Category: Life Happens

I’ve dieted a hundred times before.  A thousand.  I’ve probably lost hundreds of pounds over the years, only to gain it back and then some.  I was doing Weight Watchers before high school.  My freshman year, we ordered the wrong size in my cheerleading skirt and the absolute only way I squeezed into it all season was my mom giving me THE LOOK every time I even thought about eating something not strictly on my plan.

I still have that skirt.  And it fits Middle Monster, who’s only in the 4th grade!  When I think about struggling with that damned skirt every day, I’m still amazed that I was ever that small.  I was not exactly fat in school – nor was I especially thin.  I struggled constantly to keep my weight down, even though I was active and healthy.

I’ve kept a few things over the years that I “outgrew,” like that ancient cheerleading skirt.  No, I have absolutely no expectations of ever fitting into it again.  But I held on to some of those things, I guess trying to remind myself of how thin I’d once been.  This continued into my marriage, having kids, etc. where the pounds slowly packed on.  I moved a dress from Texas to Minnesota to Missouri that I never once wore because it was too small – in the barest slimmest hope that *someday* it would fit.

I finally donated it a few years ago because it was so sadly outdated.  It never did fit.

But what I realized this time around is that I’ve never donated my “fat” clothes.  Why do I let the ugly memories hang around and remind me of how large and unhealthy I’ve been?  So instead, I choose to CELEBRATE every single time I move down to a new size.  As soon as I’m comfortably into a new size, I clean out my closet and donate it all.

Every single pair of pants in my largest size are long gone.  Then the cheaper ones I bought second hand months ago.  Gone.  The things I’ve been holding on to for ten years and more when I worked in the office each day.  They fit now, but they’re so outdated after all these years that most of them are gone.

GONE.  It’s such a wonderful feeling.  It’s truly liberating.  I don’t have to waste precious storage space on crap that makes me feel bad.  That reminds me of depression, hurt, regret, and guilt.  GONE.

I will never go back.  I refuse to buy a single thing in a larger size.  If I stall out, fine, I’ve got clothes that fit now.  If I start to gain, I have absolutely nothing to wear.  There is no safety net.  No cushion.  I’ll HAVE to start losing again.

For the first time in my life, I’m deliberately buying things when I find a good deal, even if I know they’re too small.  Because one day, they WILL fit.  For a while.  And then I’ll donate them too and pull out the even smaller things I’ve been dreaming about.

Remember those two pair of jeans I’ve been holding on to?  They’re in the same size as my others, but the style/brand is just enough different that they didn’t fit.  I’ve been trying them on once a month or so, then more often this past month as I’ve been working out.  I’m proud to say that this week, I got both pairs on, pulled up, buttoned AND zipped!!!  Ha!!

But then I couldn’t actually MOVE let alone sit down.    Soon, though, those jeans are going to be comfortable, and these baggy ones I have on right now will be in the donate pile.

I can’t wait.  Then I’ll go shopping again and find a new goal.  Summer is just around the corner and I have absolutely NOTHING to wear.  No short sleeved shirts, tanks, shorts, nothing.  I haven’t worn shorts in at least ten years, probably more like 15.  Who knows, maybe this time around…

I might even buy a swim suit.

I can remember as a kid just SOBBING, heartbroken, because I felt that something unfair had been done to me.  It’s a childish complaint that the monsters shout at each other (and me) all the time.  That’s so UNFAIR!!

And even though I’ve got a few years on me ::cough:: sometimes unfairness – and my childish demands – crop back up.  Especially at my weigh in today.

I’ve been sooooo good.  On program, tracking all food, no slips, no late-night binges on Lays, no coconut pie, no homemade bread…  I’ve exercised more this month than I probably did all last year.  I’ve earned 75 activity points this month – insane for me!  And yet I only lost .2 today – after having an unearned gain of 2.6 pounds all week!

For the entire month (the past 4 weeks, not just January), I’ve only lost 2.5 pounds.

While rationally I know a). any loss is to be cheered and b). an average loss of .5 pounds per week is a healthy rate…  I’m not satisifed.  I want results, dammit, and I want them now!  ::stomps foot::  If I work out that hard…I *deserve* a loss.  It’s so unfair.

::rolls eyes at how childish that sounds::

Yet it’s the truth.  And I’ve always said the truth here.

This feeling of unfairness isn’t limited to just weight loss either.  We can feel it’s unfair that someone at work got promoted and we didn’t, even though we work harder or have more seniority.  Someone got a break and we didn’t, whatever that break was.  We do everything right…and sometimes it just doesn’t happen when we expect it to happen.

What do you do then?  How do you reframe your expectations?  How do you handle the disappointment and sense of entitlement?  Maturity helps, of course — I would expect to handle disappointment better myself than Middle Monster because she didn’t get that iPad for Christmas she wanted, for example.  But even maturity begins to wear thin week after week, month after month, when you’re working so hard, doing everything right, and don’t get what you want, when you want it.

So I thought I’d try on my too-small jeans, on the barest hope that maybe I’d lost inches even if the scale wasn’t cooperating, but that was only another disappointment.  They still don’t fit.

However, I have to listen to how I feel, really feel.  I did Walk It Out today because my normal workout schedule was messed up, and I felt GREAT.  I walked and jogged for 45 minutes, sweat my tush off, and ended up walking just under 3 miles.

My foot felt great even walking that far and long.

My schedule was messed up because I took the day off from the Evil Day Job and got my hair done, and Apryl did a TERRIFIC job.  It looks great and I felt really good about how I looked.  She also commented on how much thinner I look (she only sees me once a month).

My watch is sagging so much on my wrist that I need to go in and have a link taken out.

My “skinny” jeans (ironically, the same size and brand as the ones that stubbornly won’t fit, although they’re a slightly different style) are sagging around the waist again.

And I started to feel better.  Am I still disappointed?  Sure.  But I know I’m doing what’s right.  Sometimes that has to be enough reward.  Oh, and I bought myself some new workout shorts – yes SHORTS – I haven’t owned shorts in like fifteen years!!! – and a sports bra.

I figured a little retail therapy couldn’t hurt. 

Not as fun as Christmas in July, let me tell you.

I’ve been sick since Wed. night/Thursday last week.  I just got a little bit worse day by day, but I didn’t realize exactly how “bad” I was feeling.  It just sort of snuck up on me, or maybe I just didn’t want to think about it.  I was really slow mentally and physically all day Friday.  My brain was in neutral and I struggled all day at work.  I had to run an errand at lunch and it wiped me out.  I struggled through the rest of the day and didn’t feel at all well Friday night.

Sat. was the worst.  My fever got up to 103.3 F.  I woke up absolutely disgustingly drenched in sweat, so bad we had to strip the bed and wash everything.  Yet within an hour or two, the fever came roaring back.  102+ plus all weekend. 

My back kept hurting.  Mostly my left side.  I couldn’t get comfortable.  Sunday night, I made my way downstairs to call in sick at work, and I was shocked when I could hardly rattle off the voicemail speel I’ve been using for 16 years now.  I didn’t have enough air.

I hoped Monday I was getting a little better because my fever stayed in the 101-102 range and I was actually able to eat dinner with the family (yes, That Man COOKED a delicious BBQ meatball dinner!), but my back was just KILLING me.  And the shortness of breath just got worse and worse.  Monday night when I went downstairs to call in again, I could barely make it back up.  I sat in my chair panting, short, painful gasping breaths that really scared me. 

If I was a smart person, I would have had my husband take me to the ER that night, because I couldn’t sleep.  I was too uncomfortable, coughed too much, and felt like I was panting most of the night.  But with 3 children, it’s hard to justify dragging them up out of bed to wait for hours and hours at the ER with many other sick people.  So I waited to go to our local urgent care this morning as soon as they opened.

He didn’t need xrays to know I had pneumonia.  He just wanted to see how BAD it was.  But he was very worried about me, which scared the hell out of me.  My left side is the worst.  That pain I felt in my back?  Was actually my LUNG hurting.  Standing for the xrays wore me out so badly that I fought to keep from fainting, because I was scared he’d admit me on the spot, and I really didn’t want to go to the hospital.  Once back in the room, I laid down, and immediately rolled over to the floor so I could throw up in the trash can.  Ugh. 

Needless to say, he sent me to the ER for further evaluation.  He really seemed to suspect they’d hospitalize me for a few days.  Luckily, some hefty iv antibiotics and two bags of fluid were enough to convince the ER doctor to let me come home.  WHEW.  However, I have an inhaler and more oral antibiotics to take this week, so hopefully *prays* I am on the mend.

It is just wrong on so many levels to have pneumonia in July, with a crazy heatwave outside.  While I sit here shuddering under a blanket.

I tried coffee for the first time today since Friday and it didn’t taste good yet. 🙁  But hopefully it will taste good again in a few days.

So my apologies for delays in responding to people.  I know I’ve had a few requests for RTCs lately and I’ll try to get them out as soon as possible.  I also have a lovely review for Lady Doctor Wyre to post.  As soon as I muster up the energy…

Over the 4th of July weekend, Middle missed several outings with her friend because she was sick with fever, cough, and aches/pains.  She had a fever about 3 days, but she’s always been hit “hard” by anything like that.  (Which is why she had 3 minor surgergies before Kindergarten)

I thought we all escaped without getting it, until I started coughing Thursday.  Friday I barely had the energy to climb up and down the stairs to work, but I pushed through the day and got as much done as possible (nowhere near my normal daily production level).  Meanwhile, I kept waking up in the middle of the night with horrible sweats.  I almost thought I was having hot flashes already!  They were horrible.  And oh, the aches.

Of course I couldn’t find the thermometer – one of the monsters ran off with it.  I woke up this morning aching all over again.  I’d been trying to blame it partially on our bed (it needs to be replaced), new pillows I’d just bought, and working out more, so my muscles were just sore.  But this morning, I could hardly stumble into the bathroom because I was shaking so hard, which hurt everything.

That Man called in to work so he could take care of the kids.  Of course I need to do the grocery shopping, so we hardly have any food in the house.  I ate a little bit and felt enough better (with a hefty dose of Motrin) to make it to Target so I could pick up cough drops, yet another thermometer, and several cans of soup.

I almost wish I didn’t know for sure that I have a fever.  Because knowing it’s 101 and still climbing makes me feel worse.  At this rate, I hope I’m better for work Monday morning!