A Quick Note: I'm Scared

I just got done taking a bath, followed by showering off the bubble bath residue and getting ready for the day.

While I was taking the bath, I was thinking about my weight, my weight loss, my progress over the years, and my lack thereof.

I got thinking about the fast that I have coming up, starting February 17.

And the fact that I set a goal.

And I told people about it.

And whether or not I can really make that happen.

While I like the concept of goal setting, my reality is that I do not always follow through. I'll get into it, change course, and toss the original goal out the window. Or, just like my family did with Lent growing up, we do proper lip service to saying "Ok, I'm going to give _______ up for Lent." The priest approves, but doesn't really follow up. Or he does, and you say, "Sure, I'm doing it." Never did it. Never have I ever completed a Lenten sacrifice.

Now this year I'm going to? I mean - fuck! That's 40 fucking days! 40! Forty days is a long goddamned time! That's OVER A MONTH, for those of you on the metric system! I mean, yes; I accomplished the two week fast with no problems, but what if I have heart failure? What if my organs start eating themselves due to lack of outside nurtrion sources? What if I have complete body shut down? I'm being partly facetious, but there's true concern in there too. What about that? What will I do then?

I do not want to tell my doctor I am wanting to do a fast. First of all, I think she won't approve. She'd probably tell me, "That's a little drastic, don't you think? Why don't you just cut some calories and increase your exercise. That would get you similar results and not be so extreme."

Which ... sounds like sound advice to me.

So, non-existent Blog audience - what should I do? Should I do the fast as originally planned, taking in only water? If I do do it that way, I will be doing sun gazing as a part of the fast, to see how that nutritionally, or if it nutritionally, helps me.

The other option: I have a fasting kit, with herbal supplements for nutrients and ground flax seed for cleansing. I have been flitting in and out of using them. I could do that for the forty days.

Or, maybe I add in a cheat - when I was growing up, we got Sundays "off" from our Lenten sacrifice. We'd already have given up our sacrifice by about half way through - this just allowed us to eat the candy or whatever it was in front of other people, instead of having to hide it. Keep in mind, my other siblings may have actually done their Lenten duties without shirking. I just know that I didn't ever complete a Lenten promise - I started off strong and excited, and then it just kind of fizzled. I think probably because I *didn't* have anyone following up with me. There was no interaction. What's the fun of that?

Maybe blogging about it will be the follow up and interaction that helps me succeed this year. But, to finish the thought - what if I add in a "cheat" day, like Sunday, where I drink some vegetable juices. Or maybe have soup. I'm not thinking I need to do a steak dinner, but something that would add in some nutrients for me.

Hm. As I think about it, I think I'm going to want to do the water fast. It was just plain so easy. Let's do this, non-existent audience - let's say I will do the water fast as long as it's proving to be improving my health. I would like the out - if my energy gets low, or I pass out, or my organs start eating themselves, I would like the option to end the water fast and revert to my previous eating habits - junk food and sugar.

Last thought and then I'm done for the day - all the talk about calories and nutrients and giving your body the calories it needs to function ... I'm not kidding when I say I'm pretty much starving my body already for nutrients. I don't make sure I eat iron each day, whether is spinach or a steak, I'm not purposefully putting that into me. Vitamin B12, not sure where I get that from. Vitamin C - it's been weeks since I've had an orange. So from a nutritional stand point, I'm already on a fast - only this fast is the opposite extreme, where I'm shoving and shoving and shoving myself full of calories without being clear on whether or not they are helping me physically or not. It's kind of like buying a ton of cheap, crappy shoes on clearance, just to make sure you've got plenty of shoes; or, going through and carefully selecting maybe one or two really g o o d q u a l i t y shoes that will last longer and you'll feel better about. But it's so hard to give up all those shoes, you know? Even when you know the other shoes are so much better?

Anyway, I just wanted to get that out because it's going to bother me all day until I post again tomorrow morning. Thanks for listening. Until next time.

I Don't Look Like an Exerciser, and New Bras

I had off from work yesterday, and today is my other day off this week.

When I looked at these two days on my calendar, I thought, "oh! I'll be able to get so much done! I'll maybe film a couple sketches - I'll have two whole days to get at some things!"

I spent the entire day yesterday shopping. No exaggeration. I got up at 8 am to run errands, went to TJ Maxx for a couple things, and the next thing I new it was 6:30 p.m.

I'd like to be hard on myself and say that I have no restraint. While this may be true, the reality is that I needed some new clothes. It took me longer than I planned on it taking, but I got a lot of clothes at really good prices. So I'm not sure I can call it a waste of a day.

My first order of business was new bras and underwear. When I did the weight gain experiment last year, I thought I would hit my top weight goal and then immediately start dropping the weight. That didn't happen. And while I lost 30 pounds on the two-week water fast I did before the holidays, 15 of that has come back on.

So I needed more underwear so I can get through five days without having to do laundry. Also, I needed bras.

The bras I have are from when I weighed 195-211. I now weigh 224-227. The bras I have fit, but not well. The underwires jab into the sides of my breasts. This is bothersome, but something else has been coming up for me as well.

I have never had fun underwear. Oh, I've been given lingerie in my thinner days by the guy I was dating at the time. But that's not "fun" underwear. Lingerie is "work" underwear - it is to be put on, pranced around in for a bit, and then taken off. It is not comfortable necessarily. It is not even going to hold your breasts in place should you need to run down the street to catch the CTA that's about to pull away without you.

No, my underwear has always had a purpose. When I was a kid, I remember finding a three-pack of cotton underwear that had flowers and hearts on it, and asking my mom if I could get them. As an adult, I now know that my mom would head off a lot of our requests for their limited dollars by asking "what do you really need that for?" The flowered undies were no exception. "You don't need those," Mom said, taking them out of my hand and tossing them back by the others. "Who's going to see your underwear, anyway."

Wow. Did my mom just call me a whore at age 7?

So as an adult, I would buy sexy underwear, but always had this little, nagging, "Who's going to see them?" voice running through my head.

Yesterday, I found out who was going to see them.

Me.

I'm going to see them.

All these years I've always had two types of underwear: Slutty and Practical. I tried doing the thong thing - this is not underwear. This is not for moving around through an average day. This is for, hey, in case I get laid tonight, I am prepared!

Then, there's Practical underwear. Currently, I own three bras. They are all basic beige. I just bought a black one. Both of these are "work" bra colors to me.

So, yesterday I'm looking at bras, and they have some really fun, pretty bras in. And I think, you know what. I am the heaviest I have ever weighed, nobody *is* going to see these bras, and I want fun bras! For ME! *I* want them! I don't want them so some guy will see them and see how coordinated I am underneath it all. I don't wan them so I can be ready to do a strip tease if I meet a worthy catch at the grocery store. I WANT FUN UNDERWEAR BECAUSE IT IS FUN! It makes me happy! I will feel happy knowing that I got something fun for me and just me.

However, I did buy five bras because of a comment from an ex. I currently have three bras. I have always felt that bras were too expensive an item, so I've always only had about three. You might find this gross, he apparently did too, but I wear the three interchangeably through the week, and then wash them when I do laundry that week.

Well, yesterday I decided I was going to move a step up and get five bras - one for every work day of the week. Then I can move up to getting seven. We'll see how I do with that. Last night I got home and tried them on, and I was so glad I bought them. I felt happy and like a little girl getting her first cute bra. And it was my first cute bra, actually. I've never bought a pink, orange polka-dot, or zebra-striped bra before. It was liberating!

Then, I bought some clothes. The interesting thing here is how different clothes look differently at my different weights. At size 14 and 16, I look best with fitted cotton collared shirts with cardigans overtop. But at my current size 18/20, I look best in jersey knit v-neck t-shirts with cardigans over top. A scarf is a great distracter at both these weights, and I bought one yesterday that I really liked. Usually I buy stuff at the end of the season to get it on sale. I was surprised to find that sales are offered at the beginning of the season, to get people buying. I got a ton of new clothes yesterday for next to nothing. It was great!

The other great thing about this was that buying the bras and the clothes that fit me - I'm currently an XXL - felt really good. I didn't particularly like that I was that size. But just buying right-fitting clothes made me look better. I have always wondered how fat people could wear fashionable clothing - I mean, aren't they completely depressed when they look in the mirror? My answer: sort of. I mean, would I like to look differently in them? Yes. But do I feel good that I am wearing something in style and that they fit? Yes on that, too. Ultimately, it didn't matter to me what size the clothes were. The fact that I could wear them at all is what mattered. How kind is fashionable plus-sized clothing!

Final thought: me not looking like and "exerciser." The other day I was talking to someone about hiking, how I love going hiking in the summer, and how I loved it when I lived in Arizona and I could go hiking somewhere warm year round. They smiled, but then they kind of looked at me strangely. I had this image of what I must look like to them hiking in my head. It wasn't pretty. And the fact is, carrying all this extra weight around, I can't hike as easily as I could before. So, that's something to work on.

A side note: a co-worker of mine was told by this doctor that he needs to lose 50 pounds. The doctor said to him, though: "It can be really easy, it doesn't need to be a big deal. Just drop ten pounds a year, and in five short years, your goal is accomplished."

That's been kicking around in my head. I always feel like I have to DO IT NOW! GET RID OF IT NOW! So, maybe I need to change my thinking. I think I might have brought this up in a previous blog. But the thought still percolates.

That's it for today. Thanks for listening

High School and Flames

A friend of mine from high school recently moved to Chicago, found me on facebook, and wants to reconnect. We are probably meeting sometime this week or next for a couple drinks.

Nothing like an old classmate to have you really look at your life and see where you are - career-wise, life-wise, body-wise.

He called me last Friday night to see when I'd like to go out. A little voice inside my head kept saying, "Sure! Go out with him tonight!" In fact, if I were thin and everything in my life were running great, I would have said that.

But the current me said, "That sounds good. Let me look at what I've got open next week."

Can I drop 100 pounds in one week? Let's see, if I fast again ... I could be down ... carry the two ... a max of eight pounds? I have to call him today and see if he'd like to meet up tomorrow night.

His innocent request to catch up is making me see how far from the self I'd like to be I am.

Facebook is another thing that is making me see myself for where I am. Current pics get posted ... and there I am in all my 227 pound glory. No hiding there.

I think I have been hiding. I think I've been hiding - in plain site, mind you, but hiding all the same - for the last decade. This came to light for me a couple days ago at work.

I work at a Home Depot. I'm a kitchen designer, and being a kitchen designer is one of the company's more highly paid store-level jobs. I admit - I make OK money. I'd like to make more, but when other people I work with are making eight to ten dollars an hour, I feel grateful that I am employed and making a decent salary. I just got my W-2, and this past year I made $43,000. Not too bad a sum.

However, I've been with the company almost ten years now. There was a time when I was a young hot-shot, respected by my peers. Now, I'm becoming a tragic joke. The younger kids rib me about being a lifer. No offense to Home Depot - but I didn't go to college to become a Lifer with Home Depot. I've looked at managerial positions in the company, and when I first started with them, I was on that track. I decided I didn't want to go that route - designers make a smidge less than the assistant managers do, but with way better hours and less headaches. I passed on the offer of advancement. Now that I would like to move up, it doesn't seem to be happening. It's a theme of a lot of things in my life - passing on offers that present themselves to me and then wondering later why I feel so stuck.

Why am I bringing this up? Because staying in my job at Home Depot is one of the ways I've been hiding. I've been hiding in this fat body, in this company, and in this non-relationship with Mike - all of these things, for the last ten years. The new decade has me spinning and reeling and realizing how long I have not been my true self.

Fact is, I don't think I know what my true self is. I think that is what I am going to be finding out in the decade to come. Am I a nice self, or could it be that I might be a bitch? Am I a pretty self, or could it be that I'm not all I think I could be? Am I a strong self, or a victimy, whiny little boy?

I am hoping to find out. No, actually. I'm not hoping to find out. I'm not particularly thrilled about moving out of my zone of safety. But I need to. The tide is turning that direction, I can feel it, and I am going to have to learn how to stand with rawness and vulnerability cloaking me instead of fat.

Here's the revelations that have lead me to that point:

Revelation 1:
At work, myself and a group of twenty-something guys who just graduated college and have not yet found "real" jobs yet, were in the break room at lunch. One of them says to me, out of the blue, "Ann, have you ever been proposed to?"

It sounds like a leading question. I ask what is spurring him asking me that. "I guess cuz you had mentioned once that you had been in a relationship for a long time. I was just wondering if it went towards marriage."

I said it did - that that guy proposed but I said no to him. That was about all the guys in the break room were interested in. But it got me thinking ...

I think the lesson I am to learn in this lifetime is independence. I was so independent back then. Somehow, over the last decade, so slowly that I have not seen it happening, I have become dependent on Mike. Just remembering turning down that proposal, just having the faith that I would find someone I truly loved, was such an act of independence.

I have lost a lot of that. I am a tragic lifer right now. Only, the life I have picked has been with Mike.

Revelation 2:
Mike. The other night, I wanted Mexican for dinner. I did not want to pay for this. I call Mike, also known to me as The Wallet. Mike says, OK, we'll go out to eat. He buys. I go home happy with a full tummy.

The fasting was a powerful experiment for me in that I learned that I would be ok with less food. Just an 89 cent gallon of distilled water and I can get through the day with no problems.

I don't have as much food that I even like anymore. I've still been on my meat phase, which I think I'm tiring of, too. It's clearly not food to me. It's ground dirt, ground soul that we add seasoning to and tell ourselves we need. It crams my intestines full and doesn't make me happy. I think it does, but it doesn't when it goes through.

Anyway, the only things I eat right now are: Dunkacinnos; Panera Brownies; Panera Blondies; Panera Creamy Tomato Soup with bread as my side; Taco Bell Chalupa Supreme; guacamole and chips from Uncle Julios; Vegetable Fajitas from Uncle Julios.

OH! I've not blogged in a while. Here's Revelation 3:
The other day I had off from work. I was really craving McDonald's. I went to McDonald's. I sat in the restaurant and ate. I realized what "craving McDonald's" means to me is going somewhere where there are all types of people treating themselves. McDonald's is a true melting pot of customers, and even though it's not a current slogan, it's still in my head - I DO deserve a break today! Then, the other day I was craving Taco Bell. It occured to me that "craving Taco Bell" means going somewhere where the cool party people go. Look at a Taco Bell drive through line at bar time - it's where all the cool party people are. I've been craving Panera of late; that's where all the low-key people typing on laptops go. I crave Starbucks when I want to hang with a snooty-er crowd. I go to Panera when I want to be with people like me.

The realation: I don't get interaction when I eat at these places. Yes, I am with a collective group of like-minded people. But we don't actually interact with each other. I think I am getting the satisfaction by eating it. But I leave full, but not emotionally satisfied. I just don't know it. So I come back again and again and again.

Looking to change that this year too.

Revelation 4:
The classmate reunion. This one is a big one.

I have never been safe. I thought my weight protected me. It hasn't. I have been hit on, gotten fed drinks, felt up passed out at parties, fed drinks, taken to bed. Fed drinks is the key for the guys where I grew up - it's like this agreement - the guys feed the girl drinks to get her drunk enough to sleep with him. And the girls drink the drinks. Or at least, I did.

It's why I don't drink anymore. I had a lot of guys, who I thought cared about me and respected me, just open up my shirt and lick on my boobs while I was passed out at a party. I can be mad at them, and I am. But the bigger responsibility falls on me.

My point is, I always thought that my weight has protected me from such things. It hasn't. I realized it is up to me to be diligent and to protect myself.

That's all for today. Thanks for listening. Until next time.

Competition

Ok, so, I've mentioned in previous blogs about my fear of competition, and how the weight, in my mind, keeps me from being a competitor.

OK.

So what if I became a competitor? What harm, if any, would come of that?

This occured to me yesterday during my lunch break at work. There is a guy at work who is a lot younger than me, but we get along well, laugh a lot, but there is also professional respect. OK. He's in his 20s, I'm in my 30s. I've never considered dating a younger guy. I mean, what would we even have in common?

He is dating a coworker, and yesterday at lunch, they were sitting together. True to many guys I know, we might laugh and have fun together, but once the girlfriend is around, it's no talking. This has always made me feel like the other woman. But anyway, I over hear the girlfriend say something to him about what they were eating for lunch. She then finishes it with, "I don't want to eat it. I feel fat already, I don't want to feel fatter."

Suddenly, this cute, young girl was no longer on top of her shit like I thought she was. I mean, she is, she's smart and fun. But she's got the exact same weight worries that I do. She probably weighs 115, maybe 125 if she thinks she's so fat.

What struck me, is I felt this was a barb to me. I am clearly fat. She is saying out loud, I will not be. It's an attack - even let's say it wasn't aimed directly at me, it's aimed at the world as her position.

And suddenly, I realized my keeping of my weight is, in my mind, giving the exact same voice to my views as her keeping off the weight is giving voice to her views.

And then it became clear - I agree to not compete with these insecure girls who have to stay thin to be superior. I say, OK. I won't. You win.

But it occured to me then ... what if I started to compete?

Not over the top, trip you as you walk by competing. But, just being the best that I can be, and allowing whoever and whatever to happen, happen? What if I allow myself to try, and allow myself the possibility of getting hurt - but also allowing myself the possibility to experience a lot of joy?

I've been so busy trying to protect me from myself, and others from myself. And I just don't think there's anything I need to protect. I am a fun, good-hearted, loving person. What is there to protect from that? I am pretty. How awful! People like to be around people who like people. It is attractive. That is what makes people attracted to me. What a travesty!

So. I decided yesterday it's time I get in the ring. Time to offer my heart and my body and my soul to the people I meet, to the opportunities that present themselves to me. I could fail. OK. But I could succeed. And that would be amazing.

Thanks for listening. Until next time.

230

230 pounds this morning.

Yesterday I ate 3 chicken tenders, 5 golf-ball sized boneless wings, 1/4 c. blue cheese dressing to dunk them in, 1/3 cookie sheet of s'mores treats, 1/2 c. vegan cauliflower soup, 1/8 c. guacamole with veggies, a piece of vegan chocolate silk pie.

I have eaten much more and gained much less. I even walked about 15 blocks yesterday.

I don't get it. I guess it's technically only three pounds, I was at 227 the day before. But you know how you're OK at one weight, and then it jumps that little bit and all of a sudden you're like, "Wait a minute!"

That's where I'm at today.

In other news, I found some free goal tracking software on line. Now I just need to set the goal to use it. HA! I put my goals in last night. And it's already helped - I did some things this morning that I would have normally put off. So, I hope it helps. I am excited about it. I think it will help.

I feel like I need to get some things in order before I start worrying about the weight loss. Sounds like classic bullshit excusing behavior to me. But, I do think I need to know that I can fit all the stuff in I want to in a day. Right now I don't feel like I can fit exercise in, I want to find another job, and I don't know when I can fit job hunting in. I feel that if I just get my basics down, then I can add in these other things. And tracking my progress is helpful.

I ate at Karyn's Cooked last night with a friend. I have gotten so far away from eating raw, and last night's meal reminded me how much I like how I feel when I eat healthy. I really want a dehydrator and a vita mix blender. I need to get on that. Also, I just uploaded some footage I shot, and while I was not one of the actors, there are times when I get in the shot when I am giving them direction. I look like a tank. I don't look like a woman at all - I look like Jaba the Hut. It's horrible. But my physical change is coming. I feel it. I think by the time I turn 40, I will have made some changes in the thin direction. I sure hope I get to live a while this lifetime - I'm 37 now, and I feel like I'm just starting to get it. Thanks for listening. Until next time.

Stasis and Jey-sus

So, this morning the scale read 227.

Again, not trying to lose, not trying to gain right now - but I find this interesting, this resting state I've gotten to here at 224-227 pounds.

I've rested at other weights, too. 211-208. 185-189. 162-165. 125-130.

What makes the body stay at a certain weight? What is really fueling the state that our mass maintains?

I mean - there are starving children in Africa. What makes them maintain their base weight? Even if it is 40 pounds, what is maintaining that 40 pounds of mass? Or, the jews in concentration camps - pictures of them starving, emaciated. Yet they were still able (forced, yes, but still physically able) to build and do manual labor. Anorexics -- sure, let's worry about their mental state. But I'm fascinated by their physical state - they get down to 80 pounds - but something is maintaining that 80 pounds other than them.

If calories are restricted, what is maintaining our mass? Is it metaphysics? Is it that we are organic bodies, like plants, that really just need water and sunlight? Plants don't ingest a thing except sunlight and water, and they grow into strong, beautiful, living creations. Trees - just water, sunlight, and nutrients received from their roots. Animals - look at rabbits, monkeys, on up to elephants and giraffes - they eat pretty much just water and vegetation. How about the animals we eat - cows, pigs, buffalo, chickens, deer, turkeys - all vegetarians. Even cats and lions, who we know as being these ferocious meat eaters - they are really first and foremost eating the intestines of their vegetarian eating meals. What's in the intestines? Processed greens.

My question is this: The other night on TV, I was watching a show with Jillian Michaels on it. She was saying how she takes in 1800 calories a day, expends 1800 calories a day, and get this - she weighs 114 pounds.

114 pounds! That's what rocked my world - what if she weren't taking in all those calories a day. What if she just ... were? What would she weigh? Seemed to me she would weigh ... 114 pounds. Or would she?

This is a hard concept for me to express. I know of a man in India, HRM, who lives on sunlight and water. Looking at him, he is at a very healthy weight. He looks trim, but not emaciated. I met a girl when watching him speak who has been doing the sun gazing as well. She says she's really never hungry. She says it doesn't really occur to her to eat; she feels she gets all her nutrients through the suns rays. She says she only eats because people find it strange that she doesn't want to; they think she's anorexic if she doesn't eat. She found this frustrating, and to my eye, an overweight, skeptical-of-most-thin-people eye, she seemed and sounded very healthy. She didn't seem to be covering up an eating disorder.

I had my own experience like this - the water fast was one thing, where really, I felt fine without the food. But on a "more normal" level, I was at a week long retreat, where it was on emotional work. And during that week, I hardly thought about eating either.

So what's the eating disorder: Thinking we need to eat as much as society says we do? Or those who've "conquered" eating if you will, and don't eat much at all?

We hear all the time how we need x amount of calories a day, and to lose weight, we must take in less calories than we put out. At some point, this plan gets us down to a healthy weight. OK. So - once we get to that healthy weight... what's maintaining that weight. Cuz if it's calories in and calories out ... there is still a basic mass to be supported.

I don't know. I think we have a lot to learn about what's really fueling us. If sunlight is what's really helping, this makes sense, because just being out and about gets us some suns rays.

Just wanted to throw that out there. As a reminder, I will be starting my next fast on Feb. 17, or Ash Wednesday. I grew up Catholic, and we celebrated Lent - wait. Let me clarify this. We talked about Lent, and went to church as usual during Lent, and we would give up things for Lent, but whether that got accomplished or not was never followed up on. I have a lot of things that I do not agree on with the Catholic Church, and question much of their teachings. However, the Lenten Season I think is a pretty cool concept when looked at just on its own merit. Also - here's the deal. We've got Jesus up on this pedestal - well, on a cross - and I don't think it is very inspiring, or teaches people how to be gracious and loving - like he was. If he existed at all, that is. But let's just assume he existed. There's a lot of Jesus people who act high and mighty and bitchy and judgemental. But I don't get that from Jesus himself. In fact, I think Jesus would be surprised to find the people who claim to follow him act the way they act. Anyway, Jesus is supposed to have done a 40 day fast. I have read of many people who have done 40 day, and longer, fasts. Jesus, if he existed, did what he did to teach us that we can do it too. He didn't do it to make it impossible for us - he did it to say, Hey, yeah. You can totally be like this. So, I'm doing the fast just to see if it is possible for a weak-minded, non-holy person can do one of the things that the Prophet of America did. Not to dismiss it - but to back up his claim that, yes. Any of us can live a life the way he did. And if I can do it, anyone can do it. And so maybe if I can handle a 40 day fast, I wonder what else I could handle? It's a big challenge for me mentally and physically.

That's enough for today. Thanks for listening. Until next time.

Reverberation

"A lesson is not learned until the behavior changes."


That's all I have for today.

Nourishment: aka Filling The Hole and Space Planning

Yesterday I worked from noon to nine. I had a wonderfully efficiant time before noon, an adventuure after 9, s a revelation or two in between. I'm going to break them into each part.

11:00 am Discovery:
Before going in to work, I had my cable installed, which I talked briefly about in yesterday's blog. However, in anticipation of the cable guy coming, I cleaned my apartment.

This is standard operating procedure for me; keep my house not dirty, but messy, most of the time, and then clean like a madwoman for anyone who comes over - from the cable guy to guests.

The Background:
This is how it was growing up - we never kept the house clean just for ourselves. For ourselves it was messy and stuff just got left where you left it. Primarily this was because there was no where to put the stuff. Our house was about 1400 square feet; not bad. But with five kids and my mom and dad ... I know Mom did her best, but there were basic things lacking. We had no where to put our coats. They got piled on a chair in the dining room when we got home at night. We didn't have good places to put our toys - some cheap bookcases in our rooms could have helped alleviate that problem, but money never went there.

My bedroom was the size of a closet - it was 8'x9', and as a kid I was constantly drawing up floor plans and rearranging the bed, dresser, and stool I was given to try to free up and use the space better. I would find storage solutions in my mom's Better Homes and Gardens magazines, but they'd never get installed. I was always given a dismissive, "OH, yes. That would be a good idea..." Only to never have it happen.

(Heavy, dramatic, unloved) SIGH....

Again, how does it relate to my eating? It all relates to my eating, kids.

It relates because after the cable guy left yesterday, I sat in my newly cabled, newly cleaned apartment ... and if felt so nice. Everything was put away, the space felt clear and expansive - just as I'd like my mind to feel every day of my life. I thought to myself, how do I even let it get so sloppy? To counteract that feeling of frustration I had as a kid of just not having a place to put things, I make sure I have my living space organized so that whatever it is I have, I have a dedicated space for it.

The problem is, I flit in and out of keeping it organized. I'll be "good" for a while, and then I'll just say, oh fuck it, nobody sees my apartment anyway, and I start leaving shit all around. Then it's a mess, and I have to do a big huge elaborate day of cleaning to bring it back. For five minutes, I think, oh, I sure like this. And then I start destroying it again.

I just realized this is because that's how it would go growing up - I'd clean on an afternoon when my parents would go on a Sunday drive, with my siblings gone, and after it was all clean and sparkling, I would sit and admire it, and then ten minutes later, someone would come home, drop their shit right where they entered, and it was destroyed.

Apparently now that I'm not living with my family, I am playing both cleaner and destroyer in my own life. Really? I bet psychologically it's true - it was what I was used to growing up ... only five minutes of a clean house. I have tried to keep things neat and tidy; I'm not going to lie, after a few days, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Like I'm waiting for the shoe to drop, for someone to come in and destroy it. Man, the human mind is crazy. Well, at least mine is. So I seek to destroy - I do this with any goals I set. Now I see why. Ok. So! Adventure One completed! Now on to Adventure Two!

7:20 am:
My apartment is clean, I am showered, and the cable guy is due to arrive sometime between 8 and 11. There are things I could organize, but I decide maybe I should give myself a little something for breakfast.

I make myself some tea. I have been thinking of getting a nice tea kettle, like a LeCruset, for a while. These are $60 items, and while I will eaily drop $10-$15 on a lunch, two times a day five days a week, taking the money and putting it towards a tea kettle is "foolish" in my mind. OK, ok, I know, that thought is foolish - keep in mind, I'm using this blog to bring these useless thought patterns to light, so I stop the behavior!

I boil the water in a small pan, and I feel so ghetto. I pour the hot water into one of the three cute tea pots I have, (for steeping the tea, not for boiling the water), take this over with one of the cute tea cups I have, and relax for a bit.

I realize how nice it is to operate like this. Most mornings I lay in bed for as long as possible, and then at the v e r y last possible minute I get up, race around the apartment to get ready, rush out the door, and grab something to eat on the way in to work.

Yesterday morning, as I sat in my nice clean apartment, nicely enjoying my nice breakfast of tea, I realized how little I nourish myself. Oh, I stuff myself full of food. But I never take time to just nourish myself. Which leads us to:

11:30 p.m (noon)
Cable guy just left, and I have an hour before I have to be to work.

The thought about nourishing myself is trickling around in my head. Kind of needling me, it's pressing on my mind. Nourishing myself. My god. I never take time to nourish myself.

I'm about to head in to work, and I think - ok, let's leave early, stop at a sub shop, and have a sub. Meat or veggie, I don't care, but let's Stop. Choose. Nourish. And then go into work.

Well, I had to take some things down into my car, which was three blocks away, so by the time I got loaded up and down there, it was noon. I had wanted to eat at the sandwich shop, but I did not allow enough time - even when trying to break the habit, I cannot break the habit.

I order my nourishing lunch to go. Funny, when it came time to choose how I wanted to nourish myself, I choose veggie. I get to work, punch in, and then remain in the break room and savoringly enjoy my sandwich and chips. I tried to call my co-worker and let her know I was there, just eating a little something before getting on the sales floor, but she didn't answer. So I sat down, and gave myself some nourishment. It took me 20 minutes to lovingly eat that sandwich. It was the first time I realized how much time, and how little time, it takes to make myself feel tended to.

4:00 p.m.
It's now my official lunch break at work. I'm not particularly hungry, but nourishment is the theme of the day, and I wonder - does food always have to be a part of nourishing myself? It's the only way I know how to, currently. But I'm not particularly hungry now. Well, maybe I'll get a little something. We'll see.

I need to run an errand at lunch. I have one hour. The errand is in a little shopping strop, which happenes to have a Panera in it. Perfect! I think - I'd like some soup to nourish me on my lunch break. Maybe a brownie and a blondie, too. I'm going to feed myself with love today - whether it's an addiction or actual nutrition, I'm not judging today. I'm just going to make myself feel loved and nourished.

As I pull into the strip mall, there is a hip little furniture and accessories shop right next to the Panera. I love this shop, never can afford to buy anything from it, but the few times that I need to come to this shopping strip, I like to check out this store.

I look at my clock. 45 minutes left before I have to be back at the store. Can I really afford the time to meander throught this shop? Well, I think, the errand isn't critical - I can always run it later. I want to nourish myself, first and foremost on this break. And browsing this shop is majorly nourishing.

I walk through it, and it just makes me so happy. They have the funnest stuff. I take my time, allowing myself to enjoy each piece.

I make a lap, and look at my watch as I walk out the door. Five minutes. That's all it took. Five minutes. I feel so happy, and nourished! I didn't even buy anything. I just allowed myself the luxury to look at luxury. It was great!

I walk into Panera, and order my soup, my brownie, my blondie, and a mocha - to go. I need to get this errand done, and as I look at the options of what's going to make me feel more nourished - sitting here eating this lunch, or accomplishing the goal of getting the errand run, I realize getting the errand run is more nourishing. I don't want to eat in my car any longer, but the reality is with this time crunch, and since I'm really not that hungry, taking it to go and eating on the run is a concession I'm willing to make. Hey. I'm not perfect. It's better than I normally do - normally, I would have said fuck the errand. I want something to eat!

9:45 p.m.
My shift is over. My work day is done. I decide I am not going to drive my car home that night, I will take public transit instead. I get outside, it's a relatively nice evening for a January night in Chicago.

My phone rings. It's Mike. His blood pressure dropped significantly after his workout last night, and they took him to the hospital. He needs me to go to the gym, get his wallet and phone, because they hauled him away without any of that.

At first, I think - hey, kinda a fun adventure here! So, I say, sure, I change my course and hop on a southbound bus instead of a northbound bus to get his stuff.

This is adventure turns out to be a pretty interesting part of my study in nourishment, actually. Because there were little parts that needed to get done, and each part led to another part. Part one: get to his gym. Part two: ask one of the trainers to go into the locker room and get his stuff. Part three: get his phone out of his car: Part four: get to the hospital. Part five: visit him for a while. Part six: Get home.

This adventure was a great microcosim of a typical day for me. I often feel like I have all these things that other people are asking me to do. One after another after another. And it's retail - so the customer's don't give a shit that your brother's in the hospital or your mom just died - they just want their new fucking toilet seat, and they want it now. Capish?

So, in getting Mike's stuff. I get one task done, and immediately, there's another. Fuck, it's just like life. There's no breaks. There's no stopping. Just one thing and another thing and another thing...

After I got to the gym, got the guy to get his stuff, figured out how to carry his sweats and glasses without a bag, went to a computer to figure out if I should cab it or take a bus down to the hospital, called Mike if he could please find out which building I should go to in the three-block hospital complex, only to have Mike say, "I don't know just tell them I'm in room m12", go up to his car to find his phone, not finding his phone, realizing his phone was in his pocket, trying to decide if I should take his car out of the parking garage or leave it for him to pick up after he's released tomorrow, deciding it will be easier for me to navigate the hospital complex via cab and no parking, carrying his slippery pants and jacket, remembering I have a green bag in my purse and putting his stuff in there and then having to find a bus or a cab to endeavor into this huge hospital complex

I decided I needed to nourish myself before I got there. Or I would be very bitter and angry.

What was my favorite nourishment food growing up? Hamburger, french fries, and a chocolate shake.

I walk over to the McDonald's across the street, and order up. I eat slowly. I am nourishing me. I will get back to tending to Mike's needs. But right now, I am taking care of me.

The burger was dry. And as I ate, I took one sip of the shake and decided I didn't really want it. I ate the burger, not really enjoying it. I realized that what eating does for me is that it gives me a reason to stop for about 20 minutes and just be with myself. That's always about how long the eating takes - 20 minutes. Sometimes 40 minutes to an hour, but the goal is always the same - to have that time with myself.

Maybe I can start playing with just giving that time to myself, sans the food. I mean, if I truly need the food, to give myself the food. But to know when I just need some time to myself, and when I need to feed me. It's a big difference, one that I'm not currently fluently aware of.

I get done eating and start walking for a bus. Mike had called by this point - it took me 20 minutes to eat, and we had last talked 20 minutes ago, when I told him I was going to find a bus or get in a cab. He was fine with it - it wasn't critical what time I got there. I did not tell him I stopped and ate - I guess i had shame around taking time for myself in the middle of getting him his stuff. I felt so much happier about helping him knowing that I had tended to me during it, too. It was a big learn.

Thanks for listening. Until next time.

I Got Cable Installed Today

... And you might be wondering what that has to do with weight loss.

It has to do with weight loss because I have never had cable without being bitter about it. Back when I younger and had roommates, they would insist that we get cable, and I would would begrudgingly agree and pay my share. When I moved to Chicago six years ago and got my little studio in Lincoln Park, I had free cable.

When I moved into this apartment, I didn't value cable. So I didn't get it. My apartment was my refuge, my sanctuary. There's no "The Hills" in a secluded retreat.

However, with the new year, I feel something has broken open within me. I no longer want to hide out from society. I want to be a part of the bigger world. Maybe I've been unwittingly grieving my MOm's death - I just have not wanted to be about in the world.

Now I do. And the world that I want to be a part of includes television - not just watching it, but being someone who helps create what's watched.

How can I be a part of that if I'm not aware of what's on?

The cable guy came this morning and hooked it up for me. As he left, I went through and scanned the channels. It's strange - I did get cable in my last apartment. But I never watched it. I had a different cable provider than I was used to, so it felt strange and foreign.

Today, I decided to go through and see what all I had included with my basic cable service. OH MY GOSH! So many channels! There were a couple channels I'm not currently getting that I think would be good for me to get, so I'll look into that. I'm just feeling very smart and empowered for choosing where I need my money, or energy, to be spent. Cable is an important purchase for me - it's a sign of me choosing where my dollars go. This is different than my normal "Hot Potato" relationship with any dollars that come my way.

It's an early step in understanding that I have full control over my dollars. This is obvious and elementary for much of the world; for me, it's new and important. It's transtlates into using the same philosophy with my body. I shape my financial affairs, I also shape my physical body.

I feel a part of the world. I know it sounds silly, but getting cable makes me feel like an adult. Thanks for listening. Until next time.

Piling It On

It's about 3 in the afternoon. It's a Monday, I am scheduled off today. If you're wondering why the random work schedules, I work full time at a home depot, so each week we get two days off, but they are never set days. It's randomness and chaos each week. Huzzah!

I just got done ordering two meat subs from Jimmy John's: one roast beef, and one turkey ham combo. Meat. I claim to be vegetarian in public. At home, I've been sneaking in meat.

Who am I sneaking against? My friends? My family? Myself?

I'm hungry. I had a brownie, a blondie, and a mocha for breakfast. Sugar!!!! So I ordered sandwiches. Problem is, I don't feel like I'm nourishing myself with them.

Wait. Hold on. I think I just figured out the real issue behind the food choices and the conversation for today's blog!

Yesterday at work I was talking with a co-worker. Wait. I gotta mention a different conversation I had had the day before.

Quick background - I have done raw foods, and I think I've mentioned it, a raw foods diet is to me the equivalent of Zen living in Buddhism, Christ-like living in Christianity, and buying something for the best deal possible in Judaism. But I have a hard time committing to the raw lifestyle - and not because it's particularly hard, and not because I don't enjoy the food.

I can't commit to it because of what I am afraid other people will think of me. And I just had the epiphany now - it's not because of what I'm eating. It's because of how I might be acting.

This girl at work asked me the other day you've done raw foods, right? I say, yes, I loved it, but clearly, I'm not doing it right now. She says, yeah, I'm going to start trying it. I'm going to make spaghetti out of yellow squash tonight and I'm totally excited.

She was not apologetic about eating that way. She was excited, and her enthusiasm was contagious. Her excitement made me want to get back into raw foods, share raw food recipes and war stories with her, and to start a club of people who raw food dinner party. It made me feel happy and a part of something good.

Now for the flip side. Yesterday, a co-worker of mine was expressing how he was eating some food at someone's party, and how he's been eating organic food lately. The vegetables the host served at this party were not organic, he said, and he could taste the difference.

Ok, that's a pretty cool discovery. However, he presented this information as bitching. Yuck this host sucked because she didn't serve me something that appealed to my wildly superior and refined taste buds is how it came out.

Both of their presentations were good lessons for me. They both are on the nutritional experimentation band wagon, and both are excited to be on the journey. But from my stand point, I realized how much more fun it is to be more like the girl, happy and joyfully expecting that others would want to join, instead of like the guy, snarky and superior. Being superior is a major problem for me. I fall into it real easily. Yeah. It was a great learn for me to be on the receiving end of it.

The other part of that is I saw how I might not express what I'm feeling, or even know that I am feeling something I need to express; but I still do actions to get what I'm feeling out of me. And the action I generally turn to: stuffing food into me.

That day, after absorbing the Holier Than Thou attitude of the guy, I went to lunch and DEVOURED a grilled cheese sandwich, a bowl of tomato soup, 2/3 a brownie, 2/3 a blondie, and a coffee. Four hours later, I went to Mike's to watch a playoff game, ate 5 of the six pieces of a 10" pizza and a small dessert.

I knew something had to be bothering me, by putting that much food in me in that short a time. I mean, I've known for many years that I eat instead of emote. I tried to pinpoint what could be bothering me, but nothing seemed to be pressing. I went into my carb coma and fell asleep. I couldn't think of a single thing that had happened that could be bothering me. I just thought I felt like eating.

This morning, I'm up, I go get breakfast - another brownie, another blondie, another mocha. I ordered two Jimmy John's meat-laden subs for my lunch, which I am eating as I write this. And it was while doing the action of eating, and the action of writing this blog, trying to get at the deeper cause, that I realized what the eating of the last 24 hours is about, as well as eating habits I have my whole life.

It's my way of showing that I don't want to be like that. I don't want to be a mean, self-righteous, critical thin person. I want to be enthusiastic and fun and loving and compassionate.

But I didn't have role models for a thin, compassionate person growing up! Anyone I knew who was thin and compassionate was criticized behind their back by friends and family! Anyone who worked out was annoying, and anyone who ate healthy did it to be self righteous. And a lot of the thin people I had as examples were bitchy, mean people. And they damn well let you know that they kept themselves thin and worked hard at it. THEY had the will power others didn't. THEY stayed on top of their lives and their figures. THEY were thin. And THEY were better.

To me, it was better to be fat and fun than to be thin and aggravating.

My sister Denise chose the thin route, however. Wow - a year ago, I would have said that she's a self-righteous bitch herself, but today, I think she's pretty compassionate. She has not said one word to me throughout my entire 30 pound weight gain; pretty impressive, when I was already 70 pounds overweight when I embarked on that endeavor.

I gotta wrap this up, I know it's not as meaningful for you as it is for me, but I just discovered that that is why I have always felt I was eating to spite her. It's cuz I WAS eating to spite her. I ate because I thought it would get me more loved within our family. Interesting thing is that she desperately works to stay thin for the same reasons.

It's a crazy mixed up world.

Ok, so the point is, I can learn to navigate that. My goal is compassionate responses, instead of my current knee-jerk drive-to-solution-and-let's-drive-there-NOW response. Not that offering solutions can't be helpful. But there's a reson for the cliche about horses and water. Something I say might trigger something helpful for someone, but overall, letting people come to it on their own is the only way they come to it. I wouldn't have come here if someone had been badgering me to do it.

So ... to compassion and health! Thanks for listening. Until next time.

Bitches and (gyr)Hos

Yesterday I worked and last night I went to a friend's birthday party.

I don't know, maybe I am just an uptight bitch. I used to be so fun - I'd drink a bunch of Captain and Diet Cokes, get shitty drunk and get silly and loose. Now that I'm trying to operate in this world without the booze, I feel self conscious and stupid.

I got to the party later into the evening, so by this point everyone was feeling the effects of the wine and liquor they had been drinking prior to me getting there. My friends were feeling it and the birthday girl demanded we get a little dance party going on.

At first I avoided dancing with them. It was hard for me to let loose and shake it up. Again - the weight self consciousness. Then, I got called out and told to get in there, and I decided that person was right. So I tried to dance.

I used to get annoyed at fat people who would shake it like everybody in the room wants to fuck them - now, I admire them. I couldn't even let loose with the people I feel close with. Which, isn't SO out of line - friends can be known for making fun of and bringing up the things which cut the closest to our hearts.

But I'm looking at my friend's bodies; they are all thinner than me, but none of them are model thin. Two of them were size 10? Maybe 12s but I don't think so, and two were size 6s, possibly 8s? The interesting thing here is the 6/8s were used to being size 0s and 2s. So in their minds, me thinking they could be an 8 is a complete insult that I would dare not speak to them. The 10/12s - god, I am having a hard time writing their size as such, like I'm completely outing them in public. They are probably size 10s. Anyway, one of them is a little heavier than she used to be, and one looks thinner by about a size.

I am having a HORRIBLE time calling them size 12s. Even size 10s. What do I know about sizes - maybe they are size 8s for all I know. And why is this making me so angry? That people can look at other people and judge their size? That I'm afraid people have done this and do this with me? That I'll be found out to be the heffer I am?

Anyway. They are dancing. And as I size up their bodies, I see how attractive they are. Oh, I'm having judgements fly internally - I'm slightly eating it up that the tinier one is now "tanking" as a size 6 or 8, and I am laughing to myself because she would NEVER admit that she's gained an ounce, yet there it is, clearly on her. The other size 6 seems to be comfortable in her body - a feat that I would have never thought possible of her - and I saw how lovely she looked as a result. The size 10s are dancing, too. They both are a little more pulled in, a little more refined in their moves - personality playes a little bit, here. But the level of dancing seemed to change with height and dress size.

Is that how it works? Do short, little women always feel they can pull the cutsie? Do taller, filled-out women feel more comfortable in sexy - actually, goofy, playful sexy - manner? Who knows.

They danced and I tried to opt out, but they insisted and I joined. It was so strange - I have danced thinner, and I get down and dirty when I know the body looks good for the show. Do I keep the weight on to keep me from exposing that side of me? Do I need to let that side out? Guess we'll find that out. All I know is that I started playing dj, and I felt so much more comfortable playing the music to keep the party going than being part of the party people.

I left at midnight, since I have to work today, too. That's when I went over to Mike's. Called him on my way over, and asked him if he wanted to order some food. I had only had a bagel, some chips, a candy bar and some fruit that day - so, all sugar and nothing of substance. He said that was fine.

This was interesting - he said I could come over, I told him I'd like to order food, that I'd go get food on my own but I left my wallet at home, which was true, and I asked him if he could look for a place that delivers gyros and order some while I drove over to his house. This made him realy angry - like I was obviously using him AND delegating to him, and I'm not to do both. This was especially interesting to me, because the party I just left was built on these blocks. But I digress - it took Mike the whole 25 minute drive to find a place gyro place within the City of Chicago that delieverd at 1 am on a Saturday. I didn't think this would be such a challenging feat. For some reason, Mike was in total drama about it. Like, he knew he was being used for a gyro.

I get to his house, we get a movie off the On Demand movies, and wait for the food to arrive. He didn't order any, so we had one solitary gyro deliver to me. It was extremely clear how food and money based our relationship is.

He was all pissy. And the fact of the matter is, he had reason to be. I was using him for a gyro. The only reason I called him and went to his house was to get food cuz I left my wallet at home. I was on the up and up about it, but it doesn't change how it feels. We put a movie on and pretend to be in relationship with each other, but the fact of the matter is, I just wanted the gyro. He knew it and I knew it.

On the drive to his house, I got thinking about why I wanted a gyro so badly. It was a specific, demanding craving; Mike would have had an easier time ordering pizza, but pizza would not do last night. It was gyro I wanted and it would be gyro I got. I think that made him mad, too, that he had to hunt around for my craving because I was driving and because I forgot my wallet.

So I'm thinking what about gyros what about gyros and I realized that it reminds me of Madison, Wisconsin. Different places have different bar-time food; my college years was subs. My post-college years was Mexican. My Arizona years was breakfast. Gyros was during my college years when we would visit our friends who went to UW Madison. This was the only place where gyros was the hot bar time experience.

What do gyros really represent to me? I think I was craving them because I remember feeling very vulnerable going out in Madison. The people we visited weren't my direct friends, so I felt very self-conscious and out-of-place. Currenlty, I am trying to be more myself when I am out now - for example, I want to be more honest in how I react to things. Lots of times people will say something completely off color or be just totally dramatic about something someone else said or did, and sit there and try to convince you why you should be mad to. I am so sick of being pulled into that. What I generally want to say in those situations is: you're the one who's being the dipshit. Kwitcherbitchin and move on. But I generally bite my tongue.

Last night, one of the party-girl's neighbors was there bitching about how their condo board president tried passing a condo rule that no felons be allowed on the property. Whether this is legal or not, I don't know, and I really don't care, but he and the party girl were all offended because they both have siblings who have felonies.

Hey - I just realized I am bitching and trying to get you to see it my way. See? Look at that - just like them. Well, I guess here goes. Whether you see it my way or not, I got to a point where I couldn't take any more of him and her going on and on about this, always presenting it how the condo board president created this ordinance against their brothers. Finally, I ask, "Did your condo board president know that your brothers had felonies against them?" Both of them said no. I said, "I think he probably thougth it was quite reasonable to create a by-law that kept a criminal element out of the condo, for everyone's safety. I don't think he did it to act against your brothers." Again, I don't know if it's right or wrong to do this with housing. I know they do it with jobs, so why now housing? I don't know.

My point is, they were spinning in the drama and LOVING it. I was a complete buzz kill. I just couldn't take it any fucking more. They know better. I can understand them feeling hurt that their family is being assumed to be more dangerous than they are, but don't sit there and present this guys lack of knowledge and fears as some great asshole conspiracy.

There, that was my own little drama spin. Back to the gyro. I think I felt I was being myself with them, even showing a side of myself they might not like - the antagonistic side, which I normally push way down. For some reason, that rawness reminded me of Madison. As I analyzed my craving on the way to Mike's, nothing anyone could have said or done would have stopped me from comforting myself with that gyro.

Cuz that's exactly what that gyro was to me - comfort. I said something that maybe threatened my likability in the group, and I was scared out of my ever loving mind. And like a teddy bear, that gyro was the only thing to bring me off the ledge.

When I got to Mike's, I told him about the drama about the felony charges. Mike was in his own drams about being used for a gyro. So he interupted my rant, saying, "I don't think it's legal for the condo to do that," and went back to watching the TV.

I looked at him for a moment. He did not look back at me. I felt totally hurt by this sharp retort. As well as him being mad about this fucking gyro. Don't want to order the gyro? Then tell me no and I'll just go home and get out of your hair. His body language was clearly expressing that he was not interested in hearing anything more.

I took that in. I was in drama about their being in drama. The problem was, I felt no comfort in his retort. I shut my mouth, I turned to the tv as well, and I wondered how I will ever be able to express myself cleanly and honestly with people, and have them express cleanly and honestly back with me. I've tried to go into conversation with Mike about this - he just gets annoyed. I waited for my gyro. I shoved as much of it into me as I could when it finally arrived. It was clear to me what comfort I sought in that little lamb.

I lay down on the couch to watch the rest of the movie we had put in, my stomach now full in an attempt to shove these strange feelings I was experiencing down and away. The gyro didn't help. Maybe next time I can push through it without the gyro. Actually, I'm pretty sure I will be able to. Maybe I do need overeaters anonymous or some other group of people who do give a fuck about living on the up and up with the world. All I know is that last night I felt very scared and raw and sad, and yet more myself, than I have felt around people in a long time. It's getting worse and better all at once. I really feel this decade, these twenty-teen years, are going to be very interesting years of growth. It's like I'm a teenager again, too, just learning to navigate. How lucky that I was born when I was born - otherwise, I would just think, oh, hell; I'm getting older and that's all there is to it. There's a new energy I'm feeling with this decade and I like it a lot. Thanks for listening. Until next time.

Boys and Fuck Yous

This morning the scale said 226.

This isn't entirely surprising. I ate a small bag of M&Ms and a gyro last night. Which leads into the fuck you portion of the title.

I have this thing against goal setting. If I tell someone my goal, I get angry that they might hold me to it - so I generally go out and try to destroy it as quickly as possible. I destroy my own goals. So the person I told it to won't. HA! If I beat them to it, I won't be hurt when they do it to me. I'M BRILLIANT!!!!!!!

So, because I know this about me, I will then not tell anyone my goals. I will only set the goals with myself so I don't put my success or failure on anyone else. And what do I do with these goals? I destroy them, too! YES! Because people who set goals and attain them really annoy the rest of the world who do not set goals and therefore do not attain anything. I must keep myself down in order to be held in high regard!

Ugh. It's true. It's totally fucked up and it's totally true. That's how I've looked at things. For a very long time.

I really need to get that task of "find shrink" back to the top of my to do list.

So, the last two days I have had off. I had visions of getting all this stuff done. I got maybe 1/3 of it done. I didn't set grandiose goals. I set myself to do five things each day. I did three of them.

I'm bringing this up because that's what I have generally done with my weight goals, too. I will not tell people I am losing weight, and then it becomes apparent that I have, and they start complimenting me, and then I say, "Oh no! I see what's happening here! You think I'm accomplishing something! Well. Don't you worry about that! I can change that right quick!" and I start to gain the weight back and climb back under the veil of weight safety.

This morning I was thinking about my weight and my money - how with both of them, I like to keep myself buried. I like to dig out from under both my debt and my weight, for it's a laborous and savory dig. But once I get out in the light, instead of feeling free and happy and comfortable for having climbed out from under them, I find that I stand up for a minute on top of them, look around at this strange new terrain, and run back in underneath. This visual was very clear to me that that is how I operate. Always from underneath, like a troll under a bridge slinging insults and tin cans at the passersby who are comfortable walking out in the open up top where he is not.

I don't want to be that troll any more. I want to be able to walk comfortably up top in the daylight.

So that's some insight into the "Fuck You" portion of the title. Now. About the "Boy" portion.

There is a guy that I have liked for a very long time. We used to work together, and we would always kind of gravitate toward each other at events for and outside of work.

We no longer work together, and really don't see each other any more at all. But he's always been someone I've wanted to hang out with, to get to know better, to date.

His sister and I worked together too, and she used to say she'd love it if he and I would date. We were at a party together a few years back, and another mutual friend brought it out into the open - "Look. You like him. He likes you. Why don't you too start dating! Let's do this!" At which point, both of us got awkward and could then not find conversation between us. We haven't talked since.

I've checked for him on facebook, and when he recently joined, I waited a few days and then asked him to be my friend. He accepted the request. That's been it. No comments on each other's pages, no invitations to reconnect. From me to him or from him to me.

Anyway. I'd like to connect with him, and have been trying to think of what I could invite him to that would be casual enough for it to be casual, yet open enough that it could lead to more.

The problem is mainly, of course, my weight.

He was who I was thinking of the other night when I was feeling how fat I am now, and how there is no way I could approach him like this and say, "Would yoy like to go out with me?"

Cuz he wouldn't. I'm too fat and ugly right now.

But here's the even worse problem. When I do lose the weight, I think I would like to date. I've never really just dated - I've had guys like me, and then get into long-term relationships with them. Just dating has never been in my experience.

So what's my goal with this guy that I've liked for so long? Somebody to tide me over until I get hot enough to date some really hot guys? Or do I want to be with him, fat or thin?

I'd have to hang out with him again to find out. I guess what I'm afraid of is that I will date him and then we'll be committed and then I'll find somebody I like better. That is always what I fear men feel toward me: that they don't really like me - they just think they like me. But just you wait, they'll meet a woman they really love, and then I will be dropped. Again, issues from my parents. It's amazing to me we all have these skewed versions of the world based on our upbringings, and somehow we have societies that interact relatively well.

It boils down to me being afraid I won't love him long term if I do become thin and pretty. I'm afraid if I get hot, I'll think I'm too good for him. And I'll want somebody better than him. And I'll drop kick him. And he'll hate me and I'll be considered a whore for such behavior.

So the question remains: am I interested in him like a cat is interested in a mouse, just to see if I can catch him? Or do I want to get to know him, have a relationship with him? I know, this is really putting the cart before the horse, and I'm sure I can come up with one more farm animal cliche before bringing this post home to roost, but these are all things that make me hold off on moving forward. Today it's about this guy, tomorrow its about something else. I gotta be able to talk through it and see through my intentions before moving forward.

Well, I think what I'd like to do is just reconnect with him as friends and allow whatever to happen to happen. Maybe we still like each other and maybe we don't. Maybe we never did. All I know is that if I think about us dating, the thought of him talking with another woman sends me into a jealous rage that I have never felt with any of the guys I have ever dated. This is because I have never dated guys that I have felt that strongly about. I've always protected myself by staying with guys who I haven't cared that much about, because if they leave me, I won't be hurt. If another woman tries to take them away, I can say, "Thank you! I've been trying to get him to go for years!" If they break up with me, I can let go easily and say, "Ok. Have a great life!"

But if I give my heart to someone - truly give my heart to someone ... will I be able to trust them with it. Actually. I feel pretty certain I could trust my heart with him. The bigger question is this: could I trust me with his?

I'll act on this soon, and I'll keep you posted. Thanks for listening. Until next time.

Oh, by the way, I've decided I am going to just do a 40 day fast over the Catholic Easter Season. It begins Feb. 17, with Ash Wednesday, and runs through the first week of April. So, no 21-28 day fast - I'm going right for the big one. Doing that 21-28 day fast was never setting well with me, anyway. So, stay posted and we'll see how I do. Hopefully I come out of it walking on water. :]

Pain

This morning I woke up to a parched mouth and screaming back pain.

OK, so I read a lot about nutrition and diet and what are the real causes for our medical problems. Based on what I read, I'm pretty convinced that we are our own causes for cancer, diabetes, heart disease, etc. It's no mystery to me that we are poisoning our water and food sources with chemicals and toxins, we ingest foods and water from these polluted sources, so therefore, it stands to reason that cancers and other diseases are on the rise.

What does this have to do with my back pain?

A couple years ago I got this book called Your Body's Many Cries for Water. In it, the author presents case study after case study, with every ailment from dry skin to emphezema, and says, "The cure? Water."

He presents all these diseases. And the cure to them all? Take a guess. No. Seriously. Just take a stab in the dark. The book's title might be a hint. Can you guess? Go on... yeah... just try ...

YUP! You guessed it! WATER!

Yeah. According to this guy, all we need to do is drink water. Cold? Water. Eczema? Water. Diabetes? Water.

Waterwaterwaterwaterwater.

So I read it, and I kind of toss it aside. Cuz it's too simple, you know? If it were that damned simple, don't you think the medical community would have said so by now? I mean, humans have been around for a while, medicine and medical testing has been around for a while. Donchya think we'd have maybe explored this possibility by now?

Headaches: water. PMS: water. Indigestion: water. Give your digestive system a rest - drink water! Fasting is good for you: drink water! Water! Water! Water!

So now that I've completed my water fast, and I'm back to eating like a good American consumer eats ... I am seeing a difference in how my body felt when I was just drinking water versus now, when I am eating a variety of foods, both "good" and "bad" foods.

When I was on the water fast, I felt much lighter and cleaner. I didn't have any real physical ailments, I had a lot of energy, and aside from needing to make sure I was watering myself regularly, I found it quite pleasant from a physical stand point. Mentally it was challenging to give up the food. But physically, I truly did not feel I was missing out.

So this morning I wake up, after days of knowingly not drinking enough water to sustain my body's basic needs. I am thirsty and in pain. My back seriously felt like it was stabbed, from my lower back on up to my shoulders. I could barely stand up straight it hurt so bad.

I went to the kitchen. I knew it was not aspirin or ibuprofen I needed. I needed water. Stat. My body was telling me it did not have enough. And I needed to listen.

I down two twelve-ounce containers of water. My mouth resumes it's normal levels of salivation. And my back ...

The pain leaves. Almost instantly. It was as if I could feel the water fill in the joints in my back, like water pooling on the dirt when watering plants.

I know this sounds crazy - anybody else would tell you that aspirin would fix it. But mediciations dont' "fix" - they just mask. They make the pain go away, but they don't solve the problem.

I went through a phase where I thought the medical community was this big conspiracy of people trying to get us to ignore our own pain so we stay hooked on their meds. I now see it differently. I think it's very kind of them to come up with medications that ease the pain we create within ourselves. I know full well my sugar addiction could create diabetes in me some day. I hope I can get myself to break this addiction before it gets to that point. But in the mean time, isn't it kind that we have medications out there that let us be who we are? That we can go in to a doctor's office, after years of filling ourselves with cheeseburgers and fries, and have them perform surgery to clear out the arteries in our heart?

It would be completely realistic for a doctor to simply say, "Hey. Fatty. Drop the weight. That is the only way for you to get healthy. Knock off the fries and get into a gym. That's it. That's you're cure. Now get outta here and don't come back till you've lost 100 pounds."

They kinda do that, I suppose. They gently warn us. And let's be real - we all know what it takes to be healthy - fresh fruits and vegetables. Exercise. Fresh water. Fresh air. We know all this.

But the medical community aids us compassionately by providing medications that ease our pains. Hopefully we will change our ways. I hope to change mine, and I hope that the accountability of this blog will help. But I just wanted to share that I finally understand that they know they aren't curing the diseases. They are just easing our dis-ease. That's pretty kind.

And if they can be that kind towards us, maybe we can be kind to ourselves and start treating our bodies more kindly and filling our stomachs with more nutrious foods. It might take a while. But I think we can do it. Kindness is a pretty powerful approach. Until next time. Thanks for listening.

Am I Trying to Lose Weight or Just Talk?

This morning I weighed myself. 223.

I'm currently not trying to do anything with myself weight-wise. I'm not exercising, I'm not eating salads, I'm not avoiding junk food. Yesterday's meals were a good indication of where I am at emotionally with my food:

Breakfast: A Milky Way bar (Translation: Fuck You! I'll Eat What I Want!)
Lunch: Avocado and Grapefruit diced together in a salad. (Translation: I am aware of the benefits of a Raw Foods Diet. I LOVE Eating Healthy. I am so Pious and Food Aware. I know what constitutes good nutrition. And look at me! I'm eating it!)
Dinner: Taco Bell Nachos Bell Grande no meat/beans, a cheese quesadilla, and three chocolate drumsticks. (Dont' tell me I can or cant' eat something. I'll eat whatever the fuck I want. Food allergies - I can take you! I can take anything! BRING IT ON BITCHES!)
Water intake: maybe 20 ounces. I'm not paying attention.

Which leads me to the question: what is my goal? Do I really want to lose weight, or just sit here jerking off to you talking about how much I want to lose weight?

I saw this movie last night with Nia Vardalos in it, called "My Life in Ruins." In it, Nia Vardalos' character has one plan in mind for her life, but as the movie progresses, she starts to see that maybe she needs to let go, and allow maybe another plan unfold that she'd never considered.

I liked it a lot; it was cute and well played. What I found interesting was my own reaction to the movie. In it, one of the other characters was clearly in love with her. And she of course didn't know it. I tend to be a movie spoiler, so if you hate that jump to the next paragraph. There's a scene in the movie where she opens herself up to the guy. And I thought, well, of course she can - she's thin and attractive. If the opportunity presented itself to be sexually intimate with a guy, she's got the body to go ahead and do it. But I don't.

Which, right there, is the spinning wheel of my life. I can't be loved because I'm not thin, but I don't want to be loved by somebody just for having a thin body. If they love me fat, there is something wrong with them, and if they love me thin, they're an asshole. No winning - for them, or for me.

So I go to bed, and I'm laying in bed on my side. It's been so long since I've been with anyone, and I blame it on my present weight. I'm feeling my own flesh, rolls of fat I used to not have, and I think - yech. There is no way I would want to put a man through having to be with such a replusive woman. I am turned off by me; how could I ever think a guy could be turned on?

Then I realize how mean these thoughts are. I think, well, that's awfully harsh - I see other women, as big or bigger than me, with men who clearly love them. Why do they deserve it and not me? In fact, if a woman were to say to me, "OH! I'm completely unlovable because I'm so fat!" I would say, "Oh! No you're not!" I would hate that she sees herself that way.

But at the same time, deep down, I think, yes, that's probably why you are not loved. Because you are a fat ugly heffer. I would think, who in the hell would want to love a fat, ugly heffer? And I think, what a terrible thought. Where would I, being as charming and nice as I am, get such a thought?

Enter Mom and Dad. Once upon a time, my mom was very thin; "Eighteen inch waist on our wedding day," she would say proudly. And through each of us kids, she lost all her baby weight. However, with my brother Brian's birth, the youngest, something changed.

Mom tanked during Brian's pregnancy. I remember Dad jokingly calling her dress a tent in front of all of us kids as we were sitting in the kitchen, most likely waiting for dinner to be made. I'm not sure how much she got up to weight wise, but based on the photos, I would say she was easily a size 20.

I remember her doing exercises and such after Brian was born. I remember her joining Weight Watchers. I remember some of her meals, seeing her eat a breakfast of exactly one-half a grapefruit and one piece dry toast. I remember her losing the weight, and all the women at church going, "Oh, Kay! You look great!" It was as if they suddenly liked her, or had renewed like for her, now that she was thin.

Mom gained the weight back after that, and never lost it again. I'm not sure what size she was when she died in 2005 - she snipped the size label out of all of her clothes - but I'd guess she went out the same dress size as her waist once was in inches.

I bring this up because, just like I am doing right now, she was always talking about trying to lose the weight, too. But was she really? Am I really?

Her keeping the weight on was a point of contention between her and my Dad. I remember Dad making comments about wishing she were thinner - and not gentle, loving, I am concerned about your health comments. His comments were about him - him wishing he had an attractive wife, him slapping her ass and thinking he was funny, saying how guys like a woman with an ass and Boy Did Mom Have An Ass! Him sharing a dream he had about mom becoming thin again and it making him so happy he was crying in the dream.

My mom was not a mousy woman. She was strong and smart and I think could have easily walked out on my dad and found someone else without much trouble. So as an adult, I can't figure out why she put up with his shit. My dad's not a complete asshole. But then again, he has his moments. We all do, I suppose.

One day when i was probably 8 or 10, I walked into my parents room, to find my mom crying. I asked her what was wrong, and seeing me, she regained her composure, trying to keep me from seeing her pain. Too late. I pushed her for an answer, the way kids do, with love and fear blended into one question. Mom didn't tell me what happened. Instead, she told me this: "Men say they want a thin wife. But they really don't. Because if you're thin they feel threatened. So they really want you fat, so nobody else wants you; despite all their comments otherwise."

And with that, she walked out of the room.

Well, that's pretty clear then, huh, as to my current weight issues? As well as my conflicting feelings about my Dad.

Dad's currently dating a woman, a neighbor woman who used to play bridge with Mom. At his birthday party we just had in November, he danced a dance with this new lady friend. She's their same age, and keeps herself in relatively good shape. As they danced, I thought, hm. Getting him to dance with Mom was like pulling teeth. She would ask, and he would somehow skirt around it. I thought maybe he didn't really like dancing; but here he is, dancing with his new thinner blonde lady friend.

And I just realized - did Mom and Dad get into a non-confrontational brawl through Mom's weight? Some families get into drag-down, kicking, screaming fights with each other. Ours does not. Our family does not get angry. It's not polite. It's not useful. Only trashy people get angry, and we might be poor, but we are not trashy. We are white trash aristocracy - in their ranks, but above their rancor.

We are simply too smart for anger.

So we laugh it off Ha! Ha! Ha!

And nothing ever gets resolved.

What were my mom and dad mad about that didn't get resolved out right, and maybe got played out via mom's refusal to give dad a thin wife?

A lot of things - far too many to go into today. You've been more than patient with all I've revealed today, but I think that's enough information for one download. Let's just sum it up that I think Mom had some built up resentments, and finally decided she was done giving everything to my dad. She gave him money, she gave him support. I think maybe she decided she wasn't going to give him the status that men seem to get by having a wife that stays slim, too. I have evidence to support this idea. When I was in high school, I forget what Mom and I were talking about, but she was saying something that Dad had done that had made her mad. I said, "And that's why you won't lose the weight, to spite him," and Mom said, "You damn right that's why I won't -" And then she stopped, realizing what she was saying and who she was saying it to. We never talked about it after that. And Mom continued to give proper lip service to wanting to lose the excess weight she carried, but she never did. And maybe Dad retaliated with surface light-hearted teasing and refusing to dance - one of Mom's greatest loves.

This is how the world works when we're not on the up and up with each other.

So, here I am, pondering my own position in all this. Am I fat in defense of Mom? In a sub-conscious attack on Dad - my weight as a scream to the world what went on in their marriage? His failing to be a good husband? A good father? A good provider in the traditional sense? Am I fat so fat people will like me? So skinny women know I am not competition? So men will take me for my brains and not want to take my body?

I've suspected all of these culprits for many years. How do I move past it? How do I give myself the body I want? What is the body I want? I don't care to be a size 02, but I don't like being a size 20 either. Different sizes represent different things to me. I have a lot to work through with this matter. I think just putting out into space what I uncover helps. What's resonating for me today is the thought of Mom giving lip service to letting go of the extra weight she carried, but never doing it. As in, she said she forgave Dad for not delivering on some of his promises, but physically, I think she was showing she didn't. That's striking me right in my heart, and I feel that I might have unearthed something big there. So, what am I refusing to not forgive by continuing to carry my excess weight around? What am I continuing to harbor that remains unspoken? I think I've got it buried so deep, it's going to take a bit to uncover. This blog is amazing. I highly recommend doing it - even if none of you are reading it, it's public, and for some reason, that helps. I hope it helps you open up things you might not known need to be brought light as well. Thanks for listening. Until next time.

Hiding Out with Mike, and a Late-Game Epiphany

Time to clear a few things up.

My friend Mick's real name is Mike. It is important for me to disclose that because I have been doing a lot of hiding-out eating with him; and if I hide out behind a fake name, it seems to just keep me hiding. The purpose of this blog is to get at the truth.

One of the reason's I like hanging out with Mike is that is he generally up for anything. My friends are not, it seems, into the same things I am. Eight a.m. exploration of a church? Mike will go. Four a.m. meteor shower? MIke will get up. Midnight movie? Mike will be up for it.

So there's a lot of positive things that happen hanging out with Mike. He is an analyzer of data, so I run numbers past him a lot. He loves technology and helps me keep my computers running well. He is generally pleasant. He rarely gets angry; in fact, I would say he's stoic to a fault. He considers this his greatest strength. His knee-jerk reaction tends to be, "Ok." At moments when I am furious, Mike is cool under pressure.

I feel safety with him - he's helped me out of more than one financial bind. He likes to do nice things for me. I've joked with him that he is the Daddy I never had growing up. There is a big element of Daddy taking care of his Little Girl in our friendship. I'm not sure if I play Mommy to him - our relationship seems to revolve around him making me feel happy. I will try to reciprocate, but in all honesty, it seems the relationship is niney per cent about me and ten per cent about him. No, that's not true; it's ninety-five per cent about me and five per cent about him.

I bring this all up because I can call him up and say, "Let's go out for pizza tonight." His reaction? "Ok." And he buys. Anything that we do together, he buys. So our arrangement is this: I do the social planning, which he enjoys and can go back to work and share the adventure with his co-workers; and he buys.

He likes paying for me because I am generally grateful, and I don't run too wild. I'll ask if we can, and he generally tries to accomodate. Sometimes I will say let's go out to eat, and he'll say no. But he doesn't do no well, so his no will be, "No, I don't want to eat. But if you want to come over here we can order in." So I'll go over there and we'll order in. Or we'll go to the store. So, he tries to accomodate, and I can bend my needs.

While this sounds very nice and sweet, the truth is that this is where the addiction comes in. This is where I may have to look at the crack whore sided of myself.

I get angry with him a lot. I get angry, because on paper, he is The Perfect Guy. If you looked him up in the dictionary, his picture would be posted next to the definition of "Ideal Husband." I get angry a lot simply because we'll be out together, and either he'll say something or I'll have said something that he doesn't get, and I remember the reason we are "just friends" and not dating.

I realize that I'm not really sure I like him. But I do like his money, his genorosity with it, and the peace of mind it gives me.

He and I dated years ago. We were set up by a mutual friend, and early in I knew I did not have romantic feelings for him. But he kept pushing the issue, kept wanting to go out with me. And he would buy, not only for me, but my friends, too. How could I not accept his generosity? And on this our relationship was built. I kept saying no. He kept saying, "I'll buy." I kept saying, "Well, OK then."

Before we get too worried about Mike and all these nice things he does for me, we need to remember that he gets something out of it, too. He gets to be the Benefactor, the Provider, the Big Man with the Big Checkbook. I play little financial idiot girl. He gets to be a fiscal czar.

We were both getting out of relationships when we met back in 2000. He was divorcing a woman who had run wild with his money and then left him for a shoe salesman. I was running away from a marriage proposal to a guy who vacilated between putting me on a pedestal and tearing me down from that same position. I think we've spent the last decade with each other healing our respective wounds.

However, I think this the year we have to let that part of our relationship go.

We have had conversations about what each of us gets out of hanging out with each other. He knows I get fiscal security; something I truly never had growing up or with the last guy I dated. I know that he gets a social planner and someone who can generally support herself but he can sweep in and rescue occasionally with some financial aid.

We each have started working on our own selves. Maybe we needed each other for this period of time - I think I needed to know that someone would be willing to provide for me. I think he needed to know that someone would be willing to not take advantage of him.

I know that if I found someone I wanted to date, I would present that to Mike and talk it over with him. If Mike found someone he wanted to date, I am pretty certain he would feel the need to do the same. We would have to break up again, if you will.

But our days of being able to hide out with each other are numbered; I can feel it, and I see it in Mike as well. He is less patient with my fiscal capriciousness that he used to be. It's getting old to me, too. I'd like to be friends with him on a level of equality, not out of obligation to some long-standing, dysfunctional system we set up with each other.

So, hiding out. With Mike, I can order food and eat as much of it as I want without him shaming me. I used to hide my binges from the world, but somewhere along the way I started feeling that I could do my binges with him.

Last night I called him and asked him if he wanted to go out to eat. He said no; simply because he didn't want to. I asked him if I could pick up some pizza and come over. He said sure.

The way last night played out is a perfect example of hiding out with him. I went and got the pizza (accomodating his "no"). I paid for it (marginal fiscal integrity here, except that I could tell him that I need money to cover it, and he would give it to me. I haven't asked him to do that. Yet.) I stop and get some soda and dessert (read, sugar, sugar and more sugar - feed that addiction!). I go over to his house; and as I was driving over to his house, I got pondering why I was doing that part of it at all.

Seriously - I used to do my binges in complete secrecy. I would order in, avoiding eye contact with the delivery driver, grabbing the food and embarking on a ritual of stuffing myself and then passing out in a carb coma.

However, in recent years, that ritual of eating alone hasn't appealed to me. Last night, I could have very easily gone home, eaten the pizza at home with my cats, and passed out in my own bed. Instead, I went to Mike's, at half the pizza and 3/4 of the moderate sized dessert I bought, watched a movie with him, and then passed out on his couch. I writing this entry from his computer right now. I have not gone home yet.

It's been bugging me since last night. Why didn't I just go home? Why did I have to go to Mike's? I didn't have to involve him in that at all last night.

I'm not kidding you it just hit me as I was writing that: I DIDN'T GO HOME BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO BE ALONE. IT WASN'T REALLY THE FOOD I WAS CRAVING! I WAS CRAVING HUMAN CONTACT! COMPANIONSHIP! COMRADARIE!

This is what this blog is all about! Peeling back the layers of the onion of my bad habits to get to the stinky core of it all! And here's the core: it goes back to my family's interactions, and how everything social happened around a meal! Sunday morning, a nice big breakfast, and RELAXATION AND FUN! Dinner time each night: A big meal, a little bit of what happened over the day, but then SPLINTERING OFF AND ALONENESS. Night time is a big time of feeling lonely for me, and this is because that's how we were at home: My parents just wanted to unwind, but after not being with them all day at school, I wanted to interact. But they didn't - Dad would fall asleep in the recliner and and Mom would watch public television while flossing her teeth. No talking once the meal was over! So I wanted, and have been trying ever since, to make the meals happen as often as possible. All in a quest for connection.

It's all so clear to me now! I grew up isolated from being able to just stop in at a friend's house, so that has never been a source of nourishment for me. Food was the only nourishment we had or needed out there on the farm. Human contact? That's what leisurelty city folks do - but not us! We've got a freezer full of meat and important work to do. So, get your food ate, chit chat's over: back to work!

This is totally awesome. So, what I really wanted last night was to hang out with someone. And of course I did - it was a Friday night. My social life has been down the tubes. I have been hiding out with food for so long I never realized that it really is the company of other people that I have been seeking. In fact, had you asked me, I went through a phase where the last thing I wanted was the responsibility of brining another person's issues into my life. But now, I see. It's not bad to want to hang out with other people. I've always felt that my desire to hang out with other people would come across as needy or clingy. And I think it often did, BECAUSE I WAS SO BUSY BEING AFRAID THEY WOULD KNOW I WANTED TO HAVE THAT CONNECTION! But now, suddenly, now that I know that hanging out with other people is EXACTLY what I want, I don't feel so clingy about it. I feel confident. I feel smart. I feel like calling someone up and saying, "Hey. I'd like to spend some time with you. Would you like to join me and go do xxx?"

This is awesome. So now, maybe I can just hang out with Mike, and remove the need to get a pizza or other food item to do it. Sorry if I'm sounding a little too excited, but this is a major break through for me on a long-standing behavior that I have never been able to understand. It changes everything - for the better. This is so great. I am running through a list of people right now who I would love to connect with but have been keeping at arms distance so as to not put them off with my "defect" of wanting to hang out with them. This is so cool! This opens everything up, and I know now that I can approach people with sincereity now, instead of trepidation. I know what I want out of hanging out with them now. I think this will be a big year of changes. For the better - all for the better. Thank you so much for listening - until tomorrow!

Status Update: New Year's Day, 2010

Weight: 226

Physical conditions:
- Fingers peel regularly
- Left foot healed
- Easily able to pull phlegm up out of my throat; small little pea and bubble-gum sized wads at a time
- Mobility is good, but I feel my left knee feels tight often
- Neck seems to be getting a little stiffer every day that I eat animal protein and bread together. I think bread is more the culprit, i.e., the yeast build up, rather than the meat.
- I have this feeling in my right ear, like there are mites or something in there. Need to have the doctor look at that. That's been bothering me for at least six months.
- Teeth do not feel as sharp and as clean as they did during the fast.
- Tongue is white. Wonder how long it will take for that to clear up.
- Skin is moderately broken out. A pimple here and there, always in the region around my nose and mouth, neck and chest.
- Skin is very dry. Could be due to winter weather, not drinking enough water, or both.
- Mood swings seem much less extreme with less food.
- Wake up to a runny nose almost every morning, but I have no cold or flu-like symptoms.
- Over all, I feel good physically. Strong and able.

As the year progresses, we'll mark the changes as my diet and exercise habits change, too. Until next time.