She's Come Undone

I've been a bad, bad girl.

And I'm totally paying for it.

I have not really tracked anything since the beginning of June. I tracked RELIGIOUSLY for almost two entire years, never missing a day, and I lost 97 pounds that way.

Now, in the span of around two months, I've undone the entire last year of effort. I gained slowly at first, still making good choices but taking a 'break' from tracking. Then I drank a lot two weeks in a row and still lost, so I decided that maybe drinking wasn't really so bad...so I drank some more...which led to lots of late-night nachos and ice cream...and lots of greasy morning hangover food...and now I'm back up to 226 pounds.

226 doesn't sound that bad to me, actually, under normal circumstances. It's the weight I stayed for most of high school, and I was really proud to get back to 226 after college. Now, though, after being down to 205 and SO CLOSE to hitting 200 pounds for the first time ever...it feels really shitty.

I've really let myself down.

But it's not just my health that I'm destroying right now. I broke up with my girlfriend of almost 9 years, I started dating one of my employees, I then proceeded to sleep with one of my best guy friends and two other coworkers, plus an amputee, and now I'm going on my second OK Cupid date tonight...and I'm sitting here eating chips and guacamole instead of the 94% fat free popcorn I was supposed to have, because my 'boyfriend' (the employee, who I think may be under the impression that we're dating exclusively...since he just dumped the TWO other girls he was seeing...) wanted to walk downtown to get Mexican. What a terrible idea. Terrible ideas all around.

Now my girlfriend (exgirlfriend I guess) wants me to decide if it's over for good or not. I have to move out if we're not getting back together, but she's really trying to make things work. But my employee/boyfriend is also pressuring me to be exclusive, which means I'll have to move out on my own since he lives with his kid and (oh god) wife (they're separated...have been for a long time).

I have no chemistry with my (ex)girlfriend, but our lives are amazing and perfect and supportive and incredible in every way. I have MAD chemistry with my employee/boyfriend but he is ACTUALLY insane and violent and scary and life would be terrible...sexy but terrible...

So I'm going out on these OK Cupid dates, trying to see if there's someone out there I can have chemistry AND compatibility with.

And in the meantime, I'm stress eating like a fucking idiot, I'm binge drinking, and I'm totally and completely neglecting my house, my finances, my family, my work...

You know, if someone came to me with these issues, I would tell them: "Whoa, bitch! Sounds like you need to be alone for awhile. Work on yourself first, then you can think about dating."

But since it's me...well, I'm going full throttle and just hoping I can get my weight back down and find what I'm looking for.

We'll see.

Runaway Train

I hope at least one person reading the title of this post is now singing "Runaway train never goin' back, wrong way on a one way track"...

Man, whatever happened to Soul Asylum? Awesome fucking song.

It's been a weird few weeks of me basically making a fucking mess of my personal life, and it's also been a weird few weeks weight-wise. I hadn't gone a single day without tracking since I started Weight Watchers in August of 2012--even the days that I said I wasn't going to track, I went back and retroactively tracked everything.

Now...I haven't tracked anything for 4 weeks. FOUR WEEKS. At first it was because I drank a shit ton and didn't want to think about it so I called that week a wash and gave myself a break. It was my 10 year college reunion and I didn't want to deal. Plus I made some really bad personal decisions and it was just easier to check out for a few days.

Then the next week was Pride, so I totally overindulged. And also made more horrible personal decisions. Didn't track that week either.

Then...I went on a work trip. Made the worst decision yet. Accompanied by no tracking, too much drinking, etc. I'd been gaining weight (just a tiny bit) for the two weeks prior, but after the work trip I started losing even though I wasn't tracking.

Honestly, I don't know what else to say--I fell in love. With one of my employees. Who's a guy. Yes, I'm in an almost 9 year relationship with my girlfriend.

See? Bad decisions.

So...I'm head over heels, and I've been floating on a cloud for a week now. I have barely even thought about food. I'm on such a high that he's all I think about, he's totally in love with me too, my boss knows and we're straightening stuff out at work, and I'm planning on leaving my girlfriend when we get back from our trip to Denver in two weeks.

Whoa.

I haven't been in love like this since high school, my first love. Who I actually saw last weekend. She's still awesome. Yeah, my personal life is in FUCKING SHAMBLES and it's all my own doing.

So this is the first boy I've ever been in love with. God, I can't believe I wrote that. Never thought I'd be a cheater. Honestly, though, I think I've written before about my lack of sex life. In the past almost 9 years, my girlfriend got me off a total of 6 times. We're just completely sexually incompatible and I thought I could shut off that part of myself...it worked for awhile, but he awoke something in me and, well, he got me off twice in one night. I needed that. I feel sexy for the first time in...well, to be honest, since my first love in high school. So almost 20 years. I'm smaller than I was back then even, and happier than I've ever been. I'm completely addicted to the way he makes me feel.

Plus, I've lost like 10 pounds in the past two weeks. As of today, I'm down to 205 pounds.

That means I've lost a total of 99 pounds.

And I'm about to lose my girlfriend, my house, my dogs, my family, my friends, half of my stuff...and gain a boyfriend...who has a child and a mortgage and...a wife...they're separated (yes, I know for sure, I've met her and anyway I knew they were separated when I hired him two years ago)...oh my god.

Fuck my life.

Runaway train indeed.

Drinking the Kool-Aid

I'm starting to feel like I understand why people enjoy working out, and it's kinda freaking me out. I thought it was seriously so fucking stupid when people would talk about how they love running, or how they miss it if they skip their workouts. I would roll my eyes when people would gush about the adrenaline rush of a good sweat, and felt real pity at the thought of these poor schmucks wasting their time at the gym. It seemed like telling people you like working out is the equivalent of saying you just can't stop getting an A+ on every test even though you never study. Like, shut up, fuck you, no one wants to hear about how perfect you are, jackass.

But...like...god this sounds so lame but I am LOVING walking or hiking every day! I'm logging more Activity Points in a day now than I was in entire week a year ago! I feel awesome when I'm sweaty and sore and tired but still pushing myself up stairs or over a hill!

In other words, I totally drank the exercise Kool-Aid.

To be clear, I was doing just fine losing weight on Weight Watchers without working out. In fact, I lost pretty much all of the weight I've lost (around 85 of the 95 pounds total) without working out AT ALL...literally barely moving. Go read my old blog posts, I was seriously a sloth. I've only lost around 10 pounds in the past 6 months--the time since my heart surgery, which is consequently the only time I've had the ability to be physically active. But even though I've only lost 10 pounds, I feel completely incredible. I'm walking faster, harder, stronger, longer. I'm dragging my girlfriend on several mile long hikes almost every night. I'm finding new ways to be active. I'm starting to plan our hikes the day in advance so I have something to look forward to.

I mean, instead of ordering pizza and watching a movie on Friday night, we go hiking and then go wander around outdoor art installations. On normally boring weeknights, we decide to meet after work for a long walk through town to go eat, then walk back to burn off our meals. For Mother's Day, we had a super healthy picnic and then took my girlfriend's family on a 3 mile hike around the art center. I NEVER would have agreed to that before, and I certainly wouldn't have suggested it! Yesterday, I joined the Garden Club at work and spent 2 hours literally shoveling shit, and instead of being miserable I just kept thinking about what an awesome workout it was. Today I'm so stiff and sore but instead of being annoyed, I'm proud and happy about it.

Living an active life is still pretty weird. I feel restless when I go a day or two without walking, and I'm even starting to get impatient with how slowly everyone else walks. Every now and then I get a burst of energy and feel like making a mad dash down the trail. Sometimes I actually do it.

I didn't think this would ever happen to me, but the more in shape I get, the more I want to get in shape.

It's honestly pretty awesome. Plus, it's earning me extra Activity Points so I can eat more, which is extra awesome. I hope I can sustain this level of activity...but I don't think that will really be a problem. My biggest real concern right now is whether or not my girlfriend will be able to keep up with me :)

32 Years Old, 215 Pounds

Today is my birthday. So naturally, with my luck, I wrote a whole post and it disappeared. Woohoo, happy birthday to me.

I don't mean to sound bitter. I just really hate birthdays. Turning 32 feels like turning 92...I feel so fucking old.

But I actually feel better than I have since...well, for as long as I can remember. That's pretty awesome.

The thing about turning 32 is that it's supposed to be a woman's sexual peak. This is supposed to be my prime time. I should be raring to go.

But I'm not. I'm terrified that I'll spend 32 like I did 31, and 30, and 29...too self conscious and petrified of having my girlfriend see me naked that I've avoided intimacy like Lindsay Lohan avoids jail time.

I want my 32nd year to be full of great sex, like just awesome sex every night. I have an insanely hot girlfriend, I feel better and look better than I have in my entire life, and I'm evidently in my sexual prime.

Unfortunately, I have a long way to go before I can feel comfortable enough to actually enjoy sex. I mean, I love pleasuring my girlfriend, but I hate her touching me or looking at me. I wasn't always this self conscious, even when I weighed more than I do now, but I was usually wasted and besides, that was before I had a boyfriend stop in the middle of going down on me, saying, "You disgust me," and walking out. That shattered my soul, and it's the reason that my girlfriend doesn't get nearly enough sweet sweet loving. (Yeah, that guy was a total dick. I'll tell you about him sometime...)

From the beginning of Weight Watchers, one of the main reasons I have wanted to lose weight is to feel better naked (which is a pretty universal goal) and I'm hoping that this year I can make some progress. If I can't feel sexy at 32, my scientific sexual peak, I may never feel sexy again...and then, what's the fucking point of anything?

Fuck Christmas, And Fuck Duck Dynasty

On Weight Watchers, you're allowed 49 weekly Points to use at your discretion so you can supplement your daily Points allowance. This week, I not only blew through those 49 Points before the week was half over--I also went over those Points by 84 Points.

EIGHTY FOUR POINTS.

84.

Fuck.

I get 33 Points per day. (33x7)+49+84= 364. So I've had 364 Points this week.

That's the same as 91 Cadbury Cream Eggs. Or 5.7 gallons of marinara sauce. Or over 7 and a half pounds of grated cheddar.

Gross.

I blame Christmas. I mean, okay, I truthfully blame myself and my weakness and my emotional overeating and my utter lack of willpower. But I do blame Christmas too. Why does it have to be so delicious? Why does everything have to look so tempting and be so easy to grab? And why do I have to put up with my family, mostly my father, while still struggling to push aside all of the hurt feelings and shitty self esteem they left me with after high school?

This Duck Dynasty business has left me feeling really sad because my dad, who claims to love me and who seems to also really love my girlfriend of eight years, is so vigorously opposed to A&E firing the dude. I've written here and there about what a dick my dad is, so my dad supporting a bigot and failing to consider my feelings is definitely not shocking. But it is sad. It hurts when I see friends on Facebook posting pictures rallying against A&E's awesome decision to fire Phil, and it hurts even more to hear my dad saying shit like, "This is great because the pendulum will start to swing the other way now. The right people are going to start taking back the country, and Obama will go back to the ghetto where he belongs." My dad's total ignorance of government and morality aside, it just feels so wrong to have a father essentially telling his daughter, "Hey, I'm so glad that we're going to continue to deny you equal rights, and hopefully we'll be able to take away your rights completely! Oh yeah, and you're definitely going to hell! Sorry-not-sorry!"

My dad isn't even religious. I've read more of the bible than him. He went to Catholic school so he pretty much just hates God now, and he's never ever expressed any concern about my soul. So why does he care if my girlfriend and I get married? Seriously, my parents like her more than they like me. Why would he want us kept apart? And why does he care so much if some semi-scripted 'reality' tv star lost his job after making totally asinine and cruel and ignorant and intolerant statements to fucking GQ? Really? Why?

 

But talking to him is pointless. I can't even begin the debate because as soon as he starts in, I already feel defeated and close to tears. I start thinking about how many times I thought about killing myself. How many times I came close. He doesn't know about any of it. I think about how truly surprised I was to find I had made it out of high school without slitting my wrists. I think about sitting in my bathroom with the cold blade of my favorite scissors pressed against my vein, debating with myself if my parents would be more disappointed in me for being a lesbian or for committing suicide. I think about the fear and shame I felt before I came out, and the fear I still feel sometimes just holding my girlfriend's hand in the 'wrong' environments. I think about the confusion I felt when I first realized that I liked girls and the terror I felt knowing it was 'wrong' to feel that way.

I think about these things and I can't have a rational conversation with him because it's not rational at all. People are making remarks, right or wrong, that are making young people want to kill themselves rather than live in a world that hates them. Why is that okay? Why wouldn't any rational person want to stop those words from being broadcast to young people who are still trying to understand their sexuality?

So on top of the normal stressful family Christmas, I also got to shield myself all day from Duck Dynasty conversations. Instead, I steered myself to the dessert table to ate until all I could think about was how full my stomach was. I tracked everything I ate, but I didn't even try to moderate myself. I was in a FUCKITALL mood and just didn't care. Now, of course, I'm still stressed and I'm feeling even more anxious about having Christmas dinner tomorrow with my dad and my great uncle who is even more of a bigot than my dad. But on top of all that, I'm also just sick with regret at how much I ate, and disappointment in myself.

Still, even though I want to say Fuck Christmas, I don't really mean it. I love Christmas, I love my dad (way deep down where it's hard to see sometimes), and I'm proud of myself for how far I've come. As long as I get over this pity party and make it through the next 24 hours, I can regroup, lose the Christmas fat, and put all of this behind me.

55 Pounds

Got another five pound star today at Weight Watchers!

I hit 55 pounds lost :) Down 2.4 this week, so I'm at 248.8 pounds now down from 304, for a total loss of 55.2 pounds.

I'm glad I'm back under 250 pounds. When I bounced around 249-252 for the past couple of weeks, I was getting pretty discouraged. I was so elated to get down under 250 pounds that I felt like a big failure when I gained again. Now I'm determined to stay under 250 pounds. I just don't want to go back there again.

I've also been failing at the 100 Mile March, but I don't feel as bad about that because, honestly, my stomach is still all crampy and I just don't feel like walking so even the little bit of walking I do at work feels like agony. I'm going to have to go to the doctor if things don't get back to normal soon.

All of that aside, I've been feeling pretty good this week. I went to the movies with my girlfriend, mom, and nephew on Saturday (To see Oz the Great and Powerful, which was totally fantastic! I'm not a huge James Franco fan, but I AM a HUGE Sam Raimi fan--I honestly think he's one of the most brilliant and underrated men in the movie industry--and I swooned to see Bruce Campbell! Bruce looked, well, disturbing as a Winkie, but to me he'll always be Autolycus from Xena and that makes me immensely happy!!!!!).

 God, I fucking love Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell.

I heard that they started a Kickstarter for a Veronica Mars movie, which I didn't watch and don't care about. But I think someone should start a Kickstarter for Xena! Bring back Xena! That would be the most amazing fucking thing ever. It ended way too soon. I mean, Xena and Gabs didn't even officially hook up (unless you believe in fan fiction, which I DO...)

Anyway, I wore my new black cowboy boots (faux leather, of course) with black tights and a dress, and I felt super hot. We rode there in the convertible with the top down, and I felt like a sassy vixen :) At the movies, I crossed my legs comfortably and kept them crossed for most of the film...for anyone else with legs like giant toy water snakes, you know that's an accomplishment. My mom even told me I looked great, WITHOUT saying anything like "You're going to look as good as your sister soon!". That's a big deal for me.

Then on Tuesday...this is a big one...drumroll please...I wore REAL PANTS! Like, real, non-elastic, fastening and zipping pants! Granted, they're a size 24, but I didn't even try them on for the longest time. Wearing any kind of regular pants cut into my stomach and made so much of my fat roll over the top that I looked like a mushroom and I had to wear like three Spanx just to keep my stomach smooth enough to pull a shirt over so it just wasn't worth it at all. Hence my obsession with stretch pants and leggings. But as it turns out, I probably should have tried on the pants a few months ago because they were a little too big for me! So even my skinny pants are getting big :) That's got to be a good sign, right?

And today, after the success of my pants-wearing on Tuesday, I decided to try on my camouflage pants that I've had for over a decade but haven't been able to comfortably wear for the past six or so years. They fit! They totally fit! I'm wearing them right now :) And they fit so well that I'm wearing a fitted black cashmere sweater and there are no rolls in sight!

Tomorrow is my seven year anniversary, so I hope the good vibes continue. I still haven't lived up to my New Years Resolution to get frisky, but now that I'm starting to feel a little more like myself, maybe it's actually in the cards. Well, the gross yeast infection and stomach issues will more than likely stand in my way. But a girl can dream, can't she?

So You Had A Bad Day

Feeling better today. Thursday was just a shit day overall (and it didn't help that I forgot to take my Xanax in the morning, and I didn't have any with me...I feel sorry for all of my employees because I know I had my Bitch Face on all day). By the time I got home, I was so run down and weepy that I just took a Vicodan and my Xanax and let my girlfriend bring me black bean roll-ups for supper while pretending nothing had happened.

On top of all the other issues, I was really missing Rob. Someone had posted a note on his Facebook memorial group page, and it sent a new wave a grief over me. I miss him every day, but some days are harder than others. It's been a year and a half since he died, and he's still the only person I yearn to talk to when I'm having issues I don't want to talk to my girlfriend about.

I also must be PMSing because I'm sniffing out chocolate around the house like Toucan Sam with Froot Loops. Plus, I've gained around 6 pounds since weigh-in Wednesday. I did eat a lot Wednesday for my birthday (and drink a lot...although I did count all of my Points) but there's no way I could have eaten enough to gain 6 pounds. I'm blaming pre-menstrual bloat. Otherwise, it's got to be a mystery goiter or something. Ugh.

I'm definitely back over 250 pounds right now, but I'm going to give it a few days before I weigh in again and panic. I just don't need that stress right now.

In other news, I was really good today and only ate a tiny slice of cake at my family birthday party :) I also planned ahead and saved enough Points.

But now I'm hungry again, craving chocolate, and bloated like a hot air balloon. Oh, the joys of womanhood.

"The Dark Still Nurses Its Secret"

So, it happened. The thing I've been dreading for so long.

My girlfriend found out how much I weigh.

She also knows how much I've lost, which means some pretty simple math will lead or has led to the realization that I started out over 300 pounds. Which means she knows how fat I was...and am.

I'm so sad right now.

She was scrolling through my birthday photos on my phone, and I suddenly remembered the photo I took of the scale at 250 pounds. I tried to grab the phone back, but I could tell she saw it. I burst into tears, started sobbing, and she came over to hug me and tell me it didn't matter and she loves me anyway.

That doesn't help.

I am so ashamed. I'm so ashamed that I got to over 300 pounds. I feel like since I kept it a secret from everyone, I didn't have to really deal with it. I started Weight Watchers, dropped below 300 pounds, and I've been working really hard ever since then to distance myself from that weight.

I should be really proud that I'm under 250 pounds now, and I did feel proud about it yesterday. That was, until she saw the picture. That changes everything. I feel like I can't even be happy about getting down to under 250 pounds, because the shame of being over 300 pounds is now so fresh. I had put it behind me until she saw the picture. Now she knows, and even though she didn't say it, I think she's got to be disgusted by me now. How many people can actually eat themselves to over 300 pounds? I put on every single ounce myself. Bite by bite, I ballooned up to 304...and I could have let that information stay in my past, if she hadn't found that picture.

I mean, I always knew eventually that I would tell people how much I weighed and how much I had lost and they would do the math and know how much I started out as, but I had hoped that wouldn't happen until I was under 200 pounds finally. I'm so far away from there. I feel too close to 300 pounds right now. It was starting to feel far behind me, until now...now, I just feel like the same big slob.

I'm just so, so ashamed. So embarrassed. So sad. I made her go to bed before me last night, and I snuck under the covers after staying up crying in the dark for a couple of hours. I pretended to be asleep when she kissed me goodbye this morning. She texted me, and I haven't been able to bring myself to text her back. I just can't look at her now that she knows that I let myself get to over 300 pounds.

And the saddest part was that my birthday was so great yesterday until that happened. Now, I can't even think about my birthday without feeling that stomach-dropping fear and anguish that hit me when I realized she had scrolled back too far and got to the picture of the scale. The picture that wouldn't have existed if I wasn't so stupid and vain. When everyone at work this morning asked me how my birthday was, I lied and pretended like it was fine. It wasn't fine. It was fine until she found the picture, and then it was ruined.

I honestly don't know how I can go home today. I can't face her. I can't look into her eyes and risk seeing her disgust.

Before I made her go to bed, I told her to never talk about it again. I told her to forget and pretend like nothing ever happened. But what's done is done. My secret is out. She knows.

I plan to keep going and trying to lose weight, but I feel like my motivation has been stripped away. After being so happy yesterday after weigh in, I didn't expect to be so sad today.

The Incredible Shrinking Woman

I'm flying pretty high this weekend!

Yesterday, Friday, I got my latest shipment from Macy's. I am 100% obsessed with Macy's clearance online--half of my clothes come from there. I sort by price, lowest to highest, and get so many incredible and cheap finds (and so many compliments!). I normally wear a 3x in just about anything from Macy's. The clothes run a little more snug than, say, Old Navy (where I almost always get a 2x). But when I was placing my last order, I decided to throw caution to the wind and ordered everything in a 2x.

It ALL fit!

I got a new charcoal gray jacket, a ruched black top, a cream and lace short skirt, an olive sweater dress, and a black cardigan. I cannot believe that everything fit perfectly! The jacket look awesome, and it's so much more flattering than the bulky down coat I've been wearing.

And the kicker? The skirt is NOT elastic waist! I would not have risked ordering it if I had known it was a zippered skirt. It has a little give on the sides, but it's definitely not the fully elastic kind of skirt I'm used to. And it fit perfectly, without giving me any bulges! I can't wait to wear it.

Still excited from trying on yesterday's purchases, this morning I decided to try on a pair of snakeskin print jeggings I got in the fall. They had been on a really good sale (like $9 or something) so I had gotten them in a 2x, the only size they had, thinking they were more like stretch pants and I'd be able to squeeze into them. They're actually more like denim, so  they were too tight and I never ended up wearing them (but at that price, it wasn't worth taking them back). When I tried them on this morning, they looked awesome! With a long red tube top, a tight black v-neck sweater, and some studded black flats, I felt super cute!

I wrapped up in a black and white plaid cashmere scarf, let my dark purple hair down, slicked on some cherry red lip gloss, found some big black aviator sunglasses, and my girlfriend and I put the top down in her new convertible and cruised around for hours. Today it actually hit 60 degrees (in January...global warming?) so we really wanted to ride in her car with the top down for the first time, but I've been self-conscious about what people would say or think about us at red lights. You're so exposed in a convertible. But today, I felt so cute, I was in heaven riding around in the sunshine!

I love feeling cute again. It's been so long since I've been able to handle people looking at me. At 300 pounds, I felt like anyone who glanced my way was laughing at, judging, or disgusted by me. Now, at 260 pounds, I know I'm not small but I feel confident enough that I can think maybe, just maybe, they're thinking nothing more than 'man, it would be nice to be in a convertible today!'.

:)

Happy 2013!

If my old non-working scale can be trusted (it cannot) I have gained at least five pounds since my pre-Christmas weigh in. I'm pretty nervous about my Wednesday Weight Watcher's meeting, but I'm ready to finally see what damage I've done. I haven't given in to temptation TOO much (not anything like past Christmas food festivals) but my "Healthy Habits" have fallen to the wayside. I'm leaning on packaged food, candy, and diet cola while eschewing the fruits, veggies, and water I had been so faithfully ingesting. I need to get back on track, but I don't think it'll be too difficult. It's not like I've totally gone off the rails. Some of the girls at my work have stopped tracking for the holidays altogether, but I very sensibly poured my champagne into measuring cups before drinking, and tracked everything that passed my lips, no matter how shameful (cheeseball, anyone?). I wish my new scale would get here, but maybe it's best if I don't know until my meeting.

I'm also nervous about the body tape measure that comes with the scale. I have never been into measuring my body parts, regardless of the number of diets I've tried and failed. I just hate seeing how long that measuring tape is pulled out. It's easier not knowing. Now, though, I'm really curious. Even though my crappy, broken scale is telling me I gained weight, I do feel smaller than I have for years. My girlfriend even commented on feeling the bones in my shoulders. My ankle boots go on comfortably, instead of having to be tugged up over my cankles. So even though the initial numbers might make me a little sick, it will be nice to see those digits shrink as the next weeks and months of 2013 pass by.

And in case anyone cares, I've settled on some resolutions for this upcoming year. I hate odd numbered years, but for some reason I seem to have more New Years Resolution success on odd years. I gave up meat on New Years Eve 2003, gave up cigarettes on New Years Eve 2011, and I haven't touched either since.

2013:

1. Get Healthier. Continuing to eat right, move more, pay more attention to what I put into my body, and treat my body with more respect.

2. Stay Busy. Keep the house clean, do the things I've been putting off, stop wasting time, and keep my body in motion.

3. Get Frisky. Make it a priority to keep my girlfriend satisfied, learn to let go of my body issues and allow myself to be intimate, and use my new energy and healthier body to keep our relationship passionate and playful.

It's worth a shot. I have a whole new year ahead of me--I'd love to be able to stick to these resolutions this time. I started Weight Watchers in August of 2012, and I lost nearly 40 pounds by the end of the year. If I stuck with that (rather ambitious) pace, I'd be able to lose 104 pounds by 2014. That would bring me down to close to 160 pounds. That's crazy to even think about! But at least for now, I'm taking things one day at a time. First I need to survive January 1st at home with lots of time on my hands to cook delicious food. Instead, I'll try to stick to Resolution #2 and keep busy with something besides eating. Then on Wednesday is my weigh-in, and hopefully my scale will come in the mail. And then, one baby step after another. In, of course, the right direction.

Happy New Year!

Here Comes Trouble

I did it. I bought a scale.

I feel like I could be opening Pandora's Box.

It turns out that my fears about normal scales not being able to weigh me were unjustified. Maybe the cheapest analog scales I was looking at when I bought my last scale (which was at Walmart probably ten years ago) didn't go over 250 pounds, but apparently standard digital scales (which were probably out of my $10-$15 budget at the time) go up to 400 pounds. I ordered one on Amazon and it should be here next Wednesday, which also happens to be my next Weight Watchers meeting--this is fortunate because I'll be able to see precisely how different the two scales register.

I tend to be a little obsessive about certain things, and I find it very easy to become obsessive about my weight. When I start a new diet or workout plan, I tend to overdo it and this usually causes me to end it just as quickly as I began. As one of my favorite poets, Edna St. Vincent Millay, wrote, "My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--it gives a lovely light!" After a lifetime of being a Fat Girl, I know all of the rules. Only weigh yourself once a day or once a week and always at the same time; don't eat after 6pm; your plate should consist of mostly vegetables; you need to drink at least eight cups of water a day; etc etc etc ad infinitum. But knowing and doing are two different things, and I always slip into the habit of skipping meals, weighing myself twenty times a day, enjoying the feeling of hunger a little too much, and generally replacing unhealthy habits with different, equally unhealthy habits.

So having a nice scale in the house is going to come with its own set of challenges. Besides my own tendency toward obsessiveness, I'm also anxious about my girlfriend weighing herself and seeing results. I don't want to hear how much she's lost. And I don't want her to become so enamored with losing weight that she begins actively trying--she's losing enough just by eating the healthier suppers I've been making. I know I've already talked about my own issues with her losing weight, and I'm trying to just not think about it and focus on myself, but I can't help it.

Having a scale WILL help me see when I've started to veer off course after a bingeful weekend, and it'll help me get through times like this week when my meeting was cancelled. Not knowing where I stand the week after Christmas is stressing me out, and I won't know exactly what I weigh as I ring in the New Year and make my resolutions. But the shiny new scale should be here on Wednesday, so I have a whole year of healthy living and body changes to look forward to :)

Oh, and the scale comes with a body tape measure...not sure how I feel about that...but I know I better save enough Points for a shot or two of whiskey after I measure myself for the first time!

Thinking About Food

Man, I'm really trying to keep my mind off of food today. I have seven points to get me through Monday and Tuesday, and I've been unintentionally torturing myself all day by watching Christmas movies. All of the cookies and cakes, the baking and decorating, the big meals and steaming bread. Eggnog and hot chocolate and buttery rolls and nutty cheese balls. Mmm. This Simply Filling week is at least making me recognize when I'm missing out on.

In place of the foods I drooled over on screen, I made a big batch of tofu bacon (mostly a Power Food--the bit of maple syrup I add is less than one point) and some cauliflower. I also spent some time organizing the kitchen. I've been spending a lot of time in there cooking, and it makes it so much easier to cook a complex, healthy meal from scratch when the kitchen is tidy enough for me to find everything.

I put my tofu bacon on reduced calorie bread with fat free mayo and fat free bread, and loaded it up with tomato slices. It was actually better than I thought it would be. But I wanted to make something a little more appealing for my girlfriend, so I made some quick pizza dough and baked her a big, cheesy tofu bacon calzone. I stuffed it with three cheeses, brushed it with olive oil, and finished it at the end with some garlic butter on top. It's like I'm living vicariously through the food I make her--plus, I have to work hard to make sure she doesn't lose so much weight that I give up again. If I can't brush my food with butter now, someone should be able to. Yes, I used to brush my food with butter. Not always, but it does make baked stuff twice as delicious. My family cooks like Paula Deen (and I have been to the Paula Deen buffet and waddled out with a purse stuffed full of bread and desserts--it is truly a magical experience). That's the last place in the world I would want to go today with only seven points left! I would probably have a stroke.

Anyway, my girlfriend needs the extra butter so she doesn't waste away.

See, she's one of those natural thin people. I don't understand people like her. If there's a candy bar in the house, it amazes me that she doesn't even think about it. If there's candy in the house, I am pretty much thinking about it until it's gone. She doesn't eat dessert--I don't consider a meal complete until I have something sweet in my mouth. She eats until she's full and then stops--I have never been able to naturally do that. So she doesn't get my weight loss experience, not really. She's incredibly supportive and helpful and amazing, but she doesn't get it.

The hard part about being the one to cook all of our meals is that she eats what I eat. When I start a diet or my meals take a healthier turn, she starts dropping weight like crazy. It's like those weight loss pill commercials--I try and try and try to lose a pound, and she starts shedding fat like a candle melting. She's on medication that boosts her metabolism even more, and she's much more active than I am. It's all extremely discouraging. When I lost a little weight before, I got so impatient that she was losing faster than I was that I totally gave up after a one week setback. I'm not blaming her. I'm just saying: when I change how I eat, she's the one who reaps the benefits first. Being so much smaller anyway, it's obvious when she's dropped five pounds, while I'm having trouble seeing that I lost 30.

So aside from the vicarious pleasure it gives me to bake her up flavorful, cheesy, buttery recipes, it also helps make sure that she's eating more wholesome food without going on a starvation diet. I wonder how other people do it. I can't imagine raising kids and having to choke down fat free cheese on diet bread while they scoop up macaroni and cheese with, like, french fries and milkshakes. I don't know. Whatever kids eat. I just know that my girlfriend's calzone looked a hell of a lot better than my sandwich, but if I can make it until Wednesday on Simply Filling, I'll be extremely proud of myself.

Sometimes testing your own willpower can be useful.