The Front

No, I didn't really want that job anyway.
No, I wasn't really into him anyway.
No, I didn't want to be involved in your wedding anyway.
No, I didn't really want to be invited to the party/vacation/happy-hour anyway.
No, I'm good to drive.
No, I'll meet you there.

Yes, I'll be fine, alone.

And in the single, solitary, deathly quiet moments drowned out by blasting music, frenetic speed, and swirling smoke, food is my companion.

Because there is no one else as reliable, available, and non-judgmental. The food doesn't have to care; it just has to be there. It might be the only thing I trust to show up for me.

And the connection is so addictive. I've never been able to break it. And I'm so worn out from trying, so hard, to keep failing.

...and now I am...

I'm up early. I'm going to work out today. I have re-logged-into weightwatchers.com to track my points and all my crazy eating. I have not been doing that and quite honestly- that is the path to success. Even with no exercise, as long as I actually track what I eat, I do pretty well.

Since hitting my 10% -- I've put back on about half of the weight I lost. It's only taken a few weeks to a month to do the damage... and it will take many more to take it off again.

But, I. remain. committed.
No matter how I may temporarily derail, I will ultimately succeed this time around.

The next big goal is the end of summer/my bday... I would LOVE to have hit my 2nd 10% loss by then. I'm not sure I can do it, but that is the goal.

I've been sort of wallowing... keeping myself busy being upset at the weight. What I should be doing instead is literally working my ass off doing something to get rid of it.

And now I am.

getting off the hamster wheel

From this past Weekend...

I bought some new clothes that made me feel better. I bought a new bathing suit, that I sort of actually like, that made me feel better. I had a fantastic weekend with friends in my new clothes and new bathing suit and I was able to forget about being fat for a little while.

Fun & friends and sunshine & sand helped it disappear from the forefront of my mind. But now, on Sunday evening, often the loneliest of the most relaxing times, I am aware that I must go back to working hard at this. And I've been aware... but I let myself slip in and out of consciousness about it... but here's the thing...(s)...

Even though I made strides recently, and I didn't deprive myself of pool and surf as I have in years past, when the guys at the party are talking about how life can't be all that bad since there are girls in bikinis around... I'm definitely not part of who they're referencing.

And even though my breasts are real, I know I'd trade them for fakes if I could get rid of the stomach fat too.

I'm reaching some kind of new level of desperation about wanting to take this weight off... and it's hindering me from actually doing so. In the simplest of terms, it's a mind-fuck. Damned from every angle. Deprivation of fun things like new clothes has not worked. Reward of fun things has not worked. All the games and tricks I play in order to find a way to force myself into doing this for me, are backfiring.

I have committed to Alli (not myself- someone else) that I will do the LB Half Marathon. I have wanted to do it for ages. And I am going to do it. But I don't want to do my laundry so that I'll have clean work-out clothes. And I've stared at the Runners High store sign on 2nd st. so many times, but have yet to go in and get new shoes. And I've aspired every day to get up and go exercise, and I haven't done it. [editorial note: this has since changed. i went for a 2-3 mile run/walk on tuesday]

I've been reminiscing about the days of the marathon when I gave up smoking and drinks of any kind... and I took on the miles instead. And I did it for charity. And that made all the difference. B/c apparently I'll do shit for someone else-- just not myself.

I feel like I am saying the same things over and over and not doing. Not doing. Not doing.

I found a Long Beach Bootcamp. And this running group called EZ8. And I have access to a million classes through 24hr fitness. I didn't sign up for Boot camp. Nor the EZ8 b/c I don't really believe I can run an 8min mile. I'm in research mode. Instead of action mode.

I'm a little sunburned. But at least I soaked up a lot of sunshine Vitamin D. And I am generally pretty happy w/ where I am. Despite my ranting here.

I am happy that I'm in a position to try all sorts of stuff. I may keep changing my mind about how or what or who is going to help me in this weight loss journey... but at least I am in a position where I can afford to keep trying new things. Selecting, and rejecting.

Nothing worth doing is ever easy. So I feel like I'm coming through the end of a rough patch about it. I have a ton of issues w/ the weight... and with what that means in this society. And my feelings on these issues are always going to be complex-- even once I get rid of the weight.

So I'm figuring out how to utilize this to keep moving forward instead of letting it keep me on the perpetual hamster wheel to nowhere.

an excerpt from the NY times

"... [N]ew research suggests that the environment that most strongly influences body composition may be the very first one anybody experiences: the womb.

According to several animal studies, conditions during pregnancy, including the mother’s diet, may determine how fat the offspring are as adults. Human studies have shown that women who eat little in pregnancy, surprisingly, more often have children who grow into fat adults. More than a dozen studies have found that children are more likely to be fat if their mothers smoke during pregnancy.

The research is just beginning, true, but already it has upended some hoary myths about dieting. The body establishes its optimal weight early on, perhaps even before birth, and defends it vigorously through adulthood. As a result, weight control is difficult for most of us. And obesity, the terrible new epidemic of the developed world, is almost impossible to cure."

from:

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Health Guide

http://health.nytimes.com/ref/health/healthguide/esn-obesity-ess.html