Saturday, January 21, 2012

MY SECRET LOVER

One of the reasons I love blogging is my readers. Yes, I have a narcissistic exhibitionist lingering just below my skin’s surface. Anyone who knows me very well will tell you this, and yes getting everything on my mind out into cyber space is extremely cathartic, but other than my need for attention and emotional purging, sometimes I am truly inspired by the things my readers write in the comments which in turn helps me write. My last post I have 3 comments. Not the 20 that I used to get but it doesn’t even matter because within these 3 comments were like-stories, and enlightening thoughts about these women that I realized applied to me as well. Those comments inspired this post.

I feel like I am living in some kind of morbid soap opera where I am having this insatiable love affair but instead of my lover being a man, it is food. There is lust and desire and betrayal and jealousy. Jealousy. I think I am the poster girl for that. How one person can harbor so much disdain for herself while silently wanting everything that isn’t hers is beyond me, and yet here I am, wanting everything that is not mine. From food, to body type, to attitude, and the freedom to be myself. But that poses a daunting question; who am I? Do I even know? How do I figure it out? And if I do, what if I don’t like it? What if I find out who I am and others don’t like it?

My life is not the most riveting or even close to it. In fact I believe I lead a rather dull existence in comparison with other people I know. I have my family, my children, my blogging, my books, some shows on television I like, scrapbooking, music and the gym. Those are staples in my life. But among those staples is my lover. Food. It seeps into everything and affects my interactions, my activities, my work, my concentration and my motivation. It’s like an invisible stench that just lingers and plays with my mind, distracting me from what is truly important.

Tonight we are having family dinner. My sister is bringing her boyfriend and immediately that puts me out of my comfort zone. It is one thing to covet people’s food when they know you have a problem (But then who wouldn’t know I have a problem with just one glance at me?) but an entirely new ball game to feel the obsession, the rabid need overwhelm you when there are ‘strangers’ watching. It shouldn’t be this way. Family dinner with the addition of an extra guest who my sister loves very much and whom I and my family are very fond of should mean nothing but happy memories. But for me, it’s one more set of eyes watching me at the table. One more plate of food.



Food. Food. Food.

It is truly a dirty word and an embarrassing secret that I try to shove into the closet the minute someone starts to take notice. Like a lover being shoved out the window or under the bed when someone is about to walk in on you.

In the morning I wake up and hem and haw about eating something. I know that the minute I do eat something it will start a downward spiral or a day of complete insecurity. Do I start the day off well or do I start the day off with my lover? If I choose to start the day off well, I am forever burdened the rest of the day with choices that could lead me directly back into my lovers arms and if I don’t then I feel it waiting for me, calling me, luring me, tempting me. One wrong move, one more bite than I intended and I know food’s proverbial arms will wrap themselves around me and sweep me off my feet making me feel secure and in control and calm…until once again I am being squeezed and suffocated to death and I realize that wrong move, that choice, that extra bite was an extreme and horrible mistake.

And then the next day I do it again.

There is nothing worse than the food that calls to you. The cookies in the cupboard, the ice cream in the freezer, the chips in the pantry or the candy on the counter. There is nothing more unnerving than that tidal wave of panic that crashes over and engulfs your entire being because you can think of nothing else except what that food would taste like, how it would feel like in your mouth. The crunch or the sweet taste or how it would melt over your tongue. The memory and the knowledge of that food literally eats at you from the inside out and you justify and you argue with yourself and you try to distract yourself only to become even more compelled toward that one food.  

Fighting that compulsion is nearly impossible. Only sleep or serious distraction can deter me when I feel that way and when I cannot be distracted and I cannot fall asleep and I give in to the compulsion, it never ends nicely. One bite of whatever it is, is not sufficient. If it’s chips I eat either the entire bag or until I am so entirely stuffed I cannot move and feel as though I might vomit, whichever comes first. I have on a few occasions eaten so many salt and vinegar chips that the salt created sores on my tongue. Ice cream, I can easily eat an entire gallon. It never makes me sick. Candy is a sick joke for people like me. Especially pieces wrapped in foil like hugs or dove hearts or mini candy bars. (Halloween candy is the bane of my existence) When I am on an eating jag it is as though I am eating competitively and unwrap as quickly as I pop them in my mouth with no time to actually savor or even taste them before I pop another to chase it.

So, as you can see I am trying to purge my habits and my skeletons into cyber space. I am trying to acknowledge them and by acknowledging them, trying to fix them. Truth be told, it is all in my head. Psychological, emotional, whatever you might call it. My obesity is merely a result of the symptom of my real problem; the symptom being the compulsive binging/overeating. The real problems all lie inside my skull. Whatever has happened in my past, whatever control issues I have, whatever insecurities, whatever feelings of loneliness, desperation, inadequacy, or worthlessness I feel is all in my head. I don’t deny the validity of my feelings. Obviously they are valid or they would not manifest the way they do, however I do not yet (even after 2 years on this roller coaster journey of self discovery) know exactly what my problems are. Yes, I have a vague idea, but how to probe deeper and truly extract and examine the problem is still beyond me.

Until later with more self revelation

MY LOVER

One of the reasons I love blogging is my readers. Yes, I have a narcissistic exhibitionist lingering just below my skin’s surface and yes getting everything on my mind out into cyber space is purely cathartic  but other than my need for attention, sometimes I am truly inspired by the things my readers write in the comments. My last post I have 3 comments. Not the 20 that I used to get but it doesn’t even matter because within these 3 comments were like-stories, and enlightening thoughts about these women that I realized applied to me as well. Those comments inspired this post.

I feel like I am living in some kind of morbid soap opera where I am having this insatiable love affair but instead of my lover being a man, it is food. There is lust and desire and betrayal and jealousy. Jealousy. I think I am the poster girl for that. How one person can harbor so much disdain for herself while silently wanting everything that isn’t hers is beyond me, and yet here I am, wanting everything that is not mine. From food, to body type, to attitude, and the freedom to be myself. But that poses a daunting question; who am I? Do I even know? How do I figure it out? And if I do, what if I don’t like it? What if I find out who I am and others don’t like it?

My life is not the most riveting or even close to it. In fact I believe I lead a rather dull existence in comparison with other people I know. I have my family, my children, my blogging, my books, some shows on television I like, scrapbooking, music and the gym. Those are staples in my life. But among those staples is my lover. Food. It seeps into everything and affects my interactions, my activities, my work, my concentration and my motivation. It’s like an invisible stench that just lingers and plays with my mind, distracting me from what is truly important.

Tonight we are having family dinner. My sister is bringing her boyfriend and immediately that puts me out of my comfort zone. It is one thing to covet people’s food when they know you have a problem (But then who wouldn’t know I have a problem with just one glance at me?) but an entirely new ball game to feel the obsession, the rabid need overwhelm you when there are ‘strangers’ watching. It shouldn’t be this way. Family dinner with the addition of an extra guest who my sister loves very much and whom I and my family are very fond of should mean nothing but happy memories. But for me, it’s one more set of eyes watching me at the table. One more plate of food.



Food. Food. Food.

It is truly a dirty word and an embarrassing secret that I try to shove into the closet the minute someone starts to take notice. Like a lover being shoved out the window or under the bed when someone is about to walk in on you.

In the morning I wake up and hem and haw about eating something. I know that the minute I do eat something it will start a downward spiral or a day of complete insecurity. Do I start the day off well or do I start the day off with my lover? If I choose to start the day off well, I am forever burdened the rest of the day with choices that could lead me directly back into my lovers arms and if I don’t then I feel it waiting for me, calling me, luring me, tempting me. One wrong move, one more bite than I intended and I know food’s proverbial arms will wrap themselves around me and sweep me off my feet making me feel secure and in control and calm…until once again I am being squeezed and suffocated to death and I realize that wrong move, that choice, that extra bite was an extreme and horrible mistake.

And then the next day I do it again.

There is nothing worse than the food that calls to you. The cookies in the cupboard, the ice cream in the freezer, the chips in the pantry or the candy on the counter. There is nothing more unnerving than that tidal wave of panic that crashes over and engulfs your entire being because you can think of nothing else except what that food would taste like, how it would feel like in your mouth. The crunch or the sweet taste or how it would melt over your tongue. The memory and the knowledge of that food literally eats at you from the inside out and you justify and you argue with yourself and you try to distract yourself only to become even more compelled toward that one food.  

Fighting that compulsion is nearly impossible. Only sleep or serious distraction can deter me when I feel that way and when I cannot be distracted and I cannot fall asleep and I give in to the compulsion, it never ends nicely. One bite of whatever it is, is not sufficient. If it’s chips I eat either the entire bag or until I am so entirely stuffed I cannot move and feel as though I might vomit, whichever comes first. I have on a few occasions eaten so many salt and vinegar chips that the salt created sores on my tongue. Ice cream, I can easily eat an entire gallon. It never makes me sick. Candy is a sick joke for people like me. Especially pieces wrapped in foil like hugs or dove hearts or mini candy bars. (Halloween candy is the bane of my existence) When I am on an eating jag it is as though I am eating competitively and unwrap as quickly as I pop them in my mouth with no time to actually savor or even taste them before I pop another to chase it.

So, as you can see I am trying to purge my habits and my skeletons into cyber space. I am trying to acknowledge them and by acknowledging them, trying to fix them. Truth be told, it is all in my head. Psychological, emotional, whatever you might call it. My obesity is merely a result of the symptom of my real problem; the symptom being the compulsive binging/overeating. The real problems all lie inside my skull. Whatever has happened in my past, whatever control issues I have, whatever insecurities, whatever feelings of loneliness, desperation, inadequacy, or worthlessness I feel is all in my head. I don’t deny the validity of my feelings. Obviously they are valid or they would not manifest the way they do, however I do not yet (even after 2 years on this roller coaster journey of self discovery) know exactly what my problems are. Yes, I have a vague idea, but how to probe deeper and truly extract and examine the problem is still beyond me.

Until later with more self revelation

Friday, January 20, 2012

YOUR FOOD LOOKS GOOD. CAN I FINISH IT, PLEASE?

I know at some point I have written about this before. Entitlement. Deprivation. Feelings of Inferiority. But not in that particular order. I’ve been analyzing my attitude toward food these past couple of days and it is disturbing. I want things I can’t have including others food. I covet unfinished food on plates that are not mine. When I see someone eating something that looks even remotely appetizing I find myself wondering if they are going to finish it and if not, I want it. Then I panic because, what if they throw it away? And yes, I will freely admit, that I have fished food out of the trash. I am not proud of that... at all.



Tonight we had take out. I chose wisely. My dinner was a total of 530 calories after a 900 calorie day and a 500 calorie burn. My girls had chicken and French fries. Neither girl ever finishes their chicken. Tonight they did. They must have been hungry… or they saw mom’s wandering eyes. I found myself watching them eat, even before I started eating, wondering what their chicken tasted like and their French fries and wondering if they would finish it. I found myself trying to calculate calories if I just ate one piece or just ½ a piece of only 5 fries. Then they ate it all and the covetous desperation was gone.

I have to do this often. When there ARE leftovers I have to immediately scrape clean everyone’s plates for fear that if I leave them sitting on the sink for any amount of time I will come back to scavenge. I honestly don’t understand my own behavior behind this. Why do I feel entitled to other peoples’ food? Why do I feel deprived if I can’t have it? And worst of all, while I’m being the covetous glutton the feeling of worthlessness and pure inferiority is overwhelming.



I find myself thinking thought like, why can’t I just enjoy my own food? How can they (whoever they might be other than my children – generally adults) just sit there and enjoy their food without a second glance at anyone else’s food?

These past two days I have worked immensely hard to fix whatever this is that is wrong with me. When my children finished their food they got a chocolate chip cookie and neither of them finished theirs. They got up to play leaving their remnant cookies on the kitchen table and all I could do was stand there and stare at them. Normally, I would have picked them up, stuffed them in my mouth and been on my merry way, satisfied by the taste for only several seconds but feeling that much more full. That much more worthless and inferior and completely ashamed that I couldn’t control myself. Tonight I didn’t eat the remnants, but God how I wanted to. I scooped them off the tables with a wet paper towel and threw them in the trash. I felt like an alcoholic, pouring the liquid down the sink. I had to stand at the sink for a moment and compose myself. I did think of pulling them out of the trash but tried to dissuade myself by imagining them soggy inside the wet paper towel. It worked and the urge, the desire, the covetous glutton disappeared.

I will have to live with this glutton inside of me for the rest of my life. I don’t think I will ever be able to look at a cookie or a piece of cake or Doritos or popcorn or really any snackie foods without mentally calculating their calories count, how much I can I eat and if others are eating also, will they finish it and can I have the rest if they don’t. I hope that if nothing else the need to finish others food will diminish. I hope that someday I will be content with the food on my own plate; that perhaps I won’t even notice what others are eating let alone that it looks good or that I want to finish it for them.

Onto another covetous nature of mine. While at the gym I find myself inspired and motivated but mostly covetous of other women’s bodies. I see the 20-something girl running on the treadmill with her ponytail swinging side to side and her perfect heart shaped butt and long muscular legs (sorry for the quasi-les description but hey, I’m a writer) and I think, ‘will I ever look like that?’ ‘Will I have have nice legs or a nice butt?’ ‘Will someone ever look at me like I am looking at her?’ Then there is the short haired blond lady in her early 30’s on the spin bike in her tight as skin athletic gear, pedaling so fast and hard that the rivulets of sweat dripping off of her are actually making miniature puddles on the floor. I notice how when she stands up to pedal even harder there is a space between her thighs and when she sits up straight there are no creases where her love handles would be if she were 20lbs heavier. And I wonder if I will ever have a body that doesn’t rub or crease in places that it shouldn’t. This is generally when my pity party turns to indignation and I tell myself that I have every right to look like that. I have every right to have a tight ass, and muscular non cellulite riddled legs and a smooth upper torso that won’t catch the material of my shirts in the rolls. I have every damn right and the only person stopping me… is me.

This is when I break down and the low self esteem, constantly teased, self pitying teen of my past surfaces and all I want to do is bury my head in the proverbial dirt and cry and cry. But that won’t get me where I want to be. So these last two days I have taken a deep breath as these hormonal cycles of complete bi-polar weight issue disorder has made its rounds and forge forward.

I have discovered I am an elliptical girl. I cannot walk on the treadmill. I can do 90 minutes on the elliptical, no problem, minimal muscular soreness and feeling great afterward. I did 60 minutes on the treadmill yesterday and my sciatic nerve felt like it was going to rip out of my right butt cheek and bitch slap me for my stupidity. So the elliptical it will be from now on, or until my butt fits more properly onto the bikes and then I will be doing some spinning of my own.

I know I will never have naturally flat abs, or the perfect bubble butt and I know I will never be without saggy, hangy skin without drastic cosmetic surgery post weight loss but I need to lose this weight. I need to be able to hold my head high and say I DID THIS. I LOST THE WEIGHT. I AM WORTH A LOT. I AM NOT INFERIOR. I AM NOT DEPRIVED AND I DON’T NEED TO FEEL ENTITLED BECAUSE I HAVE EVERYTHING IN LIFE THAT I NEED.


Now, the challenge is to put that motto to work for the next several hundred days. 

Shits & Giggles & Nothing to Lose

First off let me say, I haven't been tracking, weighing or paying much attention to my eating life. No dieting, lots of exercise and two very very ill people in my family. One whom I have mentioned and now her husband who may have pancreatic cancer. Not happy. Very sad. Stressed. However, this is not a post looking for sympathy.

This is a post to announce that for the past two days I have been eating well and I mean strictly low calorie and tons of exercise. I can't risk death. Period.

On another note, I am now going to use my blog to pimp myself to you. Haha! Some of you may know and some of you may not that several months ago I published my first Young Adult Novel called Evanescent. It is the first in a trilogy. Transcendent the second book is in progress. The third book that is not yet named is in the outline phase. I was hoping and praying for some support from my fellow bloggers in the sale of my book. I will hold a contest to give away 3 free books to randomly selected numbers assigned chronologically to the people who buy a copy in the order that the their purchase is made. I would really appreciate your help and support. If you are interested just leave a comment below with your e-mail address or e-mail me your e-mail address to kreatingkristen@gmail.com and I will send you a payment request via paypal. Very simple and your order will arrive within the week unless you are outside the USA.

EVANESCENT JUST $16.00 NO TAX OR SHIPPING & HANDLING
3 RANDOMLY SELECTED BUYERS WILL RECEIVE THEIR COPY FREE!
THANK YOU IN ADVANCE 





Friday, January 6, 2012

Divine Intervention

I have a very close family member who is dying of many things. Some are unrelated to her lifestyle and yet others are things that are directly affected by her daily habits. On her list of fatal ailments is disease of the veins, heart conditions, liver disease and emphysema. I don’t know about her vein disease or her heart problems but I do know her advanced liver disease and emphysema are directly related to the beer she drinks and the cigarettes she smokes every day. EVERY DAY. EVERY. DAY. The doctors told her that she needed to stop. She will die and she will die soon if she doesn’t. She doesn’t listen. She just continues to drink and smoke and has 911 on super speed dial for when her inhalers don’t work anymore or her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest or her leg feels like it’s going to fall off. I could never understand why she just couldn’t stop. Until last night. I had an epiphany. An epiphany that I’ve had before but that hit me harder than other times. The coincidence that my family member is back in the hospital today and her prognosis is not at all good only solidifies my realization.

As I said, I could never understand why she didn’t just stop. Cigarettes and alcohol are not something you need to live so just don’t buy them and voila, cured. Right?

A bit of history: I can’t eat pizza with sausage or lasagna with sausage or any kind of sausage other than kielbasa or breakfast sausage without having serious indigestion. I also can’t eat any kind of spaghetti sauce without suffering through serious bouts of GERD. Last night I consciously chose that 2nd piece of homemade sausage filled lasagna with plentiful marinara and as the pain in my gut grew to horrific proportion I knew I had made a really bad choice. I spent a serious amount of time in the upstairs bathroom of my grandparents’ house with no relief. But the horrible, torturous intestinal pain and the lack of relief wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was when I tried to relieve the pain by visiting the bathroom again. I’m not sure what I did. Maybe I pushed harder than necessary, or maybe the pain was transferring to other parts of my body but suddenly it wasn’t just my guts that felt as though they might burst from my stomach. The overwhelming pain I felt inside my head was excruciating and nauseating and filled me with so much fear that I immediately yanked up my pants and stumbled to the bathroom door to unlock it for fear that I might pass out or god forbid, have a stroke. I leaned on the bathroom sink and stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t dizzy but I felt foggy. I couldn’t believe that it had gotten to this point, food induced or otherwise. It took approximately 3 minutes for the pain and that fog in my head to clear.

I decided right then that I wouldn’t call it my aha moment, or that a switch had been flipped. I decided that it was God giving me a second chance. A chance to take a good gander at my life and how I am throwing down the toilet with every bad choice I make. Like my family member who consciously chooses cigarettes and beer despite her ailments, I consciously chose what I knew would hurt me and I didn’t care. The difference between her and I, is that I don’t want to die. I recognize that I have to change to stay alive.  No lasagna, or cake or cookie is worth the pain and the fear I felt last night. So, in honor of my family member who is now fighting for her life in the hospital I am going bland. Simple foods to begin with: this morning I ate a plain bowl of oatmeal. This afternoon I had 15 saltine crackers with a triangle of thin turkey breast on each. This evening I see some kind of soup. Bland, healthy, low cal and meanwhile I will pray for my beloved family member while she is in the hospital and pray that she can have the same enlightening moment as I did. She’s 63 years old. She’s stubborn. She’s stuck in her ways but I love her. I don’t want her to die. Maybe God will give her just one more chance to choose life but all I can do is pray and of course I would appreciate your prayers as well. 

Her name is Judy.
   

Thursday, January 5, 2012

BLAST FROM THE PAST 5/14/2010

FAT BEHAVIOR AND SELF DISCOVERY


Anyone who has been severely overweight has experienced what I am about to describe. You go to a social event and one of the first thoughts in your mind upon walking in (or even as early as accepting the invitation to the event) is, ‘I hope I’m not the fattest one here.’ As you enter the room/place you survey the area quietly, careful not to draw any attention to yourself while you scan the other bodies. Thin, thin, thin, chubby but not even close to my size, thin, too skinny, thin etc. You then realize that one of your fears as been dumped at your feet and is staring you straight in the face. YOU ARE THE FATTEST ONE THERE.

Tonight I attended a Miche purse party. I have a complex about ALWAYS BEING THE FATTEST PERSON at any given event. I was under no misconception that even though I am only 1lb away from losing 50lbs that once again I would be THE FATTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM. So, I walk from my house to my aunt’s house (roughly a 5 minute walk), my aunt helps me get Buzzy out of the stroller and then Breezely and as I walk in my gramma (who has been setting up for the party all afternoon) immediately introduces me to the purse lady. We’ll call her Pam. I murmur my salutation and take Breezely who is starting to whine at my aunt, and this is when I get a peripheral view of our hostess. My eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. ‘Put them back in, you idiot!’ I chastise myself. ‘That is exactly the reaction you do not want people to have to you.’ And as you can guess, Pam was quite the large lady. I would estimate her height at maybe 5’10” and her weight well over 325lbs. Perhaps significantly so. I was shocked and I must admit, horribly relieved. For ONCE I was not the fattest person.

As the party moved on I noticed Pam watching me. She watched how I moved and watched how I dealt with my babies. Now only a ‘fellow fatty’ would understand this ‘viewing process’. You see, I do the same thing when there is another ‘overweight’ person in the room but who is still smaller than me. You assess them. How and where are they smaller? Do THEY fit in the chairs? Do THEY look as uncomfortable as YOU feel? Are they looking around the room the way you are? And of course, the doozy, Is there anything about me that looks better than them? This is what Pam appeared to be doing. I found it oddly comforting to recognize it. Then later when the party was nearly to a close, my gramma started handing out cake. I decided to have a piece but I noticed that Pam initially started to raise her hand to say that she indeed wanted a piece. She stopped, quickly glanced at me and waited to see if I would have one. I accepted one from my gramma and she quickly did the same. It sort of felt like a game of copy cat only this time I GOT TO BE THE CAT!

When the party was done, I got to talking to Pam. We talked about food, WW, diets, The Biggest Loser etc. Apparently a few years ago she had done WW, lost 130lbs and had gained it right back because the point system never allowed her to truly see what she was eating (or so she explains it – I wouldn’t know. I have never done WW on the point system) She had also tried out for The Biggest Loser at the Portland casting call, received a follow up but never heard from anyone after that. She was however contacted by the creators of The Biggest Loser for another at home series that may air sometimes next fall. She is crossing her fingers that she gets on it. I am too. She needs to the lose the weight, as it is mainly in her midsection. I somehow was able to gracefully talk about my recent 50lbs loss but the gleam of sadness and jealousy was very evident in her eyes. If I had never experienced that same sadness, that same jealousy, that same ‘IF SHE CAN, WHY CAN’T I?’ feeling, I never would have recognized it but it was there. There in the quick blink of her eyes and the small purse of her lips and the way she immediately looked down as I said it. I felt awful but felt that perhaps it would be motivating to know she isn’t the only one going through such a tough time.

On another note, at this same party were three 8 year olds (my cousin and her two friends) and
one of her friends who we’ll call Shannon broke my heart. The girl reminded me so much of myself when I was her age. She wasn’t skin and bones like my cousin and her other friend but she wasn’t fat. solid. Thick perhaps, but nowhere near chubby, let alone fat. To start with at the beginning of the party Shannon loaded her plate with food and her mother scoffed. ‘Are you really going to eat all of that?’ ‘Yeah, I’m hungry and L (L is my cousin) wants to have a picnic. ‘oooh.’ Says her mother with a raised eyebrow and I could feel Shannon pull into herself defensively as she walked away with her food. (Mind you we didn’t have junk. We had fresh fruit, pita with hummus, tapenade with pita chips, crackers with ham and cheese and veggies and dip. No chips, no chocolate, no cookies and really no junky

Which brings me to my self discovery. I have been trying to work out in my head why I used to eat so much. Why I binged. Why I turned and sometimes unfortunately, still turn to food. I hear so many self discoveries. Numbing the pain of abuse. Feeling the need to be in control of SOMETHING. And several other reasons such as this. But I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME place my finger on just one reason. So I’m going to go through it here. Maybe my readers can pick up on something I am either just not seeing or subconsciously keeping from myself.

1. Since I can remember, I have had a big appetite. I don’t remember often being told I had to stay at the table to finish my food before I could get down.

2. My first memory of BINGE EATING is when I was very little (7 or 8) and my mom and step-dad would argue. The louder they got the more popsicles/candy/cookies but mainly popsicles I would eat. I once ate almost 2 boxes of popsicles during one of their fights.

3. I used to sneak food. I would sneak down to the pantry when someone was in the shower or otherwise indisposed and eat as many of something (cookies/chips/candy) as I could and as soon as I knew they were coming I’d close the bag/box/container and act as though I hadn’t been doing anything.

4. I remember from very very early in my life, I was always told I was big. ‘Big for my age’, ‘Big bones’, ‘Big girl’, ‘She’s gonna be a tall one’ or ‘She’s only *insert age here*??’

5. Apparently when I was a baby the doctors wrongly informed my mom that I would grow to be about 6 feet tall. Yeah, hi, just barely 5’4” here guys. What the hell do you know? But my family apparently took it to heart because I remember my whole life being told I was going to grow to be 6 feet tall.

6. When I lived alone for a year I could go all day without eating and then at night binge on an entire carton of Ben & Jerry’s coffee heath bar crunch ice cream.

7. I feel more connected to people when we eat together. For example: Today my mom was eating lunch. I had already had lunch had hadn’t intended on eating anything else until the party tonight. But I felt like I needed to eat with her (not for her, but for me) so I had a snack.

8. I find I eat when I don’t feel wanted or I specifically feel rejected. For example: If someone in my family is going to the movies (and obviously with Buzzy and Breezely, I can’t go) I immediately feel the need to eat. Anything similar, I feel like I must eat.

9. As a child I remember begging my mom or gramma to let me wear x-set of clothing ONE MORE TIME even though they were too small for me. They always eventually let me and I always regretted it.

10. As a child I also remember people poking/pinching and handling my lower belly saying how cute it was. I have always always always hated me lower belly.

11. When I grew up my great grandma always made me junky foods when I stayed at her house. Eggo waffles for breakfast, snacks of my choosing, top ramen for lunch and corned beef hash with eggs and toast for dinner and always always always some kind of ice cream or popcicle for dessert.

12. I remember my mom obsessing over her image. She was beautiful and sexy and she knew it. I remember my grandma always obsessing over her weight. She used to walk 7-13 miles with me in my stroller every day until I went to school and I remember my grandpa’s protein shakes. He always let me have some in my own cup. They were sooooo good.

13. I remember in school always trying to ‘trade-out’ something in my lunch for something better (ie: chips/cookies/candy) and when I got into high school it turned into just asking for things in people’s lunches. No trading anymore.

I think I’m sorta getting off topic now. You’re thinking, no really?!?! LOL Well in any case, I am still desperately trying to find out my motivation for making food my #1 friend for so long. Any ideas (barring expensive psycho-therapy) on how to achieve that are welcome! Until tomorrow my blog girlies.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Confession

I hurt.

Physically: I have a massive blister under my little toe from the dry weather. I have a mountain range of heel spurs on that same foot. As if my right side isn't in enough pain, irony would have my sciatica feeling like I have an angry munchkin inside my body stabbing me with fiery hot ice picks from my waist down my butt into my thigh. The messed up nerves in my lower back are on the fritz after my 40lbs kids fell elbows first into my spine. I didn't have this much lower back pain when I was 9 months pregnant and 40lbs heavier. I have knots in my shoulders bigger than my fists, pinched nerves in my neck that tighten when I turn my head just so causing atrocious migraines and if I try really hard I can probably count the cavities forming in my suddenly taffy soft teeth.

Emotionally: I feel overused. Underused. Unused and completely used. I feel worn. I feel old. I'm 27 years old and I feel like I could be heading toward 50. The weight of so much emotional baggage keeps me confined in this little cell inside my head. It makes me complacent with sitting on my ass all day, watching the rest of the world live. I'm so tired of feeling useless, hopeless, helpless and completely worthless. In my head I can tell myself that I am a mom. My girls need me. I have a purpose and a goal and I need to be selfless and buck up for them. In my heart I want to say the same things. I love my girls more than my own life and sometimes I think I take that sentiment to the extreme.

Could I complain anymore? Oh, I probably could but I would need to have myself committed because I don't need to truly understand just how pathetic I am. It's bad enough I show all you readers. ((rolls eyes))

Today I am making a list of daily goals. Things I need to check off to keep accountable and to show myself that I have a purpose, and that I have hope, I can change my life and I am worth one hell of a lot, especially to 2 little angels who need me. This is just a rough draft of my daily 'to do' list but here it goes:

Off the hip:


  1. Eat under 1500 calories
  2. Exercise for a 1000 calorie burn (3x/week)
  3. Do an activity with girls after breakfast, lunch and dinner 
  4. Go outside for at least 1/2 hour
  5. Make sure all laundry is done
  6. Make sure all beds are made
  7. Make sure entire apartment is clean
  8. Make dinner (5x/week)
  9. Take a nap with the girls
  10. Go to bed when girls go to bed (3x/week)
Now I need to find a way to make a cute little chart and create an html code so I can stick it onto blogger and hopefully make good use of it. I want to be able to come online every night and even if I have nothing to post, I'd like to be able to check off all 10 of those 'things to do'. 

It's 11:13pm and so far I have accomplished only 1 of those things. Can you guess which one it is? Tomorrow I will strive for more. Hopefully very soon I won't have to strive for it and I will just have a good solid habit of doing what I'm supposed to. Maybe then, I won't even need the checklist, but I won't be hasty. These things take time. ((sigh))

Tomorrow my family meets my sister's new boyfriend. He's making lasagna for the entire family. He's one brave guy to want to cook for us on the same night he meets all 12 of us. Then again we all know him already. He just doesn't know us. Sounds a bit creepy huh? It's actually a really cute story with a really cute history but that's a post for another time. 


Goodnight blog world. We shall meet again tomorrow.

Retraction

No more wine (at least not on a regular basis) very good points have been made by fellow bloggers as well as that I find that I don't feel as clear headed or energetic during the day after I have a drink the night before. Not acceptable for a mom of two little ones.

So, back to eating sensibly and exercising my ass off.

20 minutes upper body weights today and then 60 minute elliptical + 5 minute reverse elliptical + 5 minute cool down and I feel like I've been hit by a turbo steam roller.

Now, to fix this more than obnoxious (insanely painful and debilitating sciatica) agh! I've tried stretching, heat, Advil, plenty of exercise and NOTHING helps. Any suggestions?

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Answers



Fellow blogger Miss April from 30 Before 30 commented on my most recent post about having a drink at night instead of binge snacking. 

Miss April said...
I don't quite understand the trade for alcohol thing. Trade the desire for a binge with a brisk walk? :) Be well, be strong. Happy New Year!

Success, Bust, Relax!

Day one was a stellar success.

Day two was a stellar success until the girls' bedtime. The munchies took over and I swear I become possessed.

Day three will be stellar because I have a plan to beat the after kid's bedtime munchies. It still involves some calorie consumption but much less and much more controlled.

I have never been a drinker. I like wine coolers, Mike's hard lemonade, wine and fruity daiquiri and margarita drinks but I've never been a fan of the hard stuff. In fact, in my 27 years of life I think I have been drunk only two times and had maybe only a dozen drinks to actually speak of.

So in lieu of my eating habit I decided to make a trade of sorts. No I'm not going to trade binge eating to become an alcoholic. Nausea and headaches and the overall sensation of being drink just isn't my thing. So instead of eating when I have the munchies, I will have 1 6oz drink (wine? Sangria, perhaps?) to soothe my internal binging monster and relax enough to go to bed. I think that is an even trade. By the way, 6oz of sangria is 119 calories, just in case you were wondering. Mmm

Back to the low cal tomorrow. Stay away munchies! Just stay away!

On a bright side, I did my 65 minute cardio workout today. How accurate do you think the calorie counters on treadmills and ellipticals are if you enter your weight and age? Let me know!

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