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.

#YesAllWomen

So this #YesAllWomen thing has gotten me thinking about my changing body. Listen, as a Women's Studies major, a lesbian, a card-carrying feminist, I think a lot about how my body is perceived in public. As a lifelong fat person, I think about it even more. And now that I've dropped almost 100 pounds, well, that just compounds the issue and makes me even more acutely aware of any eyes the fall upon me. So here's a poem I started a few weeks ago in the middle of the night and just remembered as I started reading about #YesAllWomen:

There is a particular fear
That comes with being female
It's not constant--not for me
In the land of the free but maybe
For my silent sisters elsewhere--
But it strikes at inconvenient times

All the typical fears are there,
Like strangers in the shower
Or followers in a solitary wood,
But other fears bleed in

Like on a crowded subway car,
The fear of fingers slipping up your skirt
Or walking alone anywhere,
The fear of a car stopping or
Another walker slowing, intent
On some unspeakable harm

Passing a group of men working,
Pausing at a red light beside
A car of boys, finding ourselves
Alone with any stranger
Our pulse quickens, we become
Prey that's picked up
An alarming scent

We look brave, heads high,
backs straight, small smiles

On determined mouths

to show we're not scared

Eyes averted, never making contact

We clutch our keys, gauge

The distance, plan our escape, 

Prepare for a fight, and smile still

Despite that particular fear

Women share, the fear that

Creeps in and stays

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 :)

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. 

Hoppy Weedster

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

Awesome?

NO.

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

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

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

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

On Weight Watchers, it became 24 hours of torture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a pretty good Weedster after all.

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

Literally Always Hungry

I am never not hungry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

Over It.

I'm done.

Over it.

I've been on Weight Watchers since August 2012 and I can't handle being on a diet anymore. I'm tired of turning down snacks. I'm tired of driving past Dairy Queen without ordering a Blizzard. I'm tired of feeling tortured every time someone orders food or asks me to go to lunch.

So I'm quitting. I'm going back to eating what I want. I don't care if I gain it all back. I'd rather be fat and happy than less-fat and hungry. Today is the beginning of a new life where I eat what I want without feeling guilty.

Today is also the first day of April.

So, psych! April Fool's, suckers!

Although I am tired of passing up delicious food, there's just no way that I'd be happy back over 300 pounds. Not a fucking chance. Now that I know what it feels like to be able to move, to not always be the fattest one in the room, to shop at normal sized stores and not have people stare...I'm not giving that up easily.

For me, Weight Watchers isn't a diet. I do have to limit what I eat and make smarter decisions, but it's not a diet. It is, as they say, a lifestyle change. I don't feel like I'm dieting because I can eat anything I want. Just not as much as I want, and I have to make adjustments elsewhere if I know I want something super unhealthy. I need to have a smaller lunch, or earn some Activity Points.

The reality is that I'm a major overeater and if I were allowed to eat whatever I wanted, I think it would take less than 6 months to regain the 95 pounds I've lost. I have no self control and Weight Watchers helps me manage or budget my food. I already pre-tracked for today so I know if someone shows up with cupcakes or candy, I can asses if it's worth using my extra Points. If I wasn't on Weight Watchers, I would probably convince myself that waking yesterday made up for anything I ate today, and I'd end up having two cupcakes. My mental food math is full of lies, where Weight Watchers is full of harsh reality.

So no, I'm not quitting. It would be nice to go off the rails and pig out, but the consequences are too great. I'm not willing to let go of this healthy version of myself. Yesterday my dad called because he was downtown with my nephew so I left work, power walked a mile, and met up with them. We hung out and then I walked them the mile back to my work to give them a tour (including the fire pole, which my dad had to try...I've worked there 6 years and I'm still too chicken to try). The unexpected chance to spend time with my nephew was totally awesome, and I 100% wouldn't have been able to do that a year ago. My smaller size made that possible. Heart surgery made that possible. Weight Watchers made that possible.

Sure, I'm a little discouraged right now because I've been active and I'm still not losing weight at the moment. I'm actually still the same weight I was in October. That's depressing but it's my own fault--I've been going over my Points and I'm paying the price for that. It doesn't mean I'm going to quit. I just need to focus, get myself back under control, and remember that being this size makes my life a lot better than being 300 pounds.

But now cupcakes sound really good...

Spring Forward

It's been another long week of wintry weather.

I can hardly bear it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Playtime

It feels so good to be able to play again.

I mean, really play.

To chase after my dogs and dash around the yard with their toys. To burst into activity and wind up giggling and flushed and breathless. To race my nephew to the playground at the drive-in without being embarrassed that everyone will be watching the fat girl flounder.

These are things I've missed without even realizing it. As my world begins its slow thaw after a desperately long and hard winter, I'm getting out more and testing the limits of my new heart valve.

On Friday after work, the temperature actually reached 60 so we took the convertible (with the top down!) to the park and hiked around places that I've only ever seen from inside a car. We hiked for 4 miles, passed through a bird sanctuary where the songs of dozens of species joined together in a rich cacophony, walked around the rim of a still-frozen lake where the ice was so thin you could see water rippling below the surface, and at one point broke through the trees to find an unexpected merry-go-round rusting at the edge of a picnic area.

I had thought merry-go-rounds were banned from playgrounds years ago, so I was excited enough to see it that I didn't care who saw ME. I sprinted to the contraption, threw myself in the middle, and held on as my girlfriend grabbed the bars and started spinning. A year or so ago, this wouldn't have happened. First, I wouldn't have even seen the merry-go-round because there's no way I would have been hiking. With 95 extra pounds and a heart valve that was almost completely grown shut, I wouldn't have even been at the park. I would have been home on the couch, enjoying the warmer weather through the window. And if I somehow was near a merry-go-round, there's just no way I would have gotten on. I would have been afraid of breaking it, afraid my girlfriend would be unable to spin it because of my size, and terrified that people would see me and whisper among themselves at the spectacle the fat girl was making of herself.

Being able to run to the playground and play without fear or shame was an experience I really can't describe to most people because they wouldn't understand. I felt joy. That's hard to put into words, but I felt free and happy and normal.

Normal.

Amazing.