing to eat poorly knowing full-well the consequences. Nay - welcoming the consequences. I thought to myself (a lot) - "If I can't eat what ______ is eating - then I'll just be the fat girl. Being fat tastes better anyway."

Does that sound like a statement a NON-mentally-obese-even-if-physically-maybe-not-so-much-but-definitely-not-well-balanced-when-it-comes-to-Poptarts person would make?

I didn't think so.

I've gone back to weekly therapy sessions to deal with my dependency on food. I'll let you know how that goes. I think I may need a lifetime membership to my dear Doctor's club of crazies. Seems the more I dig, the more globs of slimy goo I find within myself.

I hope that whatever brought you to my blog has been enough to either inspire or entertain. It might get ugly if you hang around. Well. Uglier. So I understand if you decide to unbookmark me. (Is that like unfriending on Facebook? Because - I just giggle when I think of the words the year 2011 has taught me.)

If you're into some mentally twisted stuff (No whips. Just whipped cream.) then you're welcome to stick around. See what unfolds. Or what falls off. You never know.

I'm toying with the idea of taking HCG while I follow Weight Watchers. There are quite a few "rogue" HCG dieters. Who take HCG drops or pellets or shots and then just let it do its thing - all the while eating whatever plan they have set for themselves. No danish Tuesday. Extra pork chops Thursday. Spin in a circle while you eat your cheesecake. Say ten hail Mary's while you alternate shots of tabasco and cod liver oil (This one I actually think might have some merit to it.).

I'd never given the rogue idea much consideration - thinking that if I was going to commit myself to a daily needle I had to do it the right way. But along this journey of self-discovery - I have determined that I've never been one to do things the right way.

And that, my HCG-lovin'/HCG-hatin' Laura-lovin'/Laura-hatin' random-Googlin'/Blog-readin' friends, is my confession for the day.

I like to think of this blog as my totally inappropriate journal - that I'd never share with anyone.

Only - I've published it on the interwebs.

It's Not You

It's me.

Whatever you may glean from my blog - I want to be perfectly clear that this person that is coming across is who I have always been.

This person (dark, light, happy, sad, cheery, bitchy, fat, thin, loud, quiet) is all Me.

Some of you may know all of me - every last shred of truth that has created my personality.

And some of you may know the happy parts and only the happy parts.

And some of you may know more about the dark parts than you care to admit.

But - aren't we all pieces of a puzzle?
Don't we all find ourselves searching for missing sections of ourselves?
Wondering if there will ever be enough pieces to glue together?
To keep the whole picture together on a solid foundation so we can one day stand back and admire who we have become?

A wise friend of mine shared with me a powerful statement - wise beyond my years, for sure - that we are each damaged in one way or another. And at the very core of every human being is the desire to have love not in spite of our damage but because of who we are - damage and all.

(She probably said it a little more eloquently than that - but another fun tidbit about myself is that my recall skills are basically zip.)

All this to say that if you find yourself feeling sad for Little Laura or mad at Grown Laura or confused by spill-your-heart-out Laura - just remember that you have something in common with all those Lauras. The desire for love and acceptance. Love from others, yes. But love and acceptance from yourself above all.

PS - I promised a swimsuit picture - but this blog post took an unexpected self-help turn and a tankini picture doesn't seem as appropriate as it once was.

PPS - When have I ever been termed "appropriate"?

PPPS - I've decided not to disclose all the negative things I thought about my body at this age. That part of me has long-since healed and I see no reason to tear down this beautiful teen Laura in a feeble attempt at full-disclosure.

Much love and kisses!
All the Lauras here at the HighWeigh

All Aforementioned Bridges Are Metaphorical

Wow. Just...wow.

I am blown-away by the love and support that has poured into my world through Facebook, text message, email, and voicemail. I'd like to clear a few things up - but first wanted to thank you all for responding to my pain in such a loving way. I have stared (teary-eyed) at many of your responses for what seems like a very long time and just don't have the right words to say how much your strength and tales of similar life-experiences and feelings have given me a bright spot to focus on.

Thank you - your words mean more than I can convey.

To clarify:

-I am not suicidal-
There was a time, a teeny tiny flicker in my somewhat lengthy existence, where the thought of taking my own life was ever-so-slightly appealing. But I was able to look beyond the pain that lead me down that dangerous road and I am ever grateful for those in my life who unwittingly kept me alive. That time is not now, so I apologize for those I worried. Suicide is such a final decision and I'm glad my circumstances allowed me to work past those thoughts at that time. I never shared with anyone (aside from my then-mental health professional and later, my husband) how I was feeling because I don't think I ever really intended to follow-through.

**Please - if you are feeling suicidal - seek help. Don't go down that road without a hand to hold.**

-I am feeling much better now-
Blogging is therapeutic - and this blog has given me a freedom I haven't felt in other blogs. I am brutally honest with what is going on in my head. I do not pussyfoot around an issue for fear someone might blame themselves for my own imperfections.

-I am imperfect, and that is okay-
Part of this weight-loss journey has been learning to tackle the monster I spoke of and hold her in a submission hug until she is willing to listen to reason. My inner child is not quite strong enough to conquer this task on her own, so I've had to call in re-enforcements. My family and friends, my therapist, and even the strangers I blog to are lending my inner child the weight she needs to hold the out-of-control monster down while we force-feed her some perspective and love.

-If you can relate to this post (and many of my responders have shared that they can), please give your inner child a hug and try to find forgiveness for those that have wronged you-
I will never feel loving feelings toward the boyfriend and I doubt that my childhood bullies could even pick me out of a lineup. But the burden of carrying that hatred around with me has amounted to 40-60 pounds of excess weight. Not the hatred alone, of course, but it was a significant contributor.

-If I can't love my inner child, how am I ever going to love my grown self?-
I am, after all, the end result of a combination of experiences. I would not be the compassionate, empathetic, accepting person that I am had I not been treated with the opposite during my formative years. Embracing little Me leads directly to the acceptance of big Me.

Who is ready to do this with me? Find their inner child (maybe yours is huddling in a dark damp corner, or maybe yours is more like mine - twirling around in a wonderland of edible merry-go-rounds and marshmallow pillows pretending the world is what she wants it to be) and tell them that YOU love them. And that it doesn't matter who else does or does not. Because your love is the strongest and you are big enough to protect them from their bullies and demons.

Here is to many more infections by smile. Go on - hug that inner child of yours.

The Ugly Monster

As I review my pictures from my enchanted night out with the husband - his squadron Christmas party - I wonder why it is I don't see that woman in the mirror.

When I look in the mirror - I see a monster. An ugly, overweight, zitty-faced, pointy-nosed monster.

But as I look at this picture - I see a beautiful young woman. The kind of beauty that I'd kill for. If this woman was my friend - I'd slap her silly for saying the things that I think when I look in the mirror.



Being truthful with myself, I don't see this woman in the mirror.

I see this girl.


And this girl is sad.


And fat.


And smelly.


And always left out.


This girl doesn't get invited to parties. She be-friends those who have felt the pain that she feels when she hears the things people whisper when she walks by. She looks for the kindred pain in others' eyes and immediately LOVES them for whoever or whatever they are. She pretends that the names the school-kids came up with are clever. Maybe she even laughs along - it hurts less to laugh at herself than to cry.


This girl has been singled out, left out, and pushed out her entire childhood.


And this girl is who I am deep down inside.



Sometimes she wins out - and I lose control and find myself 3000 calories into a feast I hadn't planned on. And then the grown woman feels pity for the little girl. And instead of hugging her, be-friending her, telling her she is beautiful - I'm ashamed to say that the grown woman scorns the little girl. Yells at her for being so damned fat and ugly. Bemoans all the pounds that this little girl has caused the grown woman to gain.

It is exhausting trying to mend the bridge between little me and grown me. And I don't even know if I ever will be able to maintain the ground I've gained.

Why do I hate the little girl as much as her classmates did? Why do I make her feel even less than they did? Can't I see that she is hurting? That all she wants is a hug? A smile? A friend?

I am the monster. I've allowed myself to believe what the childhood Me has always heard from her peers.

I have become like those monsters I used to suffer. I have never believed in myself. I've agreed with the name-callers. I've told that little girl that she is what they say she is.

And that is about as ugly as it gets.

The Piper

I'm not sure how I escaped it - but I know I'll have to pay the piper eventually for my partying last night. Down .2 pounds despite eating what everyone else ate at the squadron Christmas party.

I think I'm beginning to figure myself out.

I just want to be like everyone else.

That is my biggest drive to eat what I know I am not allowed.

Horror

Why do I eat?

This is a question that I have been bouncing off the empty walls in my head for 6 months with no immediate answer. I know what triggers me to eat... but why are these triggers so damned powerful?

- Social settings -
I don't like feeling like I'm different than others. If the husband can eat a bucket of popcorn with no repercussions - why can't I?

- Being alone -
The thoughts in my head roar when it is silent. Eating food seems to dampen the noise.

- The husband coming in the door -
I have marveled over the phenomenon of my best friend walking through the door, and my response. To eat like I'm never going to see food again. I'm sure if we caught it on camera, you would be sickened by how quickly I can consume so many calories. But I can. And I do. The other triggers... I've kind of puzzled them out. They're not logical, but I understand them. This one? Leaves me stumped.

Take today - for instance - I had been fine all day long. Not hungry, eating what I'm supposed to (I made chicken soup!! Whoa.) even giving the girls sugar cookie pop tarts without any desire to snatch it out of their cute little hands. The sugar cookie pop tarts, in all their glory, call my name quietly. But I quickly shut them in the cabinet and the silence is immediate. Until. Until the husband walked in the door. And the very first thing I did? Run to the cabinet, open the shiny packet of awesome, and proceed to shove first one...then two cartoon-covered "pastries" in my mouth. And then turkey pepperoni. Followed by chips and cheese and salsa. Then a bowl of rice Chex. And a second bowl of cereal, this time opting for fruity Cheerios (have you tried those?? They're amazing!)

Finally... finally... I stopped. And left the room. And reviewed my 10 minute binge. And then my dear friend called and told me how much she enjoyed my blog. So - here I am, with the horror fresh in my mind. And... I'm baffled.

People! I was NOT hungry when I played the part of garbage disposal. Food wasn't required for my body. There were no signals. So...why?

And how does one overcome this free-for-all?

I know I've got some serious issues with food. I think I might not be alone. Speaking about it frankly has made it easier for me to be in touch with it. I don't find myself cramming food in my mouth in the middle of the night while all the witnesses are sleeping anymore. I am in therapy - and this has helped tremendously. But I just want an answer NOW. Will I ever recover? Return to the carefree child I once was? Or do I have a lifetime of random and frightening face-shoveling episodes ahead of me?

If You Say So... and Then I Did it Anyway

I'm sure many of you have heard of the recent demands made by the FDA for homeopathic HCG to be recalled. I have many reasons to be skeptical of the FDAs judgement, but Fen-Phen is the first to mind and most relevant to this post.

Fen-Phen was FDA-approved. No - Really.

Though the FDAs response is directed at homeopathic HCG - they make many claims that Rx HCG does not assist in weight loss. This video wants you to believe that you will be eating two bits of broccoli for a day and this MUST be why you'd see weight loss. (Seriously - why the theatrics?)

Here is a picture of a REAL meal on the HCG diet

And for kicks - a picture of a real meal on Weight Watchers
(I ate this in November 2007. Tracked it and everything.)


A few of my thoughts -

"...there are sensible ways to lose weight. These include balanced diets, exercising and realistic goals."
While on Weight Watchers - it is true that I lost weight. However, even the new and improved Weight Watchers (probably the closest diet plan to what the FDA is recommending) left me with less muscle and the same amount of fat. My belly hung like an empty kangaroo pouch over my waistband. I felt tired and crabby and irritable and HUNGRY. On HCG - my fatty areas (thighs, belly, arms) are smaller and firmer. I have energy and rarely have hunger pains - I am still crabby... But I'm beginning to suspect this is just who I am and that it is unrelated to my weight loss or gains. ;) On HCG - when I do experience a twinge of hunger - it is very close to lunchtime and my lunch/dinner often fills me so full that I can not finish my plate. The same could never be said for a meal on Weight Watchers. I always wanted more.

"...direct users to follow a severely restrictive diet."
My diet on HCG is restrictive. But - it is far more balanced than what I ate on Weight Watchers. I eat far more lean protein and vegetables than I ever did on Weight Watchers.

“But the data simply does not support [HCG as a weight loss tool]; any loss is from severe calorie restriction. Not from the HCG.”
I beg to differ. I am the data. My fellow HCG-dieters (who follow Dr. Simeon's protocol) are the data. We are seeing results and we are all veteran dieters who have many other diet plans in our experience to compare our results to. HCG is the difference between starving (literally. Without HCG to assist in utilizing your abnormal fat storage - you would be starving on 500 calories a day) and feeling satisfied (NOT hungry) and staying with it.

“[There] is no substantial evidence that it increases weight loss beyond that resulting from caloric restriction, that it causes a more attractive or ‘normal’ distribution of fat, or that it decreases the hunger and discomfort associated with calorie-restricted diets.”
I am the evidence.

(I can't believe I'm showing you these...)

My belly fat on Weight Watchers

My belly fat on HCG

The difference in scale weight is less than 3 pounds between these two pictures. But if you would like to argue that the topmost picture shows any kind of re-shaping, you should probably utilize your back-button and find a different blog to read. The picture on the bottom is the evidence, data, proof, whatever you want to call it - that HCG is indeed re-shaping my body and using up my useless fat storage.

I've read Dr. Simeon's manuscript cover to cover - twice. I'll probably read it again when I begin my next round of HCG. Even if I didn't understand WHY it works - I can see that it works.

I guess I'm also lucky that I have no gallbladder - wouldn't want any pesky gallstones from the FDA-approved fertility drug. :P

The Hard Weigh

Pizza is my arch nemesis. I just can't say no to it. And I don't have a limit with it.

...

Okay - maybe a whole pizza eaten in one sitting would give me pause.

But because of pizza I am sadly floundering at 169.8.

Why does pizza have this power over me? What am I supposed to DO about it? Do I find a substitute? Or like a crackhead going through rehab have to just learn to ignore the craving the hard way?

I wonder if I could talk my family into a two month stint of no pizza? Could we even pretend to be a pizza-free zone?

I think my kids consider it one of the main food groups... I am their mother after all.

Salt Lick

I'm considering investing in a human-sized salt lick. They are probably available for purchase...somewhere.

I caved and ate popcorn in the theater on a date night with Brian. Which made it easier to eat the box of Milk Duds. And then the box of peanut butter M&Ms.

So that made it easier to do it again when we all went to the theater for Kellie's birthday - last night.

Thing is - I wasn't hungry either time. It was total habit-eating. And since I'd already crashed the day, I tossed in the towel and ate pizza for Kellie's birthday dinner.

Now? Since I've had a taste? I want more. I'm not hungry. My body and belly FEEL FULL. But it is all I can do not to run upstairs and shove a fistful of TGIFriday's Cheddar Cheese and Bacon potato chips in my mouth. And wash them down with a slice of pumpkin pie.

I did so well on Thanksgiving - eating my delicious low calorie meal and not feeling temptation to even sample the Thanksgiving Day spread. But then - I don't care much for Thanksgiving foods. Junk food, though... that's a horse of a different color.

So - maybe I'll invest in a salt lick, that I can make out with whenever I'm craving salty junk food.

As far as weight goes - I lost .8 the day after eating popcorn and candy with Brian. I gained 2.8 the day after eating popcorn, candy and pizza. And to keep myself from the fistful of potato chips - I weighed myself just now and am down 0.8 pounds from this morning. That should be enough to keep me strong.

And if not... maybe a fistful of salt will strengthen my resolve.

Creepy Clown Doll

Remember the creepy clown doll that my misleading weight won me?

I finally donated it last week. It went out with a large Goodwill donation.

I thought I'd be sad. And I have moments when I wonder if I'll one day want to show it to my girls as tangible proof of my damage. My shortcomings. My love/hate relationship with myself.

I know that I come across as a confident person. But, I have not always been so. And there are days that my inner-child takes the wheel and leaves me worrying about the things I've said or done. Have I scarred someone today? Did I leave someone out? Was what I said communicated in the nicest, sweetest, sugary-coated way possible? Will they talk about me later? Grow to hate me? Will blogs be started about me and my transgressions?

Paranoid.

I have moments of paranoia. And maybe that is normal. But I don't like that it keeps me up at night. That I lose sleep over my insecurities.

I stare at my husband's peaceful sleeping face. I try to match my breathing to his. Innnnnnn out. Innnnnnn out.

How does he sleep so soundly? How does he fall asleep so quickly? How is his conscience so light? Am I flawed? Or is he?

Today I have a migraine. I get them - often. It is not related to HCG (for my worried readers). But. When not on HCG, I get through my migraines eating junk. Pastries. Fried foods. Pizza. Pizza. Pizza. The carbs give me energy, calm my queasy stomach, and give me a distraction from the past that comes bubbling up when the wall I've created is made weaker by the pain my body is enduring.

Now, on VLCD3, I do not have that crutch. I have to learn to deal with this problem without food. And ya know what? I'm looking forward to the challenge.

I am part of an online group that focuses on the purest form of HCG dieting. I have been reading their posts about HCG changing their relationship with food. I didn't believe them.

I thought - surely they must be tricking themselves into thinking that they no longer need a food crutch. How can one overcome a lifetime of food as a bandage? As a disgusting but warm blanket? As a way of forgetting the things that are weighing heavy on your mind?

I'm beginning to understand. I think it is possible. Maybe not for everyone. But for me - after months of therapy - I think I can do this.

Second Verse - Same As the First?

No. No, not at all.

I'm sure it is different with everyone, but this is my first VeryLowCalorieDiet day (henceforth known as VLCD) on HCG injections and the difference between the way I felt on drops and the way I feel on shots is ASTOUNDING.

On the drops, I would have an errant craving (old habits die hard and there are opportunities for munching everywhere) and hear myself thinking "Whoa, whoa. No need to go there. Remember that you've got HCG on your side? Just walk away."

Today, I walked past the Pretzel Maker (my all-time favorite mall food, one that I get every time the opportunity presents itself) and my thoughts sounded a little something like this "Oooooh...pretzel bites... yu... yu... yuck? What the??"

I actually almost gagged at the thought of any kind of food entering my mouth. I felt so FULL. Not mentally, like I was trying to trick myself, like I did on the drops. But physically. I felt physically full like after a huge order of takeout.

I have confidence that this round will be successful.

Also, on a weird note, my post-binge weight is the exact same weight as my first attempt at hHCG (the drops round). 177.4 exactly. I didn't gain any weight after my second day of loading. I gained it all in the first day.

Almost as if my body has put this limit on my weight that says:

-I don't give two shakes that you ate 6500 calories and 150 grams of fat yesterday. I will not store more than 177.4 pounds for you.-

It Begins...Again

I started my HCG today - had a marvelous time stuffing my face.

In the span of less than 24 hours - I have consumed the following:
2 slices of toast with Brummel and Brown spread
Large bowl of Berry Berry Kix cereal and milk
2 Sausage Egg and Cheese McMuffins
Orange Juice
Scotcharoo bar
Pumpkin pie
Chai Pumpkin Tea
Apple Cider

5 piece nugget with sweet and sour
Lemonade
Junior bacon cheeseburger

Lasagna
Garlic bread
Chocolate Almond milk

2 Boston kreme donuts
1/2 Maple bar
Chocolate milk
1 Avocado


I also baked 4 pies, de-pouched a JuJuBe Behave, sewed a satin pouch from the Behave's innards, gave a slice of pie to my mailman (poor guy had to work a double route :( ), supervised the girls as they played with our new hamster (Allie - totally Kellie's idea), grocery shopped, and managed to squeeze some girl time in with Ryan. (Sorry about your arm pit :( )

Now - before bed - I'll have to come up with something that is small but packs a caloric punch.

Watch out - kid stories below, unrelated to my weight loss journey.


Kellie calls herself "Mommy" when playing with Allie. In her sweet little voice "It's okay, Mommy is here." "Mommy just wants to make sure we get all these little poopies picked up." "Mommy said it isn't safe to go that far!" "Awwwww - come snuggle Mommy." "Hey! You listen to your Mother!"

When Delia and I went grocery shopping (Kellie and Dad stayed home - she read books, he played a video game) - she was such a big helper. Super sweet and charming. But my favorite part was when we pulled into the parking lot and she said, "Hey Mom?"
Me: Yes Monkeybuns?
Delia: When I grow up big and big and big and big - I want to be a Momma just like you.
Me: Blink blink (For the tears, you know?) Delia - that is so sweet. I hope you get to be a Mommy just like me.
Delia: And Mom?
Me: Yes DearDoll?
Delia: When I get tall and tall and tall and tall - I'm going to drive fast just like Daddy.

This Old House

I am exhausted - just want sleep every waking moment. I wonder if the season change is the root of the problem. Or my not seeing my therapist for two weeks. Or my anticipation of beginning HCG dieting. Or... Nope - got nothing else. I AM pretty overweight. Maybe my body is finally tired of carrying around the extra 40-60 pounds?

I go see my doctor today - I'm not even sure what we're going to talk about.

I've been having a lot of dreams about realty lately. I'm buying a house, my friends are buying houses, I'm redecorating houses, I'm showing houses... The list continues. In each dream - I know the ins and outs of each house and get easily frustrated that I'm not able to convey how special I think each house is.

Brian is playing handyman and fixing the sink in our downstairs bathroom. We may need to replace the vanity - since it has been leaking for some time and the wood smells awful. Every time I went into his bathroom - I lit a candle because I couldn't pinpoint the mildew odor and no one else smelled it. Today I was rinsing out a plastic container (to re-purpose as my "shampoo" holder - shampoo being baking soda. ;) ) and the water was just flooding out of the cabinet. Turns out - the pipe had rusted through and had been leaking for some time. Which explains why the downstairs bathroom smelled of mildew - but apparently only enough for my insanely sensitive nose to detect.

Shark Week

My favorite day of the year is the day after daylight savings time ends. Right now, my body and eyes are tired - and it is 9:15. I could (in theory) go to bed now when my body thinks it is after 10:00 and sleep until 6:30 when my body thinks it is 7:30 and have a happy and well-rested day tomorrow.

Plus - bedtime for the girls was suuuper easy tonight. The kids fell asleep at 7:30 - which, we all know is 8:30 to them - and no one tried to convince me they needed one last sip of water.

I'm anxious for a few things -
1 - for my HCG to arrive
2 - for Shark Week to end and the bloating to settle down
3 - for my therapy appointment this week

My doctor and I had a hard time filling an hour last week. I'm at peace with a lot of the things that brought me to therapy. I was going once weekly for a few months and I got in the habit of having an hour of intense healing. When last week we were pretty much hearing crickets the whole hour, my Doc and I decided to switch to every other week unless I felt myself getting anxious or crazy again.

I missed my time with my doctor last week - but I didn't feel anxious or crazy about anything in my past. Current stuff? Sure. Like losing a large portion of my social outlet by leaving my favorite forum. It left me in a minor tailspin. But - my house is cleaner. My kids are happier. My husband is getting more attention. And my mind is free to obsess about things other than bags and sewing.

My good good friend and I went shopping today - I got quite a few more skirts from Goodwill. I chose a few things that were a smidge tight in the hopes that they would fit perfectly within a month. I'm not one to buy a size down - but HCG gives me confidence that I made the right choice.

One of the oddities I developed in having a past of sexual abuse is that I freak out when I think of things inside my body. I have tried (several times) to remove my IUD in the middle of the night. I get anxious and have a hard time thinking of anything else when I've had a DivaCup in for too long. I can't look at a needle hanging out in my skin (like when I donate plasma).

Don't worry - I got rid of the IUD long ago. And I have mamacloth to give myself a mental break from the DivaCup at night. And I no longer donate plasma.

I've learned to cope with my oddities - but the ones that I wasn't even aware of until therapy still shock me. Oddities like:

- Seeing sheets or a curtain hanging in a room that are meant to act as a wall make me anxious. It wasn't too long ago that being in my friend's playroom with her washer and dryer behind a curtain would make my skin crawl and my heart race. I'd rush out of there as fast as I could without seeming crazy.

- I act irrationally about the idea of my daughters sleeping in a Queen size bed before they are adults.

- The DivaCup thing.

- I have vivid night terrors. My conscious and subconscious mind argue about whether or not what I'm seeing is - in fact - real. I often wake my husband up in a frightening display of hysteria, demanding that he take care of or confirm whatever it is I'm seeing.


I realize that my trauma is small compared to some. We all have our own level of what we can handle before we are broken. I don't believe I am broken. I believe I was wounded. And I've spent years trying to cover the wound with food.

I forgot how good it feels to blog. To just pour out all the excess matter in my mind. I'm allowing myself to blog from my soul - not worrying about storylines or explanations. I figure - whoever might be reading this either doesn't care or already knows whatever specifics I happen to leave out in my scattered rambling.

To Better Things

And onward I move - growth being an important part of this process and all. ;)

I am overweight. Technically, on a bloated day, I am obese.

I have struggled with my weight since I was 9 years old. I remember paying a man in a Vegas casino $2 to guess my weight. I remember he guessed I weighed somewhere south of 65 pounds. I remember the clunk the carnivalesque scale made as I settled my chunky frame into the spotlight. I remember his loud and enthusiastic holler as he shouted, "Mama?! Whoooo-eee! How much turkey you been feedin' this girl? Dang! Ninety pounds! Whoo! I was waaaaay off! Pick your prize, princess!"

Tears in my eyes - I remember selecting a creepy clown doll. She had a porcelain face and a stiff bean-filled body. She had a pointy hat with a small pompom on top. I hated her. I got off the scale and told my mom I was never eating turkey again.

That lasted an hour, I'm sure. Come dinner time, I was at the front of the buffet line - belgian waffles and sausages. Cream-filled pastries and scrambled eggs with cheese. A glass of orange juice and a glass of chocolate milk. A trip to the ice cream bar and a trip to the dessert cart.

What was I like before the age of nine? I was a healthy weight for my height. I ate food when I was hungry and I stopped eating when I was full. I have memories of pizza and rootbeer and not wondering if one of my brothers got a bigger slice than I did.

Years of therapy (group, family, marriage, personal) and not a one ever put together that something might have happened to trigger my sudden desire to stuff my face. I mentioned in every first-session that I ever had that my only traumas worthy of note are:
My parents are divorced - and happily remarried.
My grandmother died less than a month after I spent a summer vacation with her. Just me and her.
One time, I woke to find my mom's boyfriend's hand between my legs and his response was "I was just checking to see if you wet the bed."

I can't count how many times I've recounted the boyfriend bit to a mental health professional. Each one has replied - wow! It sounds like you dodged a real bullet there. Tell me about your life after your parents remarried.

My present-day therapist slammed the car into park and said -
Tell me more about the boyfriend.

Thing is? I didn't remember much. I shrugged and said that I must be lucky - think of what might have happened!

Through months of counseling, I have uncovered enough fragmented memories to conclude that the boyfriend was coming into my room while I slept and trespassing on my privacy. Because my mind has done a fabulous job of burying these subconscious encounters, I struggle to come to a definite conclusion of what went on.

Suffice it to say - I was affected by whatever happened. It doesn't matter what happened. It only matters that I was and am affected.

Is my weight problem directly caused by this trauma? Probably not.

I subscribe to Dr. Simeon's theory that some are born genetically pre-disposed to being overweight. I believe that our life experiences influence whether we have the willpower to fight against those genes our whole lives.

My weight loss experience (and it is vast, mind you) has led me to this conclusion:
It does not matter what I do to reach a weight loss goal. I will inevitably have to fight to hold the ground I've conquered.

I have been - at my lowest adult weight - 131 pounds. I ran several miles a day (giving myself breaks on the weekends) and engaged in cardio workouts and lifted weights. I ate 19 Weight Watchers points per day and 35 extra points per week. I fought for weeks to achieve my goal of 130 pounds - and the scale never budged from 131. On the old Weight Watchers plan, 19 points equaled about 800 calories. Figuring in the weekly points, I was consuming 800-1000 calories per day. Calories in, calories out? My flabby ass.

The very moment I gave up (7 weeks total of ass-kicking and craving-killing with my weight remaining steady at 131), I ate what my healthy-weight husband ate for dinner one night and I gained 5 pounds the next day. I steadily gained from then on without much effort.

I subscribe to Dr. Simeon's other theory that our bodies hold a "set weight." I trusted his theory so much that I put it to the test. For one entire week, if I thought about it, I ate it. I consumed between 4,000 and 10,000 calories PER DAY for an entire week.

My weight never EVER went above 175. Ever.

My weight is set between 170 and 175, allowing for water retention and full intestines. ;)

Check the charts, folks - I'm obese.

I will admit my skepticism when I first heard my Mom tell me about Dr. Simeon's HCG diet plan.

At 500 calories a day, surely you risk mistaking your husband for a hotdog and devouring him whole in your sleep.

At 500 calories a day, certainly you risk gnawing on your own leg to get by between meals.

At 500 calories a day, a sudden death was definitely in your near future.

Mom? Seriously? 500 calories? I half-listened, but mostly silently waited for her to admit to being abducted by aliens. I was nursing at the time, husky as ever, and knew that this wasn't even an option for me. As is my custom, I have a difficult time faking enthusiasm. I'm sad to say I missed out on many of my mom's triumphs due to my ignorance.

Luckily, she is my mom. She knows I never mean harm when I disengage. When I let my mind wander to things I care about and can discuss without having to muster fake enthusiasm.

Now, not nursing and fully able to participate in weight loss, I am at the beginning of my own HCG weight loss journey.

I began Weight Watchers in December 2010. I began weighing 168 pounds. I weigh 172 today... So... THAT didn't work for me.

But, being fat doesn't work for me either.

Mom?

Ever the helpful mommy, she pointed me in the right direction. And like a rocket-ship with a final destination on the navigation, I took off.

I could hash out the hows and whys - but that is for another time. This post has gotten rather wordsy - seems I've been bottling up a few too many things - and there will be plenty of time for explanations on other sleepless nights.

For now - know that I have done my research. I know of the good, the bad, the ugly, and the downright horrifying (do NOT google "colon cleanse" and expect to retain your midnight snack!). And yet - I persist. Doesn't it kind of make you wonder why?

Abortion. Smoking. Leaving your kid in your car. HCG dieting.

Surprising to find these four things lumped together.

A childhood tune "One of these things is not like the other..." runs through my mind at a rapid pace.

I have been an active online socialite for years - hopping from blog to forum to fan page. And until recently have never been aggravated enough by internet people to up and leave.

Because my membership has been deactivated (at my request) I have not been able to respond or rebuttal the mudslinging that has been going on regarding my self-removal.

It is keeping me up at night. And so begins - this blog.

My side of the story - in case you are interested - is that a simple request was blatantly and disrespectfully ignored. I no longer have access to the threads - so I'll be paraphrasing instead of quoting - but the gist goes something like this:

...you are too smart for this! (meaning, if you choose to do this, you are obviously stupid)
...if someone opens up a thread about abortions or leaving your kids in the car and then requests nobody comment - of course people are going to comment! (meaning, my choice is so wildly dangerous that a comment is necessary for my own well-being)
...if my friend told me she was going to start smoking to lose weight - I would absolutely speak up about how wrong I think that is! (meaning, you are not smart enough to make your own health decisions. Here, let me make them for you.)

The inflammatory comments have multiplied - as has the support of said forum for the woman left standing by the cheese.

In the end - making a painfully long story short -

My offense is not taken in what this woman said. Not even when her "research" wouldn't equate to a drop in the bucket of research I have done.

My offense is not taken even when some of the moderators of the forum publicly supported the vocal protesters (yes, plural) claiming their remarks were clearly born of love and concern.

My offense is still not taken when friends of mine are left feeling attacked and alone should they attempt to stand up for me. (Sad as this makes me, I can only fight my own battles.)

My offense lies in this very simple statement -
It is not what she said, or how she said it. It is where she said it, that offends me.

I realize that a public forum and public thread leave me open for judgment and criticism. It is human nature to critique and compare differences. But this particular online world had previously felt like a circle of friends. A loving, supportive, unique circle of friends. A place in which one could be different and still be spoken to with respect. A place where a friendly request was taken to heart.

In other online forums - there is not such familiarity that I have experienced. In other forums, my request to have my thread be one of support and genuine desire to converse on our struggles and triumphs with HCG would have easily been trampled in the line of trolls waiting to have their turn at tearing me and my outlandish ways apart. But in this one forum - a simple request, between friends, has previously been held sacred. And maybe there would be snickering, tsking, or gasps as they read my HCG support thread. But - I like to believe that most of the ladies in that forum would aim to honor my polite request. To allow me and my fellow HCGers a sacred place to lend advice and celebration and happiness.

And if the urge became too strong - one couldn't hold their opinion back any longer! - to then have begun their own HCG-bashing thread would have been completely fine by me. In fact, when page after page of poster agreed that HCG must be a scam, I felt no need to comment (though my membership was still technically valid) because I have nothing to offer an HCG-bashing thread.

And finally - when the last straw landed - and my friend was torn to pieces (oh yes, I even saw some of the comments a few made before revising and rethinking their hasty-worded replies) and several moderators sided with the woman whose spark set fire to the kindle... I knew right then and there that this was no place for me to be.

This was no longer a place of support.

This was no longer a place of love.

This was no longer a place of friendship.

And so I fled - not wishing to further the insanity, I did not make my leaving public.

As these things go - my absence was noted. And I'm made even more flabbergasted by the many responses of posters who do not see a problem with my request being so hugely ignored.

Person to person - it was rude.

Internet person to internet person - it was standard.

I'm sad to see my once-hailed forum has sunk to "standard."