Seriously? Seven Week Weight Loss Plateau? SERIOUSLY?

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

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

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

Tumbling After

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

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

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

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

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

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

More Numbers

I wanted to make myself feel better so I took some measurements. I was hoping that I would see some changes to my body, even if the scale isn't showing any progress.

All I found out is that my boobs are shrinking.

Lovely.

New dimensions:

Neck: 15"
Bust: 46"
Chest: 42"
Waist: 41"
Hips: 50"
Thighs: right 28", left 29"
Calves: left and right 20"
Ankles: right 10.5", left 11"
Upper arms: right 14", left 15"
Forearms: right 10.5", left 11"
Wrists: right and left 7"

This shows some progress (I guess) from the last time I measured myself, but it's still a little disheartening.

I bought myself some pretty things on Amazon to keep my mind off of food and my weight and my failures. I may go to Macy's next. Retail therapy is totally underrated.

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.

Water, Water, Everywhere

I think I'm dehydrating.

And I'm blaming Netflix.

It's no secret that I'm a big fan of documentaries, and when I watch particularly convincing ones, I sometimes get wrapped up and try to incorporate that I learn into my daily life. Like, I still haven't bought any eggs at all since we watched Vegucated. I'm okay with that.

A few weeks ago, we watched the documentary Tapped and since then, my girlfriend has refused to buy bottled water. We have a water dispenser thing on the fridge, but the filter is dirty and hasn't been replaced since we moved in four years ago (we can't figure out where the filter is and we have no idea how to change it) so the water tastes terrible. So we can't use the fridge water. We also have a really nice reverse osmosis system that came with the house...but my dad broke it two years ago when he was trying to install a garbage disposal and we haven't fixed it. So we can't use that.

I really miss bottled water. But my girlfriend is trying to make a stand, and I don't want to stand in her way.

As a compromise, she bought one of those filter things for the kitchen sink so we can have purified water. I hate warm or room temperature water, though, and the aforementioned fridge filter issues mean our ice cubes taste gross too. So we've been filling pitchers of water and putting them in the fridge to chill. The problem is that I think the water absorbs all of the smells of the fridge and then it tastes weird. It's not like we have anything gross in there. It's just that all the broccoli and cauliflower and berries and spinach and stuff is always in there with the water, and I think it makes the water icky.

I've tried keeping the water in other bottles so no funky smells get in, but then I feel like it just traps other air in there and it, like, brews and stuff...or something. I don't know. I'm probably just imagining things, but I can't help it. I'm super picky about water. Like, I love Ice Mountain. I will drink it anywhere, any time. But I despise Dasani. Totally hate it. I would rather drink from a public drinking fountain than drink Dasani. So since there's no acceptable water in the house and my girlfriend doesn't want me to have bottled water, I've just been drinking Diet Dr. Pepper like crazy. It's making me feel sticky and queasy but I'm so thirsty and...ugh.

Since I have a weird Splenda sensitivity and I don't have enough Points to drink juice or even some nice green beer for St. Patrick's Day, I'm chugging aspartame like nobody's business.

I'm afraid I'm going to wake up tomorrow with a giant tumor from all of the aspartame. Or at least a third arm or something. But will the aspartame seriously make a difference? I wish I could get a straight answer online...damn you, Wikipedia, you've let me down!

I'm not meeting my daily Weight Watchers goals because I'm not drinking water, and I may or may not be killing myself with Diet Dr. Pepper.

What a life.

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?

Gross Fat Girl Stuff

Time to talk about some gross stuff.

I've still been having serious bathroom issues...like, I haven't had a really good poop for a week. It's awful. I never thought I'd miss pooping so bad. My stomach is all cramped up. I even tried a fucking enema, for god's sake. It was the grossest thing that's ever happened to me. UGH. I'm still all blocked up. Which also means that I haven't lost any weight. I've stayed steady since last week (hovering right around 250-252) but I think if I could just go to the bathroom like a normal fucking person, I'd probably flush away five pounds or so. Yuuuuuuck.

Sadly, that's not the gross stuff I want to talk about.

I want to talk about...yeast. Specifically, yeast infections. More specifically...topical yeast infections.

I thought that losing weight would eliminate all of my infection problems, but obviously I'm still 250 pounds so my stomach fat still hangs down, so I STILL get nasty yeast infections. Not in my lady parts. Under my stomach. Raw, red, painful, burning, STINKING yeast infections.

I know when they're going to start because I can smell that smell. When I was in the hospital before my open heart surgery, I was really sick for a long time and I couldn't drag myself to the shower so I would just kind of wipe myself down (okay, aside from that one against-my-will sponge bath that scarred me for life). After a few weeks of not really bathing, I started smelling it. That gross, sickly sweet smell that's like no other smell on earth. The kind of smell that, once it enters your nose, doesn't leave for hours.

So I'm really self conscious about it. I'm a fanatical baby powder user. I pat every fold and roll with baby powder pretty much every day, and I never go outside and sweat without some baby powder dusted between my legs and under my boobs. But this morning I smelled that smell, and I knew I had an infection. I lifted my stomach and saw that angry red shiny skin. I wiped it with some tissue paper and it was wet with infection seeping out. I wiped again and the pain was so sharp and raw that I had to stop. I just coated myself with baby powder and then, when the powder immediately became wet over the wound, I rubbed triple antibiotic ointment into it and then patted on more baby powder.

While I'm sitting here I can feel it. It's gross and it hurts. It smells. It makes me feel dirty. It makes me feel nasty.

And more than anything, it makes me feel anxious for the day that I've lost enough weight that I don't have to lift my stomach to powder under my rolls.

Speaking of which, weigh-in tomorrow is not going to be fun tomorrow unless I manage to go to the bathroom. Fingers crossed.

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.

One Foot In Front Of The Other

It really doesn't look like my 100 Mile March is going to get anywhere close to 100 miles.

I've walked every day so far since March 1...and I just barely made it to 1 mile. One single mile.

That's 1 mile TOTAL.

In four days.

Walking every day.

I SUCK!

Okay, I was really sick all last week and stayed home from work for two days and whatever I had moved into my lungs and now I'm coughing up wicked phlegm and can't breathe.

Plus, I haven't walked in forever. I haven't been on a treadmill since before my open heart surgery, losing an entire functioning valve, and decreasing my lung capacity by around 50%.

And, you know, I'm actually pretty proud that I've walked every day so far. Even though I've felt like shit. And even though the treadmill is set on 2 miles per hour and I can only walk for 2 minutes before stopping to hit my inhaler. And even though the most I've walked at a single time is .25 miles, and even though I have 98.93 miles left to go this month if I actually want to do the 100 Mile March. Because I'm actually trying--sure, it's only a few minutes at a time, but it's more than I was doing before.

(Oh, I've also gained four pounds since my last weigh-in two weeks ago, so I'm nervous about Wednesday. But I'm super bloated and menstruating and I'm basically a walking phlegm factory, so maybe enough bodily fluids will leave my body by Wednesday to at least keep me from gaining weight at my Weight Watcher's meeting. We shall see.)

This is going to be one loooooong March.