Taken a Turn

Yooooooo. It's been awhile.

LOTS has changed.

I feel a little silly writing, actually. But I don't have many (any?) outlets and I'm going through some stuff and could really use a place to lay out my thoughts, recipes, schedule, etc. so here I am.

Quick recap: Super single. Dated several people (guys and girls) after leaving my girlfriend of 8 1/2 years, but we're still best friends and hang out all the time. I ended up buying the house from her, so I live here alone. Well, alone except my chihuahua, my foster minpin, my Maine Coon, and two bearded dragons. So no quite alone. My relationship with my parents hasn't improved, and has actually gotten worse, particularly since my sister had her second kid (this one with the neighbor she cheated on her husband with). I do still get pilonidal cysts but the ichthammol ointment has kept it from ever getting really bad. I went off of Weight Watchers and pretty quickly gained back nearly every ounce I'd lost. Like, shockingly fast. I had one bad weekend in June of 2014 where I got drunk and didn't track, although I was at like 205 pounds and so close to losing 100 full pounds and being under 200 pounds for the first time in my adult life, and the wheels went off until by March of 2015 I was back up to around 280 pounds, and I've hovered there ever since.

Last October, I went to my favorite amusement park for their Halloween event, and was super excited to ride on my favorite roller coasters. Of course, since I gained back so much of the weight I had lost, I was back to always comparing my size to everyone around me, and amusement parks have always held their own particular horror. I felt pretty safe, however, because not only was I with my ex-boyfriend (the employee one) who is a very sizable guy, but I was also with his current girlfriend, a well-known Instagram model famous for her seriously enormous ass.

I was wrong.

I sat behind them in the first roller coaster we came to, and watched with growing horror as the tiny high-school-aged attendant feebly pushed against the bar and told her the bar was not going to click twice. I watched as she struggled to lift herself from the small ride, and I felt the flush creeping up my neck as I began to frantically push my own lap bar into the fat of my stomach to hear the necessary double click. Didn't work. I had to get out too. And THEN...the guy we were with (her boyfriend, who was my ex) proceeded to ride the coaster himself, as we stood on the other side of the tracks, exposed to the awaiting riders, blinking back tears, waiting for his dumb ass to be done. Of course people were staring. I mean, they're waiting in line, nothing to look at until the loaded cars come back to empty and load again, except what's going on in front of them. And in front of them were two fat assed chicks, crying and waiting for their lame escort. Plus, this girl seriously has the fattest ass of any other person I've met in my life. She's gorgeous--lovely face, great hair, tiny waist, thin arms, decent rack--but her ass is like two seals in a circus. Like, bigger than two hams, for sure. Maybe like two duffel bags full of pudding. Anyway oh my god it's super late and I'm rambling. Anyway, it finally happened, I was too fat to ride a ride.

I pretty much immediately called the local bariatric specialists and looked into weight loss surgery for the first time in my life. My close friend had gone through gastric sleeve surgery and went from 330 pounds, wearing clothes that were too big for me, to 175 pounds and a size 6/8. Even though I had totally hated on her while she was first contemplating surgery, she really talked me into it and has been super supportive. The entire time I was on Weight Watchers, I was HUNGRY. The entire time. I just remained hungry. The idea of having surgery that would remove or reduce my hunger sensors was incredibly appealing. So while I've always dismissed weight loss surgery as 'cheating', I started to really consider it.

I ended up going to a seminar, submitting it through insurance, and meeting with a doctor. She basically told me everything that I guess I knew but loved hearing from someone else: that I DO know how to lose weight, I just don't have the tools to keep it off. And that losing weight would really change my life. The surgeon was extremely optimistic and made me forget all of my protestations. So from there, I had six months of supervised weight loss visits, during which time I needed to lose 10 pounds, and I met with the psychiatrist, nutritionist, and everyone else she suggested. After I had gone through the six months of visits, been cleared by the shrink, and met again with the surgeon, they scheduled surgery and I began the waiting game. My surgery was last Monday. So I am officially six days post-op from gastric sleeve surgery!

When I began going to the monthly visits, I had gotten up to 290 pounds (actually 294 I believe). After the six months, I was around 282. When they checked me in to the hospital on Monday, the scale said 270, which was not terribly surprising since I'd been on a clear liquid diet and was so hungry I honestly would have had trouble not eating even meat if it was put in front of my face. When I got home from the hospital on Tuesday, my home scale said 277. I haven't used that scale for a loooong time, so I don't know how accurate it is. But since Tuesday, I've now gotten down to 274 pounds. Three pounds is not a lot, but at least it's not gaining.

Anyway, I'd like to talk about my recovery, complain about my healing process, vicariously plan out meals I'll be able to eat once I can eat again, share victories, and basically get shit off of my chest since I don't really have anyone I can rely on now. Oh, and I wanna talk about how hungry I am.

Because, unbelievably, but maybe predictably honestly if you know my life, it didn't work. The surgery didn't stop my hunger. It works except in the rarest of cases. Well, hello! I'm a rare case. Now, granted, I am still on the liquid diet (which I am being really really good about) and I know I'm still healing and some of it is gas and some is head hunger. I know these things.

But I am still hungry.

Some things never change.

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.

Zoloft Is Making Me Fat (...Maybe?)

I've ALWAYS been anxious. My parents have videos of me as a kid playing on a swing set, chattering about my fears. "What if I fall off and someone steps on me and my leg breaks off and then someone trips over it and breaks their head open and then I try to stand up and break my head open and we die?" "What if we're driving and an electric pole falls and hits the car and smashes us and we all die?" "What if I push the glider too hard and it comes and slices my head open and I fall down and a worm crawls into my head and lives there?"

I've dealt with my anxiety in a number of ways. When I was younger, I just cried a lot and freaked out all the time. In college, I used drugs and alcohol to help self-medicate. After the fire that burned down my dorm (with me in it), I was sent to a therapist who put me on Paxil. I only took that for a little while (it made me black out all the time when I drank, and I wasn't willing at the time to give up drinking). After my open heart surgery, I was put on a low dose of Xanax. For the last 6 or so years, I've taken a low dose of Xanax daily, but it's lost its effectiveness over the years. I mean, it didn't really REALLY help much anyway, but I guess it made me feel better. Anyway, I had to go in for a refill last month and my doctor decided to try putting me on something else.

My doctor (actually, she's a nurse practitioner but I've never met the doctor) told me that Zoloft would be a good choice for me, as the side effects aren't horrible and it's not addictive like Xanax. Being the anxiety-filled freak I am, I immediately started Googling side-effects and was horrified by the staggering volume of complaints linking Zoloft to weight gain. I almost didn't even fill my prescription. I was freaking out. But I decided to try it anyway. When I was on steroids back when I first started Weight Watchers, everyone said I would gain weight but my doctor said it was because of increased appetite, and as long as I watched my eating I wouldn't gain. The steroids messed me up a little, but she was right--I didn't gain any weight.

So when I started the Zoloft I figured I would just keep tracking like always, and I increased my activity a little. The weather's been nice so I've been walking more than ever, I've been working in the yard, taking long walks at work during lunch, swimming, dancing, moving all I can. I've also been eating fine. I mean, I'm still always hungry, but I'm tracking everything and working hard to stay under my Points.

But I FUCKING GAINED. And when I groaned on the scale, saying "I did everything right! I should have lost! Maybe it's the Zoloft..." my Weight Watchers meeting leader immediately agreed. She said she's seen too many people gain weight on Zoloft. Other people started chiming in--"It made me a fatty!" and "Stop taking it right now!"

I gave myself a few weeks to feel the effects, and I actually really liked what Zoloft did for me (it didn't help my anxiety so much, but it did keep my temper under control and made my reactions to things a little less extreme). I just couldn't deal with the weight gain. I was on Zoloft to help alleviate my anxiety, and gaining weight increased my anxiety exponentially. Not great.

So I talked to my doctor but now, as of yesterday, I'm weaning off the Zoloft and onto Lexapro.

We'll see what happens. But I will totally be stressing out about it, just FYI.

Celebrating Success

I was so proud of myself last year when I had lost 95 pounds. I just knew 100 pounds was only a week away, and my next Weight Watchers goal weight was 199, which was totally achievable with fewer than 10 pounds to go.

I don't know if I've ever been more proud of myself.

But now...well, now I'm struggling just to stay under 220 pounds. I'm ashamed. I've been riding that awful roller coaster since September. A few pounds up, a few pounds down, more pounds up, more pounds down. I weighed in at 214 last week, which would be exciting if I hadn't gotten down lower than that MONTHS ago. 

And now my doctor put me on Zoloft, which is notorious for weight gain. I fully expect to gain 15 or more pounds, which will be devastating to me. I feel like that will make me more depressed and anxious...so, like, what's the point of the Zoloft then?

But I'm still going. I'm still eating right and weighing in. And more amazingly (to me), I'm going on long walks and hikes every chance I get. It's hard to remember my life before my heart surgery in August. I can't believe that less than a year ago, I struggled to walk to the mailbox. Now I'm going on 4 mile hikes and feeling absolutely awesome afterwards. 

So maybe I'm not losing weight. Yeah, if fucking sucks. But I am STILL PROUD of myself. Maybe not for losing weight, but because I am living an active life for the first time in so long. 

That's still something to celebrate. 

GTFO Winter!

I can feel it in my bones.

Spring is coming.

It's about fucking time.

Of course, I'm still bracing for another Polar Vortex to come through and freeze us all just as we're beginning to thaw.

But I can see grass! The snow is melting, the birds are chirping, I didn't wear a coat yesterday! It was actually only 40 degrees, but it's all relative. After this winter, that feels downright tropical.

And with the spring, I feel my motivation slowly coming out of hibernation. I've been aching to be outside, and tonight it's supposed to get up to the mid-50s so my girlfriend and I made plans to take a couple hour hike at the park, followed by dinner out. That sounds so magical right now.

I gained again at Weight Watchers (2.8 lbs, which puts me back at 214.8). I expected it but it still pissed me off. I was grumbling about it before all the people getting re-dressed around me (following the weekly weigh-in-public-stripping) joined a chorus of "I gained too..."

Then I didn't feel so alone and defeated. I realized that this winter has been like a huge hurdle to everyone trying to lose weight. It's so hard to eat less when every single biological instinct is screaming, "Eat more! Fatten up or you'll freeze!" Seriously, half of America has basically been hibernating for the past four or five months. We've practically turned in to bears. It's fucking nature, right? We've been forced inside, in the dark. We all hurry to our cars after work, then shuffle inside as fast as we can while wearing snow boots and puffy coats. No one has shown any skin for ages. We've been bundled up in sweaters and arm warmers. We're filling ourselves with warm food, and sleeping in on the weekends because there's nothing left to watch on Netflix except the "Random Picks".

**Side bar: that's not entirely true. Netflix Streaming is a bottomless pit of potentially wasted time. But one thing I'm so glad I found was "The Best Worst Movie" and, by extension, Troll 2. How did I not know about this before?! I just watched both for the first time on Monday and now I can't stop watching Troll 2. It's so fucking awesome. Totally my kind of movie. I've seriously watched it 10 times already this week. It's like when I first watched "An Idiot Abroad" last month and then spent the rest of the month obsessively searching for Karl Pilkington YouTube clips. The man is incredible. Anyway...if you needed an idea of something to watch, you're welcome!**

So we've all been trying to push a boulder up a hill all winter, and the sudden sunshine and growing warmth means we're close to the top of the hill already. Or maybe we've rolled back to the bottom? Either way, we can stop pushing soon. Spring is coming. We can breathe again.

I'm really looking forward to seeing what I can achieve once the obstacle that is winter is finally out of my way.

Come on, spring! We're ready for you!

100 Posts, Not Quite 100 Pounds

I'm getting pretty fucking frustrated with myself right now. I KNOW I'm sabotaging myself, but somehow I just can't stop eating. It's like the story of my fucking life. I KNOW I'm getting fatter, but I can't stop.

So right now, instead of focusing on what I'm doing wrong, I thought I would take a moment to recognize a few things I've done right.

This is my 100th post on My Weird Luck, which is pretty weird in itself. When I first started back in 2012, I was high on my Weight Watchers success and I needed an outlet to share my successes and my failures.

I never expected to still be writing more than a year later, but I also truly didn't expect to still be losing weight. I mean, okay, I'm not exactly losing weight at the moment, but I'm still on the right road. It's better than it could be. I definitely didn't expect to still be on Weight Watchers. I figured that I would do what I always do...give up, give in, and keep eating. I figured I'd be back over 300 pounds, whining about my weight, wondering why I couldn't do anything.

I wanted to get my thoughts out there, but I didn't really expect anyone to listen. I'm glad some people relate, though. While I know a very small percentage of people actually comment, I do see that quite a number of you are looking. Hopefully reading. Maybe even finding a bit of yourself here.

The post that has gotten the most attention is my pilonidal cyst story, which is really fucking gross BUT I'm glad it's maybe spreading some info that's otherwise hard to get. I know how embarrassing it is, so it's nice to be able to help spare other people from some of the confusion I had.

Anyway, so here's a sort of rundown of where I am, versus where I've been.

I weighed in this morning at 215.4 pounds. That's a gain of 2 pounds since last week (as expected).

I've lost a total of 88.6 pounds, having started at 304 pounds in August of 2012.

When I started writing this blog, I had already lost 26.8 pounds, which brought me down to 277.2 from 304. Since I started writing, I've lost another 61.8 pounds. I also had heart surgery, which was pretty traumatic but also really awesome.

I had really, really, REALLY hoped to lose 100 pounds before I got to 100 posts. I also really wanted to lose 100 pounds before I turn 32 next week. That obviously isn't going to happen, but I'm turning 32 weighing close to 200 pounds instead of close to 300 pounds.

It could always be worse. Hopefully before I get to 200 posts, I'll FINALLY be under 200 pounds. Otherwise...I mean, I'll totally lose it. I'll lose the weight, or I'll lose my fucking mind! Ha!

Happy 100th post!

I Get Knocked Down But I Get Up Again

Yes.

Chumbawumba.

Unfortunately, by "I Get Up Again" I really mean my weight fucking skyrockets again.

It's enough to drive someone insane.

I have done nothing but gain weight in tiny increments for the past three or so months. After my Key West gobble-a-thon that helped continue my shameful holiday food orgy, I weigh MORE than I did in November. I mean, duh. With the amount of food I've been eating, and the quality of food I've been eating, it's, like, SCIENCE BITCH! Of course I gained weight! I'm eating like a pregnant rhino and I'm moving as much as a paraplegic sloth. No fucking wonder.

But...still, I'm eating less that I would normally be. Which is pretty scary when you think about it. I'm sure that being on Weight Watchers for almost a year and a half now has helped my body adjust to lower calories, so the binge eating lately is probably making me gain more than I would have a year and a half ago, but it's still scary that I gained weight while still cutting back. If I wasn't on Weight Watchers, this annoying 5 pound gain could easily have been 20 or 25 pounds since November.

It's still discouraging though. I keep reading about people losing 100 pounds (like Chumlee. From Pawn Stars? He looks great! So good it makes me sick. I fucking hate him now.). All it does is make me bitter and jealous instead of lighting a fire under my ass.

But I'm still going. It might be close, but I'm going to try to stay within my points this week. I am SO close to losing 100 pounds...I just need to stop fucking around and get there.

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!

Weight Gain For No Reason

Sometimes I go to my weekly Weight Watchers weigh-in fully expecting to lose weight, only to find out after stepping on the scale that I've inexplicably gained.

This is one of those weeks.

It's frustrating because I did EVERYTHING "right". I stayed within my points, I was relatively active, I drank a ton of water and ate fruit and veggies every day.

So why did I gain?

Well, after sticking with Weight Watchers for well over a year, I have learned that sometimes, it just happens. Sometimes you do everything you're supposed to do and you still fail. Sometimes you eat exactly what you're supposed to eat and you still gain weight.

The good news is that I'm not giving up--not even close. I'm going to keep going, keep tracking, and hope for a better number next week.

The bad news is that I'm still at the same weight that I was before Thanksgiving. After gaining .4 pounds this week, I'm back up to 210.8. Two months of sticking to Weight Watchers has netted me a total GAIN of 1.6 pounds. Okay, I didn't really "stick" to Weight Watchers because I went over my points almost every week for those two months. But I did track everything, and I was active, and I did show more restraint around food than I ever did before. So here I am, 1/22/14, and I weigh 1.6 pounds more than I did on 11/20/13.

However, I weighed 279.6 pounds the week before Thanksgiving in 2012. So I weigh 68.8 pounds less than I did on 11/20/12.

That's something at least!

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.

Backtracking A.K.A. HOLIDAY BINGE FEST 2013

I am growing steadily fatter.

At 209 pounds, I was pretty fat. But since that was after losing 95 pounds, 209 did not seem very fat compared with being 304 pounds.

Now, though, I'm back to 215 pounds and I can see how easy it would be to let go and slide back into my old habits and end up 300 pounds again. Or more.

I've been tracking everything on my Weight Watchers app, but it doesn't do much good to track when you go over your Point allotment by 84 Points, as I did last week. Or 34 Points like this week. In fact, I've gone over my Points EVERY WEEK since before Thanksgiving. It's gotten so easy.

Now I'm back to the weight I was at in October. Three months of tracking, of passing shit up because, "No, thanks, I'm on Weight Watchers," three months of weigh ins and diet soda...three months and I'm back to where I was before Halloween. Fat. Fatter. Getting fatter by the minute.

I need to put on the brakes but it's hard. REALLY FUCKING HARD. This feels like starting over again.

Maybe I should actually start over again? Pretend like I'm 215 pounds and just now starting Weight Watchers. They have a new Simple Start plan that looks promising, and New Year's Day is less than 36 hours away. But if I say I'm starting on 1/1, I know there's a lot of damage I can do in a day.

So I'll keep tracking, even though the holidays have made me feel completely out of control. I feel like a food monster and I can't stop eating. So I'll eat, I'll track, and I'll hope that 2014 is really a new start.

Fatty Fatty Two By Four

I'm having a fat day.

Make that a fat week.

You know how some girls have bad hair days? Well, my hair is frizzy and I hate it 90% of the time, so every day is basically a bad hair day. And until the past few months, I was always aware of my fat so EVERY day was a fat day too.

Things started changing, ever so slowly. I went from constantly thinking about my size to finally, after so many years of morbid obesity, allowing myself to concentrate on my life instead of my fat. I have fat days, but not single fucking day is a fat day. Not all of my thoughts revolve around being fat. I've been able to go to antique malls and actually shop, instead of spending my time in there carefully squeezing between shelves of glassware and praying that I don't knock over a $500 vase with my gut. I went to the mall and strolled into Victoria's Secret without flushing with the embarrassment of knowing every salesperson was wondering why someone my size was in their tiny store. Last week, I wore a pair of underwear that kept rolling down and I could feel my stomach hanging out when I sat down, but that annoying and uncomfortable day made me realize that I used to feel like that EVERY day. So things have been pretty awesome.

Now, unfortunately, I'm having a fat day and with good reason. I'm getting fatter. Plus, I'm in a rough spot. I'm so close to my next goal of being under 200 pounds, and I'm also right on top of Christmas and New Year's, two gluttonous holidays. Maybe not for everyone, but my sweet tooth really makes Christmas intolerable while trying to lose weight.

Can't...stop...eating...

Everyone around me knows I'm on Weight Watchers and that I've lost close to 100 pounds since last August, so people for the most part have been great about not tempting me with treats. My coworkers and family also know that I am utterly powerless around sweets, so they've even made an effort to have fruit and veggies around, and I offer to bring healthy sides to pitch-ins and family dinners. Still, there's really no avoiding sweets. One of my employees brought a bag of candy--mini Snickers, mini Twix, Hershey Kisses, Rolos, etc. I started off with one piece, then another, and before I knew it...the whole fucking bag was gone by noon today. Less than four hours and I inhaled 12 Points worth of candy.

Then I came home and my mom dropped by. She brought me some peanut butter balls (which most people call Buckeyes) and I ate two of them, followed by a fresh chocolate chip cookie. I meant to leave one for my girlfriend but...nope. I ate them all. Eight more Points down.

This week, I'm really ashamed to admit that I've gone over my weekly Points by THIRTY. Seriously. 3-0. I had Olive Garden one day, a pumpkin roll another day, more cookies and candy than I usually eat in a month. It's been delicious but terrible.

My consolation is that I am at least tracking, and tracking honestly. When I step on the scale next, I'll know exactly where each added pound came from. Then I can turn it around, hopefully.

I need to start working on my New Years Resolutions, but right now I'm just trying to make it to New Year's without fucking up all the progress I made in 2013.

So yeah, I'm having a fat day. A fat week. I've gained three pounds since my Wednesday weigh-in, and I'm still plowing through food like a ravenous goat. But at least it's a fat day now, and not a fat life. I've made some progress, even if it doesn't feel like much.

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.

Abs of Jelly

It's so awesome to be able to dress my age again. I mean, I'm only 31. I felt like a gross old lady every time I went to work wearing yoga pants (knowing very well that I was NOT going to practice any yoga) and Crocs and cardigans. I spent almost two years in tent dresses and flip flops all summer, then "dress" sweats and baggy sweaters all winter.

This is my first real Fall since so long ago. I can wear real jeans again, and cute, form-fitting sweaters, with fitted jackets and knee-high riding boots. It's amazing.

But as much as I'm loving the ability to wear jeans, I am still facing the problem I've had for years: my Gonzo-nose stomach. Even though I'm smaller now, I'm still virtually the same shape. I have the same lumps and flab, and my stomach is still big and soft. It hangs down (the ultra-embarrassing, often unspoken of, dreaded pannus ::shudder::). It bulges out. And, hardest to conceal, it pooches out right above my bellybutton. If I wear jeans that come to my bellybutton or below, it doesn't matter if they fit me or even if they're too big: my stomach roll sticks out over my pants.

My only solution is to wear pants that come above my bellybutton. Like, mom jeans that come up high and act as a girdle, or maternity-type pants that unfold to form a flat surface up my torso. I do have some Spanx but, let's face it, I'm not putting that much effort into beautifying myself for work. And I have those slimming camisoles that keep everything smooth, but they roll up sometimes and they're just not very comfortable pushing down on my healing heart surgery scars.

While I continue to fight my own battle of the bulge using my wardrobe as a weapon, I'm also fighting on another front: from the inside. I saw some people posting challenges on Facebook and decided to try one. Then...I decided to try another. Now I'm doing two different month long ab challenges, and...I'm secretly loving it!

The first one is the 30 Day Plank Challenge:

The 30 Day Plank Challenge will send your core strength through the roof!
Day 1 - 20 seconds
Day 2 - 20 seconds
Day 3 - 30 seconds
Day 4 - 30 seconds
Day 5 - 40 seconds
Day 6 - REST
Day 7 - 45 seconds
Day 8 - 45 seconds
Day 9 - 60 seconds
Day 10 - 60 seconds
Day 11 - 60 seconds
Day 12 - 90 seconds
Day 13 - REST
Day 14 - 90 seconds
Day 15 - 90 seconds
Day 16 - 120 seconds
Day 17 - 120 seconds
Day 18 - 150 seconds
Day 19 - REST
Day 20 - 150 seconds
Day 21 - 150 seconds
Day 22 - 180 seconds
Day 23 - 180 seconds
Day 24 - 210 seconds
Day 25 - 210 seconds
Day 26 - REST
Day 27 - 240 seconds
Day 28 - 240 seconds
Day 29 - 270 seconds
Day 30 - PLANK FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE!!

It was incredibly difficult at first, since I haven't really ever planked before. I mean, I was shaking and gasping and I didn't think I was going to make it. (To be clear, this is not that cheesy Instagram/Twitter planking thing, where I go balance myself, like, on the railing at Niagara Falls while my girlfriend takes a photo and hopes I don't fall off and die.) Now, on day 7, it's still hard. And every few days it's going to get harder. But my abs feel great, and I feel like I'm actually accomplishing something each day!

The second one is the 24 Day Abs-So-Tightly Right Challenge. This one involves crunches, which aren't so bad, along with leg raises, which was apparently completely impossible for me to do. I tried. I swear I did. But I just can't lift both legs at once. They're pretty big legs, but I still feel like I should be able to lift them. When I try, though, my back starts to arch and then my tailbone grinds into the ground (which is probably not good for my temporarily dormant pilonidal cyst) and I just can't get them to raise off the ground no matter how hard I strain. Instead, I'm making up for it by doing single leg raises, one leg at a time, and I've added side leg lifts because that's what my mom always did when I was little and it just seems like something that should be included in a workout. This challenge also asks you to plank, but I figure I have that covered in the first challenge.

I already feel like I can feel a bit of definition when I put my hands on my hips. And when I roll over on my side, I feel like a little less belly settles down in front of me. I gained weight during my last two weigh-ins, but I do feel stronger and my abs are seriously sore. Something must be working. Maybe by the end of the month, I'll be able to wear pants that don't come up to my armpits.

91 Pounds Down!

This is a 91 pound fish. That is a BIG FISH, yo.

I am down 91 pounds as of this week.

Let's just let that sink in.

91 pounds. I really can't believe it. I feel like I've had so many setbacks, like so many weeks I gained instead of lost, but here I am...91 pounds lost. Well, not lost. I didn't 'lose' them, I worked my ass off, tracking every bite and now pushing myself harder and harder at cardiac rehab. So 91 pounds fucking eliminated! Yeah!

At weigh-in on Wednesday, some of my coworkers were complaining about how they felt like they kept gaining just as much as they lost. One girl was saying, "I go down .6 one week, but then up .2 the next week. Then down .4 and then back up .1." I wanted to shake her and say, like, "Do the math, dummy! You may be up and down, but down .6, up .2, down .4, and up .1 is still a total of .7 down! That's progress!" But I didn't say anything. I still feel really awkward acknowledging my weight loss. I probably should have spoken up, though, because I have TOTALLY been there. The weight chart on my Weight Watchers app looks like a saw. It's a jagged line, up and down in tiny increments, but the overall slope is downward.

I've mentioned on here the weeks where I've gained 10 FREAKIN POUNDS in one week. And back at the beginning of this year when I hit that stupid fucking plateau and didn't lose a single pound for two months.

I mean, yeah, I've lost 91 pounds. But that's been since last August. That's definitely less than the 2 pounds per week that people expect. I sometimes do feel like I've gained as much as I've lost. Mathematically that's obviously not the case, but I've had enough tiny gains that I know now not to freak out. Little by little, up and down, I've been making progress. And I didn't let those 10 pound gains stop me (seriously, 10 pounds...that's nuts). And here I am. 91 pounds down. Slowly but surely.

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...

Up & Down Like A Yoyo

I've been really frustrated with my weight for the past few weeks. No, I've been really frustrated with myself.

Ever since my birthday a little over a month ago, my weight has been fluctuating up and down like crazy. Sure, there are other factors at play: I drank a lot because it was my birthday, I was horribly constipated for the first time ever and though I was going to die, I pretty much stopped drinking water, I had my anniversary dinner and ate until I thought I was going to pass out, I tried to be a good boss by bringing sugar-laced green vodka and Puckers mixed with Sprite and served in sugar-encrusted shot glasses for St. Patrick's Day, I entered a Peep diorama contest (and won! yay!) which also meant the demise and consumption of untold number of Peeps, my girlfriend has been stocking up on Cadbury Creme Eggs like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter and won't tell me "no" when I ask for one...etc etc etc. So, yeah, I guess there may be some factors going on this month. BUT I still stuck to the Plan...

So why, on last Wednesday's weigh in, did I gain 1.4 pounds? I'm back up to 250.2 pounds, for a total loss of 53.8 from my 304 starting weight. Not bad, but not exactly on track. If I were losing 2 pounds per week, 10 pounds per month, I'd be down 75 pounds right now. I'm not even close! Gaining weight last week really pissed me off.

I told myself, "Well, that's okay, I ate a lot at my anniversary dinner and I haven't been drinking water and blah blah blah" but THEN I looked at my Weight Watchers weight tracker and grasped something that had escaped me in the past few weeks of bouncing back and forth over the 250 pound mark. I realize that in the one month since my birthday, I have GAINED a pound.

That doesn't sound terrible, given the list of excuses above. But I stayed on Plan! I recorded every bite! I counted the Points and carefully measured and weighed every thing I put in my mouth! So how could I have gained?

Something my mom said the other week stuck with me. She was talking about how my grandmother was meeting with a doctor about bariatric surgery, and my mom was depressed because no doctor would consider her for the same surgery given her medical history. I started talking about Weight Watchers and my mom said she would never be able to stick to it because she'd cheat. If she wanted to eat something, she'd pretend like she forgot to write it down, or something similar.

That's when I started to think that maybe I'm doing the same thing. Even though I stay within my Points for the week, I have definitely gone back through and lowered Points on other days when I am running out of Points. Like, if I want a Cadbury Creme Egg, I'll go to yesterday's tracker and say "well, I tore the crust off of that bread so it was really more like 3/4 slice, and part of the ranch dressing dripped onto my plate so that's closer to 1 1/2 tablespoons..." So I cheat. I really tried not to, and I told myself I wasn't, but I cheat. Just like I cheat at Monopoly without intending to.

Once I admitted I was doing it, I tried to be more honest about my measurements. I think that's the TRUE reason I've been having trouble losing this month. I need to stop cheating the system, and be honest with myself. I mean...I'm only cheating myself, and that's no fun. Especially when I'm not even winning.

The Elephant In The Bathroom

I can no longer say I'm under 250 pounds--my weight bounced back up for a few days and I was at 251.6 at Wednesday's weigh-in.

However...I think I'm back down to 248 or so today, and hopefully still coming down.

This is really embarrassing but I feel like I need to defend myself for getting back over 250 pounds.

I think I was full...of...poop. There, I said it.

My stomach hurt for a couple days, and I was feeling really, really bloated by Monday night. I realized that I hadn't been going to the restroom like my usual, "regular" self (if you know what I mean). So I tried to figure out what was going on, and I remembered that my girlfriend had brought home a box of Fiber One Chocolate Chip Brownies the week before, and I LOVED them. They're only 2 Points each! Amazing!

They're great for breakfast! And they're great with 1 Point worth of whipped cream on top!

And I loved them SO MUCH that I ate two the first night she brought them home.

Then I ate two more the next day.

Then I finished the box. She bought two more boxes...

And then I ate four Fiber One bars in one day.

I mean, that's only eight Points...but that's a LOT of Fiber One bars! Too much of anything is bad, fiber included. Since my regular diet is already pretty high in fiber, I'm afraid I caused some kind of blockage.

See? Embarrassing.

Tuesday night I decided to try an Epsom salt laxative. I mixed two teaspoons of Epsom salt into a cup of water with lemon juice and gulped it down. It was totally gross. Then I waited...and waited...and nothing happened. Seriously. I've never taken a laxative in my life so I didn't know what to expect, but after a few hours I started looking online for people saying Epsom salt didn't work for them. Turns out, if it doesn't work, your colon is probably completely stopped up and you require surgery. I was then 100% convinced that I was suffering from severe fecal impaction and I was going to die. I did NOT want to die from SHIT!

But I didn't want to deal with going to the hospital and missing work (especially after being sick and missing work last week) so I just hoped the Epsom salt would work its magic overnight.

Nope.

By the time I weighed in at Weight Watchers on Wednesday, I felt like a blimp had been inflated inside my abdomen. It was awful. So I was not surprised at all that I had gained weight. (Well, I'd also been watching my weight like a hawk on my stupid scale ever day...stupid fucking scale.)

Wednesday night, my girlfriend brought me home some Milk of Magnesia. I downed four tablespoons and waited. I made dinner and, while it was cooking, I stretched out and poked and prodded at my stomach. I was able to feel my hips and ribs and possibly some organs, which was nice after shedding my 50 pound layer of fat. When dinner was ready, I got about three quarters of the way through eating when I finally jumped up and ran to the bathroom.

I weighed myself afterwards and I was down to 249 pounds again. Whew! Tonight, I'm at 248. I think I could still use a little, erm, "cleaning out"...but at least I don't feel like such a big bloated lump anymore.

I haven't walked for a few days, and my hopes of making it through the 100 Mile March have pretty much vanished. I do want to see how far I can get, though. The treadmill is calling my name. Well, more like whispering, but I'll take it.

And I'll try to hold back on the Fiber One bars.