Pureed Food Heaven

**This post was originally from 7/18/2016 or so...I just totally forgot to publish it, and then my life turned into a freakin tire fire and I didn't publish anything else again until...well, now.**

I have never been so happy to eat mush in my entire life.

I'm finally on Week 2 of my gastric sleeve post-op diet, and so progressed to pureed foods yesterday. Thank goodness, because I was (not so) slowly losing my mind on full liquids only.

My mom took me to the store yesterday (I'm still not supposed to drive until I see the doctor for my first follow-up visit on Thursday--they want to make sure my stomach muscles are healed enough to hit the brakes in an emergency, and I should hopefully be off the painkillers by then). I stocked up on all kinds of awesome food to make the meals I'd planned this week. I was panicking a little bit, though, because I have pretty much made up my mind to go from vegetarian to vegan after my pureed food stage, and I realized how much of my cart was animal-based. I bought eggs, fat free sour cream, low fat ricotta, jello, shredded 2% cheddar, yogurt, greek yogurt pops, whey protein drinks, and 1% milk. That's a lot of dairy. To go from that to nothing is, well, a little intimidating.

The other thing holding me back from becoming a vegan is admittedly kinda dumb but I don't know how to get over it. I'm afraid it'll make me even more undateable. That is, less likely to find someone willing to put up with me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I've already had issues with people (guys more than girls) commenting during the first date that it would be difficult to be with a vegetarian. My ex-boyfriend actually lists it as one of the main reasons we didn't work out. In fact, I asked him about it while we hung out this evening (to watch the first few episodes of Stranger Things, which is SO GOOD! It's shot really well, the music is AWESOME, the lighting and style is super cool, and of course the plots/characters drew me in too). He said that most of his favorite camping meals, dinners to cook at home, and restaurants he loves are all centered on meat. Like, I don't care about that. I even took him to Fogo De Chao which is basically a meat ballet and I didn't bat an eye. But I guess it was just one more thing stacked against me. So what if I become vegan and then REALLY can't find anyone who wants to be with me? I know you're not actually supposed to say this, and you're supposed to have the 'right reasons' to lose weight and shit, but let's be honest: most of the reason I wanted to have gastric surgery and lose weight is so that I'll be hotter and land a good mate. I want to make myself MORE dateable.

Hoppy Weedster

So Easter and 4:20 fell on the same day this year.

Awesome?

NO.

I was so excited when I first saw that 4/20 (April 20th, or the official pothead holiday for the uninitiated) fell on a weekend. I always, ALWAYS take the day off work because, well, I can't really get my shit done when I'm assembling a gravity bong at my desk. So I was thrilled that I was going to avoid using PTO this year.

It wasn't until a week or so ago that I realized it was ALSO Easter. Fuck! My family is down with smoking (I actually buy from my aunt…awkward but I know she won't rip me off ha) but my girlfriend's family is very conservative. We convinced them to have Easter on the 19th so we wouldn't have to cut into our high times, so that was good.

But Sunday morning, after we had a great Wake N Bake and then opened up the Easter baskets we made for each other, the true implications of Weedster started to sink in. Namely: I would be stoned around MASS quantities of food ALL DAY.

If I wasn't on Weight Watchers, this would have been an awesome day.

On Weight Watchers, it became 24 hours of torture.

I mean, I was high and hungry at midnight. And then at 4:20am. And then when we woke up smoking at like 9am. And then again over and over all freakin day.

I was responsible for desserts at my parents' Easter gathering, so I made "Dirty Turtles" to share, which is just melted Hershey bars poured into my turtle molds with a bunch of very finely ground pot (almost a powder, thanks to my electric coffee grinder used solely for weed edibles) and topped with ground walnuts to distract from any pot crunchies. My family loved them, but I may have loved them a little TOO much because I definitely ate 5 of them. Whoops.

Then I got my Easter basket from my mom. Yes, I am 32 and get two Easter baskets still. It's awesome.

But even though my mom tried to be supportive by adding apples and oranges to my basket, I dug those out and went straight for the Snickers, Cadbury Cream Eggs, jelly beans, and all the other sugar packed in there.

THEN I gorged myself at dinner. I mean, like, I think I sprained my wrist with the weight of the mac-n-cheese casserole serving I gave myself. Plus candied yams, green bean casserole (with tons of extra cheese), yeast rolls, mashed potatoes, corn, broccoli cheese casserole, banana pudding, chocolate eclair cake, salted caramel chocolate pie…it was seriously a smorgasbord orgasbord. It was bad. I tried to count the points but I know I missed some stuff, and I still went over my points by at least 20 this week.

The silver lining is this: when I left my parents' house, my girlfriend and I drove out to a state park and had a completely amazing 4 mile hike. It was super strenuous--like, we climbed UP a waterfall, we had to climb ladders, we lost count after climbing more than 200 stairs…it was so hard but totally worth it. Plus, we got to get high down in the bottoms of canyons and crevices, so that rocked.

As ashamed as I was about eating so much for Easter (even worse than usual, thanks to having major munchies ALL DAY), I was really proud of myself for hiking afterward. I know I still gained weight, but at least I got a head start in working it off. I even earned 14 Activity Points to make up for some of the Points I went over.

It was a pretty good Weedster after all.

A this Easter vs. me last Easter. (Note: My lumpier-than-usual stomach is due in part of my ultra-hip fanny pack…totally worth it.) And I had already lost quite a bit of weight before last Easter. I’d hate to see myself Easter 2012…

Literally Always Hungry

I am never not hungry.

I can eat a full and balanced and even hearty meal, lean back complaining how stuffed I am, and then literally begin thinking about dessert while still swallowing my last bite of food.

I know I've talked about this before but I guess I just wanted to confirm that nothing's changed. I haven't lost weight and suddenly, magically stopped thinking about food every second of the day. I've lost weight in spite of constantly obsessing about eating, but it hasn't gotten easier.

I do what I'm supposed to. I drink enough water to be certain it's not dehydration. I make sure I eat enough protein and fiber to keep me full. I eat good sized portions, I do the whole stop-rest-assess Weight Watchers thing to avoid over-stuffing myself while making sure I'm actually full, and I try my best to stay somewhat busy and keep my mind off food. Somehow, though, I still have food on the brain 24/7.

There's this dumb Buzzfeed quiz, Should You Have A Snack? It's more of a joke quiz, but I've been trying to make myself take it when I start thinking about dessert while chewing the last of my meal. The sole question is, "When did you last eat?" The first option is "10 minutes ago" (although it's usually only been like 2 minutes since I ate when I take the stupid quiz) and it answers, "In a little while." Which is a really nice way of saying, "You seriously JUST ATE, you fat fucking idiot, don't stuff your face when supper isn't even down your esophagus!"

Even when I take the quiz and know I shouldn't eat, I find myself craving something sweet the second I'm done eating. I think about food while I'm still consuming other food. I plan my meals for the next day (and usually pre-track) so I have something to look forward to and so I can go to bed happy.

Right now I'm stoked for work tomorrow because I have awesome roasted veggie and black bean burger leftovers waiting in the fridge. Then I have zucchini feta galette planned for supper...yum. And tomorrow morning when I'm struggling to find a reason to get out of bed (I've been open about my issues with depression and some days it really doesn't seem worth it to even wake up), I'll remind myself of the delicious lunch and supper ahead and I'll force myself up.

I think about food all during work. I can't concentrate when there are cookies or cupcakes nearby. When I think about my vacations, I find myself remembering the meals. If someone is passing out candy, I almost pass out from the anticipation waiting to see if I'll get any and, if so, what. I look forward to holidays primarily for the food.

So when people comment on my weight and ask me how I've done it or if it's been easy or what my secret is, I laugh and say, "Well, I am literally always hungry.' I say it as though I'm joking, but I'm dead serious. I'm hungry right this minute. A year and a half of hunger and deprivation could be torture and maybe it'll eventually send me over the edge, but for now it's worth it.

Why?

Because I'm enjoying life. Because I'm coming more alive with every tulip that pushes up in my garden. Because I'm going to wear tank tops and shorts without feeling like an elephant on parade (Disney reference!). And because today, it was nice out so we took a ride in the convertible with the top down and I didn't feel self conscious, then we went to the park and flew kites which required running through a field and I didn't feel like a hippo lumbering through the grass, then I played at the playground with my nephew without worrying I'd crush the equipment, and now I'm going to bed happy and slightly hungry but good-tired. I'll wake up hungry and probably sore, but I'll take that any day over the life I was living at 300 pounds.

Yeah, I'm hungry ALL the time. But you know what? I don't feel fat all the time, and that makes all the difference to me.

Spring Forward

It's been another long week of wintry weather.

I can hardly bear it.

It's been dreary and rainy, but I suppose I should be grateful it's rain and not snow. It still sucks.

Today we're heading out to the park. It's supposed to be in the mid-50s which sounds like a heatwave after this hard winter. We're even bringing the dogs to let them get out into the sunshine, despite the recent rains which I'm sure turned our trails into muddy Slip-n-Slides.

I'm looking forward to earning some Activity Points to make up for Friday's Italian restaurant pesto and mozzarella ravioli gorge-fest. And there are tiny tips of plants and flowers starting to emerge from the mud so, even though the weather sucks, I do know that spring really must be coming eventually.

I've been spending time at the cemetery a lot because it's so peaceful and the paved roads make it easy to walk even when it's muddy, and we go walking anytime the sun is out and it's at least 50 degrees. It's still not really springy, but I know we're getting closer. And closer to spring means closer to summer, my favorite season.

One thing (of the many millions) that's making me eager for warm weather is the garden club I joined at work. On Friday I went to the first meeting and now I'm so pumped. We have a big raised-bed garden at work, and for $25 you pitch in with planting, weeding, and watering, and in return you get ALL THE VEGETABLES YOU WANT!!! Amazing, no?!

We're planting all kinds of awesome stuff. Potatoes, corn, lettuce, carrots, eggplant, zucchini, bell peppers, hot peppers, cucumbers, berries, tomatoes, herbs, kale, squash, gourds, a ton more I can't remember, and maybe even grapes. I can't wait to be able to fill a basket with delicious, fresh, pesticide-free veggies...and I'm also looking forward to having an excuse to go out to the garden and spend a few minutes in the sunshine every day at work. Exciting!

I always wanted to join the Garden Club before, but I knew with my bad heart that I couldn't commit, and I didn't want my plants to die because I was unable to walk out there. Now that my heart is strong and good, I know I'll be able to help out and I will literally reap the benefits (terrible pun, shame on me).

We're planting the garden the first weekend after Mother's Day, and I can't wait. Summer can't get here fast enough.

Until then, at least I have the park to enjoy.

Planning For Weight Loss

I am pretty anal about some things. Okay, most things. I'm a perfectionist and I love being organized (even though I'm also a complete mess...I like to think of it as organized chaos, where others probably just see the chaos. I blame it on being a left handed Pisces.).

My obsessive planning has driven me crazy my whole life, but it's actually been extraordinarily helpful in sticking with Weight Watchers. I would never have lost 90 pounds without carefully pre-tracking before I eat and, perhaps more importantly, planning my meals well in advance.

I thought I'd share the planning method that's worked for me. I spent the last few days in a cabin for my birthday (and I hit 100% of my daily goal for my Jawbone UP each day!) and it made me realize how incredibly difficult Weight Watchers would be if I wasn't able to cook my own meals every day. The same meals I make at home are two or three times more Points at a restaurant.  I'm already over my Points for the week, and that's including the Activity Points for four hours of hiking, two hours of horseback riding, and three hours of walking through cave tours, and it's because I ate out each day. Even though I made good choices, it was impossible for me to stay under my Points.

Normal weeks are infinitely easier for me. I'm hoping that maybe my method will be helpful for someone who's  struggling because they're eating out too often for the sake of convenience. By planning ahead, I find it just as easy to throw together a meal at home than to order or pick up food from out, which is probably the only way I've been able to stick to this.

So I've mentioned my weekly food delivery service before. I cannot overstate the impact this has had on my life. Please, seriously, see if you have a local food delivery service. It will change your diet completely.

I get an email on Thursday telling me what food I'll receive the following Friday. I can edit my bin through Monday, and then I get another email on Tuesday confirming what I'll get on Friday. So usually by Sunday each week, I know exactly what produce I'll get, so I can plan my meals around it. If eggplant is in season and available in the bin, I'll make some baked eggplant parmesan. If cauliflower is coming, I'll make some curried cauliflower couscous. I also get vegetable stock each week in my bin as an add-on item, and every Thursday I make a big soup by just boiling all of the leftover veggies (and maybe a can of tomatoes or some beans) in the veggie stock. That way, my drawers are empty for Friday's delivery.

I keep two lists on my phone: a grocery list and a meal list. I use both Evernote and Out Of Milk, two free applications, and I have a joint login with my girlfriend. As soon as I update my bin for the following week, I make a list of what meals we're having based on the produce that's in season, and then I make a grocery list based on what we'll need for those meals. She can access the lists on her phone, and checks items off as she shops.

This process has dramatically cut down on our grocery bills because my girlfriend then has a week to cut out coupons for the items we'll need, and she doesn't grab stuff that we might need, she only grabs stuff that we actually need. 

More importantly, though, it's given me a good way to avoid that terrible moment of "Ugh, work sucked, I don't know what to cook...let's order a pizza instead." We usually don't eat fast food, so planning ahead has really helped make dinner prep easier without resorting to getting food from out to save time and energy.

Some of my favorite meals that always make the lineup at least once a month: black bean avocado rollups, zucchini feta galette, cheesy potato casserole with cornbread pepper casserole (made with tons of veggies, applesauce in the cornbread, and broccoli cheese soup in the potato casserole), black bean tacos with nachos, curried cauliflower couscous, baked eggplant parmesan with angel hair pasta, veggie bread pudding (with Kroger biscuits cut up, covered with veggies and some eggs and cheese), black bean burgers with baked potato wedges, chili with leftover cornbread pepper casserole, cheesy quinoa with peppers, Greek wraps with baked saganaki (which is just parmesan sliced really thin, baked with some olive oil, and then spritzed with Bacardi 101, lit on fire, and spritzed with lemon juice), spanikopita with Greek potatoes, roasted cauliflower with fried corn and salad, pizza casserole, angel hair spaghetti pies with veggies (baked in muffin tins), tofu bacon broccoli feta rolls, lentil loaf with mashed cauliflower, and all kinds of soup...bean soup, vegetable stew, chili, butternut squash soup, cheesy soup, spicy soup, all kinds of soup.  

Without planning ahead, there is absolutely no way that I would have lost 90 pounds. I would have resorted to the easy path and I'd still be eating Olive Garden and frozen pizzas most nights. Now, I discovered a love of cauliflower (something I always loathed) and the food delivery also keeps me completely stocked up on fruit, which I can eat all the time without using any Points. 

Anyway, if you don't use a food delivery service yet, I HIGHLY recommend it. If you have a year-round farmers market close by that you can visit weekly, good for you. I just don't have the time or the access, and I love getting a delivery each week with all of the key ingredients to my meals for the week.

I definitely missed it while on vacation, and I know that eating out all weekend will make a difference when I step on the scale tomorrow!

Vacation Fat

I spent the weekend getting fat.

My company sent me to Key West (I went on a similar trip last year) and I had every intention of being good. Truly I did. I started off tracking everything, watching what I ate, behaving the same way that I have the past year and a half.

But then...well, then I started drinking. Once I start drinking, things tend to go downhill rather quickly.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had sucked down maybe 5 key lime pina coladas and was fantasizing about supper. By the end of that day I stopped tracking, and then the next couple of days I told myself "I'm already off the wagon, I might as well take advantage of it!"

So I ate. And ate. And ate some more.

I ended up pigging out at the breakfast buffet every morning, although I did make sure to get a big pile of fruit to go with it. And then, since I wasn't tracking, I had second and even third helpings at dinner.

So I got fat. Fatter. I put on at least 5 pounds.

Was it worth it? Kind of. It was delicious at least, and it felt pretty liberating to be able to eat what I wanted for a few days.


But now I'm tracking again and I'm discovering that only a few days off plan made my appetite grow exponentially. Now, the food I was eating last week is like a snack to me. My low fat yogurt breakfast just makes me sad compared to the croissants with cheese, muffins, french toast, potatoes, and scrambled eggs. My popcorn lunch is pitiful compared to the smorgasbord of rice and bread and casseroles. And my snacks of sugar-free Jell-O and wasabi peas just don't cut it compared to the key lime pie and nachos I was eating in Key West.

So yeah, I'm fatter now than I was a week ago. But I'm back on the plan and I'm going to pay for what I did to my body--I have to lose these pounds AGAIN, which is a frustrating lesson to teach myself.

On a positive note, though, flying was AWESOME. I haven't been able to fit in an airplane seat for years. This is the first time in so long that I didn't feel people staring at me, silently willing me to choose a different row so they wouldn't have to be crammed next to the fat girl. And the seatbelt not only fit, but I had to tighten it! That feels like a miracle after riding all the way home from Puerto Rico with my arms across my lap because I couldn't buckle up.

Also, I walked at least 8 miles one day, and even took a lighthouse tour. I wouldn't have been able to make it halfway up the lighthouse before losing weight and going through my heart surgery. Now, I beat my girlfriend up the stairs and I wasn't even out of breath!

So there you have it, the good and the bad. There is no ugly because Key West was far too beautiful. Unless you can call my bad eating habits ugly--in that case, there was plenty of ugly to go around.

Six-toed Hemingway cat in Key West. I fucking loathe Hemingway, but the cats were awesome!

Ruh Ro, Stomach Flu!

I am home sick today with stomach flu...which was a polite way to tell my employees that I'm violently defiling the bathroom right now.

Unfortunately for me, I'm only experiencing the intestinal distress. My appetite is entirely unaffected. Once the horrible stomach cramps started last night, I felt vaguely nauseated and was a little optimistic that I'd start throwing up along with everything else. But NOPE. I'm actually starving. I'm basically shackled to the toilet at this point, but I am not benefiting one ounce from the helpful vomiting that generally accompanies any stomach bug. I know I should definitely not WANT to throw up. I hate throwing up. Who actually likes vomiting? The problem is that we have a pack of Swiss Cake rolls in the pantry, and I would LOVE to eat them knowing that I would get sick and throw them up so I wouldn't have to count the Points.

Pretty twisted, huh?

I never had the courage for bulimia, nor the discipline for anorexia. I never had any real desire to become anorexic--I love food far too much--but I always thought I could solve all of my problems if I could really binge and purge. My old roommate attended bulimia support group therapy in hopes of picking up some tips and becoming bulimic herself (which, she reasoned, would be easier than, you know, eating right and and working out). It didn't work out for her. Like, at all. She and I both had the binge part down pat, but we just couldn't make ourselves purge.

She was messed up too.

So when I do get sick, as much as I hate it and it makes me cry because I'm a big baby when I'm sick (despite surviving multiple heart surgeries--dumb, right?), I also secretly enjoy being able to eat whatever I want. And sometimes eating delicious stuff and then throwing it up has a dual benefit: everything is out before I digest it, AND it looks so gross that I don't crave those treats for awhile.

Like I said, though, I only have the awful and painful diarrhea. No vomiting. Which means that I'm trapped here, hungry, in the house with Swiss Cake rolls, Smart Ones, hummus and pitas, colby cheese slices, fresh baked bread, crunchy peanut butter, jalapeno pepper jelly with crackers, and a bunch of other shit I'm trying to block out right now.

And I have ZERO weekly Weight Watchers points left for the week, thanks to an ill-advised margarita lunch at work on Friday and a really good queso and enchilada dinner on Saturday. 

I'm trying to keep my mind off of food by immersing myself in A Storm of Swords and cranking up the Fleetwood Mac on my record player, but I'm still making a mental inventory of everything in my kitchen. I can't help it. It's my fat girl mentality striking again.

Being at home alone has always been my time to binge, just like when I would get off the bus and have the house to myself for just long enough to gorge myself on secret Girl Scout cookie stashes or leftover candy hidden behind my bed. When I was in third grade, I would come home and if I was alone, I would immediately grab two cookies (sometimes chocolate chip or Magic Middle, sometimes oatmeal cream pies pulled apart) and cover one with a mound of Reddi-wip, and then make a cookie and whipped cream sandwich, which I would eat in two bites. Now when I'm home alone, I stick my finger in the peanut butter jar and then dip the peanut butter in the fat free whipped cream tub, because I reason that if I eat less than a half tablespoon of peanut butter I don't have to count the points.

So far today, besides the food I actually counted, I've had 5 maraschino cherries, three spoonfuls of fat free whipped cream, 3 Cheetos, half a Ritz cracker, 4 chili cheese Fritos, a lick of honey, 2 Baked Lays dipped in hummus, a pinch of shredded cheddar, 5 semi-sweet chocolate chips, and half a marshmallow. I feel like the queen of eating JUST enough that I don't feel like I should count it. Of course, if you add up all of that shit, it's like at least probably 6 or 7 Points.

But I'm sick so I have every right to stay in denial, right?

Maybe I'll get lucky and end up getting sicker and throw it all up anyway. Then I'd be home another day, though, and faced with the same temptations all over again.

Hopefully I'll just feel better, get back to work, and spend the next two days at my desk, which is stocked with NOTHING delicious. I say two days because...in three days, I go to Key West. For another all-inclusive work trip. Just like the Cancun trip last year. And I know I'm going to gain about 20 pounds in beach cocktails and buffet deserts.

After spending all this time in the bathroom while it's a wind chill of -10 out, though, I am SO ready to go, even if I do end up eating enough for five people!

Lost USPS Package: A Study In Impotent Rage

I am so mad.

Madder than mad.

I'm awash with anger. I'm seething with every fiber of my being. I'm so mad, I feel it in my toenails. I can barely breathe. I feel it in my hair follicles. Everything keeps turning red and I'm blind with the fury. My hands are shaking. I want to cry. I want to breathe fire. I want to turn myself around and around and become a rage tornado and tear through town. I want to hurl stones. I'm the kind of mad that turns your stomach and makes you weak, the kind where your ears ring and your mouth tastes like pennies. I'm trying to calm down but the whole world is red right now. I'm so furious I'm dizzy and hot and tingly. I can't concentrate. I can't speak. I am nothing but fire and fury. I'm getting heartburn. My head is pounding. My pulse is racing. Everything is blurry. I can't get a hold of myself.

The story is dumb and familiar to anyone who has dealt with lost postal packages. To make a long story short ("Too late!" Wow, two Clue references in one post!), the post office has my shit and I'm not getting it back.

**If you're interested in the full version: the post office was supposed to deliver two packages on Friday. One required a signature and the other didn't. They left two notices, one for each package, that I could sign and request redelivery. I checked the online tracking, though, and saw that one of the packages was marked as "Delivered" at 2:30pm and the other was marked as "Delivery Attempted." I called the post office and he said that both packages were right there--he walked to the shelf and looked at them to confirm. He didn't know why the carrier marked it as delivered, and he had no idea why the package that didn't require a signature wasn't delivered, but he said to sign the forms and the packages would be delivered on Saturday. I signed both 3849 forms, wrote to leave the packages on the porch, and put the forms in the mailbox with the flag up. On Saturday, I came home to find NO packages AND NO forms. The carrier took both 3849 forms AND failed to leave my packages. So I called the post office again and tried to explain what happened to help locate my package. Tara, who answered, cut me off and said, "Well, it was marked as delivered. SORRY. You can call back Monday." Listen, I worked in call centers for years and I know enough to be nice on the phone. I know the people on the other end are trying to help but are limited in what they can do. THIS BITCH Tara just did not give a FLYING FUCK. Like, not a SINGLE fuck was given. Why do people like this even have jobs? I tried to be polite and ask if there was anyone else I could talk to and bitch said NOPE. I asked if she could just look at the shelf to see if my package was there, as it had been the day before, and bitch said NOPE. I asked if she had an employee number so I could call her manager on Monday and bitch said NOPE. So I went off. I told her that her stupid ass is the reason the USPS is failing. She hung up on me, naturally. So I called back. She let it ring for a few minutes, then picked it up and pushed a button for a few minutes (the same trick I used to use when mean people were calling in to me). I knew she could hear me so I went off on a tirade that would make a sailor blush. She hung up. I called again and shouted at her while she pushed buttons. And again. And again. I don't think I'll be able to use the terms "flaming cunt rag" or "ignorant fucking twat" for a long time without thinking of Tara.**

But of course calling them didn't DO anything. Except maybe get me on Tara's personal "lets fuck up her mail" list. That's the problem with getting mad at the post office: you can't do SHIT about it. I can just be mad. Like, that's literally all I can do. I can seethe, and I can file a report for list mail (which I did, but the complaint didn't go through because the package was marked as Delivered, even though the manager confirmed Friday night that it was sitting right there in front of him...jesus). I can only be mad. So I AM being mad. Really mad. I am nothing but skin and hair and impotent rage. I don't want it to ruin my night or my weekend, but what else can I DO? I can't fight back, I can't threaten them (you know, federal laws and all). I can't march down there and snatch my shit off the shelf myself. I can only seethe.

I know lost packages are a SUPER INCREDIBLY MINOR thing to get all worked up about. It's not even the packages I'm so fucking pissed off about--I'm more pissed off at being so helpless. I'm completely at the mercy of this fucking idiot Tara who clearly doesn't give a shit about anything, and my mail carrier, who is obviously a fucking moron. I'm just so, so mad that there's nothing I can do about any of it. I hate being this mad, and I really hate not being able to soothe myself.

Before Weight Watchers, I would deal with this situation in one of two ways: I would either gorge myself on food, or get blind fucking drunk. Both of those things would set me back on my Points now, though, and it's just not worth it. I'm not going to let this one shitty fucking thing set me back a week or two or three at weigh-in. I won't.

So how's a girl supposed to deal?

I went so long, like so many fat girls, eating my feelings. If something made me sad, or mad, or stressed, or even happy, I would eat. If I had a bad day, I'd go get a Blizzard from Dairy Queen. If I was celebrating a promotion or a birthday, I'd go to a fondue restaurant and eat for four hours. If I was pissed off at someone, I'd go eat a Snickers bar and wash it down with some chocolate milk.

And when I didn't fill myself with food, I filled myself with alcohol. Vodka, rum, Mad Dog, it didn't matter. I have been open about my problems with alcohol. After my heart surgeries and now Weight Watchers, alcohol just isn't a very big part of my life. I can count on two hands the number of times I got really drunk in 2013, and even then I was counting my drinks so I could record the Points afterward.

So no food, no alcohol...I already took my prescribed Xanax and it didn't help. How do normal people cope?

It feels very strange to, at the age of 31, just now begin finding suitable coping mechanisms to deal with unpleasant situations. The escapism of my youth isn't cutting it. The college years coping was even worse--I can't very well go blow a few lines of coke now, or take some mushrooms and wander through the woods, or eat peyote and spend a few hours walking a labyrinth. I mean, I guess I could, but I should probably find some methods that don't involve illegal drugs. Besides, did I mention that I'm 31? If I went to hit up some of the bridge kids for ketamine or ecstasy now, they'd probably think I was a narc instead of just some loser looking to score drugs because she had a bad day.

I can't just start chugging Smirnoff or Boone's Farm--do you know how many Points are in a bottle of Hot Damn?! I can't start a Power Hour and get wasted...not if I plan to eat anything this week.

So I tried yoga. I started my Pilates dvd. I'm breathing deeply, drinking herbal stress-relieving tea, listening to The Dark Side Of The Moon on vinyl, smoking a joint (hey, I can't give up EVERYTHING, people, DON'T JUDGE ME!), thinking of things to be grateful for, hoping the rage subsides.

And really, really, really fucking hoping that my packages get here some day.

If they don't, I don't know what I'll do. Probably combust. I'll just be gone in a flash of light and smoke. My head will explode and my faulty heart will collapse on itself.

Xanax isn't helping. Pilates isn't helping. Chamomile and lavender isn't helping.

Seriously, please tell me: how do I cope without food or alcohol? How do normal people deal with shit? I have no fucking clue right now. It's not in my nature to just bend over and take it up the ass. If I want to continue getting my mail, though, I better get used to it.

Reality Bites

So after beating myself up all day about gaining weight, I was in a pretty shitty mood last night. I made supper, which cheered me up a little, and I sat down to eat. My girlfriend was excited about the Greek wraps (with homemade hummus, made with only garbanzo beans and the juice from the can instead of olive oil, plus some lemon juice and garlic and tons of spices) and saganaki (baked, not fried, with some fresh baked pita chips). I was excited, too, because I've been CRAVING saganaki for weeks. I remarked that I was happy I had waited until she bought some cheese so I could make it, instead of caving and ordering the fried and breaded saganaki from our favorite Greek restaurant.

That's when I realized that, although I feel like I've totally let myself go for the past month, the reality is that I am still doing LEAGUES better than I would have been without Weight Watchers. Without having to track everything, I wouldn't have thought twice about picking up saganaki, plus some spanikopita, plus a whole order of baklava for dessert. I would have had three pieces of pie on Christmas instead of splitting a piece with my girlfriend. I would have eaten a whole bag of Hershey's Miniatures instead of picking out six and giving the rest away. I would have gone out to eat and ordered two appetizers, an entree, and dessert, all while drinking a regular soda and maybe topping it off with a Mudslide.

So yeah, it feels like I've fucked up. It seems like I've given up and gained all of my weight back.

But it's not so bad. I'm not so bad. I'm bad, but not as bad as I could be.

Which is pretty good.

Feeling Like a Failure

It's the holidays.

I have to keep reminding myself of that. Well, actually, other people keep reminding me of that. Especially since my weigh in today. I gained 2.4 pounds since last week. Now I'm back up to 212 pounds. That's a big difference from the 304 pounds I started at, but also a far cry from where I wanted to be by now.

Seriously, though, Weight Watchers is making me start to hate the holidays. As much as I love getting into the Christmas spirit, I find it hard to separate the awesomeness of the season from the awesome treats that are around every corner. Gingerbread cookies, eggnog milkshakes, peppermint mochas, red and green Rice Krispy treats, Christmas tree-shaped Snickers, festive M&Ms, white chocolate Oreos, cupcakes with sprinkles...not to mention the beautiful buffets of cheeseballs, crackers, nachos, finger sandwiches, creamy dips, warm casseroles...it's enough to make me go fucking crazy.

Being a food addict (which, lets face it, I totally am) around the holidays is TOUGH, man. I mean, really tough. And it's so easy to indulge. You know, like, it's Christmas. It's once a year. Might as well have that white chocolate shake and finish it off with some cinnamon sugar cookies, right?

And I am really bad at succumbing to peer pressure. I've been so strong all year, but now I have people offering me treats and candy with the unintentionally evil, "Oh, you've done so well, you deserve this!" Or, "It's Christmas--time to reward yourself!"

It's obviously not doing good things for me.

On top of all the food, the weather here SUCKS so going outside for anything is a nightmare. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am just not good at pushing myself to get on the treadmill. So instead, I've been hibernating. My cardiac rehab therapy sessions are over, so instead of spending an hour at the hospital working out three times a week, I instead go home and start snacking until I decide on supper.

Plus, I've really fallen out of the habit of tracking my daily "Healthy Checks" on the Weight Watchers app. That whole eight glasses of water/three servings of dairy/five servings of fruit an veggies/two servings of healthy oils has been LONG GONE for me. Instead of eating an apple in the afternoon, I have a cookie. Instead of snacking on cherry tomatoes, I eat Chex Mix.

So today, I'm recommitting. I have a glass of water at my desk (for the first time in a couple months, really). I have two servings of veggies with my lunch. And I'm actually tracking it all. I've just come too far to ruin it all now, so I'm going back to the basics.

I felt terrible last Christmas, but I somehow made it through and kept losing weight, despite the food traps along the way.

Hopefully next week I'll be back under 210 pounds. That would be a nice Christmas present to myself. Much better than another glass of eggnog (okay, maybe not MUCH better, but definitely preferable in the long run!).

Gobble, Gobble

No matter how much weight I lose, I am still a fat girl at heart.

I think I always will be.

31 years of overeating can't be reversed by one year of Weight Watchers. Sure, I undid a lot of damage. I shed almost 100 pounds. I've learned portion control and built healthy eating habits.

But my brain is the brain of a fat girl. Nothing reinforces that more than food-centered events like Thanksgiving.

This year, like last year, I spent the few weeks leading up to Thanksgiving slowly panicking about food. What I would eat, how much I would eat, how much I would gain from eating. I pre-tracked my food in the Weight Watchers app and kept going back to balance out my Points. "Okay, maybe I can change the serving of mashed potatoes to a half serving so I can increase my dinner roll from a half to a full...and maybe I can only have a quarter of a slice of pumpkin pie (haha, yeah right, a quarter of a slice) so I can have a teaspoon of real butter instead of a spray butter..."

I had to eat twice again this year, once at my parents' and once at my girlfriend's family's. I must have gone into the WW app 25 times to change what I planned to eat. Luckily, the pre-tracking kind of worked for me. I knew what I could and couldn't have, and I didn't end up freaking out at the end of the day after accidentally going over my Points. I'm also aware now of just how much my family influences me to overeat, and I swallowed a couple Xanax to help cope with all of the food and emotional landmines my parents put in front of me. I came armed with a fruit salad I whipped up, made entirely of fresh fruit (pomegranate, pineapple, cranberries, apple, lime juice) topped with stevia and some pumpkin pie spice. Zero Points, so I had something to snack on whenever the cream puffs and cheese ball started calling my name. I felt really prepared.

I did face a somewhat unexpected hurdle, however: some CRAZY intense guilt over eating so much. Even though I tracked and knew exactly what I was eating, and I'd planned it all so meticulously, I still just felt incredibly gross and guilty for eating as much as I did. I was stuffed. Really stuffed. My family thinks it's funny that a vegetarian can get so full at a meat-centric feast, but I completely gorged myself. I was careful to be realistic about measuring my food and eyeballing what I couldn't measure, but even eating the small portions didn't make me feel better. After my meal, I felt the same sort of shame that I used to feel as a child after touching myself...like, dirty and embarrassed and ashamed and worried that my palms would grow hair. Or, well, in this case worried that I would gain 10 pounds overnight (which does totally happen to me, as scientifically impossible as that may seem).

Really, it was a terrible, sickening, and stomach-churning guilt. Maybe some of the churning was from the four deviled eggs I ate, or the mound of green bean casserole, but most of it was from a very uncomfortable inner monologue that went something like, "Gross. Why are you eating all of this? Ugh, why is it so so delicious? Seriously though, what are you doing? You're going to derail and defeat yourself. You've been making progress and here you go, throwing it all away from some toasted marshmallows baked on top of sweet potatoes...mmm sweet potatoes...stop it! Stop eating! Oh but it's so good..." I started to feel a little crazy and obsessive by the end of the day. And as I predicted, I still gained about five pounds this morning. And, naturally, that weight gain justified my shame and guilt, so now I feel even worse about eating so much.

That didn't stop me from bringing home some leftovers, though, or from polishing off the pecan tassies before I even went to bed last night (and subsequently using up the very last of my weekly Points allowance only ONE DAY into my Weight Watchers week...meaning I won't get more weekly Points until next Wednesday...). This food shaming is a new development for me, and I hate it. I hate it almost as much as I hate being hungry all the time.

But I'm still truckin' along. I'm too close to being under 200 pounds to even think about quitting. I may still be a fat girl inside but, on the outside, that fat girl is melting away, slowly but surely.

Another Hungry Day

At this point, I've lost a little more than 85 pounds on Weight Watchers. I'm actually smaller right now than I was all through college. In fact, I can only remember weighing this amount or less two times since middle school: once was the summer between high school and college when I went on Atkins pretty religiously for a couple months and got down to 211 pounds for a day (before shooting back up to 215...but still. And then I started eating like a human again and gained it all back.). The second time was the summer after college when I was super poor and had to choose between food and vodka and I chose vodka for a month or so...I starved myself down to 216 pounds. Again, that was only for about a week before my grandparents took pity on me and started buying me food.

The rest of the time since middle school, my weight has swung wildly from 225 pounds up to my highest (recorded) weight of 304 pounds. Now my scale has been fluctuating 213 pounds and 219 pounds. Not bad.

Buuuut...I am STILL OBSESSED WITH FOOD.

I wish things had changed. I wish I could live like a normal person and eat when I'm hungry, socialize without thinking about food the entire time, plan my day without thinking first about what I'll eat that day. But that's not me. That's not my life. Instead, I think about food when I wake up in the morning. Hell, sometimes I dream about food. Yeah. Some weekends when I have nothing going on and can sleep in as late as I want to, I get up ONLY because I want to eat.

There are all those little tricks people tell you about, like doing something else for 15 minutes and then eating only if you still really want the food after 15 minutes. Or having a little nibble of whatever you're craving and then stopping because your body doesn't care how much it gets, only that it gets something. Well...that's bullshit. When I try to do something else and reevaluate if I want the food in 15 minutes, I just spend a full 15 minutes thinking entirely about food. And if I just have a nibble, then it's even worse and I can't think about anything else in the world until all of the food is gone. Nibbles do not work for me. I am too obsessed with eating and with being full.

Weight Watchers has been amazing in helping me lose weight, and it kind of works with my food obsession. I can track and pre-track and plan my meals well in advance and, you know, it takes a certain kind of person to weigh and measure every morsel of food that you consume. But it also means that I can never just 'let go' and eat without thinking about it. That's a good thing, but it's also incredibly frustrating.

Like today, for instance. I am HUNGRY. Or that's the message my brain is getting. I know I'm not actually, literally hungry. I have food in my stomach. I am eating roasted new potatoes and onions and zucchini with vegetable broth and barbecue and shaved parmesan and it's spicy and warm and delicious, but I still want more. More of anything. I want to cram food into my mouth until I feel sick.

You know that scene in Matilda? Where the Trunchbull makes that kid Bruce eat the whole chocolate cake and he's all sweating and everything thinks he's going to pass out and die? Yeah, I could totally eat that cake. Not a question. There is no doubt in my mind that I could take a fork, settle myself in front of it, and just devour the entire freaking thing. Totally. And I'd love it. And I would ask for milk to wash it down.

Of course, a single slice of cake is something like 14 Points Plus on Weight Watchers. I get 34 Points per day and I am stingy as hell with them, so there's no way Cook's chocolate cake is coming anywhere near my lips. But I could do it. And it would be fucking awesome.

So when does this food obsession go away? Does it ever? Will I ever be able to see an office email about cupcakes without spending the rest of the day eyeing the cupcakes, weighing the pros and cons of eating a cupcake, wondering how good the cupcake is, getting panicky that too many people are eating cupcakes before I decide whether or not I want one? Or is this my life now? Where every food commercial makes me start to drool, and just driving past KFC gives me thoroughly un-vegetarian-like cravings?

When my best friend died two years ago, I thought the pain would never go away. I thought that every day would be a gray haze and I would never be okay again. Slowly, somehow, the pain receded. Instead of thinking about him every minute, I thought about him maybe every 15 minutes. And then maybe every hour. And then a couple times a day. Now, I love him and miss him and think about him at random wonderful and heartbreaking times, but it's not constant. I think of him when his favorite song comes on, or when I read a CNN article that would have gotten his attention. The point is, it got better. It took awhile, but it did definitely get better.

My food cravings though? Not better. It's been more than a year since I started Weight Watchers, and I'm thinking about food just as much as every. WHEN WILL IT END?!

For now...fuck it all, I'm getting that cupcake they emailed about. There are only three left and it's driving me fucking crazy. At least it's a mini cupcake.

Over The Hill! Or Plateau, Whatever

FINALLY! Seriously, FINAL-FUCKING-LY. I got over it. I broke through the plateau. I thought I was going to give up. I really thought about moving to Canada and living as an Inuit under layers of fur and hide. I didn't think it was going to happen. I didn't think I was going to make it.

But I did.

My Wednesday Weight Watchers weigh-in outcome: down 3.8 pounds, for a grand total of 56.8 pounds lost and a current weight of 247.2. This is the smallest I've been in 5 years. That's a big deal for me. But breaking through that fucking plateau feels like an even more remarkable victory.

I was really feeling crazy. Seven weeks without losing weight, when you're really working hard at it, is so devastating. Incredibly discouraging. I for real thought about quitting, but I had some kind friends and strangers (including randoms from the Weight Watchers community board, who somehow saw my surrender flag and rushed in to give me advice and support) who helped me put things into perspective. Like the fact that I had already lost over 50 pounds--did I really want to go back to weighing more than 300 pounds? That answer is a clear NO FUCKING WAY. I don't want to go back. But I just psychologically could not continue following Weight Watchers without losing weight. I couldn't keep passing up second helpings and limiting my delicious cheese intake without seeing some results. I was ready to go fucking crazy.

And the weirdest part is that I think I figured out what was causing my plateau, and completely preventing me from losing weight. The culprit: Fiber One 90 Calorie Bars. Seriously!

After pretty consistently shedding weight from August through mid-February, I abruptly stopped losing weight. Everyone said to stick with it and the plateau would break. I waited a week, two weeks, three weeks...oh my god, every weigh-in was so horrible. I couldn't figure it out. I was weighing and measuring all my food, I was drinking enough water, I was moving more and being active and even doing stuff I don't normally do, like playing on playgrounds with my niece and nephew and hiking down to the creek to take pictures. That scale was not budging. I tried all of the little tips people gave me: switch up my breakfasts, try alternating high- and low-Point days, take a walk, drink more water.

When nothing was working, last Thursday I tried thinking of anything that had changed at the end of February to make me stop losing weight. I had already wracked my brain for changes in activity, medication, whatever. Then it struck me: late February was when my girlfriend discovered Fiber One bars and I LOVED them! I started eating those Fiber One brownie things (they're only 2 Points) and then the Fiber One 90 Calorie Bars (the caramel pretzel is amazing). I was eating them every day, sometimes one of each every day. I was counting the Points and everything, but somehow I guess my body just went nuts. I stopped eating them last Thursday just to see if it made a difference, and I lost a pound overnight. That hasn't happened in months. Then I kept them out of my diet all week until weigh-in just to see, and I was down 3.8 pounds.

Amazing.

Oh, and I'm, uh, having my 'monthly cycle'...which means I will hopefully/probably lose next week too.

It feels really good to be back on track, but even better knowing that I stuck with it even when I was discouraged and really pissed off. I've never stuck with anything that gave me SEVEN WEEKS of failure. The fact that I continued to eat right, continued to track my food, and continued to make good food choices instead of falling completely off the wagon means that maybe something has changed that's more than a scale victory. Maybe my brain is changing. It feels like everything's coming together right now--I'm finally losing weight, which has been my dream and fantasy for so many years without me ever making much progress. I also got promoted at work, so now I'm a department manager overseeing two creative teams. I have my dream job at a magazine, I have an amazing girlfriend who puts up with my tantrums, I feel pretty hot right now, I'm getting compliments from everyone about my weight loss, my skin looks fabulous thanks to all of the cool products I'm trying (blame that one on my serious subscription box addition), my hair is my favorite color of Cotton Candy Pink (a happy accident--apparently bleaching purple hair makes it turn pink and all you can do is add more pink), the birds are singing, flowers are growing, and the weather is turning nice so I can finally put the top down on the convertible.

I think this is going to be a good spring.

Seriously? Seven Week Weight Loss Plateau? SERIOUSLY?

I wrote this last week and never posted it...here you go...

I am feeling pretty discouraged right now. I've gone through a lot of emotions since weigh-in Wednesday (4/10): anger, embarrassment, defeat, anger, indignation, confusion, anger, desperation, guilt, depression, more anger. I thought about quitting. I talked about it. I begged for advice from people who have gone through this before. I got angrier. I got defiant. I decided to eat whatever the fuck I wanted. Then I felt guilty and tracked everything I ate. The cheese coma Wednesday night made me feel better for a brief moment, but I'm still mad. And guilty. And despondent.

Here's what's up: I have been struggling to get over this weight loss plateau for seven weeks now. It's really pissing me off. I have been losing and gaining the same pound over and over. Now I'm at a point where something's gotta give, or I'm just going to lose my fucking mind.

Tumbling After

I don't want to jinx myself, but I may have knocked my body off its weight loss plateau.

I'll have to wait until my Wednesday weigh-in to know for sure, but I think I'm actually starting to lose again. WHEW. I was getting really frustrated and depressed over my lack of progress for the past month and a half.

My Weight Watchers meeting leader told me to try eating different breakfasts (apparently if you've been eating Yoplait pretty much every single morning for five years, your body gets used to it...who knew?) so I've been making banana berry smoothies and having a Fiber One bar a little later. Plus, I've been trying to get in my daily recommended healthy oil. I don't know why eating more oil is going to help, but if it works I don't care why.

Even if I don't lose this weight (but I seriously fucking BETTER lose this week) I'm still happy:
I rode in a go-kart today WITH a six year old kid and I didn't crush her! After all of my painful and cringe-worthy moments at the amusement park last summer as a result of my weight, I was really nervous about riding the go-karts. I was there with my niece (technically my girlfriend's niece, but I think since my girlfriend and I have been together longer than she's been alive, I have the right to call her my niece. Besides, she's called me Auntie all her life anyway...which I love :)). Her grandparents asked her who she wanted to drive with her since she's not tall enough to ride alone, and I died a little inside when she picked me. I did the usual watch-everyone-in-line-to-see-if-I'm-the-biggest thing. And I pretty much hyperventilated the whole time waiting to board. When we got in the car, though, I was able to fasten the seat belt comfortably and we sat side-by-side without her being squashed into the corner. And since I fit and I was comfortable, it was FUN! Really fun! And all of the pictures everyone took as we whizzed past turned out fine, without my double chin dangling down like a turkey wattle.

On top of that, I've been getting compliments from people this past week and it's awesome. Seeing my family at Easter started off the good-vibey warm-fuzzies week with everyone telling me I look good. My girlfriend commented several times, one of my best friends who only gives compliments rarely and very begrudgingly told me I've obviously lost a lot of weight, and my girlfriend's family was impressed. And then one of my employees sent me a note telling me I look great and to keep it up. I immediately employed my weird compliment-brush-off by complaining about not making any progress for over a month, and she responded with a bit of wisdom that I REALLY needed to hear. I wish I could remember exactly how she phrased it, but it was something like, "Even people climbing Mount Everest stop at base camp along the way."

So maybe this plateau is just base camp. I'm adjusting to the altitude. Now it's time to pack up my shit and move on!

Tagalong Plateau

LOSING WEIGHT SUCKS.

Seriously.

This is not fun. Well, it would be more fun if I were ACTUALLY LOSING WEIGHT. Instead, I've been losing and gaining the same pound for a month and a half. A MONTH AND A HALF! I am the same weight that I was on 2/20, even though I have been tracking everything religiously on Weight Watchers.

Is this was a plateau feels like?

I wouldn't know. I've never lost enough to even hit a plateau. Or when I did stop losing weight for even a week or so, I'd just give up and eat what I want. Like, fuck it, right?

But I'm really trying not to go that this time. I'm really trying to stay focused on losing weight, but it's SO FUCKING HARD.

Like Easter. Everyone else enjoyed Easter baskets full of candy and chocolate, or stuffed their faces with banana pudding and my grandma's special eclair cake. I measured, weighed, and tracked every morsel and...I didn't even get an Easter basket this year :( Yes, it's sad that I am 31 and this is the first year I have not gotten a basket. But STILL! That's sad.

At my weigh-in yesterday I think my meeting leader saw my frustration (or maybe the "FUCK!" that flew from my lips tipped her off) and tried to talk to me about some strategies. I told her I'm still nervous about working out, with my stupid non-functioning heart valve and all that, so she tried to find other sources of my weight loss stagnation. Not drinking enough water (it's true), not meeting my healthy guidelines for oil (well, if I have to choose between one Point of oil and one Point of chocolate, who do you think wins??), and then said something that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time (ala my favorite movie quotation, courtesy of Steel Magnolias: "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion..." but this was NOT a good emotion)...she asked if I had stress and said stress can make your body hold on to fat. I was like, "HA! Okay, so I have no hope?"

I mean, I have super high anxiety anyway. All the time. I take Xanax to manage it but it honestly doesn't do much good. On top of that, I just got a promotion at work last week so now I'm in charge of about two times more than I was before...and I was already in charge of a LOT. So if stress is going to keep me from losing weight, I should probably just throw in the towel now because this belly is not going anywhere.

But I won't give up. At least, not yet. She also gave me a few other suggestions: try eating a bigger breakfast (I've been eating a container of yogurt every morning for around five years now, so it makes sense that my body would get used to it) and a smaller supper (I stuff my face at supper because that's the time I have to cook big delicious meals, but if it'll help I will try).

Still, something's gotta give. Last week I lost .8 pounds, down to 249.4. This week, I gained 1.2 pounds, back up to 250.6. I've still lost over 50 pounds since I started out at 304 pounds in August, but this past month and a half has been really discouraging.

I hate missing out on good food. I know that in the long run I'll be happier and healthier and missing out on Girl Scout cookies for one year isn't going to make my big list of Life Regrets when I'm on my death bed. But I titled this post Tagalong Plateau because that was actually the name of one of my favorite cats growing up. I was a Girl Scout for 13 years and Tagalong Plateau is the name of a landmark reached by the Girl Scouts in some really weird old cassette tape I used to listen to before bed (which I sadly can't find anywhere and of which I can find no reference on the almighty Google). All of my cats had Girl Scout cookie names. I fucking love Girl Scout cookies. This year? ZERO cookies. I couldn't trust myself to buy a box because I totally knew I would eat the whole thing. I gave a donation to our local Girl Scout Council instead (partly to assuage my guilt over turning down all the cookie offers, and partly in support of their acceptance of gay scouts, which is a really big deal to me). But I'm SAD I didn't eat a Girl Scout cookie, and I STILL gained weight. Like, maybe I should have eaten a whole box just so I could point my finger and say "There, yep, that's why I gained weight...whole box of delicious cookies. Worth it." Instead, I'm looking back through my month's food tracker thinking "Wow, I made some really healthy choices and ate a ton of veggies and really cut back on the cheese and chocolate and all things delicious...so why the fuck did I GAIN? AGAIN?!"

I'm not giving up, but I'm getting more and more tempted to just go sit at a Golden Corral and stuff my face until they drag me away from the buffet with a trail of mac n cheese and gummy bears behind me...

SICK

I am sick.

I HATE being sick.

I was so sick that I actually stayed home from work yesterday, and then I left after about 3 hours today. Ugh. More time sitting on the couch.

Being sick is sucky in general, but I really REALLY hate the food cravings I get when I'm sick. When my throat hurts, I want to stuff my face with milkshakes. When I have a fever, I want to load up on stuff like buttery crackers and bread. When I'm sick to my stomach, Sprite is the only thing that does the trick (and none of that Diet Sprite crap).

Being home alone with a full fridge and stocked pantry is very difficult. I've really tried to make sure we have plenty of healthy snack options, but when I'm home sick I can make anything unhealthy. I've been mixing whipped cream with hot cocoa mix, and stirring actual peanuts and Hershey's syrup into peanut butter. I can't stop myself.

I'm hoping this dose of NyQuil will knock me out so I can stop eating. I missed weigh-in yesterday and I would hate to go to Weight Watchers next week and find that I gained 15 pounds.

At least I think I've lost a pound or so of mucus...ewwww....

To Vegan Or Not To Vegan

I've been struggling with a bit of a moral dilemma for a few days, I'm not really not sure what to do.

Bear with me as I try to sort myself out.

I've been a vegetarian for more than a decade now. I gave it up for New Year's one year, so I started January 1, 2003. Never once have I looked back. Sure, I get cravings every now and then for certain things, like popcorn shrimp or bacon (BACON!!!!!!). But I'm usually able to talk myself down from those cravings by either grossing myself out (shrimp=fish=nastyfishysmells, etc) or making a vegetarian alternative (my version of tofu bacon=amazingly delicious!).

One thing I haven't been able to live without is cheese. I LOVE cheese. I've already waxed poetic about my love affair with cheese (and the complete meltdown--shame on my pun--I had when I tried eating fat free cheese for a week.

I was actually a vegan for the first three months after I stopped eating meat, but I survived mostly on beer and sunflower seeds. Not exactly sustainable. I caved, devoured some nachos, and I've been chowing down on cheese ever since then.

It took longer to work milk and eggs back into my diet, and I still wouldn't reach for a glass of milk or a plate of scrambled eggs if there was something more delicious in front of me, but I definitely haven't held back from the milk and eggs. They're on our grocery list every week. I don't think twice before whipping up a quiche, fried egg sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, egg salad, etc. I'm the designated deviled egg maker for both my family and my girlfriend's family, so it's not uncommon for us to get three 18-packs of eggs around Easter and Thanksgiving.

My mornings aren't complete without some light yogurt, too. And I have Smart Ones ice cream pretty much every night. Whipped cream is one of my favorite desserts. I can rarely pass up FroYo in any form.

Which brings me to my struggle: I feel REALLY bad about still eating eggs and dairy. I ignored it for a long time (like, 9 years long...) but then I made the awful mistake of watching Vegucated on Netflix.

Oh. My. God.

I am no stranger to PETA, and I've seen some of the most disturbing animal videos out there. But in Vegucated, when they show the baby chicks being ground up alive...I cant. I mean, I seriously can't. I can't even go there.

So I did the best thing I could--I started researching. I already have a weekly food delivery service, and they offer dairy and eggs that are organic, free range, local, etc. Everything I thought I wanted...until my research commenced. I contacted the dairy farms and the egg producers available through the service, and asked what I thought were pretty simple questions. I mean, these aren't factory farms. I know what goes on there, and I want no part of it. I was trying to talk to the "good guys," relatively speaking.

I asked the dairy farms:

1) I realize this is a dairy farm--what happens to the male calves after they're born, and how long are calves allowed to stay with their mothers after birth?

2) You say the cows are not fed antibiotics. What happens to them when they have an infection?

3) When a cow is eventually unable to produce milk, what happens to her?

The first farm responded:

1) Some of our male calves stay on the farm, to be used as breeding stock, and the rest are sold to other farms, for breeding or meat production. We have relationships with a number of farmers whom we work closely with to pass our calves on to, so we trust that they will be well-cared for.

2) If one of our animals gets an infection, we use natural supplement injections, like Vitamin C, echinacea, and garlic, or external salves to treat the infection. Typically this intervention is sufficient. In the rare case that a cow would need more medical help, we do use antibiotics, but then we sell the cow to another non-organic farm.

3) When our cows stop producing milk we typically use them for the 100% grassfed beef that we sell in our store and cook with in our restaurant.

So that didn't bother me too badly. I understood that this was supplier of meat and dairy, so I expected that they killed some of the cows. No shocker there.

The second farm responded:

1) The calves stay with their mother for about a week after they're born. Male calves are sent to auction.

2) The cows are not routinely given antibiotics, however, if they have an infection they are given antibiotics so that they can get well. Because their milk isn't included with the rest of the milk, they are removed from the milking herd, and milked separately until the infection clears up and the required withdrawal period has passed. The cow is then returned to be milked with the rest of the herd.

3) When a cow has reached an age when their milk production is finished, they go to auction.

Oooookay, well, I don't like the thought of the cows going to auction because I know where they end up. I know how traumatic it is for them to be shoved into a truck (I am definitely one of those people who cries on the highway every time I pass a livestock carrier) and then turned over to some butchers for a devastating death. But...it's a little easier to imagine them going off to a nice little auction, with an old timey caller and some little 4-H kids clutching their money and placing their bids. A total fantasy, I know, but it just seems like having the cow sent off to a euphemistic "auction," I would be oh-so-slightly less directly responsible for the cows dying every time I buy a bottle of milk.

The last dairy was actually a co-op--they responded:

Because organic farmers don’t use certain “tools” like antibiotics to treat illness or artificial growth hormones to increase milk production, animal comfort is the key to their success. Organic farmers must prevent illness and stress on their cows by providing for their nutritional, physical and even emotional well-being. On an organic farm, successfully meeting cows’ needs can mean the difference
between making a living and going out of business.

Cows must have access to the outdoors, sunlight, fresh air, and pasture to graze on fresh grasses. The amount of time depends on the time of year, the weather, the feeding program of the individual farmer and the regional location of the farm. Confinement operations are prohibited in the cooperative. Cows must have clean, dry bedding and cannot be forced to live on concrete. Living quarters must allow enough space for the cow to get up, lie down, groom and interact with other cows, and inhumane practices such as tail docking are not allowed.

Thanks also for your question about what happens to male calves when they are born. In general, dairy farmers would rather have a heifer calf than a bull calf so that they can grow their herd.

Farmers either raise the males as steers for the organic meat market or sell them to other organic farmers that specialize in beef. Like organic milk, organically raised beef also receives a higher price. And, of course, as long as people buy veal, some bull calves will be sent to veal operations. However, we want you to be assured that male calves from the farms in the co-op do not end up in confinement veal operations. There are specific animal care requirements within organic standards that prevent farmers from raising calves in confinement conditions, and because organically-raised calves are more valuable it would not make financial sense to sell a bull calf to a conventional veal operation.

OH HELL NO! They did not just try to justify veal to me! No. No way. Not interested in anything coming from them--the thought of veal makes my stomach churn. Ugh. Too bad, because the beginning of the email was going so well...happy cows, sunshine and emotional well-being...they just totally lost me with the veal.

So the first two dairy options aren't ideal, but they sound a lot better than the last farm. I was hoping to have more luck with the egg farm. I researched their website and then asked:

1) You mention that the hens "arrive" at the farm. From where do your hens originate, and how are they transported?

2) I realize this is also a meat farm, so the female chicks are likely raised for meat. But what happens to the male chicks?
3) You say the hens are not fed antibiotics. What happens to the hens when they have an infection?

Their response:

Thanks for getting in touch. We appreciate your interest in learning more about your food source.

1) Usually the laying hens arrive to us as day old chicks from a hatchery. They are transported through the USPS.

2) The baby chicks come pre-sexed so we receive 95+ percent females. We keep the few males we receive as roosters for the flock. The said truth is that chickens are bred by hatcheries to either be efficient layers or efficient meat birds then the opposite sex is simply disposed of. The only solution is to breed for dual purpose chicken breeds so that females can be used for eggs and males for meat. However, this equates for less efficient production and will mean much higher production cost for both eggs and meat. Unless consumers are willing to pay $6 to $7 per dozen for eggs and $10-$12 per pound of chicken then I cannot raise and sell a dual purpose breed. Would you be willing to pay this much for your eggs and chicken?

3) Chickens with sickness or infection generally is not a problem because of how we raise them. We simply never administer a drug or antibiotic to them.

I gave you an honest answer to your 2nd question. I'd love to get your thoughts as this is a conundrum in our modern food and agriculture system that both consumers and farmers simply want to avoid discussing.

OH JESUS WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?! The day old chicks are SHIPPED IN THE MAIL?!?!?! And the "opposite sex" chicks are "SIMPLY DISPOSED OF"?!?!?! WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?!?!?!?!?!?!? (This is another instance where the use of an interrobang would be immensely helpful.)

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I can never eat eggs again. Of course, I happened to read this email on my phone while I was getting ready to go into work, so I ended up walking into the office a sobbing, mascara-streaked mess.

DISPOSED OF?!?!

I was so totally sickened.

Listen, I know not everyone is a sappy animal lover. I know for some people, ignorance truly is bliss and they honestly don't want to think about where their meat comes from. But I thought I was doing a GOOD thing by not eating meat! I thought that a decade of vegetarianism was wracking me up good karma points, and I thought that having eggs for breakfast instead of sausage was actually saving animals' lives. I had NO IDEA that my eggs were killing other baby chicks. I thought that, since the eggs were unfertilized and since hens lay eggs all the time anyway, it was like...well...like sperm or something. No harm, no foul. Nothing sacrificed.

I had no clue that every male chick was DISPOSED OF. I feel deceived. I know it's my own fault--I didn't ask the right questions before. The answers were right there, I just needed to ask and I didn't. I lived in quiet stupid complacency and, because of me, little fluffy baby chicks were being ground up like they were nothing at all.

Once I stopped crying long enough to see my screen, I was finally able to answer the question posed in the egg farmer's email. I wrote:

 

Thank you so much for your honest and informative reply. To answer your question, yes, I would be willing to pay $7 (or more) for a dozen eggs if I knew there were no ethical concerns with the eggs or the chicks--but I certainly realize I'm not the average consumer. I've been a vegetarian for more than a decade, and I've been struggling to continue to justify my egg and dairy consumption. The reason I reached out to you and several other farms was because I was hoping to find a local supplier that would allow me to continue eating eggs without sacrificing my passion for the ethical treatment of animals. Unfortunately, I don't think this is possible--eggs are an industry, industries exist to earn money, and, as you said, having dual purpose breeds just doesn't earn enough money.

I would love to have the option of purchasing completely ethical eggs, regardless of the cost. I would be happy to pay $1 to $2 per individual egg just to have a quiche once a week. Again, I realize I'm not the average consumer. I think you'd be surprised to find how many others share my values, however, and I hope that you will take this into consideration.

Thanks again for your honest answers. Farms like yours are a far cry from industrial farms, and I do applaud your efforts. If you have any other thoughts or questions for me, I'd love to hear them.

I haven't heard back.

 

I did find someone just a few streets over who raises chickens in her backyard and sells their eggs. She feeds them organic feed and table scraps, treats them like pets, and doesn't kill any baby chicks. Once I can stomach eggs again, I'll probably go over and pick some up.

 

But my dilemma is this: is it really worth it? Is it really worth the pain I'm causing, just to chow down on eggs and cheese and FroYo? I've really tried to be kind to animals and live my life ethically, so it only makes sense to give up animal products altogether--however, I think giving up cheese is just going to drive me to other unhealthy foods to fill the void. I seriously love cheese. And the three months I was vegan were horrible for me. I have to force myself to eat vegetables, so I basically always hated everything I ate. I don't want to turn to that awful vegan cheese or processed soy hotdogs. I want to continue to have my yogurt and Smart Ones and whipped cream and the occasional egg salad sandwich, but I don't want to cause animals to suffer because of it.

 

I just don't know what to do.

 

I've managed to lose over 50 pounds on Weight Watchers now, and the only week I considered giving up was the one week I was on the Simply Filling plan--that's because I ate only fat free cheese, and it was fucking disgusting. I don't want to give up cheddar. I don't want to cause suffering, but I also don't want to suffer myself. I don't want to sabotage my weight loss efforts by forcing myself into an overly restrictive vegan diet, but I can't crack an egg right now without seeing those little chicks being ground up alive.

 

So what the fuck do I do?

PSA: Kroger's Great Value Tortilla Thins Full of Delicious Lies

I feel the need to make a Public Service Announcement: the Kroger Great Value/Private Selection Tortilla Thins Tortilla Chip nutritional information is grossly incorrect.

The nutritional label states that a serving size is 1 ounce, or 22 chips. I have weighed out 1 ounce from three separate bags now, and it's only 9 or 10 chips.

BOO!

22 chips is more like 2 ounces. That's more than double the Points, calories, fat, carbs, etc. ARGH!

I kept buying the Thins because I could have SO MANY with each meal--seriously, some brands have, like, a serving size of 7 chips. We have gotten bag after bag of the Tortilla Thins because there is a HUGE difference between having 7 chips and having 22 chips. 7 chips with salsa is a light snack; 22 chips with salsa is a meal. 7 chips with melted cheese is a side item; 22 chips with melted cheese is a dinner platter.

I'm so disappointed with Kroger. I tried to call and email them about it, but they just brushed me off saying they'd look into it. This was a few weeks ago, and the bags haven't changed. They don't seem to get it. I mean, 9 chips versus 22 chips is a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE. I was calculating the wrong Points for months. But aside from my own petty complaints, this could have serious health repercussions for people.

A diabetic closely monitoring carbohydrates knows there's a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE between 18g and 36g of carbs.

A heart patient monitoring sodium knows there's a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE between 75mg and 150mg of sodium.

And anyone monitoring fat or calories knows there's a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE between 140 calories/7g of fat and 280 calories/14g of fat.

And anyone one Weight Watchers knows there's a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE between 4 Points and 8 Points.

This is really dangerous misinformation.

And I'd venture to call this false advertising as well. I was purchasing a product specifically because of the information presented on the label, and it was incorrect. I like the Tortilla Thins because they're good, but I BUY them because I thought I could have 22 per serving for 4 Points. LIES.

Anyway, I've been thinking of this every time I see the chips, so I wanted to share. I'm now really careful to weigh out my food instead of going by the product label, but it would be nice to live in a world where you could actually trust the packaging.

Naughty Kroger!

Healthy Surprise Subscription Box

I got a Healthy Surprise in the mail.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a very good surprise. Not for me, anyway.

I've been a little, um, obsessed with subscription boxes lately. It started with BarkBox. Then I signed up for Loot Crate. Then Healthy Surprise. I'm currently waiting for BirchBox.

But the one I was TOTALLY MOST EXCITED ABOUT was Healthy Surprise. I loved the idea of getting a big box of snacks every month, full of things I'd never think to try at the store but I just might love. I was looking forward to sampling new things, branching out of my snack rut, and filling my cabinets with organic/vegan/gluten free goodies.

Sadly, it just wasn't for me. At least not on Weight Watchers.

I mean, one of the granola snacks was 9 Points! That's a whole meal for me. Most of the snacks were full of seeds and nuts--super healthy stuff, but also really high in Points.

I love that there were only a few ingredients in each product. And if I was, say, a hiker, I would be totally thrilled to fill my backpack with the chewy energy bars and dehydrated raw foods. For me, though, I just don't need to consume that many Points for a snack.

I'm pretty bummed about it. It's such a good idea, and for anyone looking for high-calorie, nutrient-rich, all-natural food, I would HIGHLY recommend it. The box came within days of me placing my first order, there was a wide variety of products, and the things I did try were totally delicious (like the almonds! YUM!).

The insert that came with my first box said to count ingredients, not calories. I definitely understand that. For people looking to eat healthier, that's always a good thing. But for someone who is still trying to lose more than 100 pounds, it's just not going to work for me.

I was hoping it would be a good addition to my weekly food delivery service but I'm going to have to cancel. Boo.

Now I need a new subscription box to sign up for! :)