Well, yes, yes, I am.
Tomorrow is D-day. in more ways than one.
I sheduled a doctor's appointment for a checkup aeons ago - and now it's here. Ugh. I haven't been to the doctors' office since my burns in 06 - well, unless you count the two years of care I received at John's Hopkins Burn center. I have the release papers - '08. September '08. I spent enough time with doctors for tests and checks and being looked at and looked over to last me a lifetime.
But, here I am. and I am... freaking scared. I know I've gained weight since the last time I was there - over 7 years ago. And I can tell you how much. 20 lbs. But see, last time I was there, it was to get checked out before starting a weight-loss program. THAT really worked didn't it?
And I know, because I know the type of doctor that he is, he's going to send me to the usual round up of specialists. He told me to last time, and while I was beginning that wonderful process I got burned and put all of that on hold...
So, let's make this a guessing game. PAP, yep, gettting that taken care of at the office tomorrow - whoopee... Now for the ones I'm going to have to make with specialists:
Cardiologist
Mamogram
Gastroeterologist - oh yea... that colonoscopy sounds like so much fun
what am I missing? there's a couple more I know...
Oh yea, let's see both my parents are diabetic so I'm guessing the Endocrinologist.
Then, hmmm... I'm thinking lots of sun exposure would grant me a visit to the dermatologist
My allergies might buy me a ticket to the allergist.
I think I'll stop there... one more "ist" and I'll lose it.
The other reason that I'm dreading tomorrow is that it's one week since I began the process of ditching the fat suit. That means weigh-in. THAT scares me. Not because of the number... hell, I've lived with high numbers for many years. But for what it might do to me. I've been trying. I've been drinking my water, counting my calories and logging whatever goes into my mouth... heck, I've even been keeping track of my activities. If that damn scale hasn't budged it may be very, very depressing for me. If this week was this hard and nothing happened, why the heck would I keep it up?
Oh, yea because I don't want to have to visit the bariatric surgeon....
So here we go... again.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Someone said there are no pics of me... here you go
Ok, problem remedied
Yesterday's problem of no munchies has been remedied. I stopped on the way home and picked up a veggie tray, bagged salad, cauliflour, and cheezits bags - 90 cal per bag. Sometimes you just gotta have something a little bready. It was absolute torture on the way home - I really wanted to just grab something and chew my way to the house. But I didn't. I waited. When I got home, I put the groceries away, grabbed some carrots and a little (I mean little) dip and went to town. My goal is to eliminate the dip within a week or two. But for now, I'm happy I didn't go for the candy or chips.
One thing I've learned about myself is that if I feel I'm denying myself of something I want, I will eat everything in sight to make up for it. I'm working on that - a friend reminded me, that every time I want something bad for me, I have to think to myself, which do I want more, the yummy or to ditch the fat suit. That helps. A bit.
Another thing I am forcing myself to do, which I hate above all things (well, next to sweating and the activities that produce sweat) is breakfast. I have never been a breakfast person, unless it's on the weekend and accompanied by large quantities of bacon.
So, this morning we are delving into a lovely container of non fat black cherry greek yogurt. I wish I could say I'm enjoying it, but I'm not. Every spoonful is like a penance for the bad things I've done. But, as much as it disgusts me, the fat suit disgusts me more... so on and on I spoon this weird goo into my body. It looks like silly putty. People actually LIKE this stuff??? No wonder why greeks are so emotional!
At any rate, I can look forward to a tastier lunch. Tomato soup. At least that is something I like. So, I guess in order to ditch the fat suit, I'll take the good with the bad.
On to exercise. My friend, the trainer, also has been feeding me these exercises to do. Mostly arms, since I'm still dealing with that dang ankle. I just hope to God that none of my co-workers walks in on me when I'm doing my thrice daily arm circles or bat waves. They'll sick the white coats on me for sure. It's not too bad if you don't take into account the weirdness factor. The human body is a bizarre thing, and the more I'm focusing on this body of mine, the weirder it seems. Bat waves are actually fun... I can count how many times my under-the-arm wobbles move each time I lift and lower my arms. (Ok I admit I'm easily amused).
I'm more than a little fearful of what's coming down the pike for my next exercises, but hey, this is an adventure, right?
One thing I've learned about myself is that if I feel I'm denying myself of something I want, I will eat everything in sight to make up for it. I'm working on that - a friend reminded me, that every time I want something bad for me, I have to think to myself, which do I want more, the yummy or to ditch the fat suit. That helps. A bit.
Another thing I am forcing myself to do, which I hate above all things (well, next to sweating and the activities that produce sweat) is breakfast. I have never been a breakfast person, unless it's on the weekend and accompanied by large quantities of bacon.
So, this morning we are delving into a lovely container of non fat black cherry greek yogurt. I wish I could say I'm enjoying it, but I'm not. Every spoonful is like a penance for the bad things I've done. But, as much as it disgusts me, the fat suit disgusts me more... so on and on I spoon this weird goo into my body. It looks like silly putty. People actually LIKE this stuff??? No wonder why greeks are so emotional!
At any rate, I can look forward to a tastier lunch. Tomato soup. At least that is something I like. So, I guess in order to ditch the fat suit, I'll take the good with the bad.
On to exercise. My friend, the trainer, also has been feeding me these exercises to do. Mostly arms, since I'm still dealing with that dang ankle. I just hope to God that none of my co-workers walks in on me when I'm doing my thrice daily arm circles or bat waves. They'll sick the white coats on me for sure. It's not too bad if you don't take into account the weirdness factor. The human body is a bizarre thing, and the more I'm focusing on this body of mine, the weirder it seems. Bat waves are actually fun... I can count how many times my under-the-arm wobbles move each time I lift and lower my arms. (Ok I admit I'm easily amused).
I'm more than a little fearful of what's coming down the pike for my next exercises, but hey, this is an adventure, right?
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Three o'clock munchies
Why the heck didn't I think to bring something to work that would be munchy and healthy? I did good on breakfast, substituted a glass of tea for water,I'm walking, in spite of a sprained ankle. And yet, idiot me risks a pretty good day by not having something crunchy and healthy to snack on.
Time to hit the store and pick up some carrot sticks and something more healthy than the crackers I've been eyeing. Better planning for tomorrow I hope.
Time to hit the store and pick up some carrot sticks and something more healthy than the crackers I've been eyeing. Better planning for tomorrow I hope.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Day 1 - shopping
I'm feeling very proud of myself. Went to weggies this morning and had a seriously fun time picking out weird veggies to cook up into some very different meals than we're used to. I think I can do this.
What the hell is a rutabaga anyways?
What the hell is a rutabaga anyways?
Friday, January 13, 2012
Me and the Doctor
It's now past 1300 on Friday the 13th. D-Day. Why, oh why did I say I was going to do this?
Sigh. It must have been the derranged skinny person who lives inside me. She's been knocking. She's been trying to get out for a while. I love her. I hate her. I AM her. I'm still not sure I want to do this, but as I've said before it's time.
As I type I'm remembering a Dr. Who episode (David Tennant, thank you very much) where the Doctor had placed the time-lord part of himself inside a watch and the person that was left was human, and didn't even remember that he was "The Doctor". At the end of the show, the human had to decide whether to let the Doctor back out of the watch, essentially killing the human dreams and life he could have had; or to give the time-lord/watch to the bad guys and live out his life as a human. The agony and the angst that he went through making that decision mirror the feelings and fears that I'm wrestling with at the moment.
I am at the crossroads. Am I really going to do this - killing the comfortable, non-risk taking, squishy and content me? Am I ready to log what I eat? am I ready to not eat the not-good-for-me yummies that taste so good? Or am I going to give that watch away and live life as a sofa?
I'll admit it. I'm scared. Really scared. That down-deep in the pit of your stomach and whirling around your brain scared. The kind of scared that makes your arms numb. Yea. THAT scared -- the scared that's usually reserved for really big screw-ups at work, or you left your FB page open for your mother to read. The bizarre thing is, I'm not really sure why.
I'm not afraid of change, so that can't be it. I'm not afraid of exercise - I don't like it, but I've done it before. I'm not afraid of healthy food - I actually like it. Why the hell am I so scared?
Maybe, just maybe, it's the thing that I'm terrified of more than anything else in the world...the unknown. I would have never made a good companion to the Doctor. The thought of walking out of the tardis into an unknown world would paralyze me. I have to know what's coming, where I'm going, what's going to happen next. And I don't know what's going to happen: will I succeed? will it be hard? will I have problems? how bad is it going to be? how will I fit this in my schedule?
I am NOT one of those people who can say, one day at a time. I need to see what's coming down the pike. I abhor the unknown.
Deep Breath... in.. and out.... in... and out... ok. feeling a bit better now. I've faced scary things before - life-flight, career changes, childrearing. I CAN do this. and I will.
Little steps at a time, and lots of breathing.
Sigh. It must have been the derranged skinny person who lives inside me. She's been knocking. She's been trying to get out for a while. I love her. I hate her. I AM her. I'm still not sure I want to do this, but as I've said before it's time.
As I type I'm remembering a Dr. Who episode (David Tennant, thank you very much) where the Doctor had placed the time-lord part of himself inside a watch and the person that was left was human, and didn't even remember that he was "The Doctor". At the end of the show, the human had to decide whether to let the Doctor back out of the watch, essentially killing the human dreams and life he could have had; or to give the time-lord/watch to the bad guys and live out his life as a human. The agony and the angst that he went through making that decision mirror the feelings and fears that I'm wrestling with at the moment.
I am at the crossroads. Am I really going to do this - killing the comfortable, non-risk taking, squishy and content me? Am I ready to log what I eat? am I ready to not eat the not-good-for-me yummies that taste so good? Or am I going to give that watch away and live life as a sofa?
I'll admit it. I'm scared. Really scared. That down-deep in the pit of your stomach and whirling around your brain scared. The kind of scared that makes your arms numb. Yea. THAT scared -- the scared that's usually reserved for really big screw-ups at work, or you left your FB page open for your mother to read. The bizarre thing is, I'm not really sure why.
I'm not afraid of change, so that can't be it. I'm not afraid of exercise - I don't like it, but I've done it before. I'm not afraid of healthy food - I actually like it. Why the hell am I so scared?
Maybe, just maybe, it's the thing that I'm terrified of more than anything else in the world...the unknown. I would have never made a good companion to the Doctor. The thought of walking out of the tardis into an unknown world would paralyze me. I have to know what's coming, where I'm going, what's going to happen next. And I don't know what's going to happen: will I succeed? will it be hard? will I have problems? how bad is it going to be? how will I fit this in my schedule?
I am NOT one of those people who can say, one day at a time. I need to see what's coming down the pike. I abhor the unknown.
Deep Breath... in.. and out.... in... and out... ok. feeling a bit better now. I've faced scary things before - life-flight, career changes, childrearing. I CAN do this. and I will.
Little steps at a time, and lots of breathing.
Friday, January 6, 2012
It's time
Well, I've been thinking about it for years, talking about it for almost as long, but I have finally named it. I am wearing a fat suit. The me inside is thinner, healthier and more beautiful. But this damn fat suit keeps me wearing "fat clothes" and keeps the world from seeing the real me.
This may not seem like much to most of the world, but the naming of this revelation is huge for me. I've always felt it and tried to describe it, but words never quite did my situation justice. And then one day, chatting with a friend, it came to me... The fat suit.
The fat suit is a shell, covering my true interior, hiding the precious me inside. It crept up on me and enveloped me and I did nothing to stop it. Ok, I admit it, I am lazy and undisciplined - I've known this forever. But what I didn't realize was the effect that my laziness and lack of discipline would have on my appearance. I'm sick of looking in the mirror and peering deeply to see if perhaps some semblance of the old me is still there... yup, it is. But it is hidden so far inside this awful shell that it takes some time to see it.
In my head, I'm still the same. I'm a size 10, longish hair, fairly decent features (although my nose is a bit too big for my taste) and intense eyes. To the outside world, I'm a size 22 with a square face, more chins than I care to count and those same intense eyes. My nose is a little less prominant with a bigger face, but it's still pretty good sized. Oh, and those damn wrinkles, ugh! They have been my companions for many moons now and will continue to be - but them, I can live with - the fat suit, no longer!
It has taken me years to come to this point. Years of pining, and wishing and imagining that I'm my old self again. None of which have done anything to get rid of the fat suit surrounding me. Sigh.
The only thing that there is left to do is work at getting rid of this thing. Jesus, I wish I could just unzip it and step out of it - but that ain't gonna happen. I want to go back to wearing fantastic clothes and turning heads as I walk confidently down the street - without Sciatica and Plantar Faschiaitis as my constant companions. I want to go back to walking in a store, picking something up off the rack and looking at it thinking how wonderful it will look on me - not "will it cover my stomach rolls enough?"
And so, with my desire for change finally stronger than my comfort in the status quo, I'm ready to begin. I have friends who will support me and guide me on my way. I'm fully aware of the changes that I will need to make. I will have to start logging what I eat, exercizing regularly and eating healthier foods. It sounds innocuous enough - but to me, well, you might as well be asking me to scale Mount Kilamonjaro. Naked. In the winter. Carrying Orson Wells on my back.
But, it's time. And so, as I prepare to begin a different way of life, I am bidding adieu to many of my favorite foods - oh, not permenantly, but at least the joy of guiltlessly eating them. Tuesday, it was KFC. Tonight, oh, joy! Bacon Pizza. Next will have to be chicken wings. Yes, definitely chicken wings... Finally, Chinese and Five guys (oh my how those guys can cook). Oh, don't worry Five guys -- I will occasionally partake, but for me it won't be without consequence. I will endure extra workouts, less at another meal, there are ways... But for now, I'm enjoying these treats with all of the exuberance of a child who has discovered their first hot fudge sunday.
I've chosen Friday the 13th as the first day of my new journey - appropriate, no? And so with a week to go, I prepare: finding sneakers, looking up and preparing food logger, ridding the house of treats, and yes, savoring every last morsel of guilt free pleasure that I have deemed as a few of my favorite things. It's a mixture of pleasure and pain, you know. I'm so excited that I will finally be on the road to shedding the fat suit, and so sad and scared about what it's going to take to get to that point.
As I've said, I have friends to help me along the path, and they are a consolation and a joy and a help. But the reality is - this has got to come from me. It's all me - no one can choose what I put in my mouth, no one can get me out of bed to work out before everybody else gets up, and no one, not anyone can take away my determination.
This may not seem like much to most of the world, but the naming of this revelation is huge for me. I've always felt it and tried to describe it, but words never quite did my situation justice. And then one day, chatting with a friend, it came to me... The fat suit.
The fat suit is a shell, covering my true interior, hiding the precious me inside. It crept up on me and enveloped me and I did nothing to stop it. Ok, I admit it, I am lazy and undisciplined - I've known this forever. But what I didn't realize was the effect that my laziness and lack of discipline would have on my appearance. I'm sick of looking in the mirror and peering deeply to see if perhaps some semblance of the old me is still there... yup, it is. But it is hidden so far inside this awful shell that it takes some time to see it.
In my head, I'm still the same. I'm a size 10, longish hair, fairly decent features (although my nose is a bit too big for my taste) and intense eyes. To the outside world, I'm a size 22 with a square face, more chins than I care to count and those same intense eyes. My nose is a little less prominant with a bigger face, but it's still pretty good sized. Oh, and those damn wrinkles, ugh! They have been my companions for many moons now and will continue to be - but them, I can live with - the fat suit, no longer!
It has taken me years to come to this point. Years of pining, and wishing and imagining that I'm my old self again. None of which have done anything to get rid of the fat suit surrounding me. Sigh.
The only thing that there is left to do is work at getting rid of this thing. Jesus, I wish I could just unzip it and step out of it - but that ain't gonna happen. I want to go back to wearing fantastic clothes and turning heads as I walk confidently down the street - without Sciatica and Plantar Faschiaitis as my constant companions. I want to go back to walking in a store, picking something up off the rack and looking at it thinking how wonderful it will look on me - not "will it cover my stomach rolls enough?"
And so, with my desire for change finally stronger than my comfort in the status quo, I'm ready to begin. I have friends who will support me and guide me on my way. I'm fully aware of the changes that I will need to make. I will have to start logging what I eat, exercizing regularly and eating healthier foods. It sounds innocuous enough - but to me, well, you might as well be asking me to scale Mount Kilamonjaro. Naked. In the winter. Carrying Orson Wells on my back.
But, it's time. And so, as I prepare to begin a different way of life, I am bidding adieu to many of my favorite foods - oh, not permenantly, but at least the joy of guiltlessly eating them. Tuesday, it was KFC. Tonight, oh, joy! Bacon Pizza. Next will have to be chicken wings. Yes, definitely chicken wings... Finally, Chinese and Five guys (oh my how those guys can cook). Oh, don't worry Five guys -- I will occasionally partake, but for me it won't be without consequence. I will endure extra workouts, less at another meal, there are ways... But for now, I'm enjoying these treats with all of the exuberance of a child who has discovered their first hot fudge sunday.
I've chosen Friday the 13th as the first day of my new journey - appropriate, no? And so with a week to go, I prepare: finding sneakers, looking up and preparing food logger, ridding the house of treats, and yes, savoring every last morsel of guilt free pleasure that I have deemed as a few of my favorite things. It's a mixture of pleasure and pain, you know. I'm so excited that I will finally be on the road to shedding the fat suit, and so sad and scared about what it's going to take to get to that point.
As I've said, I have friends to help me along the path, and they are a consolation and a joy and a help. But the reality is - this has got to come from me. It's all me - no one can choose what I put in my mouth, no one can get me out of bed to work out before everybody else gets up, and no one, not anyone can take away my determination.
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