Saturday, November 26, 2011

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.

Monday, November 21, 2011

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?


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.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

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.-

Thursday, November 17, 2011

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
Junior bacon cheeseburger

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.

Friday, November 11, 2011

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.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

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.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

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.


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: 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."