Miss Impatiens: Day 20

So, part of this journal is this earnest desire to deal with shit as it crops up – inasmuch as one can deal with their own personal emotional baggage in 500-ish words.  So what’s happening now is that I am doing really well with the self-control aspect of this.  I’m not eating much carbs at all because I’m being pretty careful about what I’m eating overall.   I’m drinking more fluids, and working on more water.  I’m not doing 100% genius eating – with iron will – and the First Lady’s plate (albeit lopsided for my purposes)…I didn’t eat at all at the market today just because every impulse I had seemed just not quite right.   Like this amazing brick oven pizza they cook onsite and everyone was eating it and I didn’t feel crazed or anything.  I didn’t feel like a junkie needing a fix.  But I guess it was in that area.  I guess it was vaguely like an addict trying to figure out how they can negotiate in their own heads to justify having a little bit of what they’re addicted to and I had just enough backbone to say, well, if you’re not where you want to be and you said you had these goals and you’re frustrated as hell with your non-sensical scale – let’s not.  Just let’s not.

And it’s weird.  My friend was there, who I guess I only have emotional inklings towards when he’s around (classy, very class), and he was, true to form, very gregarious and kind and pleasant.  And I felt like there was something of a revelation that it was okay for everyone (EVERYONE) to know that I’m not eating carbs right now.  That I’m doing this for myself right now and as nice as it is to get free bread and pastries, or to run head first into a chocolate-dipped banana (ahem), it’s not forward motion.  For a long time, that wouldn’t be possible.  I’d downplay it and make it obvious that it was private and secret and nobody’s business.  I’d make it awkward.  This wasn’t overly awkward, even though I feel frustrated about having to have to do it,  it just was.  Like friends talk.

So with all of that as preface, I am frustrated.  I know numbers are numbers and I feel tighter and better and less googly-eyed and helpless to food impulses.  But the scale is wonky or I am wonky and driving me batty.   I want to feel that this is progress.  That this really measured and focused attention to how I eat and getting water and moving myself is not just sloshing the same 6 pounds around.  I want it to work this time.

And it is working.  And I am okay.  And it will take time.  And exercise.  Hard work.  And I don’t want to hear it, but that doesn’t change that those facts are true.

Today (at 6:44am, about an hour earlier than I usually weigh-in) 160.4
Yesterday: 158.6 – it’s either the scale or not enough water/salt.  Again.
Goal: 155 – June 15

Trippingly: Day 16

All I can do is believe in the eventualities of time.

Just as an fyi, because I don’t know that I’ve been using the greater portion of these posts to delineate this, but I haven’t been fucking up.  I really haven’t been.  I haven’t been secretly having burritos at the mexican restaurant our staff haunts, I haven’t been sneaking bits of bread or crackers at the ribbon cuttings.  I haven’t been blowing off breakfast.  I haven’t been laying around.  I just haven’t been doing the wrong things, but unfortunately, I haven’t been doing enough of the right things with enough vigor and zest, I guess.

My zest is going to be at a premium for the next three months, but I am determined and have shown some small proof to myself today, not to be swept once more into the event undertoad.  It drags you down and suddenly, you can’t think straight and you can’t do your usual routine.  You have to SURVIVE.   You have to deal with these twelve hour days and the ineptitude of everyone around you and your own serious ineptitudes on top of your flagging spirit and food always sounds like the right answer in that situation.  And luckily, at the speed I’m going right now, food doesn’t sound like anything but one more act on the to-do list.

So, that’s the status report detail you probably were not looking for.   I just felt like I should give it given that as sure as I am that I will get to my goal by June 15 – at the moment, it kind of looks like I’m dicking around.  I want to assure the powers that be, and of course and as always myself, that I’m not just dicking around.  I’m caring!  I’m being faithful and true! So in the end, given time, I’ll be exactly where I need to be.

On another note, I wrote last night and it was actually fun.  It’s probably going to be one of the more critical moments in the book however the book actually shapes itself, and I feel like the beats aren’t perfect, aren’t sharp, but they’re emerging.  It’s a decently shitty rough draft and writing that section which I always considered too…controversial for me to be able to encapsulate or to even try writing because I’d write rings around it and not the it – itself – of an inappropriate desire for an inappropriate relationship rearing its head.  And I got close.  Didn’t get it exactly right and there’s not the subtlety or nuance that will shade it once it’s settled in its context, but, I’m in the same hemisphere now.  This is a good, encouraging thing.

Another ball to keep up in the air.

Um, I don’t know what else to say.  Going to walk about a bit and exercise somehow.  Get on the bike and stare into the center of oblivion or find a way to kill Warren on Walk It Out with my bare hands.

Smooth, easy ride, kids.  It’s a smooth, easy ride.

Today: 160 on the nose
Yesterday: 160.2
Goal: 155 by June 15

 

#teamfreewill

Having something of a day of accomplishment thus far.

Yes, it’s confirmed, a day of accomplishment.  I’m thinking about dinner, I’m kind of craving eggs and some green beans which is one of the weirder cravings I’ve ever heard of outside of pregnancy.  At least for me.

Over 8,000 steps as of the moment, and I did 45 good minutes of exercise – good meaning I feel my muscles twinging and releasing as I type this.

I did go to Chipotle with the sister today, however, I had pretty much what I wanted: a chicken fajita bowl with no rice or beans and the veggies I don’t normally – or formerly never got before.  It was decently filling given that four hours and a workout later, I feel like okay, dinner and not some ravenous fiend stalking the cupboards and on the edge of starchy dissolution.  We went shopping, too, and I bought along with a new exercise dvd, some shakes and some of said green beans and asparagus.   I mean, really, this is bizarre.  There wasn’t a snuck in chocolate covered cherry box, there wasn’t a bar protein or otherwise, there wasn’t some treat or reward or diet plus item hidden at the bottom of the cart.  It was just food.  For dinner.  For eating.

I do have the fantasy now and then about losing the weight and being “free” to eat what I want.  But they aren’t constant and they aren’t out of whack. They are not day dreams about a Willy Wonka sized smorgasbord of chocolates and sweets and fats and pizzas and enough sugar to put a herd of elephants in a coma.   They’re thoughts about having the bread with butter at dinner.  About enjoying a bowl of spaghetti.   About having my favorite lunch at the restaurant we go to at work.  I am going to consider that progress and not try and snap at myself to not want what I want.  Because that will never work.  I’m determined not to diet in terror of non-dieting.

And I am determined to break this plateau.  It’s only 4 or so pounds till 150.   So, I’m clearing the path to that way marker and not trying to feel a bigger pressure.   This is just the matter of surrounding myself with positive thoughts and energy around making myself healthier and that, moreso than good or bad meals, exercising or no, I think, is what keeps me going.  I believe that I will find 150 soon and as my body adjusts, it will move past that point and we’ll continue until it’s right to stop.

That’s the thoughts, anyway.

Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday and I have no stake in it, but it’s a good day for family.  And after, what I hope will be a great night talking with some of my absolute favorite friends in the world, I’m just planning to love the waning hours of this weekend.  It is amazing how much time there is when you do what you need to do and stop waiting for somehow, magically, for you to just not need to do it.  Because that’s never going to work and what you get as you wait is more and more fear building up around this little thing until it calcifies and you have to pull out the mental jackhammer and force it.

Instead, I’m trying to make simplicity a habit.   To complete things on my list that will keep me on track.  And then, moonshadows in my pocket, I’ll spend the afternoon light by skipping across the landscape,being  the lackadaisical, mouthy, dreamy fool that I truly am, and I’ll blow to the four winds all those dandelion wishes I’ve been terrified might come true.

Beauty Queens

So, stats:

Started 164.5.
Currently: 154.0
Goal: 130

Stayed the same this week.

It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m doing okay.  Oaky, too.  We bought a new vacuum, I had boneless buffalo wings with the idea that I’m not eating enough calories (the Burrito Theory that may blow up in my face, but I’m not stressing over), I did my exercise and loved it.  I’m wondering if it’s sensible to do more or not later today.  Went to the grocery store and got some broccoli, green beans and a few other completely non-essential things (i.e.) protein bars since I think that if I need to add calories, I need to do it in a more controlled way than YAY, right now it’s okay to have fried breading because I need to eat more calories.  Needing to eat more proper, good, nutritionally-viable food is what I mean but because I’m distracted and bored and obviously psychologically seesawing about the implications of this 10 pound weight loss, I give myself leniency that might not end up being a good thing.

I’ve actually stumbled into some youtube stomach fetish videos and am a bit bemused.  Creepified, really.  Not only for the implications of being a person totally withdrawn and socially isolating because of what is not an inordinate or substantial amount of fat looking at albeit a faceless person, but a person, who is glorying in this excess body that I do not find much beauty in.  It’s curious to read responses that are wholly praising when anywhere else and for anything else on the internet, an overweight person is absolutely a target of derision.  But also, fetishes are what they are…a focus on one aspect of a human, sexualizing that to the exclusion of everything else.  It’s not my place to judge this person’s interest in posting it or others in viewing it, not my point or purpose, but it’s strange and fascinating that if I’d wanted it – there’s someone out there who would adore this form even if it might be uncomfortable for me to acknowledge it.
Basically, it illuminates the fact that I want this because it’s right for me.  It’s my own comfort I’m interested in.  My own sense of my own self in the world and I know how good I felt when I passed by the mirror in the department store, often such a reminder of my unattractiveness that I wanted to curl up and hide, and I saw a difference from my own memories.  I had reason to smile.  So I’m not perfect, I’m fucking up and falling down, and my expectations are foiled, but I’m not giving up even if an hour later I feel I look as dumpy as ever and I see someone from high school at the grocery store who is taller than Jesus with a girl blonder and fitter than Barbie and I JUDGE JUDGE JUDGE and self-loathe, self-loathe, self-loathe not because I want their life or him or to be her, not at all.  In fact, they both looked rather tired and miserable.  It’s just I am in the process that everyone else has sorted.  I’m trying to catch up somehow, somehow, we’re all in competition, and I’m coming in last.  I have these pounding feelings in my chest as I veer down an aisle so as not to have to check-out next to them.  Suddenly, once again (twice in three days) feeling like the ugliest person on the internet or in the tri-county area and really, who is the arbiter?  Who hands out the trophies for best person? The sashes for Miss Congeniality in the This Moment, This Place, This Time Pageant?

A universe can be altered in the blink of any eye by anyone who wants to change it, or really, just see it differently.

So go on, fetish video artist rubbing your stomach and slapping yourself for ultimate jiggle effect for five minutes to the salivations and delight of anonymous, lustful folk on the internet.  I may be struggling like hell to go in the other direction, but we’re both after the same thing: the confidence that comes from winning your own pageant, every time.